Page 12 of Haunt Me, Maybe

The shadows deepened at the edges before bleeding away into the shape I was familiar with. Wes appeared furious, his chest rising rapidly, even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe.

“What thing?” he bit out, his form wavering.

I waved a hand at the shelf behind me. “The mood swing, temperature drop, and petty, judgy-hovering thing.”

His head reared back in denial, and he sucked his cheeks in, emphasizing his clenched jaw. “I was observing.”

I stepped closer to try to ease the tension, but he pulled himself further into the dark, until half his face was hidden in shadow. The small space between us felt ginormous, and guilt grew in the pit of my stomach at the thought that he might actually fear me.

“Wes,” I said, gently. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I realized my slip. Great. Half an inch forward and one million steps back. This getting him to trust me plan was going so well already. A cold blast of air swirled around my shoulders, lifting my hair.

“How do you know my name, Aven?”

My brows shot into my hairline. Well then, I guess we were both sneaky sneaks. It wouldn’t have been too hard for him to learn my name; both Fenn and Mrs. Haverly said it often, but I worried about what else he’d overheard. If he thought my puny use of magic was bad, I didn’t want to know what kind of meltdown he’d have if he learned about Gideon.

“We probably could have avoided this if we’d introduced ourselves properly, you know,” I said, with a conspiratory smile.

He was having none of it. “You could have avoided this if you’d left like I told you to.” Arms folded tight across his chest, he scowled down at me. “How do you know my name?”

“It really wasn’t that hard,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Mrs. Haverly said there were stories about this room being haunted, which are obviously true. I think I even saw a ghost tour outside this afternoon.”

Wes scoffed and looked away with a blush. It was a struggle to contain my smile at how embarrassed he got, but I didn’t want him to think I was giddy at his expense. It was cute. The silence stretched on with no more insults, and the temperature even warmed a little.

It felt like a truce.

Maybe this month wouldn’t be so bad after all. I could deal with his surly attitude as long as I didn’t fight off frostbite each time I came into the attic. Eventually, he’d get used to my small illusions and “witchy artifacts,” and then a month would be up, and we could go our separate ways. I’d be able to save some money and get some rest before needing to go on the run again. Perfect.

At least, until Wes glowered at me again.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Stop. Now.”

Hurt flashed in my chest, and I was sure it reflected on my face because Wes’s frown deepened. “I wasn’t—what do you think I’m trying to do?”

Confusion flickered behind all that hatred and fear, but anger won out. Again.

“That! Don’t play innocent, witch.” His lip curled, and his body went rigid, like he was prepared for me to launch an attack or something. “Your kind always brings trouble.”

He phased out before I could reply, taking the chill with him. It would be a while before the room returned to a normal temperature, but I knew he was definitely gone when the heaviness dissipated, and I could once again breathe. I glanced over to where Fenn was nestled in the blankets, but he shook his head, also at a loss.

I think he would benefit from therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

CHAPTER FIVE

Aven

With Wes out of the room, I got to enjoy the space without feeling like I was under observation. A warm beam of late afternoon sunlight shone down through the window, warming Fenn and me as we lounged on the bed.

The room hadn’t quite returned to normal, but the frost melted, and a quick illusion made the temperature more tolerable. The many protections around the room lessened my guilt over the small magic.

Things were looking up. Except, the protein bar I munched on tasted like cardboard—disgusting, dry, ancient cardboard. If I didn’t die by turning into an icicle, then starvation was definitely a potential way to go. I had to get better groceries. Mrs. Haverly mentioned the fridge downstairs was communal; surely a few items wouldn’t break the bank?

“But that means I need that job,” I mumbled, to no one in particular.

Of course, Fenn was listening anyway. He wiggled and adjusted so his snout was only inches from my nose. It made his bulbous eyes seem larger, an effect I was sure he enjoyed.

You already know my thoughts on the matter. Why you insist on ignoring my advice only to seek it later is beyond me.