Only the Good Die Young

5

Fully recharged by my batteries as well as my research, I went back to the Edgett mansion.

I hadn’t exactly accomplished my mission there earlier in the night, thanks to fake Dean, and every energized cell of me needed to get inside that building, to find out more about Gavin Edgett and the crimes he very well might’ve committed.

And if he had committed them… Let’s just say that he deserved to be driven to the level of insanity that would make him shout out his guilt.

When I swept up to the mansion using the same route I’d used before, it was the darkest part of night. The witching hour lent dead silence to the pool’s blue glow while it competed with the outside security lights around the property.

I did a flyby over the red tile roof and palm trees, then went in to do my business.

Because of my research, I knew even more now about the Edgetts’ Italian Renaissance mansion. Twenty-seven rooms, including six bedrooms, a basement and an attic, and even a wine storage room that’d been used during Prohibition.

Like I said before, money. Lots of it. Enough to cover up a crime and then some.

It wasn’t hard to find a way inside—I just made like Santa and slipped down one of the chimneys, feeling lucky that it wasn’t closed off.

So far, so good.

Mostly, it was dark inside, except for a few dim lights here and there, and I traveled around the house, getting a feel for it: all cream colors, chandeliers, curved staircases, and marble floors. I even indulged myself—can you blame me?—by floating over to one of those wicked seats that Cleopatra would’ve been right at home on while stretched out, eating grapes plucked from trays.

I sighed and shaped myself to the piece of furniture for a few minutes, and when that got old, I meandered down a hallway, into what looked like a game room, with a big wall that resembled a slab of rock with handles poking out of it. Gym equipment was all over the place, too, but it was computerized, like something superhumans from a sci-fi movie would use.

I suspected that Gavin spent more time in this room than anyone, judging by his broad shoulders and solid arms. Or maybe he’d always been strong—enough to grab a woman, drag her to a dark, deserted place, and choke and stab her without getting much of a fight in return.

I got a little grim then. After Amanda Lee had pulled me out of my time loop, she’d told me about what she’d seen during my last moments in Elfin Forest when I’d been confronted by my own killer.

And that hadn’t turned out so well.

I was ready to check out the upper floor, seeking out Gavin’s room, so I went up the grand staircase, hovering in the right-hand hallway.

So quiet, I thought. Everything was that way.

No one in the house had any idea what was coming for Gavin.

I’d never thought of myself as dangerous, but it occurred to me that I actually was as I lingered in that hall. And it made me feel true power for the very first time in my life… or death.

Bolstered, I went to the first door on my left, seeping under the crack between wood and luxurious carpet.

My energy wavered as I took stock of the room: clothes on the floor, the stench of dirty socks, computers on sleek desks, a bank of huge, thin TVs with a leather couch in front of them, posters of dead-eyed rock bands under the slice of light from a partly curtained window.

Even before I saw the scrawny body lying on the king-sized bed with all the covers kicked off, I knew this was the younger brother Noah’s room. The dirty socks had been enough of a clue.

But he wasn’t the one who interested me.

After I slipped out, I came to a door a bit farther down the hall with a hint of light leaking from underneath it. Someone was up.

I waited outside, then heard a muffled voice. A woman.

Farah, Older Sister Socialite Barbie?

She must’ve been talking on her phone, and she didn’t sound too happy with whoever was on the other end of the line. I could only hear garbles from his end.

“Nice, James,” she said. “I thought you could at least have some sympathy because I can’t find Rum Tum Tugger. He never goes far.”

I told myself to remember the name. James. Whoever he was. And I figured that Rum Tum Tugger might’ve been the cat who’d hated me and run off.

“Really?” she said after a pause. “I can’t believe you sometimes. I don’t know whether you love or hate me… .”

She trailed off, then gave in to a surge of emotion.

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it. Good fucking night to you, too, baby.”

I thought she hung up, because she stopped talking and her light went off. Even with the boyfriend drama, she didn’t compel me enough for me to go inside her room.

Where was Gavin?

I continued on my way, passing empty rooms, then deciding to scoot to the other wing.

And… bingo.

There were two closed doors there, both dark around the edges. One of them was sure to be Gavin’s bedroom, if he hadn’t taken off again on one of his business trips.

I chose the room on the right, entering in my usual way, then looking around at what had to be the master suite. I mean, seriously, it was Caesars Palace in here, with marble columns and a long window that stretched from one end of the room to another, the curtains open to reveal a balcony with a view of the ocean.

I saw his dark shape in the bed, the sheets bunched around his bare waist, one thick arm flung over his head. Sleeping like a total babe in the woods.

I’d given lots of thought as to how I’d go about a haunting tonight, so I started off slow… for now. Also, I’d been practicing some of my skills before I left my casita, and I was eager to see how they worked.

I moved toward his bed, taking a moment to look down on him, hovering.

Something in my belly area twisted, because he felt so warm, and all I wanted to do was get some of that warmth into me. But that’s not why I was here.

Subtle, I thought. Start slow.

“Gavin… ,” I breathed.

He didn’t stir, but that was okay. I hadn’t meant to wake him up yet.

