Page 5 of Phantom’s Mate

He gave her a startled look, as if he’d almost forgotten she was here. “Something like that.”

“Well, no offense, but doesn’t that murdery shit keep you out of heaven?”

He tilted his head, looking at her. Those eyes… like pools of water you could drown in. Revenge mission, she reminded herself. Wannabe killer. This was maybe not somebody you wanted to get too close to.

“He’s a murderer,” he said finally. “So… I don’t think so. And I don’t really care if it does.”

Well, that was hardcore, but more understandable. She wondered who this unnamed person had killed. Shit. Maybe it was his murderer.

She felt a sudden wave of sympathy. Her own situation sucked, but that would be… horrible. What a thing to have hanging over you, so you couldn’t rest.

She opened her mouth to ask if that’s what it was, and then closed it again. Because how did you ask a stranger a question like that?

And what if it did keep him from going to heaven? Maybe she was supposed to stop him. He could be a decent guy—he’d stopped his mission to see if she was okay. If she could use her Kraken charms to keep him from committing murder and going to hell, while also finding out more about this ghost situation… well, that was for sure a win-win.

“Look, I’m not trying to minimize what you’re going through,” she said. “But… if you’re not—you know, a new ghost, then he’s been out there for a while, right? And… you’re the first person I’ve seen since I died. It’s been super-confusing and I really need somebody to explain stuff to me. Please?”

She bit her lip, realizing how needy she sounded. That wasn’t going to make anyone want to hang out with her, alive or dead. She tried to sweeten the deal. “I can actually make my own margaritas, without a pool boy. I’ll share.”

She concentrated hard, and a frosty glass filled with lime margarita appeared in her hand. Score—first try. She held it out to him. “Here.”

He gave her a look like he didn’t know what to make of her, but she was used to that. People always thought she was a little weird, partly because she kept forgetting to engage her brain-to-mouth filters.

But he took the drink, so that was a win. He even sipped it. “Not bad,” he said. The tough, hard lines in his face seemed to relax a little.

She made another drink for herself. “I’m Brittany,” she said. “Britt.”

“Nick.” He settled himself on the muddy ground next to her, which was another good sign as far as him staying. It also got him bonus points because Chaz never would have done it. He had hated getting dirty, and his ghost probably would too.

“So, Brittany,” Nick said. “What do you want to know?”

Oh my god. So many things, for a second they all clogged up her brain and she didn’t know where to start.

“Okay,” she said, going with the first thing that floated to the surface. “First of all, I’m pretty sure there was a defect in my death process.”

She expected the confused look she usually got from people when she was in the no-filter zone—which was almost all the time—but he just quirked the corner of his mouth like he was amused.

“Can you be more specific?” he said.

She shifted to face him. “I was told there would be a light. There’s supposed to be a light—it’s in all the advertising. Right?”

He nodded. “True. That’s what they always say: ‘Go into the light.’”

“Right. Well, no light. Zip. Zero. So now I feel like I missed the bus and I’m left sitting at the bus stop, and I don’t know when the next one’s coming, or if it’s coming at all. There’s no way this can be the entire afterlife.” She gestured at her tiny forest. “It’s like, a quarter-mile in diameter.”

“It’s not,” he said. “The whole afterlife, I mean.”

Relief spread through her. “I knew it! And obviously, you came from somewhere else.” She frowned, as a horrible thought came to her. “Unless… I didn’t make you up, did I? Like the margarita?”

That got a full-on grin out of him, which almost made her swoon. This guy was hawt. Even more devastating, he had a seductive bad-boy vibe all over him.

“No,” he said. “Trust me, nobody could make me up. Or would want to.”

Untrue. She used to fantasize about guys almost exactly like him. Unfortunately, that thought distracted her from what he was saying. “…speaking of which…show you how to get out of this costume…”

“NO!” she said. But it was too late. He’d put his hand on her tentacle, and he made the Kraken costume disappear, just like she’d made the margarita appear.

And now she was sitting on the side of the road dressed in nothing but a black bra with see-through cups and lacing up the front of it, and a matching thong.