Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
KENNEDY
Itrek through nearly half a foot of snow, leaving real footprints behind me.
The front yard around the house is completely covered, so I deviate to the side of the house where the trees have sheltered the ground.
Here, there’s but a dusting of fallen snow and dead leaves, disintegrating from the moisture and cold temperature.
I shiver as the wind passes through the threads of my sweater.
I thought being a ghost meant I wouldn’t be able to feel temperature anymore, but as long as I’m in my physical body, it would seem my senses are in peak condition.
That’s another question I’ll have to ask Theodore: how do I change my clothes?
I have to admit, of all the outfits to die in, a thick sweater and jeans is a good one. I could have been in my pajamas for Pete’s sake!
My mind drifts to the memory of my death, cloudy and unreachable. I still have no idea how I died, but if what Theodore said was true, about being stuck like this for the foreseeable future, then there’s plenty of time for me to figure that out.
I know reality will come crashing down eventually, and I’ll need to brace myself for when that time comes, but right now, I want to test my boundaries.
Spread my wings and see exactly what this new spirit body can do.
It might be my mind’s way of coping, but I’m okay with distracting myself for a little while.
It’s kind of exciting learning about something I knew nothing about. There’s an entirely new world to explore, and all along it lived parallel to my old one.
Being born in Shadow Hills, I knew all about paranormals.
All the creatures and legends my parents used to believe were stories, things that turned out to be real, I had the luxury of learning about in school.
Werewolves, vampires, banshees, but not ghosts.
Taking a crash course on paranormal history in sixth grade did absolutely nothing to prepare me for this.
Past a copse of trees shielding the house, I notice a sunroom with vertical windows and diamond-shaped muntin stretching nearly to the second floor.
The high ceilings look as if they’d let in just as much light as the library at the opposite time of day.
Beyond the icy branches, the sun appears to be on its way to setting, rapidly dropping in the sky.
I continue my journey around the house, walking a little quicker in the fading dusk.
Around the back, the forest opens up, creating a wide trail. It wends through the trees far past my line of vision. The shadows and shifting trees make the path look ominous, so I choose to follow it another day, when there’s more light to chase away those devious shadows.
I make my way back to the front of the house and find the library turret above me.
Catching movements, I freeze. Theodore stands just past a ray of setting sun, making him look more ghostly than the first time I saw him.
He steps cautiously closer to the window, his piercing blue eyes catching the light.
He’s beautiful, but from here he looks so lonely.
If my gut is to be trusted, I might not be the only one in need of help.
The house is completely dark when I step back inside. The wind has picked up as the night crept closer, and I struggle to close the door.
When I turn the corner, I spy a small flame growing in the fireplace. Theodore is crouched in front of it, focused intently.
“Oh, thank god!” I let out with exasperation. My fingers and toes feel like icicles and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all feeling in my nose. I wiggle it to check that it’s still attached.
He drops his head and makes a small noise of amusement. “I thought you’d be cold.”
Oh. He’s doing this for me.
Without a physical body, Theodore must not have a reaction to the bitter cold. But until the summoning spell wears off, I’m stuck in mine. The drafty house settles around me, and it occurs to me that this is where I’ll be sleeping tonight.
At least our exchanges feel more natural now, but there’s still a lingering awkward pause between each one.
I fill the silence by making a show of sitting next to him, grabbing a decently cushioned pillow from the moth-ridden settee and situating myself on the floor.
What little stuffing there was inside escapes through the burst seams from the weight of my ass.
He fights a smile.
“How much longer do I have like this?” I ask.
“Anyone’s guess,” he tells me. “Spells depend on a lot of factors, including the witch’s strength. That young witch who performed the seance seemed new to her magic, so you might start to feel your physical body fade any minute.”
A beat passes. “I guess I should take advantage of it while I can.” I find a rock that has settled into the grooves of the floorboard and make a show of flicking it with my index finger.