“Gavin…”

This time, he turned his face away from me, his even breathing catching on a snag.

I flew around to the other side of the bed, daring to inch closer to him. He smelled of skin and shampoo, but I didn’t let that trip me up.

“Why, Gavin?” I whispered.

I was near enough to send some coolness to his ear, and he lowered his arm, frowning in the fog of his sleep.

Somewhere in Slumberland, he’d heard me, maybe even felt me.

If he’d sensed the chill of me when he’d come to the screen door earlier, standing just inches from my essence, he might recognize me now. Was he remembering what my essence had felt like and was putting two and two together in his subconscious?

I tried not to think that it was so very special that he, out of only a couple of other people, seemed to be aware of me. At the same time, I attempted not to feel his life force.

There was just something about him… warmth that pulled me in. Pure energy that I didn’t get from any other human I’d met so far.

Getting to real work now, I floated to the wall, shaping myself into what I thought of as a fist.

I threw myself against it.

Knock.

And again.

Knock.

Right away, I could feel a teeny bit of strength seep out of me because of the exertion. It wasn’t that much, but I’d have to pace myself.

I knocked only twice more, louder this time, following it with another vocal plea, a louder whisper this time.

“Gavin!”

He started awake, his eyes wide as he fixed them on the ceiling.

Now that I had his attention, a thrill shot through me, smoky giddiness, reminding me of what it’d been like to be high.

This haunting stuff was actually working!

I closed my eyes and thought of the smell of orange blossoms. Would this work, too? I’d read that ghosts could produce smells, so why couldn’t I?

But an even bigger question was: was the smell of Elizabeth’s perfume subtle?

I wouldn’t use too much of it. Just enough to make him wonder if it was really there.

He sniffed, looked around the room. I swear I could hear his heart beating.

“Elizabeth?” he asked.

At her name, I froze, motionless against the wall. If I’d had a body, I probably would’ve looked like my spine was pasted to the plaster.

I’d done it—re-created the perfume I’d read she wore. One of her anonymous friends had talked about it being something she’d missed about Elizabeth, along with her sunny smile and her laugh.

When Gavin rubbed his bare arms, I knew that my temperature was getting to him. Every muscle in his arms and back was tense as I looked down on him from the wall.

Should I say one more thing, just to make sure that telltale heart was up and running in his conscience?

Slowly, I allowed my essence to peel away from the wall, slanting down toward him until I was just above his head.

He looked up, like he really could feel me.

“Why?” I asked, ruffling his hair with the word, my voice sounding reedy, sad, and maybe a little bit like an accusation.

He bolted out of the bed, turning around, like he could find me.

Fear. I could feel it. But there was also anger there, and that was even better. It increased the energy in me, around me.

But when he couldn’t find anything to blame for the sounds and the perfume, his fear decreased, and it felt like something had pushed me lower, down and down, until I was floating just above the bed.

He’d overcome his emotions frighteningly fast.

“All right, Noah,” he said. “That’s funny. If I look around here and find those minispeakers and microphones you put in Wendy’s room last month to scare the shit out of her, I’m going to wring your neck.”

What?

No. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to be primed for more, not thinking that his younger brother was fooling around.

Was the rich guy going to get out of this haunting, just as he’d gotten out of paying for a bloody crime? Not even.

I was pushing the limits of subtlety when I closed my eyes again, imagining the orange blossom perfume. Noah couldn’t replicate that.

Then I whispered, “Not… Noah…”

When he laughed, a cutting “bullshit” sound, that was all I could take.

Before I could tell myself it was a bad idea, I rushed over to Gavin, stopping in front of him, shivering with a pent-up frustration that had come on me so fast that it consumed me.

Not going to get away with it. Not this time.

I made contact with his upper arm, just as I’d done with Amanda Lee, wanting so badly to connect with Gavin’s mind as I’d briefly linked with hers before she’d shut me out.

It was like I’d entered him, then bitten down on a frayed wire, and I shook with a rapid succession of thoughts that roared through his mind.

A flash of Elizabeth’s light hair.

A laugh that sounded like a song.

Elizabeth crying softly.

Elizabeth crying hysterically.

Blood on her pale skin.

A slap from her open hand, a desperate punch to the chest from her closed fist, followed by another and another—

The images cut off so sharply that it felt like my stomach had been pulled out and some of my juice drained.

Weaker now, I took a second to see Gavin backing away, his gaze on where I was, like he really could see me.

I didn’t move. I actually couldn’t do it very well because something had taken a dose of energy right out of me.

“What the hell?” he whispered, his face a mask of true terror now.

Even if I was a ghost and I didn’t need oxygen, I went through the automatic motion of holding my breath. I faintly rose upward, toward the ceiling, planting myself there.

Had I already blown it? Shit.

Gavin’s gaze stayed on where I’d just been, so obviously he couldn’t see me now. But had he before?

Had I somehow materialized for a split second and that’s why I’d lost energy so fast?

If I had, I wasn’t sure how I’d managed it, and when he went to a chair, yanked a shirt off it, put it on, and then opened his bedroom door to exit, I stayed put, fears running through me.

Did he have any idea what was going on?

