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“Well, all right. Thank you,” I said, still trying to stop laughing. “And for the record, I appreciate you letting us stay here tonight. Even if you are a little bit of a grouch.”

“A little bit?” Bartleby repeated, sounding highly amused. “My dear Celeste, you have no idea!”

“Enough out of you, you infernal cat!” Garrik snapped. Then he turned back to me and made a stiff little bow. “If you will follow me, Madam Kinderson, I shall endeavor to find you accommodations suitable to your needs. Though I warn you, the house has not been properly occupied for a century, so you may find certain conveniences lacking.”

“That's okay,” I told him. “As long as there's a bed and a bathroom, I'll be fine.”

“A bathroom?” His black brows rose. “Madam, this is Blackthorn Manor, not some primitive hovel! I assure you, my family has always enjoyed the finest accommodations available.”

“Okay, okay—sorry I asked!” I said, holding up my hands.

He gave me one last exasperated look and turned to lead the way.

And so I followed my big, bad-tempered ghost host out of the large living room area towards a grand staircase that twisted up into darkness on the second-floor above. Bartleby trotted along beside me, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

Of course, I reminded myself again, this was all just a dream. And if my subconscious wanted to invent a huge, handsome, curly-haired ghost who was as grumpy as a bear with a sore paw, who was I to argue?

I just hoped he didn't spend the entire night floating around outside my bedroom door, growling about his house rules.

Because if he did, I might have to slap him again.

5

CELESTE

As I climbed the creaking stairs, I asked myself again what I was doing. Was I really letting a ghost lead me to a bedroom where I was going to spend the night? That was crazy, wasn't it? Voluntarily spending the night in a haunted house?

And not just any haunted house, either—a haunted house where the resident ghost was a big, bad-tempered grouch who seemed to resent the fact that I was there at all. Which was pretty unfair, considering I hadn't asked to come here in the first place!

But here I was doing it, and Bartleby was right beside me, climbing the stairs. Garrik floated ahead of us, his feet hovering a few inches above the carpet, which I thought was pretty convenient. At least he didn't have to worry about stepping on a loose nail or getting a splinter in his foot. My own feet were still sore from walking barefoot on the hard road, and I was beginning to regret not grabbing my shoes when I'd left Natalie's house.

"Do try to keep up, woman," Garrik called over his shoulder. "I haven't got all night to spend showing you around my house!"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you do," I pointed out. "I mean, you've been here a hundred years already, haven't you? What's another five minutes?"

He made an irritated growling sound that was getting to be pretty familiar. Apparently, the big ghost didn't like having his words thrown back at him. Too bad—I wasn't about to let him boss me around just because he was a hundred and fifty years old and had a fancy house.

The second-floor landing was huge with a carved oak banister that separated it from the steep drop to the first floor below. It was carpeted by an ancient runner that was emerald green with many colorful flowers woven into it. Of course, all the colors were faded now but it was still fairly clean—no dust or cobwebs up here. I was beginning to wonder if the foyer with its huge spiderwebs was just for scaring people off.

"Hey, how come it's so clean up here?" I asked, looking around. "Downstairs looks like a real haunted house, but up here it's actually pretty nice."

"Because I choose to keep it clean, madam," Garrik growled. "Do you think I enjoy living in filth? The cobwebs downstairs are there to discourage trespassers, as are the spiders. They serve a purpose, though apparently they failed miserably where you were concerned."

"Well, excuse me for not being scared of a few spiders," I said. "I live in Florida and we have giant flying roaches. Though I have to admit, that one spider hanging over the front door was pretty impressive. Is it supposed to be the size of a dinner plate?"

"That is Agatha," he said stiffly. "And she is an excellent guard spider. Normally, her mere presence is enough to make people flee the premises."

"Well, maybe you should tell Agatha to work on her people skills," I remarked. "She might make more friends that way."

"She is a spider, woman! She has no need of friends!" Garrik snapped. Then he muttered something about modern women being impossible and floated on ahead of us.

Honestly, he was so touchy! I wondered if he'd always been this grumpy or if being trapped in a house for a hundred years had made him that way. I supposed I'd be pretty irritated myself if I couldn't leave my house or touch anyone for a century. But that didn't give him the right to be rude to me—especially when I was apparently supposed to be the one who could break his curse.

I also wondered about my ghost host's words that he was the "Guardian of the Gateway." What gateway was he talking about? And what was the curse he'd been put under? He'd made it pretty clear that he didn't want me poking around in his magical business, but considering that I was supposed to help him, I thought I ought to know a little more about it.

I was trying to think of a way to ask all this when we came to a stop in front of a bedroom with a grand set of double doors. Garrik turned the knobs and opened them with a flourish, though he didn't look especially happy about doing it.

"There," he said, waving one large, semi-transparent hand at the room beyond. "I trust these accommodations will be sufficient for your needs. This is one of the finest guest chambers in Blackthorn Manor, though I must ask you not to rearrange the furnishings or meddle with anything that doesn't belong to you."