CHAPTER 16

Romy’s mom drove a minivan, one of those fancy ones with the doors that open on their own and TV screens in the back of every seat. As we clambered into the back, I stepped on one doll, a handful of crackers, and a pile of Legos.

“My siblings are beasts, sorry,” Romy said, flopping into her seat.

“They’re also four,” her mom informed me, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror. Her hair was a few shades darker than mine and pulled up in a haphazard ponytail. A large spot that looked like it might have been grape juice stained her T-shirt from the collar to the middle of her chest.

I noticed the booster seats and looked over at Romy. “You have three siblings?”

“Triplets,” she said with a nod. “Three boys. Adorable and evil in equal measure.”

“Romy,” her mom admonished, and Romy leaned forward, holding on to the back of the seat in front of her. “Mom, I love them, you know I do. But even you have to admit they are five parts cute to five parts holy terror.”

I could hear her mom sigh as she glanced down at the dark purple blob on her shirt. “All right, you may not be entirely wrong.”

Settling back in her seat, Romy fished a sippy cup lid out from behind her back and tossed it to the floor. “At least I had nine years as an only child. My parents adopted me when I was two,” she told me. “I was eleven when the triplets were born, and nothing in my life has ever been quiet again.” But even as she said it, there was a kind of softness in her smile, and it twisted something in my chest.

A sensation that only got worse when Romy’s mom asked, “What about you, Izzy? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No,” I told her around the sudden lump in my throat. “Just me and my mom.” What else could I say? “My sister disappeared” was too bizarre and opened the door to too many questions. “My sister died” wasn’t true. Or at least I hoped it wasn’t. So this was the easiest answer I could give, no matter how much it sucked to say it.

“Your house must be super quiet, then,” Romy said. “Now I know where I’m going the next time I need to escape.” Her grin was bright.

“Sure,” I said, even as I tried to imagine Romy in my house. I’d never had company before. Would Torin behave? Maybe if I talked to him beforehand…

“We may need to grab ice cream before taking Izzy home,” Romy informed her mom. “She had a rough night.”

I jerked my head in Romy’s direction. I hadn’t told her about seeing Mary’s ghost, so what did she—

“Some jerk boy stood her up.”

“I didn’t get stood up,” I said quickly, but Romy waved her hand.

“Okay, so technically you told him to get bent, but that in no way negates the need for ice cream.”

“I think I’m good,” I told her, but I was smiling.

“Are you sure?” Romy’s mom asked. “Because I’ve taught my daughter well. When boys are jerks, only ice cream will suffice. Or shopping, maybe.”

“Ooh!” Romy sat up in her seat. “Yes, shopping. That’s what Izzy needs. I mean, not right now, obviously, but sometime in the very near future. No offense,” she added, “but while I appreciate this whole goth thing you have going, you could seriously use some color.”

Seeing as how tonight Romy was wearing a sweater such a bright shade of yellow that it practically glowed in the dark, I was a little nervous about what her idea of “color” might mean. But hadn’t I just been worrying that my normal Brannick wardrobe wasn’t going to hack it at Mary Evans High?

“Okay,” I said slowly. “I could…maybe get behind a shopping trip.”

“Excellent!” Romy said. “Next week. Mom, can you take us? On Thursday?”

“I can,” her mom agreed before catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Romy tells me you’ve joined her club. Are you into all things supernatural, too, Izzy?”

“You could say that,” I told her. “Mostly I was just excited the school had something as cool as a Paranormal Management Society.”

“Well, I’m glad you joined. Romy could use some girlfriends. Not that Anderson and Dex aren’t nice boys; it’s just that it’s so hard for Romy to find girls who share her interests.”

“Mom,” Romy said, embarrassed.

I looked over at Romy, and felt guilt wash over me. I liked her, I did. But it wasn’t like I was being her friend just because she was a cool person. I was…using her.

What was it Mom has said? Remember, don’t get too close. These people are a means to an end.

That thought was still bothering me when Romy’s mom pulled up in our driveway, but I tried not to let it show. Instead, I put on my brightest voice, told Romy I’d see her tomorrow, thanked her mom for the ride, and went inside.

Mom was sitting at the kitchen table when I came in, one of those ancient books in front of her. She barely glanced up as I took the seat across from her. “How did it go?”

I shrugged. “Okay. I saw the ghost we’re dealing with, and let me tell you, she is one seriously unhappy chick.”

