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hours. Erase it all, like it never existed.

“I just can’t believe James would lie to me about all of this. The next time I see him…”

Wade pulls us apart. His eyes shine with a new level of empathy, but skepticism filters into their edges. “Autumn, you have to realize none of this is James’ fault. Whatever this is, it’s something much bigger than him. Unless, of course, he was involved, but I somehow doubt that.”

“But he had to have known. How could he not? He’s been lying to me—” I say, still trying to hold onto the anger. It’s the only thing right now that feels real.

“How did you not know?” Wade asks, cutting me off. “You’re the postmortem medium, after all. And if he’s been gone a while…”

I bite back my initial response.

He’s right. And it’s not like I hadn’t thought the same thing earlier.

”It doesn’t matter. I need to know how much James knows. I need to know how my dad’s been communicating with him,” I say, clenching my teeth.

“Fair enough,” Wade nods. “And I’ll be right beside you when you question him. But, you gotta keep in mind, there is some next-level crazy shit happening in this house. I mean, even crazy for us. You know? If your dad is dead, then it means something is seriously wrong. We need to find out what it is and how to fix it.”

“What do you mean?” I say, gawking at him.

“Well, I’m no expert, not yet—but this isn’t a typical haunting. How long have you been interacting with him? A year? More?”

I nod. “I guess. So what?”

“The dead typically go two ways—they get reaped, or they stick around. If they stick around, they’re usually echoes of the person they were. Like Abigail—she’s been here for centuries and still has some semblance of herself.”

“Yeah, but we thought she was the one who was doing all of this at first, remember? I thought she was angry and was starting to take it out on me for not helping her.“

Wade raises his eyebrows. “True. But I have to admit, that didn’t really make a helluva lot of sense to me. Especially after…”

I glance up at his narrow eyes. “After what?”

“That day in the study. Whatever tried to strangle me—it felt masculine. But it didn’t make sense at all. I guess it makes more sense now,” he says, frowning.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say, covering my mouth.

Wade shrugs. “I didn’t think it made sense. Besides, it’s not like I could see who or what was doing it.”

Agony courses through me and hot tears slip from my eyelids. “I couldn’t even see him. It’s like—” I pause, thinking back. “—It’s like he didn’t want me to know.”

“Or maybe there’s a different answer,” Wade says, reaching out for me. He pulls my hands into his. “If it was your dad, maybe it took a lot of energy to manifest so forcefully. I’ll bet he had to choose. Or maybe there was no choice at all.”

“What do you mean? No choice?” I say, swiping at my cheek.

“Maybe he’s been running solely on instinct. You said he thinks I’m a beacon, right? He’s obviously trying to protect you from something. The question is—what?”

“Do you think it’s your dad?” I ask, widening my eyes. “I mean, that he’s protecting me from.”

Wade shakes his head. “I don’t think so. The Angels of Death have strict rules. They don’t come for anyone until they’ve died. Part of the reason we’re not supposed to—” He looks down, screwing his face up. “The reason I’m not supposed to be with you has to do with what Angels of Death perceive as a circumventing of Natural Law. At least, as far as I understand it.”

My head is swimming with everything I’ve learned today. Exhaustion threatens to consume me, so I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window.

“Autumn, you look like you could pass out any second. It’s been a long night and neither one of us has slept at all. Let me hold you. You need rest so we can face whatever’s next,” Wade says, sitting down beside me and placing his left hand on my thigh. “It’s barely six o’clock. There’s not much you can do unless Abigail comes back—or the police station opens up. I mean, if you plan on contacting them. You know?”

I sigh deeply and nod. I don’t know what the best move is right now. I just feel so…numb. The anger I felt moments ago has already begun to drain my energy and even if I wanted to stay up, I can feel my edges fraying and sleep beckoning me into its embrace.

“All right. Let’s try to sleep a couple of hours. Then we can decide what to do from there,” I say, unable to fight off the fatigue any longer.

Wade pulls back the blankets and we curl in together. After a few minutes, the gentle rhythm of Wade’s breathing helps me to relax and I submit to the darkness.

Once again, I walk the dark tunnels of the catacombs in anticipation. There’s something very important I need to do. Everything is pitch black, but somehow I know my way around and the direction I’m heading, as if a compass has been embedded inside my mind.

Suddenly no longer alone, I can feel Abigail’s presence walking beside me. Though the tunnel remains dark, I’m acutely aware of her, as if I can see her in my mind’s eye. We walk in silence for a few moments. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, but there’s an agitated energy lingering in the air between us.

I’m here for a reason.

Abigail takes my hand, pressing her cool, unearthly palm against mine. Suddenly, we’re no longer in the catacombs, but somewhere outside.

“There is much I should have been truthful about,” Abigail says, her voice soft.

I’m oddly aware of my state—a strange sort of lucid dream. While I’m sure this place exists, I’m also aware it’s all happening inside my mind.

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