My fingers went numb. “My shoe. From earlier?”
“Exactly.” Octavia nodded and wore a look that said,See, you get it, it’s ridiculous.“Because I was with you andwe’ve been talking about ghosts all day and you were the last person…you were the last person I saw before I went to sleep. So, I dreamed about you and your shoe.”
“Via—” Wilson started.
“She was the last person. That’s why the nightmare changed.” Octavia stopped pacing, ready to stand on what she believed in. Or maybe it was what she needed to believe in.
I wiped my palms on my jeans. “Alright, I think that’s enough questioning for the night. We’re not going to get anywhere when you haven’t slept.”
Despite the dismissal, Octavia’s posture grew rigid. Her jaw became even tighter when Wilson told her, “I’ll get you a couple of blankets. You can sleep out here tonight.”
Octavia watched her brother leave before she settled down on the couch. She sat on the cushion’s edge, her nail between her teeth.
“Ghosts”—I paused for when she flashed a hard look at me—“rarely become this level of active again in one night. Like us, they need to build up strength. You’ll be okay to get some rest down here.”
If a ghost used its power to simulate burying Octavia alive, it’d have to replenish it somehow. It’d probably taken weeks to hoard the energy for the attack. Fed on the fear, anger, and confusion of Wilson, Esther, and Octavia. With two extra people in the house with varying degrees of emotion, it’d have plenty to feast on once more. The recovery window would be shorter, but not short enough to rehash tonight’s show.
Octavia’s fingers shook as she readjusted her silk headscarf, tucking her locs underneath the fabric.
“I’ll stay with you,” I said. “Post monitoring. I have tomake sure nothing touched you long enough to take root. Is that all right?”
“Of course.” Octavia’s gaze landed on mine, shoulders relaxing.
Wilson came back with blankets and pillows. He helped her make up the couch before watching her get settled and squeezing her hand goodnight.
As he passed me, he whispered, “You’ll stay the rest of the night?”
I nodded and smiled as he murmured a thank-you. Once Wilson’s door clicked shut, Octavia turned on the couch, her back to me. I grabbed a seat in a worn, plaid recliner. It squeaked when lifted. My ankle rejoiced for a moment of reprieve.
The ticking clock echoed through the living room, making it seem as if we were lost in a dark cavern. Jonah texted me,
everything’s okay up here.
I replied,
Perfect. Seal the room with salt. Man the monitors for as long as you can before getting a few hours of sleep. Make sure everything is recorded.
Jonah
I’m on it!
Octavia shifted again, turning back to me. Her eyes were closed, mouth shielded with the blanket she bunched up in her fist. Octavia’s breaths were frantic and heavy, progressively worse with each second.
“Hey,” I whispered.
Those beautiful lashes fluttered open. She took one more breath before saying, “Hi.”
I laughed at the poor attempt at nonchalance in her tone. “You’re Octavia.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “And…you’re Rae.”
I snorted. “No.”
“No?” Octavia’s voice rose an octave, and she almost laughed. Almost.
“Yes, but I mean, I was trying to ground you.”
“How was randomly saying my name supposed to ground me?”
