Page 39 of The Devil and His Ghost

The Gilded Inn was on the outskirts of a small town in New York, which gave us a decent walk to the main area where restaurants were. Not that I minded the walk. The air carried that perfect autumn crispness. Orange and yellow leaves littered the walkway and gently drifted down toward us from the trees lining the street. Victorian houses and older stone buildings dotted the landscape with the setting sun bathing it all in a warm glow.

Fall was the best season.

And I clearly wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Kendyll’s face was tipped up, and her eyes were closed as she breathed in the autumn breeze with a faint flush to her cheeks. The orange hue in the sky lit up her figure, and I was momentarily struck speechless.

“Měilì.”

Her eyes opened, and those forest green orbs, vibrant against the orange and red raining down, pierced into me. “What?” she asked.

It was only then that I realized my internal remark about her being beautiful wasn’t so internal. I supposed it was a good thing she didn’t speak Mandarin. Still, I cleared my throat and waved my hand around us. “Autumn. It’s beautiful, right?”

Her confusion melted away. She looked around again happily. “Oh. Yeah, no question. There’s nothing better.”

I reached out to catch a handful of yellow leaves as the fall wind shook them free from the branches above. They were still soft without that crunch yet, so I began mindlessly twisting and tying them together casually. “What do you like about the season?”

She laughed lightly. “What don’t I like about it? That list would be much shorter.” She paused and seemed to consider a proper answer while I continued my leaf craft. Finally, she explained, “Everyone gets so excited about spooky things during this time of year. Ghosts are sought after. Freaks are welcome. The abnormal is wanted. It’s the one time of the year that I feel like I can really breathe as I am without walking on eggshells. The thing that’s always gotten me an apprehensive side-eye is suddenly cool. I’m not the girl who spent her formative years afraid and in a mental ward but one of the normal people in the crowd who loves the paranormal.”

I hummed with an appreciation for that reasoning. My craft of autumn leaves had turned into a complete circle, so I placed the yellow leaves on her head like a crown. Grinning, I told her, “Fall suits you.”

She stared up as if doing so would let her see her new headpiece. Her fingers lightly touched it as she glanced my way. I was struck once more by the thought that Kendyll truly was gorgeous. When she looked ahead once more, her eyes widened. I barely managed to tear my gaze away from her profile to see what had captured her attention.

Standing a few paces ahead of us was a short and stubby black cat. It sat on its chubby haunches and stared at us with milky green eyes. Or rather, one eye. The left one was gone, a mess of fur where it should’ve been. Half of the left ear was torn, too, but that wasn’t the strangest part of the fat cat.

“Meow,” it called, standing and padding in a fluffy little bounce toward us.

Kendyll beamed and knelt down to hold her hand out for the feline. “Hi, cutie!”

The cat ran its head and back under her palm, purring happily. Mostly. The spectral animal didn’t have enough energy to have a more tangible form, so after a few seconds, Kendyll’s fingers started to sink through the ghostly cat.

“I’ve never met a ghost cat before,” Kendyll revealed as she continued caressing the ethereal fluff ball, unbothered by her touch occasionally passing through it.

“It’s probably just excited that someone is finally acknowledging it.” I rubbed my chin and pondered, “Though, I’m sure it knows it’s a ghost. Cats are special breeds like that.”

She was trying to scratch under its chin, but her fingers kept going through it. Taking pity on the creature, I sent some of my own energy toward the cat. The sidewalk, which I could see through the feline, disappeared as it solidified in color and feeling. Kendyll’s fingers finally scratched beneath its chin, the cat purring contently. She cooed and murmured to the spiritual animal, who rolled over onto its—his—back to swat and play with her wiggling fingers. While she and I could see and touch the ghost now, others wouldn’t be able to without the gift of the Devil’s Eye.

I glanced around the silent street and the few houses on it. “I can just imagine what someone is thinking if they’re looking at you right now. You hear that?” I cupped my ear and craned my head as though listening to a distant sound. “It’s the cops coming to check out the girl who’s scratching and pawing at the air above the sidewalk.”

Her smile never wavered. She simply booped the cat’s nose and stood so we could continue our walk. The cat sprung to his feet and stared expectantly at us as though ready to join our travels.

Kendyll noticed. With a nod, she announced, “I’m going to keep him.”

I threw my head back on a bark of unamused laughter before fixing a bland stare on her. “Humans can’t keep ghosts.”

She shrugged. “If a ghost wants to stick around with someone, they can. So if he wants to stick around with me, he’s welcome.”

I sighed and watched her resume her trek. The munchkin ball of black fur padded after her, and she threw me a smirk with a single raised brow that practically taunted, I told you so.

“This girl,” I mumbled before following the woman and her new ghostly companion.

The rest of the walk into town was spent trying to decide on a name for the guy. It wasn’t until the two of us sat down under the outdoor patio at a restaurant that I finally struck gold.

“Catsper,” I announced proudly, watching the ghost cat perch on the railing next to our table. “His name is Catsper.”

“Catsper?” she asked with an unsure squint. She rested her chin in her palm and studied the ghost cat with his one eye and half an ear. She nodded slowly. “That suits him. Catsper.”

The waitress came then to take our orders, and once she left, Kendyll leaned closer. “So, Mr. Hotshot, what’s it like being part of a famous band?”