Page 54 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

“A smart girl like you doesn’t need a bridge,” said Chapman.

“Jesus, are you really saying—”

“Watch your language.”

“—are you really telling me to kill myself?”

“If you had more of a sense of duty,” said Chapman, “I wouldn’t have to. I don’t expect you to listen to me either. But maybe you’re not as selfish as I think you are. Maybe you’ve got a bit of responsibilityin you.” He sighed with another wave of charnel stench. “I figured I should give you a chance. Now I guess I’ve done all I can.”

He shrugged again, lifted his hands in resignation, and stepped back. The shadows of the hall took him away.

Chapter 29

When Ligat stepped out of the ethereal and into Hazel’s yard, she was sitting on her front steps, looking out across the sprouting lawn with her chin in her cupped hands. The breeze ruffled her short, dark hair and the sleeves of the sea-green blouse she was wearing, and the spectral dog was lying with its head in her lap.

The dryad awoke and rustled, but Hazel seemed to catch sight of either its movement or Ligat’s. “It’s fine,” she called wearily, straightening up and raising one of her hands in a signal to the dryad. “Don’t bother with him.”

“I’m almost insulted,” said Ligat. He crossed the yard, no longer trying to hide and only taking care to avoid the growing plants.

“I’m almost sorry,” Hazel replied, and the dry rejoinder reassured Ligat in a way he either couldn’t recognize or didn’t want to let himself understand. “Do you want to bother lurking around, or should I just print out an update for you?”

He stopped at the base of the steps, not quite certain where to go. “Not going to try to chase me off?”

Hazel barely shrugged. “It seems like a waste of effort. Either you’ll come back, or your master will send another spy. There’s a certain advantage in knowing who I’m dealing with.”

The dog rose, stretched, and started cautiously down the steps toward Ligat, pausing every so often to sniff the air. Its phantom earsflapped with the movement, and a small smile appeared on Hazel’s face as she watched it.

“I’m the only one of its servants who can carry out this task,” Ligat said, choosing his words as carefully as the dog approached him. No power stopped his tongue or lashed out at him as he went on. “Demons and the dead can’t stay long enough or reliably enough. Mortals are subject to all of your constraints.”

Hazel peered up at him, surprised. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Perhaps I’d rather be here than about my other duties.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

As Ligat held still, the dog crossed the last few feet toward him. It sniffed the ground nearby, then the hem of Ligat’s robe, and then cocked its head and whined. Its feathered tail, previously tucked tightly between its legs, rose a little and waved uncertainly back and forth.

“Nobody,” he told it, “is quite sure what to make of me.”

The tail wagged a little more at his voice.

“It’s okay, Casper,” Hazel said, softer than Ligat had heard her speak before. “He’s…”

A frienddidn’t seem appropriate, Ligat knew, andnot going to hurt youwould probably have seemed overconfident. It made sense. It still smarted, absurdly, which he chose to ignore. “Casper?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.

Hazel’s smile this time was slightly embarrassed. “The friendly ghost.”

“Ah.” He’d certainly heard that or seen it—somewhere. The past was a maelstrom of words and images, only a few of them distinct. “Accurate.”

“He’s the friendliest I’ve ever met, anyhow.”

“Dogs have an advantage.” Casper was staring up at him. Accepting a certain loss of dignity, Ligat kneeled on one knee and offered an open palm to the pup. He’d gotten along well with animals once.

Instead of the warm breath he remembered, the cold mist he’dcome to expect from ghosts brushed over his fingers, followed by a phantom tongue. Casper wagged his tail again, and Ligat scratched him gently under the chin. “Good boy,” he said absently. “Is he yours?”

“He came with the house. Sort of.” Hazel leaned back on her hands, studying either Ligat or the dog, or both. “You might as well have a seat. I’m not young enough to keep craning my neck up when I talk to you.”

Ligat sat down, careful to leave a good amount of distance between them. Absurd, that, since he’d had her pinned against a wall not too long ago, feeling her climax ripple around his erection, and the memory hadn’t left him for more than a few hours at a time since. It was probably still best not to presume.