Chapter Thirty-five

RUE

T he room is as silent as a graveyard. A heartbeat passes, and that's all it takes for fear to churn anew, the teenagers acting like rats looking to escape danger.

"Can you get us out?" the young man who threatened violence before asks, and I have no doubt he will do whatever is necessary to stop the ghosts, even if it means killing me to do it.

Knowing he's seconds away from a full freak-out, I glance back at the broken mirror. "If you want my help, release them. I can't do anything for you if they kill me."

A prolonged beat of silence passes, the kids glancing between me and the mirror, violence hovering in the air like a bomb ticking down to zero. Just when the young man takes a threatening step toward me, no doubt taking my suggestion to heart, the sound of the door popping open clicks loudly in the silence.

The man pauses and glares at me like he's tempted to ignore the doors, seeing me as the threat and not the ghosts. He isn't exactly wrong. The other kids don't wait and charge toward the exits without prompting, nearly trampling each other to leave.

Gunner, the twins, Hicks, and Ellis escort everyone out, almost being swept up in the rush. When they don't leave, I shake my head at them. "You need to go as well. You?—"

"No," the guys retort, a stubborn glint entering their eyes.

Jameson steps toward me, and I hold up my hand to ward him off. "If you remain, you'll just be used as hostages."

Energy builds in the room, and I know I only have seconds to act. "Please, if you ever cared for me at all, just leave. Once you see into the afterlife, a connection forms, and there is no going back."

Hicks takes a step toward the door, and my breath leaves me in a rush, relief making me lightheaded.

Then he shuts the door with a nearly silent snick that sounds as loud as a gunshot in my mind.

Holding my gaze, he fishes the jewelry case out of his pocket, snaps it open, and slips the silver and gold metal over his head. "I got you into this mess, and I'm not leaving until it's done."

He will be leaving.

It's inevitable.

Unable to look at them, afraid to see their reactions, I peer down at the Ouija board.

It's only compressed cardboard, but with the way it impacted my life, I would expect it to be more monumental or something.

Not just a cheesy toy for children.

With a deep breath, I press my index finger against the wound in my arm until fresh blood coats the tip. I place my fingertip against the planchette, leaving a bloody fingerprint behind.

It immediately stills.

The mirror across the room ripples, like a pebble striking a pond. Waves undulate outward, and the dapper gentleman who looks like he was pulled right from the prohibition era steps out from the flat surface.

The temperature in the room plummets, and energy crackles in the air as his transparent form solidifies. The young man couldn't be more than twenty-five years old. He tips his head backward, arches his spine, and takes a breath so deep that his chest expands.

"Aw, fresh air." His smile is bright as he settles back on his heels and glances around the room, his eyes gleaming pure black. The flesh on his face ripples, slowly stretching until the gaping wound seals over. He inhales deeply, then winks at me. "That's better, don't you think?"

His voice has an echoing quality like he's talking into a microphone that's a little too close to a speaker.

"Holy fuck," Gunner murmurs, his eyes nearly bulging in disbelief.

Ellis doesn't even blink as he stares at the apparition, shock clearly breaking his brain.

Jameson scowls at the ghost, obviously pissed at it for putting me in danger in the first place. Jaceson only gapes, blinking repeatedly, then he rubs his eyes before leaning toward his brother. "Do you see him too?"

"Of course," Jameson snaps, but he doesn't take his attention away from the threat. "Pookie doesn't lie. She said ghosts exist, so that means ghosts exist."

"What do you want?" Hicks crosses his arms and directs his question at the ghost, seemingly unfazed at having an incorporeal person walk through a wall and start talking.

The gangster tosses his head back with an exuberant laugh that is just a little too loud. A second later, it cuts off abruptly, and his hard eyes land on me. "I want my girl. I want my Daisy-Mae. I was promised an eternity with her, and I won't settle for anything less."

"This is about a girl?" Hicks sounds incredulous, a curl of disgust twisting his lips.

The gangster glares at Hicks, his expression going dead.

"I can understand it," Jameson murmurs, his gaze landing on me like a caress. "Sometimes, when you find the right woman, one lifetime just isn't enough."

"Exactly." The gangster nods, then winks out of existence before reappearing across from me. His expression gentles as he stares down at me. "You're the spitting image of her."

He runs a single finger down my cheek, and a bitter chill seeps into my flesh. It's so cold that it sears my skin down to bone.

"Don't touch her," Gunner snarls, taking a menacing step toward us. Before he can reach us, the gangster raises a hand and snaps his fingers.

