The Imaginary Friend’s Obsession (Monster Research Facility #3)

Chapter Eight

E zra and I stare at each across the diner table while I drum my fingers on my mug of hot cocoa. My mind is still reeling from the fact that I accidentally revealed myself to him. It’s been years since I lost control like that. Maybe being around Dorian has an effect on me…or maybe it’s Ezra.

I’m desperate to learn more. If he’s truly like me, as he said, how can he hide himself well enough that he can work at the MRF of all places? What do his powers look like? Can he teach me to control mine? I have so many questions, but I’m not sure where to begin.

“I can’t believe this place is still open,” I say to break the silence. The diner is exactly as I remember it, including the sticky menus.

Ezra smiles crookedly. “A friend once told me it’s ‘the okay-est restaurant in town.’”

I croak a laugh, and some of the tension evaporates. “Sounds about right,” I agree. Then I bite my lip, lower my voice. “It’s safe to talk here?”

“As safe as anywhere,” Ezra says. “I’m not certain if my house is bugged by the MRF.”

“And mine?”

He shrugs. “After all of this time? I doubt it.”

“But now that I’m back…”

He pauses, and then admits, “I’m the only one who knows you’re here.”

I blink. “What?”

“I…wasn’t sure they’d approve of bringing you in as an, er, consult. This arrangement is off the books.”

“So your phone call? Me coming in to see Dorian?”

“All arranged by me and me only.” He fidgets. “They know I have a consultant named Gwen. Not your real identity.”

I’m not sure if it means I should trust him more or less. “But why? You said the MRF is different now. You don’t trust the new management?”

“I trust them to an extent.”

It’s a lot to process. But at the end of the day, if he’s doing this for Dorian’s sake, then we’re on the same side. “Okay…well. That’s good to know.” I bite my lip, scrutinizing him. A man willing to lie for the sake of an imprisoned monster. A psychic working at a facility that imprisons and experiments on anomalies like him. “Why are you doing this?” I ask. “What do you want?”

He leans over the table. “I want to help. I’ve been honest about that from the start.”

“At the MRF? We both know their purpose isn’t to help.”

“Yes, but…” He sighs, pushing hair out of his face. “Before I worked at the MRF, I was studying ghosts. They recruited me based on that work. But before that, I was just a kid who always knew he was different.”

I know what that’s like, but I stay quiet, fingers wrapped around my mug.

“I could feel things that others couldn’t,” he continues. “ See things that they couldn’t. The first time I met a ghost, it was my grandmother. She came to my bedroom to say goodbye. When my mom told me she was gone the next morning, I said ‘I know.’ She never looked at me the same after that.” His eyes drop to the table before returning to meet mine. “The second time I saw a ghost, it was my best friend. He had been missing for a week. He led me to his body in the creek, and I told the police where to find him. I understood well enough to lie about how I knew at that point.

“When I first got into ghost hunting, I thought I would find others like me. Instead, I realized that I was the only one that could help the spirits I met. I could lay them to rest. I did, for as many of them as I could…and then the MRF found me a few years ago.”

Years. I shake my head, pressing my lips into a thin line. “I don’t understand how you could work for them.” Even if they’ve changed, they’re still the same facility that ripped Dorian away from me and had me locked up in a psychiatric hospital for trying to tell the world the truth.

“I know,” he says. “I won’t pretend I was ignorant. I knew from the beginning that there was something terrible happening in that building.” He grimaces. “I hated what they did to the subjects there. The ghosts trapped in cells, confused and scared, unable to pass on… I can feel them in there every day I walk through the halls.” Pain and guilt are etched into his features. “I thought if I was there, maybe I could help. I’ve been doing my best to work under their noses this whole time. I’ve managed to help some of the ghosts I’ve worked with pass on. But…” His shoulders slump. “I haven’t done enough. Not nearly enough to make up for what I’ve been complicit in during my time working there.

“But now the facility has changed. And with X-15—with Dorian—I finally have a chance to do something that matters. I thought he was just another spirit I could lay to rest at first. But… I think he might be something different. And he’s led me to you.” His brows are tilted downward, brown eyes wide, an expression that’s almost painfully vulnerable. “I thought I was the only one.”

I still don’t know if I can trust him, but I do think he’s telling me the truth.

Holding his gaze, I reach over and touch the back of his hand.

It’s the first time our bare skin has touched since that initial handshake, and again, a strange connection sparks between us. A sense of kinship .

Ezra and I each suck in a sharp breath. His eyes shimmer with an odd light for a moment before he blinks it away.

