Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Have I made a mistake?
“Poor thing.”
I turn around. I nearly forgot Mrs. Shaheen is still here. “Did … Did I just mess everything up? What will Byron’s dads do? I thought Byron would understand. Westley is my best friend. I want him to find happiness, too. Is that such a bad thing?” From the look in her eyes, I realize I’m not talking to the right person. I let out a sigh and stare back down at my tea. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand. I guess no one does.”
She clicks her tongue, lets out a sigh, then comes around the couch to my side. “My dear, sweet child … You have too much compassion in you. More than you know what to do with. Enough to risk your own life for someone who already lost theirs. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so costly.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Come with me, Mr. James.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can stomach another sip of strange tea,” I warn her.
“Good, because it isn’t your stomach where I’m planning to put anything. It’s your neck. No,” she adds hastily, “it’s not a noose or a syringe. Goodness, don’t be so morbid. Just come with me before I decide to mix up an antidote for pity parties.”
I stand by a window in Mrs. Shaheen’s apartment, hugging myself sulkily. I’ve not been in here for quite a while. I think many of the colorful silks are missing. I’m guessing she took most of them to her Madame Seazall parlor to dress it up. But her décor isn’t what’s on my mind as I hug myself tighter and gaze out the window, observing how very not crowded the streets are down below. If only everyone knew what I saw a mere matter of minutes ago, that there’s a world full of dark despair superimposed upon our own—a sort of creepy alternate dimension of doom between each cell of air we breathe. The mere notion is enough to make anyone lose their minds. I think I might be halfway there.
“Here it is,” says Mrs. Shaheen rather calmly as she emerges from the other room. A dark chain necklace hangs from her hand with what appears to be a little charm dangling from it.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing too important. Just a talisman I need you to put on at once.”
I take a step back, my heel hitting the wall. “I don’t know if I’m up for anything more today, Mrs. Shaheen. I’ve already been through enough.”
“You need to wear this. It won’t be long before you start to shiver and see dead things again, Mr. James.”
I’m already fighting off a shiver. “I’ll risk it.”
“Don’t be stubborn. This harmless old artifact that bears dark magical powers and harnesses the will of the God of Many Deaths won’t bite.”
As I stare at her wide-eyed, she reaches over my head and puts the dark chain around my neck. When it rests on my chest, I take a closer look at the charm hanging from it. It looks like a plastic skeleton toy, pale white with big cute cartoon eyes.
I squint at Mrs. Shaheen skeptically. “Uh …?”
“Never judge a dark artifact by its looks.”
“How is this supposed to help me, exactly?”
“This powerful talisman is like ill-timed flatulence in a crowded room,” she suggests in a grand, dramatic voice, “except the room is full of phantoms. They’ll be repelled by you and the stink of this willful accessory.”
I don’t even know if I have the energy to trust or distrust anything she says anymore. “Okay, whatever. I’m wearing a dollar-store fart necklace now. Thanks.” I lean against the window and stare out of it dejectedly.
Mrs. Shaheen studies me for a moment, then seems to grow sad. She slowly retreats to her little eating table, which looks as if it hasn’t been used to eat on in a very long time, covered in old, dusty books and knickknacks.
I glance at her. “You said spirits are selfish.”
She looks up at me. “Hmm?”
“Before. Several times. You keep saying spirits are all a bunch of selfish, cruel parasites leeching off the living. Is that really all you think Westley Harmeyer is? Have I been wrong to trust him?”
After a moment of stony-eyed staring, she lets out a small sigh. “In all honesty, my kindhearted tenant, I think you’re the one of us best equipped to answer that.”
“Am I?”
“I can suppose a lot of things about the dead. Truth is, I don’t know any spirits as closely as you do. I was quite surprised to hear you actually allowed the ghost to keep half of your soul for now. Touched, even.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Touched …?”
“I can’t imagine showing such empathy for a spirit. Now I have to wonder if I was wrong all this time. Your affection for him is … rather beguiling to me.”