Page 24 of Ghostlighted (Ghost Townies #2)

Chapter Nineteen

A combination of anger and longing washed over me, thickening my throat, and I croaked, “By my dad.”

Why, why, why hadn’t Oren reached out to me?

It would have meant so much to have someone who knew my folks and liked them.

My mom had been estranged from most of her family for years, first because she’d married my dad and then because of me.

Yeah, being related to a bunch of racist homophobes was really freaking awesome.

“I’m sorry, Maz.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not.”

I sighed. “You’re right. But there’s absolutely nothing either of us can do about the past, so”—I gestured to the box—“moving on.”

Avi studied the box, head cocked. “Don’t we have enough unopened boxes in the house? You had to bring in another?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you busting my chops for not unpacking faster?”

“I would never.”

“You so would,” I muttered. “Sometimes I think you can actually channel Gil’s thoughts.

” I looked down at Gil. He was sitting upright with his fluffy tail curled around his front paws, observing Avi and me out of slitted eyes.

“Although the only reason he wants me to empty boxes is so he can sit in them.”

“Then we shouldn’t keep him waiting. What have you got?”

“As I was saying,” I drawled, flicking my gaze between Avi and Gil, “when Ricky and I came out of the falafel place, I noticed there was an occult supply shop next door. I thought it might be a good connection for Patrice, so we stopped in and Ricky gave the proprietor one of the psychic knitting shop manager’s cards. ”

“You realize it’s not a psychic knitting shop, right? There’s no such thing as psychic knitting.”

I lifted a brow. “Many people would say there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Hmmm.” Avi rubbed the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

“Don’t worry.” I gestured from myself to Gil. “Nobody in this house is so ill-informed.”

“Much appreciated,” he said, his expression matching Gil’s.

“ Anyway , the visit to that shop was incidental. The important thing was the flyer posted on the board outside the shop.” I patted the box. “For a company that sells paranormal investigation equipment.”

Avi frowned. “A little disrespectful, isn’t it? To post something so adversarial right by a store that sells supplies to encourage preternatural relationships?”

“I thought that, too. But it gave me an idea. I mean, whatever paranormal investigators do once they’ve identified a potential hot spot, they have to have some way to find it in the first place, right? To verify that something supernatural exists?”

“Yes. So that they can exterminate it. That’s why they’re called ghost hunters .”

I shook my head. “Not necessarily. Some of these folks are just looking for a connection. Communication. Proof of life.” I waggled one hand.

“Well, proof of afterlife, I suppose. But to do that, they need a way to facilitate that proof more objectively than Victorian spiritualists like Thaddeus Richdale used sketchy mediums. In other words, technology.” I patted the box.

“So I checked out their website and ordered a few gadgets.”

“Do I need to point out that you don’t require any of those gadgets, Maz? You’re communicating just fine.”

“Yes.” I met his gaze. “But you aren’t.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You can’t speak to anybody but me.” Gil mewed. “Well, me and Gil. What if we could find a way for you to speak to other people? To Saul? Patrice? Taryn? You wouldn’t have to be so dependent on me.”

I couldn’t identify the expression Avi’s face. Was it hurt? Anxiety? Hell, was it betrayal? “Am I imposing on you? Asking too much? I could?—”

“No! No, that’s not it. This isn’t for my benefit at all.

It’s for yours.” I slid the box toward me and placed my palms on its sides.

“You can’t interact with most physical objects other than paper and sawdust. That might change over time, but right now, you’re limited by that.

You can use the Smith Corona, but not easily. ”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“One of the gadgets I ordered is a voice-to-text recorder based on radio frequencies. If we could identify your frequency, if you could record your voice, you could dictate a new book and I could transcribe it for you. Avi.” I leaned over the box, the pressure of my hands making it flex. “You could write again.”

Okay, that expression I could read—a desperate hope and longing that he pushed aside immediately.

“Why should I bother? You won’t even take the royalties for the old books. There hardly seems any point to writing more of them.”

“The point is that writing is your calling. You keep saying we don’t know how this works and you’re right. But you could be around for a long time, Avi. Maybe longer than I will.”

He flinched. “I… never thought of that.”

“Can you really face eternity with nothing at all to do? Won’t that get tedious?

” I paused, struck by a thought. “Come to think of it, maybe that’s why ghosts act out over time.

Pure, unadulterated boredom.” I forced myself away from that tangent and met his gaze squarely, because this was important .

“Please, Avi. It’s been ten years. Don’t you have new stories to tell?

Don’t you want other people to read them? ”

Avi’s shoulders rose and fell. “I… I’d like that. I think. But maybe not as Jake Fields. A new pen name. A new genre. Then you could publish them as yourself and?—”

“Nope. I’ll be your assistant, but I won’t take credit for your work.

Publication details can wait, but I’m sure Taryn can help with that.

It’ll give her another chance to conspire with your agent.

What this”—I tapped the box with two fingers—“will do, what I hope it will do, is enable your process again. To give you a reason to be present, even if I’m not around.

But it’s totally your call. If you don’t want to?—”

“No! I’d like to try. But I also need to get used to the idea, you know?”

