Chapter 9
January
Three Months Until The Wedding
It’s the middle of winter, but sunlight ricochets off every reflective surface in New York.
The day is unseasonably warm, and I make do with a light jacket instead of my thermal puffer.
I would’ve liked to start my curse-breaking escapades with Trip sooner, but the week I summoned him also happened to be the week before Christmas.
With businesses closing until the New Year and the entirety of the Coldwell family, including Carter, traveling to London, it wasn’t exactly fertile ground for snooping.
It was weird spending the holiday season without Carter—no ice-skating in Bryant Park or window-shopping with cups of hot chocolate.
But now that Carter’s preparing for life as a married man, I need to get used to this new normal.
I haven’t told her about summoning Trip.
That her plan worked. Every time the words bubble to the surface, something twists in my gut.
Her nerves the day she gave me the stone, the fear in her eyes.
I guess part of me wanted to keep the holidays simple.
So far, her concerns about summoning a spirit seem overblown.
Maybe I won’t need to discuss it with her again and we can resume business as usual.
When Trip and I agreed to meet today, I didn’t ask how he’d be spending his holiday.
I wonder if that was wrong of me, if his week was incredibly lonely.
I swallow down the emotion in my throat.
Now that we’re working together—or whatever you call this—we’ve agreed to check in every other week.
I’ll use the summoning stone if needed, but otherwise we’ll have a standing meeting to discuss any developments in solving the curse. How very corporate of us.
Adjusting my sunglasses, I read the piece of paper in my hand for the seventy-fifth time. “Are you sure this is the right address?”
“Not at all. But it’s the one pinned on the corkboard in my grandfather’s office,” Trip says.
It took me a few blocks to adjust to the way people walk directly through Trip as we make our way up the sidewalk, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
He stares straight ahead, dark Ray-Bans hiding any glimmer of emotion.
His top two shirt buttons are unbuttoned, revealing his tan chest, the hard collarbones I ran my hands over in the hospital.
I’m not sure if his wardrobe choices mean spirits are affected by light but not temperature, or if Trip is just fashion-conscious.
I look at the building numbers as we walk past, holding up a hand to shield my eyes from the sun. “We’re nearly there if so, but this looks…”
“Sketchy as hell?”
“I was going to say underdeveloped.” I cough. “But yes.”
Growing up in New York, there’s little that could surprise me when it comes to architecture on both ends of the spectrum—glossy skyscrapers and vacant, decaying storefronts.
This city block is the latter, with most of the buildings seemingly abandoned.
No sign of a fortune teller or any real shop to speak of.
“Maybe this was a mistake.”
“Come on. I thought this was your shit.” His baritone is deadpan. “You were all giddy about summoning me with that rock. Figured you’d be up for learning a few tricks of the trade from a professional.”
I roll my eyes. “That was different. And I was desperate.”
“To talk to me?” He smirks.
“To talk to you so I can save Carter.”
“Right.” He rubs his jaw. “Have you told him? About this?”
We haven’t talked much since he left for London and he didn’t call on New Year’s Eve like he usually does. But I’m not telling Trip that.
“No.” I don’t meet his eyes. “I thought about it when I needed a possession of yours but—”
“Wait. What?” His head whips toward me. “A possession?”
Shit. “Yeah, I guess I left that detail out. To summon you I needed the stone and a possession of yours.” I pause on the sidewalk and close my eyes. No turning back now. “I used your earring.”
His fingers jump to his right ear, where his spiritual hoop earring is still perfectly in place. He takes off his sunglasses and places them in his shirt pocket. As he meets my gaze, his brow furrows and his eyes simmer. “Which you got how, exactly?”
“I went to the hospital.”
“You did what?”
“Can we not do this here?” New Yorkers are desensitized to the oddity of someone talking out loud in the street, but having this conversation in public—seemingly with myself—is making me itch.
He reaches his arm across me and points to an alley a few feet away. I turn and let him follow, my adrenaline carrying me until the sun is entirely blocked by the buildings. I take my sunglasses off and stick them in my bag.
“Elz,” Trip hisses behind me.
I whirl around and press my back to the brick wall. If he wants to be mad, fine. I won’t apologize for stealing his precious earring for the good of his family.
He stalks toward me until the slant of his jaw is in my periphery. But when I meet his eyes, it’s not a look of anger, but one of fear.
