Chapter 8

There was a ghost at their little brother’s birthday party.

Gavin Ryan hated when his older siblings called him that, but right now, Cass couldn’t care less. He was her little brother. She might’ve forgotten he existed a few times over the years, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him.

And right now, a ghost had Gav in its sights.

It stood behind one of the trees in the yard, tucked in the shadow of the fence. There weren’t any of the usual signs that Cass was looking at a dead person—its clothing was normal, its skull wasn’t crushed in, it wasn’t crying or screaming—but she knew. She just knew. Besides the fact it was the only adult in a crowd of fifteen-year-olds, it was the way the ghost watched Gav.

Like her little brother was something it wanted to eat.

“Have you thought about it?”

Cass jumped at the sound of Cal’s voice, which came from behind her. He’d been gone for hours, off on another one of his mysterious disappearances. Cass didn’t bother investigating where he’d been, since the answer was always the same. Just went for a walk.

Now Cal’s question floated between them, and Cass didn’t ask what he meant. The twins had always spoken in shorthand, before they could even form words, and Cal would see through her in a second if Cass pretended to misunderstand. So she turned her head, peering more intently through the window.

“Can you see them? The others?” she asked. Cass didn’t say the word ghosts. She never said that word around Cal.

He looked at her, his mouth twisted in thought. After another moment, he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the room. For anyone else, the floorboards would’ve creaked and moaned. But for Cal, they were silent twenty-three hours of the day—the rest of their family only sensed him between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. A fact they’d only discovered when Dad had knocked on Cass’s door and asked her to stop pacing, because she was keeping Mom awake.

But Cass had been fast asleep in her bed. Cal was the one who’d been pacing, passing the long hours of the night in his room. Ghosts didn’t sleep, and there were times Cal felt like he was losing his mind. Moving helped.

Staying out of the light, Cal reached Cass’s side and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. He considered what she’d said. “Sometimes. Sort of,” he amended. “I don’t see them the way you do. It’s really more a… feeling. Like déjà vu, almost. You get a rush of images and thoughts, and they’re so intense that, for one second, you forget who you are and become the other. But then it fades, and it’s hard to remember what you just saw.”

Cass kept her attention on the party as she remarked, “That’s fucking creepy.”

“Yeah.” From the corner of her eye, Cass saw Cal’s mouth tighten. “So why won’t you go to that school in San Francisco?”

She’d been expecting him to ask why she was here, in this room. His room. It was exactly how Cal left it, the night he went to pick her up from the bus station. Her brother was predictably tidy, so the bed was made and every drawer firmly closed. But there were small touches, subtle hints that he’d expected to come back—a book, cracked open on the desk. A glass of water on the nightstand. Potted plants lining the windowsill. They were almost dead now. Every single one of them.

Cass’s throat worked. She blinked rapidly. Once her vision was clear, she refocused on the ghost crashing her brother’s party and glared at it. “I don’t want to talk about this, Cal.”

“You never do. It’s been a month. What excuse could you possibly have for turning down a full scholarship? You heard what that woman said. You graduate from that place, and you’ve got it made.”

“First of all, don’t you think it’s weird they’re offering me a scholarship? I’m a broke nobody with a shitty GPA and a police record. And second, you’re not at all worried about that creep down there?” Cass demanded, finally turning to Cal. She pointed at the edge of the yard, her finger jabbing the windowpane. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at Gavin.”

Slowly, Cal began to shake his head. He stared at Cass with a disappointed expression. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “And what day is that?”

“The day Cassandra Ryan acted like a fucking coward.”

“Fuck you,” she snarled.

“Fuck you.”

The twins glared at each other. A burst of laughter floated through the glass—one of Gavin’s friends was trying to do a handstand on the lawn, Cass saw when she glanced over—but it didn’t ease the tension in that dim, quiet room.

“They hear us, you know,” Cal said softly. “Or hear you, I guess. I was there when Mom and Dad talked about it. They’re going out of their minds with worry. They have no idea what to do.”

Cass had gone back to watching the party, or rather, the ghost attending it. Suddenly she stiffened. “He’s jerking off, Cal,” she breathed, her eyes wide.

He frowned, finally following her gaze. “What?”

But Cass was already gone, flying across the room in a blind rage. She snatched Cal’s baseball bat from its perch against the wall and hurtled into the hall, then down the stairs. Her parents were in the kitchen, and one of them made a startled sound as she bolted past. Cass charged into the yard without hesitation, all of her focus on the dead pervert still hiding behind the tree. Gavin’s friends scattered like billiard balls.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Cass screamed, holding the bat aloft.

She saw the exact moment this dead asshole realized she was speaking to it. The ghost blanched, and its hand fell from its dick. In the next breath, it whirled and ran through the fence.

Cass drew up short and stared in the direction the ghost had gone, her chest heaving. Should she go after it? Damn it, she should’ve asked Sally Crane what ghosts were actually capable of. What if that thing came back looking for Gavin?

She was still debating when her skin began to prickle. Cass lowered the bat and turned slowly, her brain finally catching up with reality.

Everyone was staring at her.

All of them—Gavin’s friends, her parents, the neighbors. Dozens of eyes. The radio was still playing, “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” blaring through the sunny afternoon, but Cass could feel the silence deep in her bones. She was wearing a robe, Cass thought dimly.

She probably looked fucking insane.

Without a word to any of them, she bolted, running back inside as fast as she’d burst out.

As Cass flew down the hallway, she caught sight of her reflection in the antique mirror. She slowed, then backtracked. She was so shocked that she forgot about the plan to lock herself in her bedroom.

Was that really her? Cass wondered faintly. She pressed her palms against the ridges of the wooden frame, the solidness of it assuring her this wasn’t a dream.

The girl peering back from the glass was in even worse shape than Sally Crane. Her cheeks were hollow, her hair stringy, the dye half grown out. The girl was thin, wan, sickly. As if she were the ghost.

Something had to change, Cass realized, staring at herself. She couldn’t go on like this for the rest of her life. And she couldn’t keep terrifying her family. Cass pictured the look on Gavin’s face—the embarrassment. Pain pierced her chest.

Knowing she didn’t have a lot of time before one of her parents came looking for her, Cass went into the kitchen. The phone hung on the wall beside the fridge, its long cord trailing over the tiled floor. She reached for the business card in the pocket of her robe, where it had remained hidden, forgotten, for the past month. Cass read the numbers and dialed, every movement deliberate.

It only rang twice before a crisp, familiar voice spoke on the other end. “Sally Crane.”

Cass swallowed, and her fingers tightened around the phone. “I’d like to know more about that school you mentioned.”

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