Fear churns in my gut, and my gaze jumps to Gunner, terrified of what he might do to him.

The mirror behind the bar shatters, the tinkling sound of glass hitting glass filling the air before the shards crash to the floor in a roar of noise that draws everyone's attention. Underneath the mirror is a simple picture tucked into the wooden frame.

Ellis crosses the room with quick strides and snatches up the old-fashioned, black-and-white photo. He stills and stares down at it for a long moment, then he speaks in a quiet voice that I have to strain to hear. "You could be twins."

Clearly unnerved, he glances up at me, worry churning in his eyes.

Not once during the exchange does the gangster look away from me, a worshipful expression on his face. It's unnerving, and my skin tingles unpleasantly at the feel of his eyes on my body.

"While I would love to reconnect you to your lost love, she passed on to the afterlife." I stop speaking when an unholy gleam ignites in his pitch-black eyes, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to continue. "I can summon her for you to say goodbye, I can even help you cross over so you can be with her, but it's beyond my abilities to call her back permanently."

"Oh, I know," he murmurs, his voice low and dark. "Daisy-Mae told me all about how her ability worked."

Something about the way he says it, the way he looks at me like he can peer into my soul has the hairs on the back of my neck lifting in warning. "Then what do you want?"

"You," he says, his smile slow to form as darkness takes over his expression. "If I can't have Daisy-Mae, then I will have you instead."

I suddenly suspect that my long-lost relative might not have died a natural death.

He wasn't her boyfriend—she was his obsession.

Before anyone can completely process the thought, the gangster lunges at me. Then unending agony engulfs me, threatening to tear my sanity apart. I can't move or think without drowning under wave after wave of pain.

It's only by sheer will that I'm able to fight it.

Glancing down, I see his arm sticking into my chest.

It feels like my heart is being squeezed into a juicy pulp, and breathing becomes impossible.

"You'll see," the gangster murmurs, his grip slowly tightening with his words. The gesture is completely at odds with the way he gently pushes hair from my face. "Once you die, we can be together forever. Only this time, I have the power to make sure you never leave."

Curses blister the air, and I see each of the guys charging for me, but I'm helpless to do anything as my vision blurs and darkens. I try to build my wards, but they have deteriorated too much.

Gunner throws himself across the back of the couch to tackle the gangster.

Unfortunately, he passes clear through his form.

Hicks throws a punch at his face, but his fist soars through it without resistance, whisps of smoke twisting in the air before the ghost slowly reforms.

The second punch has the same results.

A maniacal laugh escapes the gangster, and he pulls me close, whispering in my ear. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll be together soon."

Determined to fight him, I clamp my hand around his wrist.

Will and intent.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on my jewelry. My rings burn into his skin, and a snarl of pure rage contorts his face.

When his grip tightens, my heart skips a beat.

"The jewelry!" Jameson shouts, his voice thunderous. "The jewelry she gave us can hurt him."

He doesn't wait for the others, throwing his fist as hard as possible. It cracks across the gangster's face, leaving a burn mark on his cheek. The gangster's face ripples, flashing the macabre image of what he looked like when he died, and the guys recoil.

But only for a second.

Then they all pile onto the gangster. Just as blackness threatens to fill my vision, the grip on my heart vanishes. I desperately gasp for air, and my lungs inflate for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

I catch myself on the coffee table before I collapse, but I don't have time to recover. The gangster snarls, and a burst of energy swells in the room. He wraps his hand around Jameson's throat, then squeezes.

He turns in my direction with a macabre smile, his partially eroded face revealing jagged teeth that has me shuddering. "I either take you or him—your choice."

My eyes land on Jameson dangling helplessly in his grip. He claws at the ghostly hand, and the scent of brimstone fills the room as the ghostly flesh burns, but the gangster only increases his flow of energy, healing the wounds as fast as they are inflicted.

I could fight him, but it will be too late.

He'll kill Jameson before I have a chance to break him free.

Resigned to my fate, unwilling to exchange my death with Jameson's, I slowly rise to my feet, using the table for support when my knees threaten to buckle.

My hand brushes against the planchette, and I grab it, tucking it into my palm.

I always expected to die young at the hands of a ghost, but I never thought it would be this way. I'm almost at peace with the decision if it means Jameson will go free. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to him.

"Don't." Jameson's voice is strangled, barely a breath of sound, his pale eyes pleading with me to say no. "Please."

I realize in that moment that I love him.

Madly.

Wildly.

Completely.

I also realize that being with any of them is impossible. My abilities will always be a threat to anyone I love. The only way to keep them safe is to let them go. "Release him, and I'll do whatever you want."