“Sure. I get it. In the meantime, if you need a reason to hang out when I’m not here?” I pointed to Gil. “Keeping Gil company is clearly a priority. At least to him.”

Avi chuckled. “Far be it from me to disappoint Gil.”

“Exactly. Now let’s see what’s in this box, shall we?” I opened the drawer I had mentally labeled miscellaneous sharp thingies and brandished the box knife. “Behold. The right tool for the job.”

I slit the tape on the top of the box and folded the flaps aside, giving silent thanks that the company used bubble wrap rather than foam peanuts as packing material. When I lifted out the top sheet, Gil practically teleported to the countertop.

I grinned at Avi. “Check this out.”

I let the bubble wrap drift to the floor, and Gil jumped onto it immediately, batting the bubbles with his claws partly extended.

When he managed to pop one, his tail lashed, and he leaped backward before zooming across the kitchen floor, barely skittering to a stop next to the dishwasher.

Then he lowered his belly to the ground and crept forward until he was a foot from the bubble wrap, his rear end wiggling before he pounced.

As I unpacked the box, Avi watched Gil go through the same routine again and again.

“Does he do this often?”

I shrugged as I lifted the voice-to-text recorder out of the box and set it carefully on the counter.

“What can I say? Some cats go bonkers for catnip. Gil has a thing for bubble wrap.” I glanced down at him as he popped another bubble and zipped across the room.

“Although he never says no to catnip either.”

After unpacking the EVP portal and setting the faraday bags aside, I stored the rest of the bubble wrap with the reusable shopping bags and set the box on the floor. Gil froze in the act of murdering another plastic bubble and leaped inside to peer out at us from the gap between the top flaps.

“That’s him set for the next hour or so.” I nudged the red and black boxes toward Avi. “This is the recorder and a device that’s supposed to extend its reach and scan for radio frequencies. If we can identify your, um, hertz, then we can use this to increase the draw.”

Avi leaned forward, resting his elbows two inches above the countertop. “How does it work?”

“Good question. Let’s find out.”

Unlike my dad, who’d considered any new gadget a direct challenge to figure out—he’d always started by smelling the object, for some reason—I always read instruction manuals, even though the spelling and syntax errors in many of them made me cringe.

Dad enjoyed the journey of discovery, no matter how long it took or how many detours he followed, but if I’d gone to the trouble of buying something, I wanted to be able to use it properly as soon as possible.

I opened the recorder’s box and a flimsy paperback booklet thicker than The Manual of Style dropped out. “Uh… This might be more complicated than I thought.”

Avi laughed. “Does the other one have an instructional tome as well?”

I peeked inside the portal box. “Yep.”

“You have to go back to work soon, right?”

“I don’t have to, but I probably should. I ran across a promising lead this morning, and I’d like to follow up.”

“Then how about this? Since paper is on my short list of manipulable items, leave the manuals here. I’ll read them and brief you on them tonight.” He frowned. “No. Not tonight. You have a date with Ricky, don’t you?”

I smacked my forehead. “Crap. You’re right.”

He dropped his chin and gave me a severe look from over his glasses. “That’s not the attitude you should have when you’re granted the opportunity to spend time with your boo.”

“My boo?” I snorted. “Was that ghost humor?”

“Unintentional, I assure you. However…” Glancing aside, he gnawed on his lower lip. “I’d like to try something while you’re gone.”

“Okay. What do you need from me?”

“That’s it? You don’t even want to know what it is?”

I shrugged. “I doubt it’s going to involve human sacrifice or anything, so of course I’ll help.”

“Maz.” Somehow, he managed to lace my name with both fondness and reprimand. “Do you ever not jump into things without looking first?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He straightened. “We know I can’t join you at the Manor, so there’s no point taking Oren’s ring with you. What if you left it in Sofia’s house?”

“I don’t know.” It was my turn to chew on my lip, frowning as I gazed out the window toward Sofia’s lawn. “Didn’t you think it, well, activated because I’m a little bit Oren? It might not work without my presence.”

“Maybe, but we’re not sure, and that’s the point. This is the perfect time to test it, though. Nobody’s at Sofia’s place. It’s nearby. If you leave the ring inside and I’m able to move between here and there, that will tell us something. Then we can start testing other variables, too.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea.”

“Let’s try it now before you have to go back to the Manor. And if it does work, you should take the manuals and Gil over there, too.”

I frowned. “The manuals I get, but why Gil?”

“Seriously, Maz? You have to ask?” He gave me a pitying look. “You and Ricky deserve some privacy or you’ll never get to first base, let alone second or third.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m getting hookup advice from a ghost.”

He spread his hands. “If the shoe fits…”

“Fine. We’ll bring Gil.” I pointed at him. “But this isn’t because I’m looking for a booty call.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“I mean it, Avi. This is just so we can see if I’m a necessary part of the equation. I’m not even sure it will work.”

“It will work.” He folded his arms. “Trust me. I’ve got a feeling.”

“It’s never going to work,” I muttered, as I retrieved Gil’s visiting-Sofia go-bag.

“Stop complaining, Maz.” He followed me out of the kitchen door, Gil’s carrier in my hand. “It will work.”

“It won’t.”

“It will.”

“It won’t.”

“It will.”

“It won’t.”

What can I say? It worked.