Page 80 of Purrfectly Haunted

“No hospital for me...” I say.

“But James, the spores—”

“No hospital.”

I don’t care about the damn spores. And how would we even explain what happened to us? We need to go after Ewan, and I say as much.

Lana shakes her head. “You’ve been out for at least an hour, and I had to drag you both up the stairs. I’m sorry. I don’t know where they went, James.”

An hour? “No...” I try to get to my feet but my legs give out and I fall down hard. The cat, Pearl, meows loudly as if scolding me. “We need to find him.”

“Yes. I just wanted to make sure you two were alive first. We’re no use to him if we’re dead. I’m going to get you settled, then I’m going to go look for him.”

“I’m coming... with...” I rasp.

In the end, I'm in no shape to even stand on my feet, and I'm forced to relent. Lana leaves Shirley and I on the couch in the great hall with bottles of water and painkillers, then she sets out with three of the cats—I didn’t even know the furry minions could leave the house.

Worry gnaws at us to let her go alone, but she promised to just look for Ewan and not engage with the entity. For all we know, the ghost discarded him in a dark alley.

If he killed him, I swear I’ll hunt him down and destroy him, even if it takes me years.

Lana comes back hours later, exhausted and red-eyed. They couldn't find him. The monster stole Ewan from us. He stole him from me.

Pearls sits on my chest, and I bury my face in her soft fur and try not to scream.

The three of us huddle in the dark, the house suddenly too empty.

eighteen

Icy despair

EWAN

All I know is icy despair, and I can barely stay conscious.

Through the fog of frigid numbness, I see glimpses of the outside world, of the reality beyond my open eyelids. I’m walking down a dark street, cobblestones under my feet, but I’m also not. This body isn’t mine anymore.

Some time ago I remember walking by James as he coughed blood and struggled to call my name. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help him. Lana and Shirley were there too, but they were shrouded in shadows.

I think I’m dead. Because what else could this cold be but the end of my short life? And yet, death hasn’t freed me from my torment. I hurt and I feel everything. I’m drowning.

Please, make it stop.

“Quiet,” says a voice. My voice.

The icy grip of death tightens around me, and let out a silent scream until oblivion is all I know.

nineteen

Hell hath no fury like an irate cat

JAMES

One year later.

September 24th

Broken glass crunches under my boots and the sound echoes down the dark corridor. Goosebumps pebble my skin as a cold breeze travels through the abandoned hospital. Pearl meows from my shoulder, her head poking out of my backpack.