A victorious smile crosses the gangster's face, and he doesn't even look at Jameson as he releases his hold, dropping him into a boneless heap on the floor. He crosses the distance between us, his legs swirling like smoke as they passed through the coffee table without pause.

He cups my face, his grip so brutal that coldness seeps into my bones. His eyes take on a manic gleam as he forces my head back to look up at him. "You won't regret your decision. I promise. I'll make it quick. Then we can finally spend the rest of eternity together, just like I promised. We'll finally be together again."

"Like fucking hell," Gunner snarls, his expression harsh. Despite knowing they don't stand a chance, the rest of the guys nod with grim determination. Just as they take a step toward me, the gangster waves his free hand in their direction, never once taking his gaze from mine.

My attention slips to the guys, and my breath halts when I see that they are frozen in time. Jaceson is kneeling next to his twin, pulling him to safety, even as Jameson tries to shrug him off and come to my rescue. Ellis is frozen with one foot raised, Gunner hovers completely in the air like he took a running leap to tackle us, while Hicks is wrapping his necklace around his fist, a determined expression on his face.

"Don't worry," the gangster murmurs, a pleased smile curling his lips. "We'll be together soon, where they can't bother us anymore."

Before I have a chance to protest, his grip tightens on my throat.

Knowing I only have seconds, I swing the planchette forward with all my might, gambling on a hunch. I focus all my energy on the compressed cardboard triangle. Already doused in my blood, it warms at my touch seconds before it thumps into his chest, then it sinks deep into his flesh. He gasps loudly, his hold loosening, and he gazes down at me with such betrayal that I step back.

"What did you do?" He seems confused, clutching at the wound, but he's unable to pull the planchette free. It sinks deeper into his chest, and a light begins to glow around the injury. It spreads through his torso, creeping like vines through his veins until he's lit from within. "We were finally going to be happy. We were going to be together again. Why?"

"Because you're hurting people," I explain, rubbing my throat when it hurts to speak. "You're dead. You no longer belong to this world."

"But we were supposed to have an eternity together." He looks truly baffled and utterly betrayed by my actions, and my heart aches for him. Souls can easily get confused after death. Their humanity gets twisted, turning someone bright and innocent in life into a monster after death.

A second later, his arms are flung open wide, his back arching at an almost impossible angle, as too much power permeates his form. He explodes outward in a shower of glittering dust. It settles on almost every surface of the room, the cold sting burning my skin.

My shoulder burns fiercely, like something is being etched into my skin. The pain steals my breath, and I wobble on my feet, barely able to keep upright. When I glance down, I'm unable to see anything but blood and black bruises covering my shoulder.

I'm distracted when the planchette drops to the floor with a clatter, the glass circle now opaque as if burned. Before I can investigate further, the guys unfreeze, whatever power holding them captive vanishing. They collapse onto the floor with a groan, and I know from experience that dealing directly with the dead can be exhausting.

As much as I want to go to them, I don't move.

Too much has happened.

They've seen too much.

I never wanted to involve them in my world, never wanted to put them in danger, but it happened anyway. If I stay, it will only put them in more peril. That's if they even want me anywhere near them.

Feeling like my world is crumbling around me, I step away from them.

"Pookie?" Jameson calls, his voice slurred.

I stiffen at the plea in his voice. As much as I should just leave, I can't seem to make my feet move.

I'm too selfish.

The mangled remnants of my heart thumps hard in my chest, as if begging me to go to them, but I refuse to blindly drag them any further into the unholy mess of my life.

They deserve a choice.

"I need you all to do something for me. I need you to take tonight to think over what transpired." I swallow hard, then force my shoulders back. "The dead won't ever leave me alone. I can't guarantee something like tonight won't happen again. The more time you spend with me, the more tangled your lives will become with the dead. Being around me is dangerous. You each need to decide if my friendship is worth the risk."

I drag my hair away from my face, my body aching from using so much energy in my battle with the gangster. Now that the excitement is gone, the tiny knicks from the glass sting like I ran into a swarm of wasps.

My throat hurts, every twist of my neck sending a jolt of pain through my body, and I'm more than ready to call it a day. My ribs ache like someone tried to pry my chest open, and I rub the spot, but it does little to ease the pain. Avoiding their gazes, not wanting to see their reactions, I head to the door. "Let me know what you decide in the morning."

I escape before they can break my heart and tell me they don't want to see me again.

I desperately need one more night of hope, one more night to believe that something good exists in the world, before my life crumbles to ash once more.