Page 51 of Haunting Goats

I wish we could drag this out a little longer, but we’ve got shit to do. I guide her back the right way after she decides to take a detour to make this trip twice as long. Thankfully, it’s evening. The town is busy—it always is, but that makes maneuvering around that much easier. People don’t know they’re surrounded by spirits because they’re so focused on themselves. It’s natural for them to miss the subtle changes in temperature or the slight movements of household furnishings or our brief touch.

I can see the apartment from here. A beat-up red door still rests against the outside wall, and someone has closed a white screen door behind it. Lyr realizes where we are and spins on me. “What the hell, Attie? What are we doing here?” she shouts.

I knew she might not like this idea, but I think we need to try. At this point, I’m willing to do anything to help her—even if it hurts me.

“I think you need to make amends with Dee. I know that she’s the one who betrayed you, but I’m wondering if revenge didn’t work, then maybe forgiveness will?”

She shrugs, looking down at her feet and swiping the sole of her shoe against the concrete. She’s not ready for this, I can tell, and I’m not sure how to comfort her. I don’t know what to do to get her up those stairs.

She goes to speak, and before a sound comes out, she retreats her armored tongue. I nudge her, and we walk through the door and up the stairs. I bang on our old apartment door, and she shrinks to my side.

The door opens abruptly, and Cruella stands there with an astonished expression. She looks Lyr up and down as if she’s making sure she’s still whole. When she turns to me, her look immediately changes; the hatred written all over her face. I don’t mind it; I loathe her just as much.

“What are you two doing here? I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore?”

I can’t help myself when I blurt out, “If it makes you feel better, I couldn’t care less if we ever saw you again.”

She glares at me, and Lyric elbows me in the ribs.

“What Attie meant to say is that we’re here to make amends and to tell you that Jake is dead.” Lyric rushes out that last part, hoping Dee won’t catch on.

“Wait… what? What do you mean he’s dead? Is he here in the In-Between?”

She says, a tremble in her voice. I interject before Lyr can answer.

“That’s kind of why we’re here.”

CHAPTER 33

LYRIC

Dee stands aside to let us in. She watches us closely as we take a seat on the couch. She hunches over the kitchen counter, putting as much distance between us as possible. This is incredibly awkward, and I feel so uncomfortable, but I’m trusting Attie that this is what needs to be done.

I’m not going to lie, I miss my best friend. It hasn’t been super long since we last saw each other, but it almost feels like a lifetime. So much has happened since then.

Dee clears her throat and gestures for us to begin. My eyes flick to Attie, practically begging him to start the conversation that I don’t know how to have right now.

“We’re here because we thought that Lyr had unfinished business, and either needed to be avenged or get revenge on Jake so that she could leave the In-Between and go home. We did a little of both. So far, nothing’s happened. Obviously. She’s still here.”

“Okay, and what does any of that have to do with me?” She asks, a bite to her tone.

“Don’t be a cunt, Cruella.” Attie says sharply.

She glares at him, and he glances at me—I think to gauge my reaction to his nasty comment—but I don’t care enough to have one. I really don’t even want to be here.

“We’re wondering if revenge isn’t the answer, then maybe forgiveness is.” Attie says it cautiously, trying not trigger an outburst from her.

“Forgiveness? Are you fucking kidding me? What do I need to be forgiven for? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

I can’t believe she’s doubling down on that lie. Heat flushes my face, and I ball up my fists at my side.

I shout, “How can you honestly think that you did nothing wrong?”

“Because I didn’t!” she defends herself.

“Dee, you lied to me, and not some little white lie about how you liked my shoes when you really didn’t. You knew I died, and you said nothing. How could you do that?”

I’m still not understanding how she can’t see anything wrong with her actions.