Page 45

WAVERLY

M y mouth fell open.

Then I snorted. But ghosts ?

“You’re kidding, right?”

Keene shook his head. “I really wish I was, but no. I’m serious as fuck right now.”

Eyebrows lifting, I pointed to the stacks of books. “So you’re telling me you think?—”

“I don’t think,” he interrupted softly. “I know . My mother is haunting this library.”

I scoffed but said nothing else. Did nothing else. Remembering all the strange, freaky things that happened here, I could actually see why he might assume it was haunted. But there had to be another explanation.

Any other explanation.

When a cold breeze wafted over the back of my neck, however, I shuddered in alarm.

Keene must’ve felt it too because he smiled affectionately and lifted his face to glance around the air. “There she is,” he whispered.

I gaped at him, realizing he one hundred percent believed this.

Shoving a hand into his pocket, he came up with a set of keys. As he worked a tiny vial free from the chain, he explained, “This here is what the guys and I like to call a ghost detector. We got it from that occultist shop on the Adobe Strip by the boardwalk.”

“You mean Jezebel’s Nest?” I said, knowing the place.

Keene grinned. “Yeah. Exactly. My buddy Hudson and his girlfriend Faith rent a room above the shop, and they’re pretty close to the owner, Mirlande.

” He lifted the ghost detector. “She makes these little amulets from scratch. Don’t ask what’s in them.

I have no idea. But they fucking work. Here.

” He tipped his head toward the keychain, offering it to me.

“You can have this one. Hold it up. A white smoke appears inside the glass when a ghost is near.”

I sent him a funny look but took the key chain anyway. Lifting it to look inside the vial, I watched mist appear and swirl around just as coldness crept over me again.

Curious, I studied the cloud in fascination—not because I actually believed it meant there was a ghost in the vicinity but because it was pretty.

“When she saw you push me, she was just trying to defend her son,” Keene explained. “She’s pretty protective of me. But I can stop that.” Stepping behind me, he set two hands on my shoulders, squeezing them lightly as if trying to reassure me, before he quietly called, “Mom?”

When coldness blasted us in the face, actually blowing back my hair a little, I squeaked in alarm and backed into Keene’s solid, supportive chest.

“Easy. It’s okay,” he said into my ear, rubbing my shoulders in consolation. Or maybe to warm me. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

He lifted his voice, talking over my shoulder and into the room.

“I want to introduce you to Waverly. I’m sure you’ve seen her around.

She works here as a student employee. But I wanted you to know she’s my friend.

I like her, okay? And I don’t ever want any harm to come to her.

Even if she pushes or slaps or kicks me.

” Snickering, he tightened his grip on my shoulders and massaged them a little.

“The Mistress only punishes me when I’m bad. ”

“Oh my God. Keene ,” I hissed, ramming my elbow back into his gut.

He chuckled. “See. Punishment for my misbehavior. And I’m okay with that. She keeps me in line. So please, no more throwing books at her, okay?” Smoothing a hand over my hair, he concluded with, “She is to be protected and never hurt.”

I swallowed, liking his comments a little too much, even though I knew his dead mom wasn’t really listening to us.

Until a single book appeared from the stacks and floated our way.

I gasped and started to shy away from it, but Keene pulled my back closer to him, saying, “No, it’s okay. Trust me. This is how she talks.”

When the floating book paused in front of us, he nudged my arm. “Go ahead; take it. She wants to tell you something.”

I whipped a dismayed glance over my shoulder at him because he was clearly insane.

He snickered and rolled his eyes with an amused smile before he said, “Grab the damn book, Waves, or you’re going to offend her.”

“Yeah, and it’s not at all going to decide to whack me in the face and give me a bloody nose the moment I reach for it,” I muttered sarcastically.

He sighed and shook his head, drifting the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “I swear on my life, I will not let her hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

His promise seared through my soul.

My entire childhood seemed to flash before my eyes. I was once again the nine-year-old girl sitting in the circle of chairs at the center while the boy who’d snuck over to the older section of kids waved for me to join him.

But this time, I didn’t shake my head no and stay where I was supposed to be. In the alternate reality I created in my head, I stood up and rushed to him. I sat in his circle full of boys who became his best friends, and I was safe.

Keene would’ve included me in the group, and I wouldn’t have hidden on the sidelines.

I would’ve felt accepted and valued. And no big important, adult man would’ve noticed me always isolating myself from everyone else.

