Page 33 of Ghostlighted (Ghost Townies #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I glanced over at Avi in the passenger seat as the garage door rolled up behind the Civic’s rear bumper. I almost told him to fasten his seat belt as mine clicked into place. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Avi swiveled to face me, one of his knees passing through the gearshift. “What is your plan, exactly? You shouldn’t confront him inside the house. That could give him a way to shift blame onto you.”

“How could he do that? I’m not the one who’s forging Sofia’s signature and trying to declare her non compos mentis.”

“No, but he could muddy the waters, and we want these waters totally clear, don’t we?”

“Very true. But I wasn’t planning to face him at all.” Because there was no way I could resist punching him, and then he could cast blame on me. “Sofia’s garage is a single-wide, so if I park in the driveway, I can block him in.”

“That’ll infuriate him.”

“Good,” I growled as I turned the key in the ignition. It caught the first time. “That’ll make two of us.”

“Don’t you mean… three?”

I met Avi’s evil grin, threw the car into reverse, and hit the gas.

The Civic skidded on the driveway gravel as its rear wheels cleared the garage. Yes, my tire treads were pathetic, but I probably shouldn’t punch the gas this hard or I’d be making an unscheduled appearance in Patrice’s sitting room.

I eased up on the pedal as I finished backing out. I shifted into Drive. “Hold on.”

There was no answer, and when I glanced to my right, Avi was gone. Crap . We weren’t in his domain anymore and we must be outside of the ring’s radius. But I couldn’t stop to check on him. Liam had been packing up. If he’d already left the house, we couldn’t afford another delay.

Could Liam run faster than I could drive?

He didn’t have as far to go, but I wasn’t an Indy 500 driver by any stretch, and my car wasn’t exactly a Formula 1.

So I headed down the driveway and pulled onto Iris Lane, hoping that Avi wasn’t stuck elsewhere and that he’d be able to rejoin me once I was back in range.

Gunning the engine, I peeled off down the road, taking the turn on to Birch Street way too fast. The Civic groaned, tires squealing, as I yanked the wheel straight. Sofia’s garage door was up, but I couldn’t see Liam’s car. Was I too late? Had he already left?

I punched it again and huffed a relieved breath when I spotted the silver trunk.

Hunching over the wheel, I braked hard as I turned into Sofia’s driveway and screeched to a halt smack in the middle.

Liam wouldn’t be able to maneuver his way out on either side of me, even if he was willing to scrape his paint all to hell.

He’d need some way to collapse his Porsche into a concertina if he wanted to escape, and since he wasn’t Mr. Incredible, I doubted he’d be able to pull that off.

As I switched off my ignition, Avi blinked into sight in the passenger seat again.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Just a little disoriented.”

I gestured to the garage. “Was the door up when you checked out the license plate?”

“No. I… don’t think so? I wasn’t really focusing on that when I was trying to remember the numbers.”

I scanned Birch Street. No sign of Kamilla yet. “His car’s windows are too dark for me to see the interior. Did he already make it to the garage?”

“I don’t know. Once you backed out of the garage, I was elsewhere before I showed up back in our attic. I know he’s not in Sofia’s house anymore because I popped in there first.” Avi tsk ed. “He left the back door hanging open. You’d think he was born in a barn.”

“So the ring’s still on the windowsill?”

“Yes.” The relief in Avi’s voice was palpable. “I didn’t follow him outside, though. I’ll check now.”

“You don’t have to—” But he was already gone.

The Porsche’s brake lights flared. “Uh oh.”

Through my open window, I heard a muffled click. And another. And another, followed by some very creative cursing, but no sound of the engine.

Avi. He’s interrupting the ignition .

Pride swelled in my chest. He was making such great progress, not only in mapping his current abilities, but in embracing new ones. Is this what parents felt like when their kids mastered a skill?

“Watch out, EVP devices, because Avi Felder is in the hou?—”

The Porsche’s engine roared, and Avi flashed into the passenger seat.

“Maz! Jump!”

“Crap !”

I wrenched the handle and shoved. As usual, the damn door stuck.

“Come on, come on.” I threw my weight behind my shoulder and bashed it again. It didn’t budge at first and I heard the Porsche’s engine rev once, twice, three times. “Come on , dammit!”

Something flew past my face and suddenly I was tumbling out of the car and rolling across the ground, gravel digging into my arms, back, and finally chest as I came to a halt, face down, just as the Porsche crashed into the Civic with a deafening wham and a sickening crunch .

Avi appeared, kneeling next to me, his chest heaving. He peered down worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Is he getting away?”

“Not in his car, he’s not.”

“He could still run.” I tried to push myself up. Nope. Not happening . “We have to stop him.”

Avi glanced away for a moment before gazing down at me. His smug smile was hampered by his ragged breathing. “I think that’s taken care of.”

“What? But—” Flashing blue light washed through Avi and into my eyes as Kamilla’s patrol car screeched to a halt at the curb, blocking the end of the driveway. She and another officer were out of the vehicle in an instant.

“Maz? You all right?” she called.

I lifted one hand in a feeble wave. “Never better. Don’t mind me.”

“Is he armed?”

“No gun.” Avi wheezed. “Or knife.”

“If you’re wrong?—”

“I’m not.”

“Not armed,” I replied to Kamilla. “But he’s got a lot of stolen property on him, so watch out for him trying to destroy it.”

“Got it.” She disappeared into the garage, and a moment later, I heard her recite the familiar Miranda words in a clipped tone, followed by Liam’s curses.

Avi peered down into my face. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Fine-ish.” I gritted my teeth, pushed myself onto my hands and knees, and then sat back on my heels. “Damn. I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.” I flashed him a pained grin. “Ziv Harcourt may have no trouble jumping out of moving cars, but even a stationary one is tough for me.”

“Harcourt is a fictional character.” Avi was still trying to catch his breath, which interfered with his usual acerbic tone. “You’re not.”

I squinted at him in the twilight. “Are you okay? You’re panting like you just ran the 400 meters at an Olympic pace.”

“I… I don’t know.” He stared past my shoulder. “I think I just opened your car door.”

“What?” I twisted to look behind me and ow! Yeah, that was a mistake.

“When I saw that you were stuck, and that Liam was going to ram you, I just”—he thrust his hands forward—“and it opened. You might have done it yourself and it was just a coincidence, but?—”

“Nope. I was well and truly stuck.” I peered at my palms and dislodged a couple of pieces of gravel, a grin slowly dawning. “Avi, my friend, you are no longer restricted to manipulating only dust, cat fur, and paper products. You’ve just added metal to your repertoire.”

He gazed at me, lips parted and eyes luminous, even though periodically washed by blue light. “What if it was just a one-time thing?” he murmured. “A response to an imminent threat of death or serious injury, not something I can consciously control?”

I met his gaze. “As someone recently said to me, stop gaslighting yourself. You’ve got this.” I pointed to his wedding band. “Metal, remember? You’re just getting started.”