Page 29 of Petrify
He doesn’t—He doesn’t mean?—
My face heats.Stupid, to read into something like that.
“No, don’t fight it.” Somehow, in the space of a few moments, he’s rounded the bed, so that he is just out of arm’s length. He could grab me. Pin me to the bed. Do so,somany things to me.
And no one would know until it’s too late.
What did Ms. Byrne say, that I was put in this wing for peace and quiet?
Nausea settles into my stomach, every swallow thick, every breath just too thin.
This ghost—their son—theyknowhe is in this house. They have to.
They know he is in this house and they put me in his old room.
“Think of how good it could be,” he says, creeping closer. “Take what I am offering to you.”
“How could you help me? How couldyoupossibly help me?”
“I wrote that music, didn't I?”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He’s growing impatient. A hand flexes at his side. Does he want to touch me? “Do you truly think that anyone else gets it, like I do? That anyone would understand the pull it has on you?”
Somehow I know he means it. That he feels music’s sway, too.
“Sure you wrote that song. But you can’t promise…allof that.”
“I’m promising more.” He’s too close now. “I’m promising everything.”
My breath catches. I’m too weak to not give in, to not fall for the future hinted at in his syrupy-sweet words.
“You’re unsure. Let’s make a bargain, then.”
He really is a devil.
“I will write you music. I will help you. Just keep playing for me.”
I blink. “That’s all?”
In the few silent seconds lingering between us, I want to know so badly what he’s thinking. His eyes glimmer, I’m not sure he blinks, and I can’t look away, pinned under his stare. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.” Said too quickly, spilling off my tongue before I can think any better of it. But could I say no? Would I say no to him?
“Good.”
I almost expect him to close the space between us. But what reason would he have to touch me? The blank white face betrays no emotion, and it’s too dark for me to really make out his eyes.
“You must practice,” he says. “As often as you can. Every night. I’ll be there.”
Before I can think better of it, I’m shoving the covers off, my legs sliding over the side of the bed.
He jerks back a step. “Don’t.”
Already I’m fucking this up. Too eager. Unable to read him or the situation.
My mouth falls open but no excuse comes out, the single word a flaming hot rejection spearing through my chest. “Sorry, I?—”