He wouldn’t have preyed on me. He never would’ve brought me into his office, never would’ve laid his hands on me.

I never would’ve gone through years of molestation and guilt and pain. I never would’ve tried to take my own life when I was fifteen. My parents wouldn’t have turned into freaked-out, overprotective worrywarts who questioned everything I did, petrified I’d hurt myself again.

My entire life could’ve been so much better if I’d just gone with Keene when I was nine.

So here and now, when he set his protective hands on me and asked me to take the book, I took the fucking book. I reached out, counting on him. I made the right decision this time, the one I’d always wished I’d made the first time; I did exactly what he asked.

The hardback didn’t resist my hold when I pulled it to me, so I turned the cover right-side-up and read its title.

Sorry About That: The Language of Public Apology.

“Well, son of a bitch,” Keene murmured behind me. “She actually said sorry. She doesn’t usually apologize. She had autism, and it was hard for her to empathize with the pain of others, much less connect the dots that she had contributed to it and feel her own regret for their suffering.”

There was awe and pride in his voice. He was pleased with his ghost mother’s reaction.

I lifted my face and looked around the library, but I couldn’t see anything. I could feel her presence, though, with that cold heaviness in the air; I held up the book, waving it once to acknowledge her.

“Thank you,” I said. “I accept your apology. And I apologize as well for pushing your son. He?—”

“Deserved it,” Keene cut in. “I deserved to be pushed, Mom. I trapped her in an uncomfortable moment and confronted her against her will. I shouldn’t have done that. She just wanted to be free.”

In answer, a sudden absence of cold flooded the area around us; almost like coming upon a warm spot in a pool.

It made me shudder just as much as the coldness had.

Behind me, Keene nudged my elbow, making me lift the hand that was holding his ghost amulet.

Inside, the cloud abruptly dissipated, to which Keene sighed. “And… She’s gone. She always leaves as abruptly as she appears.”

“Holy shit,” I breathed, unable to stop blinking at the clear vial that had just been full of white smoke. “The library’s haunted. It’s truly, honestly haunted.”

“Yep.”

I turned to gape at him. “So ghosts?—”

“Are real. Yes.”

I shook my head, trying to come to terms with that. “But…” I glanced around the shelves, searching for some transparent apparition to float out from the stacks. “How—how do you know it’s your mom?”

Lifting one shoulder, Keene answered, “I mean, other than the fact she told me—through the books—Faith met her first.”

“Faith?” I blinked at him, not comprehending. “Faith, your friend Hudson’s girlfriend?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She can see and communicate with them.”

“With ghosts?”

He nodded.

My mouth sagged open. “No way.” I glanced around the shelves, shocked. “ Really ?”

His grin was pure Keene, and it made my stomach swirl. “Yep. Oaklynn can too.”

“Oaklynn?” It took me a moment for that one to actually sink in; my stupid hormones were still reeling over the fact that Keene knew I was his mystery girl and he was still able to smile at me.

But then his words actually hit, and I lifted a hand. “Wait. Oaklynn can also do… What ? See ghosts?”

“Yes.” His gaze lit eagerly, and he stepped in closer as if he wanted to spill all the gossip with me. “You remember when she came to you asking for help in discovering the man who murdered Damien’s sister?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Keene lifted his eyebrows knowingly, encouraging me to figure this one out on my own. “And she said she found a box full of stuff that gave her a clue as to who the murderer might’ve been?”

When I nodded again, recalling that very conversation perfectly, he added, “Yeah, well, she lied. She didn’t find a box. The ghost of Damien’s sister told her all that shit directly.”

I blinked and shook my head. “But she said?—”

“I know,” Keene cut in. “She doesn’t like broadcasting her abilities, so that’s why she wasn’t honest with you. And Faith likes to keep it under wraps too. So this is confidential information.” His gaze sought mine. “But you can keep a secret, right?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Who am I going to tell?”

Keene made a dismissive gesture. “Well, there’s Xander for one.”

My eyes widened. “Oh my God, not even Xander knows?” But Xander lived under the same roof as Oaklynn. Their rooms were right across the hall from each other.

With a snicker, Keene bumped his shoulder into mine. “Fine, I’m just joshing you. Xander knows. Alec spilled the beans and told her everything about a month after she moved in.”

Nodding, I let my attention fall to the vial in my hand, still trying to process what this meant.

But ghosts were real.