Another One Bites the Dust: Jensen Murphy, Ghost For Hire by Chris Marie Green

Author:Chris Marie Green [Green, Chris Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

13

I hadn’t been in the woods at night since me and my human friends had come here to get nice and scared.

Were ghosts allowed to feel that way, too?

Even though I’d never personally encountered huge paranormal activity here besides what I brought to the table, I’d heard that the freaks generally came out at night in Elfin Forest, so, as usual, I kept my eye out for any other weirdos like me.

And I could feel all kinds of gazes watching me right back. Everything in the forest felt somehow . . . well, not alive. Maybe “nocturnally animated” was a better description. Actually, this place was a lot like an enchanted forest at night, where trees were waiting to snatch at me, their branches knotted and long, like the fingers of a sorceress.

Speaking of witches . . . Was that a horse’s snort I heard in the near distance? They said the forest witch rode a black, misty stallion . . .

I rushed through the trees toward my death spot, trying not to feel humiliated that I was a ghost who didn’t want to run into another ghost.

Near the twisted, U-shaped oak branch that skimmed the ground and formed a sort of chair, my death spot reached out to me, gnawing through me with its sheer power.

I gravitated toward it. Home sweet home, right?

As I floated down, covering the ground with my essence until I probably looked like a flashing puddle, the death energy droned at high volume, moaning through me. Now I could relax, and I tried not to think about everything that had been draining me these past two days: fake Dean, the dark spirit from the Edgett place, Tim Knudson . . .

It was the last one that I truly couldn’t let go of, because, seriously, how long could me and Louis continue to assuage Tim with hallucinations or suggestions in his dreams to refrain from violence?

And, as Twyla said, why should we? It might give Nichelle a false sense of security, making her stay because she thought she was safe.

The question harshed my buzz. But I was becoming more realistic by the second, and the more realistic I got, the more Twyla’s suggestion about just doing away with Tim came back to me. Destroy him, she’d pretty much said. Take him out and maybe the world will be a better place.

As my death spot sucked at me and pulsed into me at the same time, the hard-core solution seemed to make great sense. But I was just lucid enough to dizzily wonder if my thoughts were tainted by the spot’s energy.

I didn’t like the notion one bit, so I forced myself not to think of Tim. Instead, I doubled my efforts to loosen up, to think of my death spot like it was some kind of rejuvenating spa and I was here to get a turbo massage.

A spa. You know who probably went to a lot of spa days? Brittany Kirkman Stokley. She might have even gotten a mani-pedi before her luncheon.

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