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For a moment, I was too astonished to answer. Not only had she actually touched me, she was insulting my haunting technique! And after I had gone to all the trouble of putting on a proper performance for her, too!

"I beg your pardon, madam!" I exclaimed, drawing myself up to my full height—which was considerable, even without the extra inches I gained from floating. "I'll have you know that I have frightened dozens of intruders out of this house using precisely that method! And how dare you strike me? I am the master of this house!"

"Well, then maybe you ought to act like it instead of floating around making stupid noises!" she snapped back. "You scared the crap out of me!"

I opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind and then closed it again. Because she was looking directly into my eyes. She could see me—really see me! And though she was glaring at me as though she would cheerfully slap me a second time, I felt weak just from being able to look into another person's eyes and know that they saw me.

It had been so very long since anyone had looked at me that way—since anyone had looked at me at all.

But I wasn't about to let a pretty face and an unexpected slap distract me from my duty.

"Madam, I don't know who you are or how you managed to touch me, but you have no business being here," I informed her sternly. "I am the Guardian of the Gateway, and I cannot allow you to trespass in my home. Now, if you would be so kind as to turn around and leave by the same door you came in, I would be most obliged."

"I'm not trespassing, I'm here to break some kind of curse," she said tartly. "So I'll thank you to keep your shenanigans to a minimum while I try to figure out how to do that. I'm in perimenopause—I'm not putting up with any crap."

"Break a curse?" I demanded. "What curse? Mine? And who told you that you had any business meddling with it? Are you a witch?"

The moment I said the word, I felt my temper rising again. A witch! Of course she was a witch! No one else could possibly have touched me in my spectral state. And after what the last witch who had come to my home had done to me, I had no desire to have another one poking her nose into my affairs.

"That's it—you tell him," another voice said. "The thing with ghosts is, you have to put them in their place right away."

Looking down, I saw a familiar black cat standing beside the woman's bare feet. Why was she barefoot? I had no idea, but I didn't care at the moment. I was too astonished to see an old acquaintance I hadn't laid eyes on in years.

"Bartleby!" I exclaimed. "What the devil are you doing back here? I thought you would have followed Cordelia into the afterlife."

"No, she made me stay to help with her unfinished business," the cat said, lashing his tail angrily. "I'm living with her fool of a granddaughter who thinks she has magical powers and doesn't clean my litter box nearly often enough."

"Well, that sounds like Cordelia," I muttered. She had always been determined to have her own way, even when it came to matters she had no business interfering in. "But what's all this about unfinished business? If Cordelia sent you here with another witch to try breaking my curse, you can tell her I've had quite enough of magical meddling to last me a dozen lifetimes!"

"Don't be an idiot, Garrik," Bartleby said, looking supremely unimpressed by my outburst. "Cordelia has been trying to help you for years. You ought to be grateful she hasn't given up on you."

"Grateful?" I demanded. "I'll be grateful when someone finally manages to put me back in my own body! Until then, I reserve the right to be suspicious of anyone who comes to my house claiming to be able to do what no other witch has managed in a century!"

"Well, maybe you ought to listen before you start growling at everyone," the cat remarked.

I glared down at him. I had forgotten how irritating that damned animal could be.

"This can't be Cordelia's granddaughter," I said, nodding at the strange woman. "She looks nothing like Cordelia—she is far more beautiful. Though apparently she has the same unfortunate tendency to interfere where she isn't wanted."

"Excuse me?" The woman put her hands on her generous hips and glared at me. "My name is Celeste Kinderson and I never even met Cordelia before she reached out from beyond the grave and gave me this key. And for your information, I didn't ask to come here! I got dragged through some weird magical doorway and now I'm stuck in this creepy old house with a rude ghost who keeps yelling at me!"

She held up a familiar key, and I saw the gryphon's head at the top of it. My annoyance immediately turned to disbelief. I knew that key—of course I did! It had belonged to the Blackthorn family for generations and it was one of the most powerful magical artifacts in my possession. Or it had been in my possession until Cordelia had taken charge of it some time after I was cursed.

The key wouldn't allow itself to be given to anyone who didn't belong in Blackthorn Manor. In fact, merely having it in her possession entitled her to live in the house and take it as her residence. In essence, she was the new owner.

The new owner—of my house—my family's ancestral home, which the Blackthorns had occupied for centuries!

I could scarcely believe it. What the devil had Cordelia been thinking, giving the key to a complete stranger? Yes, I knew she had been trying to help me, but surely there were limits! It was bad enough that I was trapped here for eternity without having some strange woman come wandering in and claim ownership of the place!

And yet…she had been able to touch me.

I couldn't forget that. My cheek was still tingling from her slap, and it had been so long since I'd experienced any physical sensation that I found myself almost wishing she'd strike me again.

Also, she could see me—really see me. And that was something not even Cordelia had been able to manage.

Could it be possible that this strange woman really had the power to break my curse? Cordelia must have thought so, or she wouldn't have given her the key. But I had been disappointed too many times to allow myself to hope so easily. I had seen far too many witches come and go over the years, all claiming they could free me from my spectral prison. And every one of them had failed.

Well, I wasn't about to trust this one simply because she had a pretty face and a remarkably strong right hand!