Drake shook his head. “I don’t even know what it is. It’s not something I can see. I can simply feel the drain on my power, which is the only reason I know there is malevolent energy within this house.”
I nodded but didn’t really know what to make of what he was saying. I glanced up at him when something occurred to me. “The lightbulbs in the bathroom just randomly exploded earlier,” I started. “Do you think that had anything to do…”
But Drake shook his head, the expression on his face difficult to read. “No, ma minette, ça n’était pas l’entité. That was not the entity.”
It was my turn to shake my head, and I could already feel my temper growing when I considered what the alternative might be. “I know it wasn’t a power surge!” I protested. “So don’t think for even one minute that I’m going to buy that answer!”
He frowned. “That was the answer given to you by the barbarian.”
I almost smiled at the resurgence of Ryan’s new nickname but was struck dumb when something occurred to me. “Wait, were the exploding lightbulbs…you?”
Drake cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked decidedly guilty. I stood up and marched over to him. “Okay, Drake, you better have a very good reason as to why the hell you blew up my lightbulbs and, in the process, scared the hell out of me!” He didn’t say anything for a few seconds but just continued to scowl at me. “Well?” I demanded.
“I didn’t like watching him kiss you,” he answered defensively, his chin jutted out, his eyebrows furrowed, and his arms crossed against his chest.
“You were jealous?!” I roared at him, throwing my hands on my hips. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Pourquoi? Why?” he insisted. “This is my house and I do not appreciate you inviting random men over and then indulging in acts of fornication!”
“Kissing is hardly fornication! You’re so dramatic!” I snarled at him.
“Well, I didn’t enjoy playing witness to it all the same,” he answered defiantly. “And, in the wake of whatever this malevolence is, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with that man. You should be focused on finding a way to stop this entity!” He shook his head and then ran his hand over his forehead as if he were feeling ill. “Vous allez me conduire à la folie!” he grumbled. “You will drive me to madness!”
I decided to ignore the fact that I was, apparently, having a serious effect on his sanity. “I am focused on finding a way to stop it!” I screamed at him. “And not that it matters, but I guess you didn’t stick around for the aftermath of our kiss?”
He frowned at me. “I decided I had seen quite enough!”
“Well, if you’d stayed true to your nosy self, you would have stuck around to watch him pull away from me because he still isn’t over his grief of losing his wife!”
“Humph,” Drake said, jutting his chin out. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled again, looking suddenly exhausted.
“Drake?” I asked as worry began to gnaw at my insides. “Are you okay?”
He exhaled again and waved away my concern. “I am fine.”
But I didn’t believe him. Especially not after learning that this entity was making him weaker. I took a few steps closer to him but didn’t say anything as he watched me. Instead, I studied him, looking for signs that he wasn’t as “fine” as he’d just insinuated. I found the proof I was looking for in his eyes. They were just a bit duller, less lively than usual. “You’re not fine,” I said in a small voice as I took his hand and watched the surprise register in his eyes. I suddenly felt guilty—guilty that he was surprised when I acted kindly toward him. “I care about you, Drake,” I said softly as I squeezed his hand in mine. Even though he was just a spirit, he felt so whole, so real.
He didn’t break his gaze from mine. “I care about you, ma minette.”
I could tell he wanted to kiss me—the look was there in his eyes. And, who knew, maybe if Ryan weren’t in the picture, I would have succumbed to the idea of making out with a ghost. But as it was, I was still pretty heartbroken about Ryan, so kissing Drake was the last thought in my head. Instead, I dropped his hand and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly as I inhaled his clean but spicy scent. He hesitated only momentarily before clasping his arms around me.
“Vous ne comprenez pas à quel point je tiens à toi,” he whispered into my hair as he rubbed my back up and down. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t translate his sentence, so I figured it was something he preferred to keep to himself.
Just as I was about to respond, he suddenly released me and cocked his head to the side as if he’d heard something. He held his hand up as if to say I should be quiet. I stopped short and simply watched him as his eyebrows met in the middle and then his eyes narrowed as he took a few steps toward the door. “Il y a quelque chose ici. There is something here,” he whispered.
I felt my heart plummet to my feet. “What?” I whispered, but he held his hand up even higher and then faced me fully, his eyes dark orbs. Seconds later, his eyes widened with what looked like fear or maybe concern. He thrust himself toward me…
I sat up with a little scream wedged in my throat. I blinked a few times against the darkness in my bedroom and glanced around myself, trying to understand why I’d awakened and what Drake had been in the process of trying to tell me.
But I never had the chance to further ponder the subject because I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of nausea. I swallowed hard as I closed my eyes and tried to fend off what felt like a bout of advancing vomit. Just as suddenly as the feeling came on, though, it vanished, to be replaced with a multitude of tiny pinpricks all over my body. It took me a second or two to realize the stinging sensation was actually goose bumps covering every inch of me. I eyed my breath, which looked like wispy white clouds expelling from my mouth every time I exhaled. I was shivering—the temperature in the room had to have dropped thirty degrees in a matter of seconds and by now I knew well enough what that meant.
I wasn’t alone.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I attempted to sit up but found myself restrained. But it wasn’t like someone was holding me down—there were no touch points that might signal someone’s hands or someone’s body. Instead, it was more of the feeling that my brain’s messages weren’t reaching my extremities. That even though I wanted to stand up, the rest of my body wasn’t getting the memo.
I was paralyzed. That was the only condition I could liken it to. I couldn’t move—I had no control over my own body and what was more, my teeth were now chattering given how cold the room was. Fear began to spiral through me as I realized I was basically a sitting duck. I closed my eyes and tried to force the message to my body that I needed to get up and flee, but nothing.