Kevin nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks.”
“If you remember where you know Noah from, let me know, okay? Wren hasn’t been exactly chatty about him.”
“Sure.”
“Hey—” I felt the sudden need to change the subject “—you want some help taking this garbage out?” I knew from previous visits to the house that his parents put the recyclables and garbage in bins in a little shed out back to wait for pickup.
“Yeah, thanks.”
We each had two bags as we walked outside. Everything at the party had been disposable to cut down on dishes to wash—and to narrow the margin on dishes that idiots could break.
It was dark out and chilly. It had been a warm fall, but October nights in Connecticut were going to be cold, no matter how warm the day had been. I had my arms wrapped around myself as we hurried back to the house.
There was a guy standing right in front of the door, blocking our path. It took me a moment to realize he was a ghost—they looked as solid as real people to me for the most part, but there was a weird “feel” to them that I couldn’t quite explain.
This guy had been in his late twenties when he died. He had long shaggy hair and was wearing bell-bottoms. I was going to guess he died in the ’70s, and from the smell of patchouli, sweat and vomit that seemed to cling to him, I figured it had been an overdose that did him in. Although, he looked pretty clear-headed now. And angry. And all of that anger was staring at Kevin.
“Hey, Woodstock. What’s up?” I chirped, trying to draw his attention.
His dead gaze flickered to me and then dismissed me, as though I were nothing more threatening than a mote of dust.
“Kevin McCrae?” he asked.
Kevin was still, tense, but his expression was blank. “Yes. Who are you?”
Woodstock grinned, revealing teeth that had seen better days. “Death,” he replied.
And then he lunged.
WREN
“Who was that boy?”
I glanced up at Noah. We were back at his building at Haven Crest, dancing to the music that lingered from many, many years earlier. Spectral energy was like that—it hung around long after it was created, waiting to be discovered. It was like tuning a radio station to the right frequency.
“What boy?” There had been so many at the party.
“The one in the strange green long johns. I swore he looked right at me.”
Oh. Him. “That was Kevin. He’s a medium.”
“Ah. That explains it. This time of year must be difficult for his kind. What is this Kevin’s last name?”
I didn’t want to tell him. I don’t know why, but talking about Kevin with him felt wrong. “McCrae.”
“Irish.”
“American.” Kevin’s family had come over from Ireland so long ago it hardly mattered anymore.
Noah gave me a little smile. “Still Irish, dear girl.”
I arched a brow. Dear girl? “Are you still English?”
“Of course,” he replied. “A man’s country is all he has. It’s what defines him as a man.”
“I thought it was character that defined a man.”
He laughed. “Cheeky girl. You have me there.” He glanced over my shoulder at something I couldn’t see, his gaze narrowing. He nodded once. When I was able to glance in that direction, there was nothing there.
“Beg your pardon,” Noah said. “I was just shooing away another resident who thought they might join us.”
I smiled. I liked that he wanted me all to himself. “I’m sorry that the party wasn’t more fun for you.”
He whirled me around. “I don’t understand most modern social behaviors, but it was pleasurable to me to simply spend the evening in your presence.”
“I could listen to you talk all night,” I told him with a sigh. “Hurray for English boys.”
“Hurrah for the Melinoe.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled, and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Just an old Greek term for beautiful girls. For you.”
I couldn’t hide how that made me feel, so I glanced away. I didn’t know much about boys and dating, and flirting. I couldn’t even tell if he was being sincere.
I wanted him to be sincere.
The tall grandfather clock against the far wall chimed the hour. It was midnight. I felt a frisson of energy race up my legs to swirl in my stomach. In my arms, Noah seemed to glow a little brighter.
“Did you feel that?” he asked. “One day closer to All Hallows’ Eve.”
“I’ve never felt a jolt like that before.” My fingers tingled.
Noah grinned. “It’s because you’re here. You don’t spend much time with the dead, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not really, no. And if I do, it’s in the Shadow Lands.”
His handsome face darkened. “That place. They expect us to skulk about there, while we’ve as much right to this world as the living. Did we ask to perish before our time? To be made monsters in our own home? How is it we ‘haunt’ a place while the living reside there? Or worse, cast it aside like trash to wither and decay?”