“I claim you, ghost-talker,” she declared.
I gaped at her. Seriously? Was there a spirit orientation class — Dealing with Ghost-talkers — that I'd somehow missed? How did she know what to say when I'd just sort of fallen into it? Clearly she'd done her research. This didn't bode well.
“Wait!” I said quickly. Just because I didn't think it would work didn't mean I was actually right. I'd been wrong more times recently than I cared to remember. “Don't—”
“You are mine and mine alone,” she finished in that same overly loud and formal tone.
My eyes snapped shut out of instinct. Holding my breath, I found myself waiting with dread for the supernatural breeze that had marked my connection to Will.
But the room around us remained silent and still except for the dull roar of the central air-conditioning kicking on outside.
Huh.
I opened my eyes slowly. No supernatural breeze, and I didn't feel any different. Guess maybe I was right… this time.
I laughed, more out of relief than triumph. Okay, maybe there was a little triumph in it. It felt good to score one in my column for a change instead of everyone else's.
“What the hell?” the ghost demanded.
I grimaced. So much for relief. I might not be tied to this ghost as a ghost-talker, but she was still here, and she'd still have to be dealt with.
I took a deep breath, steeling my patience. “Like I said, I don't think it's a good idea to—”
“Two of you? How can it not work on either one of you? That makes no sense.” The ghost sounded distinctly put out.
“—try to claim me,” I said, and then stopped, her words finally penetrating. “Two of us?” I asked, hearing the deadly chill in my voice. “You tried this on someone else?”
“Of course.” She didn't even hesitate in answering, too preoccupied and annoyed to notice my tone. “Like you were my first choice. I'd never even heard about you before yesterday.” The ghostly haze shrugged. “Other than rumors that the ghost-talker in the 'burbs had a missing spirit guide and was neglecting his duties, spending all his time with some new living chick, which must be you.”
I didn't miss the indictment and jealousy all jammed in that one word.
“Did you try to claim Will?” I asked tightly.
She ignored me. “But no one ever said that the living chick was a talker like he is.” I could hear the frown in her voice as she tried to match pieces of gossip with the facts as she knew them. “Of course, nobody said you'd look like this either. All weird and… glowy in the middle.” Her tone held equal parts distaste and fascination.
Glowy? Did I look different to her, not like other living people? Whatever. I dismissed her words, though I recognized on some level that what she was saying was important somehow. But I wasn't about to be distracted, not now.
I closed the distance between us, getting in her face, or where I imagined it would be. “Did you try to claim Will?” I bit each word off. A dim part of my mind, probably the part assigned to reason and logic, pointed out that if she had claimed him, she wouldn't be here. But the majority of me just didn't care.
She gave an exasperated sigh, which I felt against my cheek. “Yeah, but whatever. Like I said, it didn't work.”
If I'd thought about it, I would have realized that keeping my mouth shut was the better option, but I was beyond that. A horrible surge of fear and fury overtook me. It didn't matter that her attempt had failed. It might have worked. And then she, this girl who I didn't even know, would have been linked to Will, taking my place. God only knew whether she would have protected him or helped him or just left him to flounder. Frankly, she seemed more concerned with herself than with anyone else. He needed someone to look out for him, not take advantage. And what about me? Would he have just left me behind? I was already alone, stuck in this body and not able to help him like I could before. If it had worked, if she had claimed him, would he have even thought twice? I didn't know what she looked like, but she didn't sound stepsister ugly.
And what if she tried again with him… and it worked? Then what? I would be replaced, and Will wouldn't look to me for help anymore, wouldn't look to me for anything. Wouldn't smile at me, wouldn't hold my hand. I'd be worse than useless to him; I might as well not exist.
A yawning chasm opened inside me, and this primal sense of possessiveness welled up, spilling over until I could hear the blood rushing past my ears, pulsing with my racing heartbeat, something I'd never experienced before. Not with Chris, not with anyone.
I reached into the haze, feeling my hand sink in and connect with what felt like a shoulder. Well, that was one question answered. Evidently, ghosts had physicality around me, just as they did around Will. I shoved the girl back a step. “Will is mine,” I said fiercely. “Got it? So leave him the hell alone.”
And that's when the cold breeze, the one I'd been half expecting only moments ago, swept through the room, blowing my hair back and freezing her in place, like oil trapped in ice. I'm not sure which of us was more shocked. Especially because I couldn't see her expression.
Holy shit. Somehow, I was still Will's spirit guide. I didn't show up at his side at my time of death anymore, but it seemed my other capabilities were present and accounted for.
My first reaction was an internal leap of joy. I still had a purpose, and I didn't have to be all self-sacrificing and try to convince Will to find a new spirit guide—not this chick — so he could be safe.
But that emotion wore off quickly, because, as usual, without Will actually present, my spirit-guide defense capabilities were limited both in duration and strength.
The blurry spot in front of me wavered and shimmered. Then she sucked in an audible breath. “You froze me!” She sounded horrified.
Get out, Alona. Get out now. My overdeveloped sense of self-preservation, slightly rusty from not having been used much in the last month or so, kicked in with a vengeance.
I started to back up toward the door, my heart pounding. I'd blown it. She had had no idea who I was, and I'd just handed it to her. If she put the pieces together, all the consequences I'd ducked would be landing solidly back on my head. And now she was pissed, on top of it.
She followed me. “Will Killian's spirit guide should be the only one with that power,” she said suspiciously, and I wished desperately that I could see her face. “But she's gone. Unless she's not.”
The ghost lunged forward suddenly, her outstretched arms flashing in the mist, and I stumbled out of her way, but my left foot tangled in the corner of Misty's quilt. I felt my balance shift, and I knew I was going down.
My backside hit the ground with a teeth-jarring impact, and she was right there, standing over me. Her hand locked on to my arm, and in that second, I could see her clearly. Long red hair hung over her shoulder, a pink bikini top showed through her cutoff Señor Frog's T-shirt. A spring-break bunny. One who should have been wearing a tankini or one-piece. Much more flattering to her modest, at best, chest.
Holy crap. This was Spring Break Girl. She was exactly as Will had described her.
Her brown eyes widened, and I wondered if she could see me, too. Not Ally. Me, Alona.
“You didn't disappear,” she accused. “You just found a better deal.”
I weighed my options. Continue lying, or fall back on the bravado that had served me plenty well in the past? She wanted something; that much was clear. And, as I knew all too well, people who wanted something, anything, were vulnerable to machinations that made them believe they might actually get it.