“Whichever will result in a repeat of what we just did.” He crossed the hallway and held out a cup, his eyes locked on hers. When she accepted the mug, he lifted his hand, and grasped the string, jerking it. The ladder came out of the ceiling, unfolding until it crashed into the floor. Cassius' gaze never wavered from her face.
Lara swallowed. Did he know she was setting him up?
“Do you have anything I can use to cover the hole?”
“I have some leftover plywood from a gardening project.”
That was almost the truth.
“Let me grab my pants, and I'll put it up for you.” He handed her the second mug, then vanished into the bedroom. “Are the hammer and nails up there too?”
“I keep those in the pantry,” she replied as he entered the hallway. “But I can get them and meet you up there.”
“I figured out the real reason you invited me over tonight,” Cassius said, his face unreadable.
Her heart hammered. She licked her lips. “You did?”
“Handyman.” He grinned and climbed up the ladder.
Lara darted into her room, set the two mugs on her nightstand, and dragged a toolbox from beneath her bed. Another lie. Guilt flooded her body. She liked Cassius. In a different life, perhaps they could have had a relationship. She heard Cassius set the plywood on the floor and lean against the bottom of the window frame. That meant he was standing inside the symbol. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, counting to five, then exhaled. She lifted the toolbox and carted it to the ladder.
“I thought you were coming right up,” Cassius said, his voice floated through the opening. She didn’t know if it was Cassius or Milo who asked the question.
“The toolbox was heavier than I anticipated,” she replied with a grunt as she hefted it up the ladder. Sliding the toolbox across the floor, she crawled into the attic. Her gaze locked on Cassius, who stood, his shoulder dug into the piece of plywood, in the center of the symbol. “How can I help?”
“You can hand me the hammer and nails.”
She nodded, bent over, and dug through the toolbox. Her heart hammered. Was Milo unable to possess Cassius? She’d given him plenty of time.
“Cassius?” she asked without glancing up. “Do you feel anything unusual?”
“Like a cold draft?” He shifted the plywood, exposing the lower corner of the window, then moved it back into place, aligning it with the windowsill. “That will be fixed once I get this board attached to the wall.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, rising. She handed him the hammer and nails and spun around, her gaze moving over the shadows. Where was Milo? A flash caught her attention, a bright blue flicker, which hovered above Cassius. It slammed into Cassius’ head, zipped through his torso, and vanished into the floor.
The symbol on the floor glowed dull red. A tiny wrinkle carved itself into Lara’s forehead. That wasn’t what usually happened. As she watched, Milo attempted to possess Cassius a second time. Again, he passed through Cassius and disappeared.
Unaware, Cassius hummed as he nailed the board into place, moving methodically around the outside of the plywood. When he finished, he spun around, and held out the hammer. Lara glanced down at his hand, staring at the tool, bewilderment spread through her body. Milo hadn’t been able to take over Cassius’ body!
“Is there something else you need me to fix?” Cassius tilted his head.
“No—”
Cassius’ phone buzzed. He extracted it from his pocket and unlocked it. His eyes scanned the message. He glanced up, his face once again a blank mask.
“I have to go.”
“O-okay.” Lara caught the hammer as he thrust it toward her. He was halfway down the ladder before she finished the word. She stared at the empty hole, her mouth hanging open.
What had that message said?
“I’ll call you later,” Cassius yelled from the bedroom. His feet pounded on the staircase.
One minute later the front door closed, at the same instance, Milo appeared. His hand closed around Lara’s throat, crushing it. Lifting her, he slammed her into the plywood board.
“What. Did. You. Do.”
She clawed his hand, her fingernails slicing through his ghostly form. Her feet swung, kicking at him. They pounded against the plywood. With a snicker, Milo flung her across the attic. She rolled and skidded to a stop at the edge of the opening.
“If you don’t think I’m strong enough to throw you through that piece of wood over the window, you’re gravely mistaken,” he growled and advanced on her. His body pulsated.
“I didn’t do anything.” Lara cowered on the floor, curling into a ball. She scooted over, positioning her body over the hole in the floor.
“You will bring him back here. You will tie him up, reactivate the symbol with a fresh coat, and this time, I’m using all your blood.” He reached for her.
“No.” Lara pushed up on her forearms and swung her legs through the hole. She dropped down to the second floor, and landed hard, crying out as pain shot through her ankle.
Before Milo could follow her, she hobbled down the staircase, and ripped open the front door. Her eyes scanned the darkness as she limped toward the street. A shadow darted down the sidewalk to her right.
“Help!” She stumbled after the shadow, gritting her teeth as her ankle rolled. She crashed to the ground with a hard thud, the oxygen knocked from her lungs.
A man—who wasn’t Cassius—appeared in her blurry vision. He grabbed her arms, his fingers curling around her biceps, lifted her to her knees, and brushed her hair from her face, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“Mrs. Angelov, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern bled from his eyes.
“Detective Carter? Please, I need your help. He’s going to kill me.” She gulped down a breath, and glanced over her shoulder, her frantic gaze bouncing across the house. Where was Milo?
“Who is?” Detective Carter asked. His gaze lifted to the boarded window. “Was it the same person I saw attack Mr. Broxsby?”
“You saw Milo attack Cassius?” Lara twisted around.
“Of course.” Detective Carter frowned. “He was standing right next to Mr. Broxsby before he covered the window.”
“No one else has ever seen Milo,” Lara whispered, her heart thrummed. “He’s a ghost.” She glanced down, suddenly aware she was wrapped in a bedsheet, and blushed.
“You should have told me.” Detective Carter lifted her chin.
“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy,” she replied, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. She flashed him a sheepish smile. “You did accuse me of murder.”
“That was before I knew your house was haunted,” Detective Carter replied and glanced down the street, unable to hold her gaze, as if the shame of his obsession with Lara’s guilt was too much to bear. After a long moment, he returned his eyes to her face.
“There is a specific reason I was recruited to work in the Mendsville Police Department’s paranormal unit... I can see ghosts.” He helped her stand, squeezing her wrists in a reassuring gesture. “I sent the text telling Mr. Broxsby to leave the house as soon as I realized the danger, and I will testify that Milo is responsible for the death of your fiancé.”