As I neared the island, the shape changed without warning. Clothing appeared. A black-and-white flannel shirt thrown over a T-shirt with words on it was suddenly filled out by a chest and arms. Features formed. A roundish, almost boyish face. Messy brown hair that looked slept on. Glasses perched on a straight nose. He was around my age, give or take a year or two.
And he was a spirit.
I knew this immediately, because his skin carried an ethereal glow that told me he’d seen the light and gone into it. But I’d never seen a spirit do what he had just done—change from a black, shadowy form into a full-bodied apparition.
“I don’t like him,” Peanut whispered. “I don’t want him here.”
The spirit focused on Peanut. “You’re not very friendly for a ghost.”
Peanut gasped. “I am not Casper, you insolent fool.”
“Funny you mention Casper,” the spirit replied, head tilted. “Did you know that when Casper was first created, he was a ghost of a little boy who died, but then the creators worried that a dead child was too dark, so they changed him to where he was always a ghost and gave him ghost parents, because in their minds, ghosts having ghost babies was less hard to explain?”
I blinked.
“What?” Peanut vocalized my confusion.
“Exactly.” The spirit nodded. “I mean, if you ask me, the idea that ghosts are born and capable of procreating is way more disturbing, but what do I know?”
Okay.
I had no idea what time it was, but I could safely say that it was way too late or too early for this nonsense. Holding up my hand, I waved the dagger. “Hi. How can I help you?”
The spirit’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “You can see me?”
“Dumb question,” Peanut muttered. “Because duh.”
If I could smack Peanut, I would have. “Uh. Yeah. I can see and hear you. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Holy crap,” the spirit whispered, and then flickered out.
My brows lifted as I lowered my dagger. The spirit didn’t blink back into existence.
Peanut drifted over to where the spirit had been standing. Hovering a few feet off the ground, he stared down. “He’s not hiding back here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
“Trin?” Zayne’s sleep-rough voice called out, and I spun around. He was sitting up and peering over the back of the couch. “Is everything okay?”
Two choices presented to me. Tell Zayne there’d been a spirit in his apartment, but not be able to tell him who the spirit was or why he’d been here. Or tell him nothing at all, because already having one ghost hanging out at his place was one dead person too many.
“I was waiting up for you, but I must’ve fallen asleep,” I blurted out, my mouth making up my mind for me as I deftly hid the dagger behind my thigh. “I came out to see if you were awake, and when I saw you weren’t, I got something to drink.”
“Liar,” Peanut retorted. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“I’m sorry to wake you,” I added, stepping sideways.
“It’s okay.” He dragged a hand through his hair. The moment he lowered his arm, those thick strands fell back into place. “You get something to drink?”
“Uh-huh.” I also nodded, and when Peanut didn’t comment, I glanced behind me to see that he was gone.
“You were waiting up for me?” he asked, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
“Yeah. I wanted to see how you were doing.” I stepped closer, keeping my hands behind my back. “If you were okay.”
“Always.”
“Always?” I repeated. “Dez told me that Greene was with the clan for several years. You knew him, and he’s...”
“He’s dead.” He pushed the hair back from his face again. “There’s nothing more to say.”
“There’s a lot more to say.” I felt a tinge of grief through the bond. “You knew—”
“There’s really not, Trin.” He swiped a hand down his face. “It is what it is.”
He wasn’t being dismissive or heartless. He was avoiding the loss and the pain that followed. I could understand that. “I’m sorry, Zayne. I really am.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I wish I could do something.”
I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I thought I saw a brief smile. “You going back to bed?”
“I guess so.”
“Really? You sound wide-awake,” he said, and boy, wasn’t that the truth. “Are you really going back to sleep, or will you lie there, staring at the ceiling?”