Theodore’s smile is clearer this time; he doesn’t stifle it.
I lean back on my hands, the rough wood biting into my palms. “You know an awful lot about witches.”
“I’ve been around a long time.”
No hesitation. He’s had that answer in his back pocket for a while. Hell, he’s probably used it before.
I imagine there’s more to that story, and there’s definitely a connection between this reclusive ghost and the coven in Shadow Hills, but I don’t feel like prying tonight.
I have more questions about my own state of affairs.
Like, do ghosts sleep? Because I’m exhausted.
I’m also worried about the state of any bed available in this house.
It feels like my body has been in a physical state of alert for hours, and the thought of crashing out in a warm bed makes my eyelids droop.
“It’s adrenaline,” Theodore mutters softly.
My eyes shoot open, realizing he must have caught me dozing. “What?”
He’s still focused on the fire in front of us, the flames now engulfing the rotten lump of wood that sits on the hearth.
“While you’re in your physical body, you will feel the residual effects of being alive,” he explains. “If you stub your toe, it will hurt. If a witch summons you to your body, you’ll feel more alive than you did before you died.” His head drops. “But it will fade. Just like everything else.”
Watching him speak is like watching an old black and white film play out in front of me. The way he talks, and even the way he holds himself is so out of body. He doesn’t look real, even though he’s right here.
“You’re holding on to that feeling,” he adds.
I shake my head, dislodging my wandering thoughts of Singing in the Rain. “Holding on to what?”
Theodore places the poker back in its holder and sits back; fire sufficiently poked.
“Here’s another lesson for you. It’s still important for your spirit to rest. It takes a lot of energy to maintain a physical body, whether you’re putting concentration into it or not.
Your spirit is running on autopilot right now, because of the spell, but it’s working hard to maintain the connection to this plane. ”
He shifts so that he’s fully facing me, his eyes nearly iridescent and reflecting the dancing flames.
A moment passes between us, like he’s taking me in for the first time. Those blue eyes scan my entire face, searching for something, but he doesn’t seem to find it.
“You should rest,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips.
The fire crackles in the quiet.
“How?” I ask him.
“Just trust your gut, and drift. This house is your buoy.”
I close my eyes and imagine I’m on a boat out at sea, waves lapping against the sides and rocking me to sleep. I feel myself starting to let go, but him being here, watching me, keeps it from happening.
“I think this would be easier if I had a bed,” I tease, eyes popping back open.
Theodore’s gaze shifts to the stairwell, tucked behind the corner. “You can have mine.”
For the second time, my eyes shoot into saucers. “You actually have one?”
He looks at me with indignation. “Of course I do.”
My cheeks flush. “Sorry,” I apologize, voice cracking like a teenage boy. “I just assumed…”
“I don’t use it,” he admits, face relaxing, “but it’s there.”
I snort out a laugh. “Alright.”
He gets to his feet, and I follow him mechanically to the second floor. He leads me to the master bedroom—the room I avoided on my solo tour—and stands just within the door, inviting me inside.
The bed is a four-poster with a canopy, just as I would have pictured. A burgundy and gold brocade bedspread covers it. It sits up high, but there’s a little step stool on the floor. All that’s missing is a damn pea hidden beneath the mattress.
Every inch of the room is covered in dust, but there’s not much I can do to rectify that at the moment. Theodore was right; I feel my physical body starting to give out on me. The moment my head hits that dust-ruffled pillow, I’m a goner.
“Take as long as you need,” he says, quietly exiting the room and leaving me be.
I climb up and into the bed, tossing the first two layers of blankets and decorative pillows on the floor.
I expected the sheets to be rough, made from wool, but they’re cool and soft.
Even after all these years, I can feel the luxuriousness.
Theodore’s family clearly could afford the nicest things of their era.
My limbs finally relax as I close my eyes. This time, they remain closed as I trust my spirit to drift into the void.