Page 45 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

Ivan turns to face the curtain, but not before I catch the way his eyes soften the smallest amount. “What the hell is this for?” Before I can stop him, he reaches out and tugs hard. The velvet curtain that protected my identity falls to the ground with a heavy fwump.

I jump to my feet as Misha stares at me, face drained of color.

“Rae? What are you doing here? Where’s Claire?

” He looks behind me as if he’s searching for a trap door, and my heart squeezes because his first thought isn’t that I’ve deceived him, it’s that the medium he was speaking to must have spirited herself away.

“I…” I don’t know what to say, or how to fix this, so I word vomit the truth. “I’m Claire. Or, I guess Claire is me. I’m a medium. The medium,” I feel the need to correct, holding up the microphone.

His expression shifts from confusion into disbelief, and then finally, anger.

“So you just let me tell you all that shit, thinking you were someone else? You didn’t stop and think, ‘Hm, maybe I should stop him from spilling his guts because I know him and see him every single day?’ Or at least that you should have told me who you were so I could decide for myself what I was willing to share? ”

“I’m sorry, Misha. I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I just… This is a part of my life that I don’t share with anyone.” I gesture weakly to the walls of the Medium Meeting Room and vaguely to Ivan, who has become a quiet bystander, watching us.

Misha crosses his arms and laughs sardonically. “Yeah. Well, I don’t tell anyone about my childhood either, but here we are.”

Frustration bubbles up inside me at being misunderstood and misjudged.

I’m getting irritated that he thinks I did this just to hear his secrets.

I understand why he’s upset, but I wish he could give me the benefit of the doubt, considering he’s known me forever.

“I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to have you spill all of your secrets, I’m just trying to help people!

” I say, sharper than I intend. I toss the voice changer on the chair behind me .

“Yeah, this has been so helpful. Are you even really a medium?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“I am! I’m not lying about that,” I say, looking to Ivan. “Your uncle is right there.” I point to his uncle.

“I don’t see anything,” Misha says, staring hard at the spot where I pointed.

I grit my teeth and say, “Well, of course not. I’m the medium.”

“Prove it,” he demands.

“Fine,” I say and turn to Ivan. “Tell me something only Misha would know,” I demand.

He squints at me, heavy brow all but concealing his deep-set eyes. “No,” he replies calmly.

“No?” I ask, my pitch going impossibly high.

“No, I think I’m good,” Ivan affirms, a twisted little smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth.

“But then he won’t believe me,” I sputter.

Ivan shrugs, already starting to fade when he says, “Not my problem.” And then he’s gone.

I feel my mouth drop open in disbelief. “He left,” I say to Misha, running my hands through my hair, probably doing irreparable damage to the carefully styled waves.

He opens the door with a bang before saying loudly, “Well, this was a nice show and everything, Rae. Very spooky and on-theme with the whole curtain falling, ‘I see dead people’ act. Happy Halloween.”

He cuts his way through the crowd so fast, I lose track of him in an instant. I don’t think, I just run after him. “Misha, wait!” I call, bursting through the door. But I can’t even see him anymore. All I see is a dense forest of eyes staring back at me in astonishment .

I stand, frozen in horror. This is so similar to the recurring nightmare I’ve had, I find myself pinching the inside of my arm to make sure it’s real. Unfortunately, this is a real-life horror show and not one I’ll wake up from in a cold sweat anytime soon.

Wren grabs my arm but before she can ask anything, someone says, “Wait, Rae is the medium?” Murmurs and chatter spread through the room like an infection until my name becomes a stain on everyone’s lips.

People press in towards me on all sides, and my lungs struggle for air.

People volley questions my way, but I can’t hear anything over the loud buzzing in my ears.

All the blood leaves my extremities, and my fingertips start to tingle.

“I—” I start, but can’t finish. I don’t even know what to say.

I pull free of Wren’s grasp and push forward until I make it outside into the brisk, late-October night.

I pull the crisp air into my lungs as I step hurriedly around the building and stumble up the stairs to my apartment.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode.

I might be sick. My hand shakes as I try to put my key in the lock, and frustrated tears well along my lash line.

At least, I tell myself they’re from frustration and not the combo meal of remorse for upsetting a friend, anger that he revealed my secret to the town, and panic that my secret is no longer my own.

“Here, let me help,” Dean offers, placing his hand over mine and guiding the key into the keyhole.

I push the door open, and he follows me inside.

I collapse on the couch, mortified that he’s bearing witness to my sniffling, mascara running, snotty mess, but grateful he’s here all the same.

He sits next to me and puts an arm around my waist .

My phone buzzes with a text, and I check it with shaking hands.

Wren:

What happened? Are you okay??

Long story, but Misha found out it was me by accident and now he thinks I’m faking it. Everyone saw. Everyone knows.

It’s going to be okay. Do you want me to come up there? Mom is asking, too.

No. Thank you, but I just want to be alone right now.

Talk tomorrow then, sis. I’ll beat anyone’s ass, just say the word.

I know. Love you

I put my phone down and collapse into Dean’s chest, letting the tears go.