that moment I felt bad for the guy. He looked really effed up.
“Do you really like her?” I asked, moving closer to him.
Kevin shrugged. “Not enough to lose Mace over her. He’s been my best friend since elementary school.” He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Did Wren tell you about us?”
Both my brows shot up. “Wren knows?”
“Shit.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “She didn’t tell you that she saw us kissing?”
“Uh, no. Otherwise I would have taken you aside and kicked your ass long before this.” Wren was keeping all kinds of secrets, it seemed. Didn’t she trust me? Or did she just not want to hear what I might say? If she’d told me about Kevin and Sarah I would have shot my mouth off, and I would be the first to admit just how much of a bitch I could be.
Or worse, my sister had felt too awful to even talk about it—which really made me want to take a swing at him. No wonder she’d grabbed onto Mr. Darcy.
Folding his arms over his chest, Kevin looked me in the eye. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just wanted to connect with someone.” He laughed again. “God, I sound so pathetic, don’t I?”
I frowned. “No, not really.” And then, as the thought occurred to me, “You love my sister, don’t you?”
A look of horror washed over his face. “Is she still here?” He even glanced over his shoulder as though he expected to find her standing there.
“No, she’s gone.”
His shoulders slumped. “Good. Stupid, right? Not like we can ever be together.”
I shrugged. “Not until you’re dead.”
This time when he laughed, it seemed more out of a sense of amusement. “Something to look forward to.”
I smiled. “Sure.”
Kevin’s brows drew together. “Who was that guy she had with her? Do you know him?”
“You saw him?” It had taken Kevin a long time to be able to see Wren, and even then it had taken a lot of focus for both of them. It made sense, I guess, that with Halloween’s approach his abilities would sharpen.
“Yeah. He looked familiar. Who is he?”
“Noah,” I replied. “That’s all I know. I called him Mr. Darcy.”
He grinned. “You would. His clothes were more Victorian, though.”
“You’re splitting hairs, Sixth Sense.” He hated when I called him that. And when had he become a historical fashion expert? “If you don’t want to discuss your feelings for Wren with me, that’s cool.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, I don’t see the point. You’ve figured me out, and talking about it just hurts. She hasn’t told you about this new guy?”
“No. I just met him tonight. I don’t think she’s known him long. She’s just thrilled to find a cute dead guy, I think.”
“I know him from somewhere, though.” His frown deepened. “You think he’s cute?”
Somehow, I managed not to laugh. I smiled, though. “I think she does, though my sister seems to have a thing for dark hair and blue eyes.” I didn’t mention that I actually thought Noah and Kevin looked a bit alike, because pining over a dead girl was no way to spend your life.
Kevin nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks.”
“If you remember where you know Noah from, let me know, okay? Wren hasn’t been exactly chatty about him.”
“Sure.”
“Hey—” I felt the sudden need to change the subject “—you want some help taking this garbage out?” I knew from previous visits to the house that his parents put the recyclables and garbage in bins in a little shed out back to wait for pickup.
“Yeah, thanks.”
We each had two bags as we walked outside. Everything at the party had been disposable to cut down on dishes to wash—and to narrow the margin on dishes that idiots could break.
It was dark out and chilly. It had been a warm fall, but October nights in Connecticut were going to be cold, no matter how warm the day had been. I had my arms wrapped around myself as we hurried back to the house.
There was a guy standing right in front of the door, blocking our path. It took me a moment to realize he was a ghost—they looked as solid as real people to me for the most part, but there was a weird “feel” to them that I couldn’t quite explain.
This guy had been in his late twenties when he died. He had long shaggy hair and was wearing bell-bottoms. I was going to guess he died in the ’70s, and from the smell of patchouli, sweat and vomit that seemed to cling to him, I figured it had been an overdose that did him in. Although, he looked pretty clear-headed now. And angry. And all of that anger was staring at Kevin.
“Hey, Woodstock. What’s up?” I chirped, trying to draw his attention.
His dead gaze flickered to me and then dismissed me, as though I were nothing more threatening than a mote of dust.
“Kevin McCrae?” he asked.
Kevin was still, tense, but his expression was blank. “Yes. Who are you?”
Woodstock grinned, revealing teeth that had seen better days. “Death,” he replied.
And then he lunged.
WREN
“Who was that boy?”
I glanced up at Noah. We were back at his building at Haven Crest, dancing to the music that lingered from many, many years earlier. Spectral energy was like that—it hung around long after it was created, waiting to be discovered. It was like tuning a radio station to the right frequency.
“What boy?” There had been so many at the party.
“The one in the strange green long johns. I swore he looked right at me.”
Oh. Him. “That was Kevin. He’s a medium.”
“Ah. That explains it. This time of year must be difficult for his kind. What is this Kevin’s last name?”
I didn’t want to tell him. I don’t know why, but talking about Kevin with him felt wrong. “McCrae.”
“Irish.”
“American.” Kevin’s family had come over from Ireland so long ago it hardly mattered anymore.
Noah gave me a little smile. “Still Irish, dear girl.”
I arched a brow. Dear girl? “Are you still English?”
“Of course,” he replied. “A man’s country is all he has. It’s what defines
