“Look at me,” Nico says. “It wasn’t the same.”
“Don’t tell me it wasn’t?—”
“Eden’s fine,” Nico says. “This wasn’t the same.”
“I can’t do this again,” Griffin says. “I can’t watch someone else?—”
“Focus on my voice,” Nico says, and his commanding tone calms my racing heart. “Count backward from ten with me. Can you do that?”
“You motherfucker.”
“Canyou do that?” Nico doesn’t sound rattled. “Ten.”
Griffin joins in, sounding reluctant, but by the time they hit one, he doesn’t sound so angry anymore.
“I know it feels the same, but Eden will learn to handle herself,” Nico says. “You need to learn how not to react like this every time something goes wrong, or I’m going to pull you from the field.”
Silence drags on for a long time. Then there’s a crash like glass shattering against a wall, and I jump. Griffin’s door bangs open. Angry footsteps pound down the stairs, and I hear the front door slam.
Calmer footsteps move down the hallway. The shadow of feet darkens the thin strip of light under my door.
“Eden,” Nico says. “Don’t go after him. He needs to cool down.”
I say nothing. I won’t confirm I was eavesdropping, though I don’t think it counts as eavesdropping when the walls are that thin.
“He’s contaminated,” Nico says. “Just like you are. His emotions are amplified, and neither of you will be yourselves until the ectoplasm works its way out of your systems.”
This time, that same commanding tone makes my chest flare with anger at being told what to do, but the anger feels more intense than usual. It’s hot and suffocating and makes my skin feel too tight, like I’ll actually need to peelit off my body if I have to sit here alone for one more second.
That’s the ectoplasm talking, but knowing that doesn’t make the anxiety gouging holes in my chest feel any less painful.
Griffin is out there hurting, and I’m sitting here doing nothing.
If he’s panicking because of what happened, maybe seeing me and seeing that both of us are fine will help him feel better.
I wait until I hear Nico go back to his room before I grab my hoodie off the floor. Bob lifts his head from where he’s curled on my pillow, watching me put it on with those bug eyes. I gently lower him onto the floor so he doesn’t hurt himself trying to jump off the bed as soon as I’m gone.
“Please don’t bark,” I say before kissing him on the head. “I’ll be right back.”
CHAPTER 29
When a person is contaminated with ectoplasm, they need to be isolated. Best practice is forty-eight hours of isolation, but I’ve found this nearly impossible to enforce.
—Methods of Modern Ghost Hunting: A Tactical Guide to Containing and Vanquishing the Deadby Donald Dellman
The house is eerily silent. I creep down the stairs so Nico won’t hear me deliberately disobeying him, then pull my boots onto my feet before stepping outside.
What am I doing?
Images of Griffin flash through my mind. When he was pinned to that ceiling, how he positioned himself between me and danger—there’s so much pressure in my chest it feels like my ribs are going to crack, and the only way to relieve it is to find him.
I turn in a slow circle, scanning the yard. My gaze lands on the hulking shadow at the far edge of the property. Of course.
Overgrown grass brushes my ankles. My bones feel heavier than usual, as if I’m sneaking somewhere I shouldn’t and my body is trying to stop me, and maybe I am, but knowing that doesn’t stop my legs from moving.
The barn door is slightly ajar, and a sliver of light spills onto the grass. I push it open enough to slip inside.
Griffin is on the opposite end of the gym with his back to me, hammering a punching bag like he’s trying to kill it. He’s shirtless, his back a map of tensed muscles and old scars. Thebeginnings of red bruises bloom across his shoulders and wrap around his ribcage, damage from today that feels like a personal failure on my part.
