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“The change of life?” The ghost frowned at me again. “You mean she is experiencing the cessation of her monthly courses?”

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks getting hot. “Can we please stop talking about my period? I already had to discuss it with the cat while we were walking through the woods! I don't need to have another conversation about it with you!”

“Well, forgive me for attempting to understand the nature of the magic which may be my only hope of salvation!” he snapped back. “Apparently the modern world has made women extraordinarily sensitive about perfectly natural bodily functions!”

“I'm not sensitive about it—I just don't want to discuss my personal business with a strange man!” I shot back.

“I'm not a strange man—I'm a ghost!” he growled.

“Believe me, you're plenty strange!” I informed him.

Bartleby gave another one of his hissing laughs.

“Oh, this is going to be entertaining,” he remarked. “Cordelia always said Garrik needed someone who wouldn't put up with his nonsense. I believe she's finally found her.”

“Cordelia ought to mind her own damned business, even in the afterlife!” the ghost muttered darkly. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his thick, curly black hair. “Very well, madam. If your magic is only beginning to emerge, I suppose there is nothing to be done but wait for it to strengthen. Though I must say, I have little confidence in the abilities of an untrained witch. I have seen far too many experienced practitioners fail at breaking this curse to expect much from someone who only discovered her powers tonight.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said sarcastically. “You're really making me want to help you, you know that?”

His dark brows came down again.

“I did not mean to insult you,” he said stiffly. “I am merely stating the facts of the matter. This curse is no simple enchantment, and I will not have you experimenting upon me as though I were some kind of laboratory animal!”

“Don't worry—I wasn't planning on it,” I assured him. “As far as I'm concerned, you can stay a ghost as long as you like.”

I probably shouldn't have said that, because his expression darkened considerably. But I was getting tired of being yelled at and I wasn't about to let another man boss me around. I'd had enough of that with Jason to last me a lifetime.

“Well, that's a fine attitude!” the ghost exclaimed. “You come marching into my house with the key to my family's estate, claim to have the power to break my curse, and then inform me that I can remain a ghost for all eternity if it pleases you!”

“I didn't claim anything!” I reminded him. “Your friend Cordelia is the one who said I was a witch and sent me here! Why don't you take it up with her?”

“I would if I could!” he growled. “But unfortunately, she is on the other side of the Veil, and I am trapped on this one!”

“Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me,” I muttered.

He gave me such an offended look that I almost laughed. Honestly, this big ghost was as touchy as a bear with a sore paw!

“Um, anyway, I guess we'll have to figure out the magic thing tomorrow,” I said, deciding it was time to change the subject before he started yelling again. “And you've been calling me Madam Kinderson, but Bartleby keeps calling you Garrik. What's your full name, anyway?”

He drew himself up to his considerable height, looking very dignified despite the fact that his feet were floating several inches above the floor.

“I am Garrik Blackthorn of Blackthorn Manor,” he announced. “I am the Guardian of the Gateway between this world and the next, as were my father and his father before him. And despite what that blasted key may say, I remain the master of this house!”

“Okay, okay—nobody's trying to take your house away from you,” I said, holding up my hands. “You can relax about that. I don't even want to be here, remember?”

“Well, be that as it may, Madam Kinderson, you are here now,” he pointed out. Then he frowned, his dark brows furrowing. “Or is it Miss Kinderson? May I be impertinent and ask if you are married?”

“It's just Celeste,” I told him. “And no, I'm not married anymore, thank God.”

“Oh…” His face went sorrowful and for a moment he actually looked sympathetic instead of irritated. “Did you lose your husband? Did he cross to the other side without you?”

I thought about Jason and how I would have been perfectly happy to see him “cross to the other side” at one point. Now, I was just glad he was out of my life.

“No,” I said shortly. “He's still alive. We're just not together.”

“You are a divorcée then?” His eyebrows rose. “How very modern of you.”

“I guess so.” I shrugged. “They say half of all marriages end in divorce. I'm just glad to be rid of him—of my ex, I mean,” I added. Then I wondered why I was telling a ghost my personal business—I chalked it up to the weirdness of the dream again.