“You went to the hospital?” His voice is hoarse.
I nod, the rough brick digging into the back of my scalp.
“And you saw me? Like…like that.”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” Trip runs his hand through his hair, dark brown locks falling back into his face strand by strand. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“News flash, Trip. We’re only here now, finding the fortune teller, because I did that.”
“I’m not the person in that hospital room.”
I think of chocolate hair standing on end, day-old scruff, a soft cotton gown. It was a softer version of Trip. One I liked seeing. But clearly not the version he prefers. “Okay, if you say so.”
“I don’t want you to think of me that way.”
I look up at the cornflower sky, unable to look at his face. “You had a pulse.” I sag against the brick. “But your hands were cold. I told them to get you better blankets.”
Two broad palms press against the wall on both sides of my periphery. And then Trip’s chin is dipping toward me. Our eyes meet. In the darkness of the alley, his pupils are two black pools. The shadows play tricks across his face.
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing? By breaking the curse?”
“I’m not Carter.”
“No. If you were, I’d be in love with you.
” It slips out of my mouth without a thought.
The words were intended to wound Trip, to put distance between us as his body cages me against the wall.
But something pinballs inside me from saying the words out loud.
For admitting to these feelings I usually keep bottled up.
I should feel relief, a weight lifted, but I don’t.
As I watch the spark die in Trip’s eyes, I know my words have hit their mark.
“Well, good thing you’re not.” His face moves closer, taunting me.
We can’t physically touch, but his lips are a hair’s breadth from mine.
My heart thunders in my chest. “After all, how would I touch you?” He moves his fingers next to my ear, as through wrapping them around my curls.
“How would I show you?” His eyes dart to my lips.
There’s a fluttering in my stomach and heat rises to my cheeks.
How dare he. Is he trying to embarrass me?
To make me feel vulnerable because I saw him in a similar state?
The heat inside me shifts to anger. I press my hands against the wall, propel my body forward, and move through him.
A rush like a freight train moves through my body, my skin pulsing with energy.
I’m not sure if it’s my anger or Trip’s electricity causing my arm hair to stand on end.
My fast steps echo in the alley as I make my way back to the sunlit street.
“We’re going to be late,” I call over my shoulder.
—
We walk three more blocks in absolute silence and reach what appears to be an abandoned factory from the industrial revolution. The glass panes on the first level are shattered. Graffiti paints the inside walls and columns. No furniture, not even a table leg to speak of.
“Here we are.” I can’t hide the doubt in my voice. “I’ll go ring the buzzer.”
“Why bother when we can walk in through the window?”
I ignore him and step up to the dial pad, pressing the button for 302. No answer. I wait approximately ten seconds before buzzing it a second time. C’mon. I tap my foot impatiently on the concrete.
“Seriously, Elz. Let’s just—”
“Do not talk to me right now.” I jam my finger into the button a third time.
Trip sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “About earlier…”
“Hello?” A voice like sandpaper comes through the intercom.
“Hi! Yes! Miss Ruby?” I glance over at Trip. “My friend and I are here for your services.”
He raises an eyebrow at me.
There’s no response. For a moment, I think she’s hung up on us. But then there’s the mechanical buzz of the door unlocking. I grab the handle and pull it open with a jerk. Trip follows behind, floating directly through the heavy metal barrier.
“There are some perks.” He shrugs.
I stomp my way up the only set of stairs toward the third floor.
Trip humors me—or pities me, I’m not sure—by obeying typical laws of physics and taking them with me step by step.
The place is eerily abandoned. This was clearly an office building after it was a factory, but cobwebs hang in the corners and any furniture we do encounter is in disrepair.
There isn’t even the skittering of rats, which is frankly surprising.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” Trip whispers against the shell of my ear.
I nearly jump out of my skin and his laugh rings out across the entire second floor.
“Screw you,” I say.
“Mm. If only it were possible.”
Why did I agree to help this idiot again? Carter. I need to keep my focus on Carter and the next step toward solving this. Then I never have to speak to Trip Coldwell again.
The third-floor stairwell ends in a large, sliding iron door. I bang my fist against it and shudder at how loud it is compared with the stillness around us.
“By all means, don’t wait for me. Float on in.” I wave my hand at Trip.