Octavia yawned and gestured to the book. “Alright, alright. We’ll sit on the steps like Plato and Aristotle later. For now, read. And just your parts. I want to hear it in your voice; maybe then I can understand it better.”
“Maybe.” I smiled when she snuggled back into her blanket. I itched to move closer so I could feel the warmth of her breath on my skin. The space between us would have to be endured. Staying in the recliner was a small gulf that was better than the millions of miles sleeping in another room would feel like.
I tucked my good foot underneath my thigh, tugged a throw blanket across my body, and turned to page one.
“‘I come into others’ lives in the middle of their story,’” I started. “‘Right as things get worse.’”
Octavia released a heavy sigh, and the satisfaction of inciting such a response felt like it could fuel me for weeks to come.
I wokeup on the recliner with a crick in my neck. The couch in front of me was empty; a faint imprint of Octavia’s body from last night lingered. Sunlight poured through the half-closed blinds, slowly warming the edges of the house.
An illustrated bird clock tweeted, signaling 7 a.m. I smiled a little when a brown bird popped in and out of a tiny door in the middle of the clock. The scent of bacon floated, clouding the air. Jonah’s laughter filtered through, coming from the kitchen as well. There was a soft, unchallenged hum in the air. I hadn’t woken to something this calm since the academy.
Even if this lull harbored something insidious underneath, I took a deep breath, appreciating Elmwood’s peaceful potential. I allowed myself a few minutes, fantasizing about sticking one place long enough to experience this quiet peace. Once my time was up, I shoved off my blanket and tugged on a sweatshirt, checking my phone for any messages. Nico had sent one at 5 a.m.
Nico
Started our drive. Should be there around lunchtime. Keep the ghost warm for us.
I wiped the sand from my eyes. Last night’s events rolled across my brain. I tried to put everything in its proper place, examining the details I may have missed because I had solely directed my worry toward Octavia.
We were dealing with a category five ghost. I hadn’t come across one of those since my time in the Guild. Our approach would be like any other job: find the source of the turmoil, track down the remains, free it through coaxing or fire. Straightforward. Simple. And yet, my stomach turned. I itched to go through last night’s footage, but right before I could get up, my phone rang.
“Hey, girl, how’s it going?” Opal asked. She was out of breath, the roar of a waterfall nearly drowning her out in the background. “Got to license any new plushies at your event? I heard Hem Toys was there.”
I laughed under my breath. “I wish.”
“Aw, that’s too bad. I needed a new one for my collection. The plan was to auction them all off by the end of the year. I’ll be able to afford about a week’s vacation at that bougie resort on the East Coast.”
“I could sign the ones you have.” I got up from my chair and went over to the window, nudging down the blinds with two fingers. The RV stood in the yard, muddied and dripping from rain. Octavia’s truck was parked right beside it with no fresh tire tracks to indicate she’d gone out this morning.
“You’re so generous? See, this is why you’re my favorite”—there was a grunt and a click of a rifle being loadedon her end—“sister.”
“What are you—should I let you go? This sounds like a bad time.”
“I called you,” she said.
I snorted. “I know.”
“Don’t let me go, just hold on for one sec.” Opal muted her end, and I swallowed my scoff.
I’d probably find Octavia in the stable. I needed to check on her and get a pulse on where her head was after last night. Opal got back on the line after I zipped up my boots. They put a little too much pressure on my ankle, but thankfully the swelling wasn’t unbearable.
“What’s going on with you?” Her breathing was back to a slow, steady rhythm.
“I got a job in Colorado.” I opened the front door. A gust of crisp wind breathed on my skin. “On a horse ranch.”
“You adore horses.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “How are you always finding cute jobs? I’m knee-deep in shifter shit, and deer remains.”
“Coyote?”
“Wolf.”
“In Upstate New York?”
“Shifters like road trips as much as anyone else. I’m sure they give them plenty of time to stick their heads out the window.”
I laughed. Opal’s humor derived from our father’s, thanks to her unshakeable admiration and to the extended years she spent under his tutelage.