“Dangerous?” Mom asked, linking her fingers on top of her book.

“I can handle it,” I said automatically, even as I remembered just how full of rage Mary had been. I thought about asking Mom if she knew much about ghosts possessing people—if that had been what the whole pushing thing had been about—but decided against it. Mom needed to think I could do this on my own.

Because I could.

So before she could ask me anything else, I said, “I think I cemented my friendship with the ghost hunter kids, but…”

“But?” Mom prompted.

Sighing, I propped my chin in my hand. “I think I’m really bad at dating.”

Mom huffed out a laugh and turned her attention back to her book. “Is it awful that I’m kind of thrilled about that?”

I wanted to ask her more about it. Like, had it been wrong to sit with PMS? Was Adam being a jerk, or was that just teenage boys? I mean, sure, Dex didn’t seem like that, but he wasn’t a regular teenage boy, and…

“Did Finn ever date? When you guys had those longer jobs that took a few weeks. Was there ever, like, a guy or anything?”

Surprised, Mom looked up. “I…I honestly don’t know. She never mentioned anyone.”

If we found Finley—when we found her—I would ask her.

There were a couple of pens on the table, and I picked one up, poking at Mom’s book. “So this research. What is it about?”

Curling her fingers around the edges of the volume, Mom scooted it away, just the tiniest bit. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just something I’m looking into for Maya.”

She inhaled sharply through her nose, the same way Finn always did right after she told a lie. My chest tightened, and I fought the urge to yank the book back, to see for myself what Mom was so interested in. It had to be about Finley. But if it was, why wouldn’t she tell me, let me help her?

Because she’s afraid you’re going to screw it up, a voice hissed in my head. Because if you had just gone into the house with Finley that night, she might still be here.

Blinking against a sudden stinging in my eyes, I just nodded. “Okay.”

The silence that hung over the table was threatening to turn awkward, so I cleared my throat and said, “You know, the only part of the Mary Evans things that doesn’t make sense to me is the frog and the Barbie.”

Mom rested her elbows on the book in front of her. “You’re right. There are plenty of stories about ghosts attacking people, but that level of physical manipulation…it would take a lot of energy. That’s not just wielding a weapon; that’s planning.”

I nodded, drumming my fingers on the table. “It seems kind of advanced for a ghost.”

“Advanced, yes, but not unheard of.”

Mom and I both jumped as Torin’s voice floated through the kitchen. I glanced around, wondering where he could be, and my eyes landed on the clock above the stove. It was framed in a beveled mirror, and even though all the little pieces of Torin were hard to make out, I could still see him in there.

“Torin, you know you’re supposed to keep to your mirror,” Mom said, getting up and heading for the clock. She lifted it off the wall, and Torin made an aggrieved sound.

I stood up from the table, leaning one hand against it. “Have you seen something like this before?”

Mom stopped, the mirrored clock held out from her body. I couldn’t see Torin’s face, but I heard him clearly when he answered, “Only once. My coven raised a particularly nasty ghost. On their own, spirits are usually harmless, but if they’ve been summoned forth by any type of magic, well. Completely different kettle of fish.”

Lowering the clock to the table, Mom considered that. “So you think a witch or a warlock could have somehow raised this spirit?”

“Possibly.” Mom had put the clock facedown, so Torin’s voice came out muffled. “Or, at the very least, powered it up. Isolde mentioned that there had been very basic haunting activity at this school for quite some time. So why now? What changed in the past few months to turn an ordinary specter into something that can perform such feats as securing a dead frog to a door, or mutilating a toy?”

I chewed my lip. How long had Dex been in Ideal? It couldn’t be a coincidence that just when this guy, who was clearly something, showed up, Mary Evans had become Uber-Ghost.

But Mom just shrugged. “Well, it’s not like it matters. Powerful or not, ghosts are easy to dispose of. And we just have a few more days until the full moon. Izzy will get rid of it, and that will be that.”

Except that I wasn’t sure that would be that. If someone was raising ghosts, what was to stop them from raising another one once Mary Evans was gone? For just a second, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell Mom about Dex. But what if I did, and she decided this case was too big for me after all, and just decided to take it over herself?

I glanced at the pile of books on the table—Mom’s super-secret “research” that she still wouldn’t tell me about.

If she was going to keep her secrets, I would keep mine.