“Is this your room?” I asked. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes. Wealthy patients were allowed to bring their own furnishing. My father was already racked by guilt committing me to Haven Crest, so he spared no expense in making my environment as comfortable as possible.”
I admired every detail, right down to the pattern of the huge rug that covered most of the floor. My gaze landed on a portrait hanging on the wall—it was of a beautiful dark-haired girl with bright blue eyes. The resemblance was obvious.
“Is that your sister?”
“Maureen. Yes, that’s her.”
“She was beautiful.”
“She was.”
I turned to face him. “You must miss her terribly.”
His pain was reflected in the lines of his face. “I do.”
“Where is she?” When he frowned, I immediately regretted asking. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve spoken of her. I assume she’s wherever we go once we leave this place. She’s not haunting anywhere, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
It was. “Why didn’t you go with her after you died?”
He hesitated, and I wanted to stick iron in my eye for being so nosey. “Unfinished business,” was his reply. There was a darkness to his gaze. “I’ll see her again one day.”
“That’s a beautiful thought.” I drifted closer to the picture. “Can I ask you how she died?”
“A fever.” He moved to my side. “One of those diseases that, if she were alive today, would require nothing more than a few pills to recover.”
I turned my head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
A sad smile tilted his lips. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. She’s not why I brought you up here. I brought you here so we could be alone.”
A band of pressure surrounded my chest. “Why?”
He tugged me closer until the edges of our energy touched. “Have you ever melded with another ghost?”
I shook my head. “No.” Melding was a very intimate experience. I’d only ever done it with Lark.
And Kevin. But they were alive, not another ghost. It was different when ghosts did it. With humans, you were aware of them, like they might be aware of a coat. It was possession but with the host aware. With ghosts, though, you really became one.
“Would you like to meld with me?” Noah asked softly. “It’s all right if you don’t.”
Did I? It was such a trusting, vulnerable thing to do. For the duration of the meld we’d be the same creature. No me. No him. Just us.
“Yes,” I murmured. There was a fluttery feeling inside me, like there was a light inside me around which a thousand butterflies flapped their wings. “I want to meld with you.”
He smiled. “Don’t be nervous.” He moved closer, and closer. I let down some of my guards, embraced being a being of pure energy and opened myself up to him. Slowly, our auras came together as I drew him in. He let me decide the pace, letting me know he’d stop if I asked him to.
I wasn’t going to ask him to stop.
His lips pressed against mine, and we kissed until it wasn’t his lips and my lips, but our lips, and then there weren’t even any lips, because he was inside of me, and I was inside of him. There was nothing but just us.
It was beautiful.
LARK
Wren didn’t meet me after school. Was I surprised? Not really. Was I disappointed? Yeah, a little. But, whatever. I assumed she was with Noah, and since I wasn’t going to go to Haven Crest to hunt her down—because I’d hate it if she did that to me—I went home to change. I was going to do some kickboxing with Ben. He swore by it as his favorite way to work out, and I thought he looked hot all sweaty and stuff, so it was all good. Plus, ever since my run-in with Josiah Bent and his minions, I appreciated knowing how to throw a punch.
I could fight ghosts, but I still needed to know how to fight. It was a good skill for a girl to have.
Nan, being the living, breathing example of awesomeness that she was, had homemade organic granola bars on a plate in the kitchen when I walked in. I grabbed one and stuffed half of it in my mouth as I ran upstairs.
I changed into leggings, a sports bra and T-shirt and dug my sneakers out of the closet. I didn’t wear them very much. I was more of a Fluevog girl. Most of my shoes came from secondhand stores or eBay because I had designer tastes and a nonexistent budget. My father had given me a credit card out of guilt, but I didn’t use it very often. Although, I was tempted to run it to the max on shoes.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, twisting my hair up into a messy bun on the back of my head. My hair was getting too long—it grew like crazy. Sometimes I fantasized about chopping it all off and getting a really edgy cut, but I never followed through.
I had just finished wrapping a scrunchie around the bun when I caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror.