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“Ada.” Gloria sighed with forced patience. “We need a fae. It’s agraveyard. If you don’t want any surprises, we need someone who can see what we can’t.”

Ada crossed her arms and glared out of the window behind Gloria's desk. “It’s nothing against you, but I trust my instincts,” she said roughly, tilting her head in my direction, then she addressed Gloria. “And my instincts are telling me we’d be putting our lives on the line by having that girl in danger.”

“Ridiculous.” Gloria smiled in that comforting grandmotherly way. With her yellow and lace old-timey dress, she was the perfect picture of nonchalance and innocence. “We’re only going to a graveyard. It’s not like anything there could hurtus.”

“Youwere the one who wasn’t even sure—you’ve only changed your mind because of Gregory’s shit-talking. Besides, she has Titus’s scent all over her—what’s going on with that?” Ada leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees as she scrutinized the wolf. “After coming this far, do you really think I’m ready to die?”

“It will be fine.” Gloria shrugged. “Besides, she’s married to Bryce Dubois, remember?”

She turned to me again, hands to her chin, and I held my breath as her eyes moved over me. “It still doesn’t seem right,” she finally said. “Xavier won’t talk to me about it.”

I silently agreed with her—it most definitely was not right, but it was the best defense we had at the moment.

Although, if Ada was Titus’s Tongjun, why shouldn’t she be allowed to know?

“You’re all hiding something.” She looked at Gloria. “And Iwillfind out what it is.”

“Of course,” Gloria replied, unconcerned. “Are you ready for your first mission? We’ll leave tonight,” she asked me.

I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but if they needed me in order to see strange things, then this was an issue with which I was comfortable.

Just as long as we didn’t run into anything unexpected, we should be fine, right? Between the two officers, and me, we should be able to handle anything. Especially if this was as simple as Gloria said.

“Excuse me,” I began, my breath light with excitement. “What am I looking for exactly?”

There was really no need to whisper, but it felt necessary to fit the mood. As far as ghost hunters went, we weren’t the most picturesque example. Gloria was wrapped in a red cloak as she sat on a folding beach chair beside a barely legible tombstone. Her eyes were closed as she leaned back into her seat, and I was pretty certain she was asleep.

Meanwhile, Ada was muttering under her breath as she paced the space between us, not at all phased by the mud staining the red bottom of her Louboutin heels.

For once, I was glad for my intuition. Nothing suited these sorts of wayward activities more than a black skater dress, a leather jacket, and thigh-high boots. It was fashionable, deadly, and perfect for blending into my surroundings.

“A ghost,” was Ada’s short reply.

I frowned, running a finger over the edge of my binoculars. I’d only snatched them out of habit, of course, because when Finn and I investigated the football team, they had been quite useful. However, binoculars were not at all helpful for seeing spirits.

Not that I expected to see any; perhaps I should have mentioned earlier that ghosts didn’t hang out in graveyards.

Maybe we’d luck out. Although with how things were looking now, Ada’s sources—whatever they were—were probably wrong. It was after ten, and they were late, in any case.

“Why am I looking for a ghost?”

Ada stopped and shot me a stern look. “Do you feel anything?”

My mouth went dry as a familiar current of alarm shot up my spine. “No.”

“Then we’ll keep waiting.” She resumed her pacing.

I watched her a moment longer before sitting on my ankles and setting the binoculars on the dirt beside me. After all, I’d be able to feel a ghost long before seeing it. With that in mind, I pulled my purse into my lap.

There was no use suffering for no reason. I was hungry, and I’d cancelled my dinner with Miles for this.

“What is that?” Ada stopped mid step and looked at me once more.

I froze, the candy bar halfway to my mouth, and blinked up at her. “Chocolate?”

Weren’t shifters supposed to have enhanced senses? The smell of chocolate should have been pretty distinguishable.

“I am aware!” she snapped. “But who eats at a stakeout?”