The admission comes out rushed and shameful, but also bitter. Names and magic go hand in hand. Either my ghost is lying, or he’s truly a lost soul—stripped of self-awareness, magic, and hope.
“That’s brutal. What does Mabel call you?”
There’s a pause before he answers. “Nothing, really. But Devi called me ‘E.’”
My brows knit together. “Just E?”
“Yes.”
“E for Evan? Elliott? Edgar? What should I call you?”
“Just E is fine.”
“Alright, Just E. I’m Max. If I were to believe you and take all this ghost shite on the chin, what are my chances of leaving this house and staying alive?”
“I wouldn’t advise you to leave. Not for a while,” he says quickly. “Those monsters looked creepy as fuck.”
Good answer. Whatever he is, he’s not meant to lure me to my death.
The liquid begins to bubble faintly as I stir, a warm, earthy scent curling upward with the steam. I add a dash of sage, rosemary, and mint to give it a pleasant scent and strengthen its cleansing properties. The herbs blend with the wax and clay, turning the paste a purplish green. Before turning off the gas, I crush the blood fern stems in a garlic press, letting their dark sap drip into the blend until the clotting resin thickens it.
“Have you ever seen anything like the monsters from last night before?” I ask.
Mabel keeps so many secrets. Maybe those creatures are a common sight in the gardens, though I doubt it.
“No. Never.”
I scrape the warm poultice onto a sheet of parchment paper, spreading it thin before sliding it into the fridge.
“What is that for?” E asks.
“It’s a salve for my wound. I’ll apply it morning and night, and it should heal within days.” I slip my phone out of my pocket and drum a nervous rhythm against the black screen. “Now… Any suggestions for what I should tell my boss about missing work today?”
I don’t wait for E’s answer.
“I have to call the hospital and my fiancé. Be a dear and let me do that first. Afterwards, we can figure out who you are, or at least whether you mean to help me or eat me.”
A full-bodied laugh chimes in the air, warm and rich and impossibly sweet. The vibrations ripple across my skin, and heatblooms in my cheeks. Whatever power E mastered in life, it still clings to him now, woven into the very fabric of his spirit.
A flicker of doubt gnaws at the back of my mind. Am I trusting him too easily? After everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve lost, I should know better than to engage with someone I cannot see. Especially since he won’t give me his name. Yet… I can’t bring myself to believe that a magic this bright could belong to something evil. I know evil. I’ve seen it twice now, in different forms. Evil scratches along my bones like claws on a blackboard, and E doesn’t have that effect on me.
Plus, he’s a male. There are no males in the Red Forest, and what I saw in my memory—a man teaming up with Reds to slay my mother—is highly unusual. I’ll trust my ghost for now, until he gives me a reason not to.
I dial Lachlan’s number first, feeling a little self-conscious about swindling my fiancé in front of my newfriend.
“Morning,” I say quickly.
“Morning, beautiful. I just got on the train.”
Hearing his voice after the night I had feels eerie. His familiar greeting soothes my nerves, yet the life we share feels impossibly far away—like a dream I woke from the moment that first monster stalked out of the mist.
“That’s right, you were leaving for London today. When does the conference start again?” I ask.
“We’ve got registration and cocktails tonight. Guy tried to highjack my presentation last minute, but he’s no expert on operating theatres?—”
E’s energy creeps closer, as if he’s right there beside me, listening in. I lose track of Lachlan’s words, goosebumps prickling my skin. Beneath that first sizzle, a cottony warmth spreads along my right arm, climbing to my chest, my neck, my cheeks—like I’m standing in front of the window, bathed in soft morning light.
“—never going to matter. Can you believe it?”
