She wrinkled her nose. “He said he’d go if I wanted, but it’s not exactly his sort of music.”
“It might be the only chance anyone gets to meet him.” I said this knowing full well “anyone” would translate to “Kevin” in her head, because I’d want the guy who hurt me to see my current hottie. “They might actually see him.”
She liked that idea. Did I feel even the least bit guilty for manipulating her? No. She’d spied on Ben shortly after we got together—after we got rid of Bent. For days she’d tell me what he ate for breakfast, or how he talked to his mother—stuff that was none of her business, and it was none of mine, but she wanted to make certain he was “good enough” for me. Well, I was just returning the favor.
Wren was right about me—I distrusted ghosts. I never tried to hide the fact, but if I was wrong about Noah, then I’d apologize. In fact, I hoped I was wrong about him and that he was nice and sincere, and not at all an insane spirit corrupted by the malevolent energy of the place holding him to this world. I would really, really like to be wrong about a ghost just once. And I would especially like to be wrong about the ghost who made my sister look like any other teenage girl who was hopelessly infatuated with a boy.
Because if I was right about Noah, I was probably going to have to destroy him. And my sister might not forgive me for it.
WREN
The ghosts of Haven Crest were quiet and watchful when I returned later that day. I left Lark with Ben to look into the ghost they’d encountered. I probably ought to have stayed and helped—or at least checked to see if I knew the ghost, but I wanted to be with Noah instead, and Lark would show me a photo of “Woodstock” if and when she found one.
I wasn’t normally so selfish. At least, I didn’t think I was. Sometimes the expectations of human behavior confused me. Ghosts didn’t have the same morals or rules. We were pretty much creatures of instinct, and my instincts wanted to see Noah, even though it had been only a couple of hours since I left him.
I had enjoyed spending time with Kevin, but not like this. True, Kevin and I hadn’t been able to interact the same way as I could with Noah, but being with Noah felt so much more electric. When I was with him I felt...alive. At least what I imagined alive would feel like.
The town had started reclaiming two of the old buildings on the property, fixing them up to turn them into offices. Renovation work ran from Monday to Friday, and Noah had told me that so far the ghosts in those buildings were all right with the changes as the buildings were being restored to much of their original appearance. It would be the former living areas—and those who haunted them—that suffered the most. Some of those buildings might even be completely destroyed. None of them knew for certain what was going to happen to their homes.
When Noah told me that, I volunteered to find out. I had meant to ask Lark to see if she could find the town’s plans on the internet, but forgot. I made a mental note to make certain I did that later that day.
It was Sunday, and there shouldn’t have been any construction on-site, but there were men and women wandering around a section of the property. That’s why the ghosts were watchful, most of the residents of Noah’s building gathered in front of the windows nearest the lawn where the living stood, talking, gesturing at various areas of the grounds.
“It used to be the sporting area,” Noah explained when I asked what the empty space was. “In my day they played croquet. Later they used it for everything from badminton to baseball to picnics.”
“They don’t seem to be playing any sort of game,” remarked Miss April. She was a pretty young girl who looked as though she’d been there longer than even Noah, judging from her long dress, which had a high waist and short sleeves. “If they are, it’s most uninteresting.”
I smiled. “I don’t think they’re playing anything. It looks like they’re putting up a stage.”
A few ghosts murmured in understanding.
Noah nodded, giving me a warm glance for solving the puzzle. “For the impending musical performance.”
“It’s awfully high,” another ghost whose name I didn’t know commented as he pushed his head through the broken window for a better look. “A man would break his neck if he fell off that.”
“They need to be high,” said Robert, a man whose hair was almost as long as mine, “so people can’t climb up and attack the band.”
“Attack?” Noah asked with a frown. “Is the music so offensive?”
I laughed, and so did Robert. “No, man. People love musicians and get so into the music they just want to get close to the performers. I once climbed a human pyramid to get close to Janis Joplin.” He smiled, revealing teeth that had seen better days. “She touched my hand. Best night of my life, man.”