“Wow.” He pulls his hand back, stares at his fingers as he flexes them. “Dorian…He’s so clear through your eyes. The gloves, the suit…”

I jerk my hand back and clutch it against my pounding heart.

“You…saw?”

“Sorry.” He pulls his hand back, his excitement fading as he takes in my reaction. “It just happens sometimes.”

I swallow hard. After a life of hiding myself from the world, the idea of someone glimpsing my thoughts is terrifying . But I’m sure that my abilities frighten people too.

I force a wobbly smile. “That’s okay. You just caught me off guard.” I cradle my fingers as I study his expression. “You saw him earlier. In the cell.”

He nods. “I did. But he was blurry. Not like you can see him.”

A strange jolt of relief goes through me. Even though it helps prove once and for all that Dorian is real, for a second, I was almost…jealous. I’ve always been the only one who could see Dorian. He’s always been mine, and mine alone.

The silence stretches out as Ezra and I stare at one another. My fingertips still tingle. Something in me responds to something in him. It makes me want to trust him. It feels like we are supposed to help each other. Though maybe that’s my superstitious side leaping out again.

“I knew there was something different about you when I met you,” he says. “There was…” He gestures. “Like a cloud hanging over you. Initially, I thought it was the connection to Dorian, but it must have just been you .”

“I felt something the first time I touched you, too.” I bite my lip, thinking about everything he’s said. Imagining him walking into the MRF every day knowing that he could end up in one of the cells. “You’re very brave,” I tell him. “I wish I were that brave.”

His smile is lopsided, hesitant. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? You came back for Dorian.”

The only reason I had to come back is because I ran. Because I let myself be convinced that he never existed. But I keep that thought to myself. “So you can see ghosts. And feel things.”

He nods. “Emotions. Glimpses of memories, sometimes.”

“Can you control it?”

“Not really. It comes in flashes. Can you control yours?”

I huff a laugh. “Did it seem like I decided to fling that table on purpose?”

He laughs as well. “No, I guess not.”

“I used to be better at it, I think. But after Dorian… After I left…” I swallow hard. “I bottled it all up. I was desperate to be normal. Now it only comes out when my emotions get the better of me.” My anger , to be specific, always seems to unleash it. But I don’t want to make myself sound dangerous, even if it might be the truth.

Yet as Ezra nods, I wonder how much he already knows, or at least suspects.

“This explains a lot I didn’t understand about Dorian,” he says. “I suspect your abilities are what allowed him to stay tethered to this plane for so long without passing on. Your influence has likely caused his more…unusual traits, as well.” He folds his arms over his chest, looking down. “It also means we have to be careful. If you’re anything like me, you’re a magnet for spirits. The risk of things going wrong, perhaps even a possession…”

“Dorian would never do that.”

Ezra hesitates. “I’m being honest with you, so I need you to be very honest with me.” I catch that gleam in his eyes again and wonder if he’s reading my emotions. Will he know if I’m lying?

I swallow hard and prepare myself. I know what’s coming. “Okay.”

“That night you left Ash Valley,” he says. “What happened?”

I suck in air, trying to fight the tightness growing in my chest. I dodged this question once; I can’t do it again. But I can’t bring myself to lie to Ezra, either, even if he’s not really reading me. He’s right—he’s been honest. He’s taking a risk for me. It’s time for me to tell him the full truth.

“I’ve seen the report,” Ezra continues, when my silence lingers. “The photographs. It’s impossible to deny that something terrible happened, but I suspect it wasn’t as simple as the MRF wants to believe. I need you to tell me the truth.”

The truth . The mere thought of it makes my hands clench in my lap. The words are on the tip of my tongue—they taste bitter, so bitter—but I can’t seem to bring myself to say them. A flash of memory: scrubbing blood off my hands, my face, my white dress. Blood everywhere, on the floor and walls and ceiling. An impossible amount of red, red, red.

“Daisy,” Ezra says, leaning forward, his eyes intent on me. “Did Dorian kill your parents?”

“I…” I try to force the sentence out, but my throat is so tight, I can barely make a sound. I take in a shaky breath, try again. “Ezra, I…”

He slowly reaches out, takes my hand, and squeezes. “Daisy,” he says, even more quietly. “Was it…” He searches my face. “Was it an accident? Did you do it?”

I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes and slowly lift my eyes to meet his. “I don’t know.”

Surprise flickers across his features. “What do you mean?”

I swallow hard and finally force out the truth. “Ezra, I don’t remember. I don’t remember that night at all.”