Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
ALICE
I’m on the third floor of a haunted bed-and-breakfast. We can hear the ghost squirrel scratching around above us, and I make a last-ditch effort to save myself—and Charlie. Even if he has been acting weird today.
“Welp, it sounds like it’s on the roof. Guess there’s nothing we can do.”
Muriel doesn’t say anything. She just reaches for the ceiling and grasps a thin pull cord I hadn’t noticed. Yanking it to unveil the oldest, creakiest attic ladder I’ve ever seen. I’m going to die in this house.
I don’t like attics on a normal day. Or basements. Those rooms do not bring me joy—and that’s without ghosts. A haunted attic?
No, thank you.
I automatically back away. Then I almost fall down the stairs to the second floor— almost. Charlie nudges me away from the staircase, but he barely meets my gaze; he doesn’t even smile. What’s his deal today?
We haven’t known each other long, but I already miss old Charlie. The carefree guy from the bus station who smiled, laughed, and joked around. The guy who called me Carrots. I’d even settle for one of his dangerous glances right about now. At least it would involve eye contact.
Luckily, the fact that I’m about to die in a strange woman’s attic keeps me pretty distracted. I stare at the dark void above us, the home of the ghost squirrel, and it takes a few seconds for my common sense to kick in. For me to remember that I’m a Kilpatrick, and out of all the things we believe in—honor, bravery, hanging our towels up to dry before we put them in the hamper—ghosts aren’t one of them.
“Wait, how do you know it’s a ghost squirrel? What if it’s just a regular squirrel?”
That’s the easiest explanation, isn’t it? The Occam’s razor we desperately need? I can still hear the demon-in-question racing around above us. If it sounds like a real squirrel and runs like a real squirrel…
Muriel stops me with an ominous glance. One I feel deep in my bones. “I saw the beast only once,” she says. “It had fur as pale as smoke, eyes as black as pitch. I stared into the icy depths of its soul, and?—”
I shiver, and Charlie hesitates before moving closer. Gently cutting her off, he glances at me with soft eyes that make my knees wobble. “Muriel leads the Ponderosa Falls ghost tour every October. Can you tell?”
I can indeed.
I bet she’s good at it too; I bet people line up around the block for that tour. I’ve only been up here with her for five minutes, and this experience has changed me. Thanks to Muriel, I have goose bumps all over my body, panic knots in my stomach, and I might never think squirrels are cute ever again.
Though what’s really going to stick with me is how much better a normal day feels when Charlie Roscoe looks at me. As if he’s mastered the art of eye contact and turned it into medicine.
He holds my gaze for a split second, and my panic eases just a little. Just enough.
“The real reason we call it that,” he continues, “is because the ghost squirrel likes to disappear. As soon as you think you’ve got him cornered, he’s gone. Even the humane traps Wild Bill sets up can’t catch him. He’s a regular squirrel, but he’s a real Houdini.”
That makes me feel so much better. “It’s not a ghost?”
Charlie shakes his head, squeezing my hand to soothe me. “Nope. It’s a regular, boring old squirrel. I promise.”
“Says the man who’s never seen it for himself…” Muriel mutters.
Charlie suppresses a smile, but he doesn’t argue.
Before she climbs into the attic, Muriel opens an old trunk in the hallway and hands us a few supplies. None of them make me feel better. As much as I like this woman, as much as I want to protect her, I’m pretty sure the antique catcher’s mask and baseball mitt she gives me aren’t actually going to help. The pillowcase she thinks I should use to “capture our foe” seems equally ill-fated. Yet nothing is as bad as the swim goggles and winter scarf she hands Charlie.
He puts on the goggles without a second thought, but he hesitates at the scarf. When he tries to hand it back, Muriel shakes her head. “Trust me, dear. In case it goes for the jugular.”
The jugular?
My own neck is wide open, as bare as it gets, and I press my hand to my throat to protect it. Charlie holds back a smile as he ducks his head toward mine. There’s a faint glimmer in his eyes, a whisper of Dangerous Charlie, and I’ve missed that look.
“You’ll be fine,” he says softly, his breath teasing the side of my neck. “Squirrels don’t usually do that…unless they’re vampires.”
I elbow him, trying not to laugh. But mostly, I’m just happy to see old Charlie.
After he puts on his winter scarf, Muriel dons a catcher’s mask of her own, arming herself with an ancient tennis racket that was probably handcrafted by dinosaurs. “Don’t worry,” she tells us as she pauses by the attic ladder. “All my guests are out sightseeing for the day. If we scream, no one will hear us.”
This woman.
Everything she says is the opposite of comforting, even when she’s trying to make us feel better. “Sweet but terrifying” is her natural resting state. Once she starts climbing the ladder, I can’t stop shivering, and Charlie leans back in.
“Are you okay over there, Kilpatrick?”
Those words feel like a gut punch; I have no idea why. His demeanor is friendly, his voice kind, but that question knocks the wind out of me.
Carrots.
That’s what he should’ve said. Are you okay over there, Carrots? But he didn’t.
It’s not a big deal. Who cares what he calls me? We barely know each other, and we probably shouldn’t have special nicknames. But it still bothers me.
Charlie can tell something’s wrong, and his eyes find mine. “We don’t have to do this—you know that, right? We can say no and go home.”
I want to. No part of me is excited about capturing a squirrel today, ghost or otherwise. I’m all set to retreat, but Muriel is halfway up the ladder. She looks so small and vulnerable by herself in that old catcher’s mask. I can’t let her do this alone, not even if I really want to.
Shaking my head, I climb up next, going fast to get it over with. Then I’m in Muriel’s attic, trapped in a tight maze of boxes and old furniture, and I regret everything .
I’ve made a terrible mistake.