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Mei takes a step, which causes Esme to recoil in her chair.
“Why lie to her? Why keep her in the dark?” the ghosts asks, shifting nervously.
“What is she doing?” Esme whispers. Mei can hear her no problem, but I keep that to myself, too.
“Just her ghostly things. Sometimes she gets agitated, but it’s no big deal.”
Mei’s eyes narrow. “You’re truly a monster worthy of your title, Tei. The girl is no threat to you.”
“Is it… dangerous?”
This time, I can’t help a laugh. The thought of Mei posing a danger to anyone is ludicrous. “Goodness, no. She’s innocuous.”
Esme’s eyes pingpong across the room, from Mei to me to her own arm. Finally, with the softest of voices, she admits, “I’ve met her before.”
I scowl in Mei’s direction. “So you have, uh?”
“I’ve seen her a few times around you, but we had an… encounter… the night you showed me your, ahem, nature. At the beach.”
I should’ve known my meddling ghost wouldn’t keep to herself. “And what happened?”
Esme points to her arm. “She grabbed me. It left a burn.”
Mei shrinks in her shoulders. “It was an accident. I wanted to communicate, I didn’t know I’d be able to touch her.”
Of course, because Mei has no experience with witches, and Esme doesn’t know she’s one. Two clueless powers crashing. “I think our friend was trying to say hi. Ghosts lose touch with the world of the living the longer they stay in limbo — but I can promise you, she wasn’t trying to be aggressive.”
“Why can’t she hear me?” Mei asks. “She’s a witch, is she not?”
The glare I nail her with, eyes blazing with my true form’s fire, seems to make things click. “You’re scared of her.”
I scoff. Scared is an exaggeration. Distrustful is more like it.
Esme sighs, returning to her inspection of Meilin. Her golden skin has a pallor to it, and turns a sicklier shade with each passing minute. In her neck, her heartbeat thrums wildly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to a ghost. Last time it happened, Mama and Àvia made me promise not to try it ever again.”
My eyebrows rise at that. It makes sense her grandmother would discourage her from talking to spirits, but her mother, a witch herself? They’re shepherds of souls by nature. Why would she not share their calling?
I reach a hand for Esme’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “A lot to process.”
“Would you like some food? Water? Hot beverage?” I don’t want her passing out in my library. I have no idea how to reanimate a mortal.
She turns to me with a feeble smile. “Tea would be nice.” Her stomach growls in response. “And maybe a bite to go with it.”
I climb to my feet and pass Meilin on my way out, leaning closer and lowering my voice so only she can hear it. “Behave yourself. Don’t do anything that’ll make me regret not chopping your soul into a tiny pieces when I had the chance.”
And with that, I leave the witch and the ghost alone.
chapter 22
london bridge is falling down
esmeralda
I’m alone with a ghost. The one thing my family made clear I was to never do — I’m doing it right in the home of a monster. If Àvia wasn’t already dead, she’d have a heart attack. I take a deep breath, taking inventory of the room around me, the books on the shelfs and which titles I do and do not recognize, to calm my speeding heart. When I feel steady, I turn to Meilin.
“You can come closer, if you’d like.” Every fiber of my body screams against the suggestion, but I will it to quiet.