Had I gotten through to him in any way?

I floated toward an electrical outlet, absorbing some of the charge. The longer I stayed put, the more I gathered my energy again and came to my senses. He couldn’t have known a ghost was visiting him. Most rational people wouldn’t believe it at first, even if the proof had been right in the same room. I would back off from him for a while, letting his conscience go to work.

Slightly renewed by the electricity, I floated into the hallway, tracking him.

I found him downstairs in the study with all the lights on, his hands clutching the ends of his leather chair’s armrests.

On his lap, a pearl-handled gun rested.

Good instincts, I thought. But guns aren’t going to get me.

Then again, I didn’t know any ghosts who could tell me any different, so maybe I’d have to take a bullet to find out.

I thought about what I’d seen in his head: Elizabeth crying, Elizabeth striking out at him. I couldn’t tell if those had been her last moments, if she’d fought back like I had during my own death, but the pain they carried had removed all sense of sympathy from me.

As I retreated from the room, I knew that I’d done my job for now, starting to set wrong to right.

It’d just be a matter of time before I could do the same thing for myself.

• • •

Feeling pretty satisfied, I whizzed back to Amanda Lee’s, thinking about whether I should try to tap on one of her windows again so I could tell her about my success.

Was it worth breaking another pane?

When I got there, I stopped by the hole-marred window first, noticing that she’d taped up the damage from the shears. I expected it’d be fixed by tomorrow, since I couldn’t imagine Amanda Lee tolerating even a day of something broken in her home.

The light wasn’t on in there anyway, so I took a whirl around her two-story home, thinking she was tucked away in bed, until I found an illuminated upper window in the back.

As usual, the curtain was drawn.

But not all the way.

I had a teensy view of a room that was so awesome that it could’ve come from the pages of I Have Splendid Taste—Check Me Out magazine. I could almost smell jasmine incense by looking at the mosquito netting that covered the exotic circle-shaped bed, the shadow from the blades of a ceiling fan slanting over the white spread.

When I saw Amanda Lee, dressed in a long white nightgown, crossing my field of vision, I peered around outside for something I could manipulate for a tap on the window.

Nothing.

But I’d done some fine knocking back at the Edgetts’, so I shaped myself into that fist again and rapped.

Knock, knock.

But she’d already walked out of my sight, maybe even out of the room.

Well, damn. I wasn’t about to hover here all night, so I did the next best thing—I went for the chimney, since that maneuver had worked nicely back at the Edgett mansion, too.

I swooped over the roof and, feeling good about my ever-expanding powers, decided I’d go for a ta-da dive into the flue.

I arced above it, paused, then fell down and down—

At the opening, I slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

Stunned, I felt my essence numbed, ringing like a gong.

It took a few moments for my thoughts to solidify, but when they did, I inspected the chimney.

What had blocked me? The opening was clear. But when I pressed against it, there was definitely something invisible barring me from entering.

Seriously? What was this?

On closer inspection, I found white grains sprinkled around.

Something I’d read on the Internet came back to me. Salt?

Hadn’t one of those amateur ghost-hunting pages said that the substance blocked spirits from entering places? But why would Amanda Lee use it on me?

I went back to her bedroom window, and this time I looked closely at the window frame.

Salt there, too.

Had there been some on the window that I busted open with the shears and I just hadn’t noticed?

I peeked inside her room. She was back, sitting on the edge of her bed.

And what I witnessed embarrassed me because I’m sure I wasn’t meant to see it.

She was looking at something on her finger. A ring, and the expression on her face was… I guess you could say impossible to glance away from.

She seemed devastated as she kept staring at it.

I got the feeling that remembering her husband might be a nightly ritual before she went to bed. Or maybe she couldn’t get to sleep and this was how she spent the wee hours, haunted.

She would wither away from mortification if she knew I was seeing this, and I was just about to move away from the window out of pure discomfort. Truly. But then the air must’ve kicked on—I heard the rev of it through the wall—and the left corner of the curtain belled up.

That’s when I saw something hanging on her other wall.

As the air kept the curtain billowing, I spied a bulletin board with a full-color picture taped right to the middle of it.

My picture from the last night I’d been alive.

I took in the image of the carefree girl with the reddish blond hair spilling over her shoulders, her slight freckles, the Mello Yello in her hand, and the tomboy clothes. She had no idea what was going to happen in a few hours.

Newspaper articles surrounded my photo like they were orbiting it.

But my bulletin board wasn’t the only one on that wall. There were three others, all with big pictures of men and women in the middle, clippings circling them, too.

I hovered closer to the window, wishing I could come in and read those articles, see who those other people were, but then a body blocked my view.

Amanda Lee, holding back the curtain, stunned.

Even if the window was shut, I could hear her voice through the panes. “Jensen…”

The obvious emotion confused me. Who was this woman? What did she really want with me by reducing me to a bulletin board of newspaper clippings and a tragic photo?

I sped away from her window, going in the opposite direction of my casita. I was damned if I knew where I was going.

But it sure wasn’t to my room, just like a prisoner who didn’t have any other purpose but to obey Amanda Lee’s orders.