"How do you know?"
Threads of that toxic, violent green swirled in the deep grays of her eyes. "I know. No one will ever find me."
His heart broke a little. "I found you." It wasn't the same. He knew that. He hadn't found her body…hadn't solved her murder or stopped it from happening. He didn't even know her full name. But he had found a piece of her, and that piece could never be lost again.
They were quiet for a while longer before she said, "We shouldn't go—to the funeral, I mean. They might figure your little scam out."
Benedict huffed. "Elysium has never managed to sense you, let alone see you. I think we'll be fine."
She raised a brow. "It's a house of ghost hunters. What if they do see me?"
"They won't."
"What if they do?"
"Then we'll leave." When she didn't reply, he closed his eyes. His mother was dead. The world had changed, and yet, it hadn't. Not really.
"I have a bad feeling," Emmeline whispered.
Benedict smiled softly, sadly, because so did he.
"If we go into that house, we'll never get out again."
He cracked his lids and found her staring back at him. Her eyes weren't the bright green he had expected. She wasn't angry. She was…worried? "I won't let anyone exorcise you. I swear. I won't leave without you."
Somehow, she grew sadder, tears gleaming in her eyes and very nearly overflowing her lashes. And yet she smiled, the way that betrayed the age of her appearance and screamed just how deeply she loved him. "I know you won't leave without me. You can't."
Chapter Five
Benedict took a cab to the airport. He only packed one bag, small enough to carry onto the plane, but put it in the trunk rather than the seat beside him. Emmeline sat on that seat—even if the driver didn't see her there.
She leaned forward; another inch and her face would go through the glass partition and into the front seat. She enjoyed snooping because no one but Benedict could see her doing it. She would read every text message and judge every receipt she spotted. She even broke her personal rule of not passing through walls and closed doors when her curiosity got the better of her. There wasn't a neighbor on their floor whose apartment she hadn't nosed around.
"He has an awful lot of receipts for strawberry smoothies…" Emmeline said, true to form.
Benedict smiled to himself, turning his head to glance out the window at the traffic. He wore earbuds when he was outside the house for anything but work; it made talking to her and laughing at her easier.
She sat back and sighed loudly. "Blow off the funeral. Just get on any other flight."
"Can't," he said.
The cabby glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised.
Benedict tapped one earbud, and the guy nodded, attention back on the street ahead.
Emmeline turned sideways to stare at him. "What did she ever do for you?"
He laughed, smile staying even when the sound faded. "Well, she did give birth to me… and then fed and clothed me. Paid for my very useless education and then threw large sums of money at me to keep me in the family business."
"Exactly! She did it all for her own reasons."
"It's not really about her, Em. It's a tradition. It's for the family."
She clicked her teeth and crossed her arms. "You're going to regret this," she mumbled, and he wasn't sure if it was a warning or a threat.
He couldn't stare at her long without the driver's gaze narrowing at him in the rearview mirror.
Soon they were pulling up along the drop-off platform at the airport. Benedict paid with his credit card on the little screen built into the back of the seat in front of him. He tipped generously and got out, holding the door open a few seconds after stepping onto the sidewalk to give Emmeline the chance to slide out after him. He got his bag from the trunk and started toward the crowded doors and snaking lines feeding passengers to automated check-ins and baggage drop-off.
"Bet you're flying first class…" Emmeline said in a bitter mumble.
Benedict nodded once. "Always."
She snorted, keeping step at his side and weaving around people rather than passing through them.
He had never figured out if she sulked over his first-class tickets because she thought it was excessive, or because she couldn't come with him. She never made it past the boarding ramp, vanishing somewhere along the way. The first time it had happened, he had been glad to be rid of her, but then she had popped up again in baggage claim.
Now, Benedict hated flying. It was lonely without her. He didn't know where she went or why she couldn't stay with him—and Emmeline had never explained beyond confirming that ghosts don't fly on planes.
Benedict slid past the lines and right up to the first-class counter. He handed his ID to the man in the blue jacket on the other side of the desk. It took all of two minutes before he had his boarding pass, declining to check his bag.
He turned and paused, gaze combing through the crowd to find her. Emmeline hadn't strayed far, crouching in front of a stroller to look at the baby inside. It blinked up at her with big, brown eyes, spit bubbles slowly growing on its lips and then popping. It saw her. Babies, along with some animals, did.
Benedict hesitated, unable to walk over and talk to her without alarming the parents currently focused on maneuvering their suitcases, toddler on a leash, and stroller in the snaking line toward the baggage drop.
He had to walk away and trust that she would follow. A decade with her had taught him that she would—she always did—whether or not she wanted to. But a flutter of panic still rose in his throat when he turned away from her and slipped into the first-class security line. It was short and fast, and when he emerged on the other side, picking up his bag from the conveyor belt of belongings, Emmeline was waiting there.
Benedict put his earbuds back in, pocketing his phone and wallet.
She stared straight at him, and he stared back.
"Did you ever travel?" he asked.
"Only once," she said. "They put me in a car and drove me to my death."
He took steps closer to her, the world moving around them in a rush to catch flights or grab that coffee fix before lift-off. "We could go somewhere—anywhere you want, after the funeral."
Emmeline's lips twitched, but he couldn't tell if it would have been a frown or a grin if she hadn't reined in the gesture. "You're going to miss your flight," she said, voice flat and a storm of electric green gathering in the depths of her dead eyes. She was daring him to go through with it… daring him to get on that plane and drag them both back to his family home.
He stared at her long enough to see the shadow of bruises skitter across her skin, there one second and gone the next.
Benedict nodded once. So, this was how it was going to be? She was going to be angry at him for doing what he had to? He set his jaw and turned, walking away from her and into the labyrinth of high-end shops, cafes, and gates. She would forgive him when this was over and they were home again.
Chapter Six
Benedict drove down the long dirt road between thick woods. The sun gleamed through the branches, casting shadows on the cornflower blue hood and across the windows.