Page 121 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“Why didn’t we?”

Augustine shook her head. She knew why. She’d always known why.

“I couldn’t leave them,” she finally confessed. Theo nodded. He knew who she was talking about. “But ‘what ifs’ aren’t going to help either of us now. You wanted to help your girlfriend,” she carried on, her voice softening despite everything. “And you have. More than you know.” Her gaze flicked briefly to the body in the bed, the machines, the steady rhythm of borrowed life. “You wanted to know what happened to you, and now—” she gestured faintly to the body before them — “we do.”

Augustine looked back at him, really looked this time, staring at the man who wasn’t quite there, and yet felt more real than anything else in the room. Her throat tightened, but all the same, she held his gaze anyway. “You can go back now,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough to sound like it.

Theo stepped towards her without a beat of hesitation. Like this, like she, was the only thing in the room that made any sense to him at all. He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could feel him again, that impossible, aching warmth of him that her body still recognized without question. He appeared to be trying to memorize her, as if looking at her long enough, hard enough, something might stick. Like something might follow him back.

“Memory’s a funny thing,” he told her, reaching out to run a finger along her cheek. “People think it’s fixed. That you either remember something or you don’t.” His gaze held hers, steady, intent. “But it’s not. It’s reconstructive. Fragile. Influenced by emotion, repetition, and significance.” A small pause. “Statistically, strong emotional experiences have a much higher likelihood of being retained. Even after trauma. Even after disruption.”

Augustine felt hope flutter in her stomach. “Statistically?”

“Statistically,” Theo confirmed, smiling softly. “I’m trying to tell you that when I wake up, I’m going to find you. I’m going to remember you.”

His words settled between them, fragile and impossible and so desperately wanted that it made Augustine’s soul hurt, and she shook her head, even as her eyes burned. She stood, releasing the real Theo’s hand.

“Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Theo didn’t even hesitate. “I never do.”

He kissed her, and it wasn’t rushed or desperate. His hand came up to her face again, warm and steady, and she leaned into it without thinking, her fingers curling into his shirt like she could hold him there, like she could stop what was coming next if she just held on tightly enough.

She couldn’t though. She knew that. So, even as she kissed him back, even as she tried to memorize everything — the feel of him, the shape of him, the way he felt against her — she knew this was the end for them. The end for this Theo, who’d known her and chosen her, fully, and without hesitation.

When he pulled back, it was slow and reluctant, his forehead resting briefly against hers. “I’m going to find you,” he murmured. “I promise. I found you once before. I can do it again.”

“Yes,” she said, and a tear slipped down her face. Without thinking, Theo brushed it away.

“Don’t cry,” he told her, kissing her once more. “You conjured me from nothing. Called me back when I had nothing left to give.” His hand lingered against her cheek, thumb brushing once, like he couldn’t quite let go. “So if I wake up, and I don’t remember, I’ll still find you. I don’t know how,” he admitted, a faint, broken smile touching his mouth. “But I will.” His gaze held hers, unwavering, even as something in him began to thin, to fade at the edges. “Because I chose you once, and I’ll choose you again. Again and again. In every lifetime I ever get to live.”

She nodded, a tear slipping down her face as she pressed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to watch him leave. To watch him fade into nothing. She felt Theo’s thumb rub over her cheek once more, and she leaned into his touch. The warmth faded, slowly but cruelly, and when Augustine opened her eyes once more, Theo was gone.

Augustine stood there, her hand still half-raised where his face had been.

A sound, sharp and sudden, cut through her grief as a monitor beside Theo’s bed shifted, the steady rhythm stuttering, and Augustine’s eyes snapped towards it. For a split second, there was a new rhythm to Theo’s heart — but it wasn’t a waking one, and nowhere near the sharp, rising chaos of consciousness returning. It was just different, as something adjusted within him.

Theo didn’t move however, his body still limp, his skin still warm, and Augustine stood there for a long moment, staring at him, her heart still caught somewhere between hope and something more resigned.

“Bye, Theo,” she said softly. “Come find me if you can.”

She stepped back from the bed, into the painfully empty space part of him had filled just moments ago. She walked out of the room, away from the too-bright lights and the sharp smell of disinfectant and the soft, indifferent hum of machines living for people who couldn’t do it for themselves.

The corridor was quiet, and Augustine walked slowly, her steps losing purpose as she moved forward, her thoughts still back in that room, still caught on a version of a man who no longer existed.

Chapter Forty-Five

She almost didn’t see them at first. Two figures, standing a little way down the hospital hallway. One of them looked over, excitedly waving at her. Augustine couldn’t make them out. Who could possibly know her here? She considered turning around and walking the other way. She was hurting and needed to go home. She didn’t want to make small talk in an over-bright hospital. Didn’t want to talk to anyone at all.

Anyone but Theo, that was.

The woman waved again though, more insistently now, and Augustine blinked, her focus sharpening as she grew closer to them.

“Mrs C?” she asked slowly. “Is that you?”

Mrs Clayton stood there, her ever-present pearl bag clutched loosely in one hand. This time however, she wasn’t alone. Beside her stood a man. He was old but gentle-faced, and he looked a little uncertain, like he wasn’t quite used to being there yet. All the same, he was smiling.