forward; anotherinch and her face would go through the glass partition and into the front seat.She enjoyed snooping because no one but Benedict could see her doing it. Shewould read every text message and judge every receipt she spotted. She evenbroke her personal rule of not passing through walls and closed doors when hercuriosity got the better of her. There wasn't a neighbor on their floor whoseapartment she hadn't nosed around.

"He has an awful lot ofreceipts for strawberry smoothies…" Emmeline said, true toform.

Benedict smiled to himself,turning his head to glance out the window at the traffic. He wore earbuds whenhe was outside the house for anything but work; it made talking to her andlaughing at her easier.

She sat back and sighedloudly. "Blow off the funeral. Just get on any other flight."

"Can't," he said.

The cabby glanced back at himin the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised.

Benedict tapped one earbud,and the guy nodded, attention back on the street ahead.

Emmeline turned sideways tostare at him. "What did she ever do for you?"

He laughed, smile staying evenwhen the sound faded. "Well, she did give birth to me… and then fed andclothed me. Paid for my very useless education and then threw large sums ofmoney at me to keep me in the family business."

"Exactly! Shedid it all for her own reasons."

"It's not really abouther, Em. It's a tradition. It's for the family."

She clicked her teeth andcrossed her arms. "You're going to regret this," she mumbled,and he wasn't sure if it was a warning or a threat.

He couldn't stare at her longwithout the driver's gaze narrowing at him in the rearview mirror.

Soon they were pulling upalong the drop-off platform at the airport. Benedict paid with his credit cardon the little screen built into the back of the seat in front of him. He tippedgenerously and got out, holding the door open a few seconds after stepping ontothe sidewalk to give Emmeline the chance to slide out after him. He got his bagfrom the trunk and started toward the crowded doors and snaking lines feedingpassengers to automated check-ins and baggage drop-off.

"Bet you're flying firstclass…" Emmeline said in a bitter mumble.

Benedict nodded once. "Always."

She snorted, keeping step athis side and weaving around people rather than passing through them.

He had never figured out ifshe sulked over his first-class tickets because she thought it was excessive,or because she couldn't come with him. She never made it past the boardingramp, vanishing somewhere along the way. The first time it had happened, he hadbeen glad to be rid of her, but then she had popped up again in baggage claim.

Now, Benedict hated flying. Itwas lonely without her. He didn't know where she went or why she couldn't staywith him—and Emmeline had never explained beyond confirming that ghosts don'tfly on planes.

Benedict slid past the linesand right up to the first-class counter. He handed his ID to the man in theblue jacket on the other side of the desk. It took all of two minutes before hehad his boarding pass, declining to check his bag.

He turned and paused, gazecombing through the crowd to find her. Emmeline hadn't strayed far, crouchingin front of a stroller to look at the baby inside. It blinked up at her withbig, brown eyes, spit bubbles slowly growing on its lips and then popping. Itsaw her. Babies, along with some animals, did.

Benedict hesitated, unable towalk over and talk to her without alarming the parents currently focused onmaneuvering their suitcases, toddler on a leash, and stroller in the snakingline toward the baggage drop.

He had to walk away and trustthat she would follow. A decade with her had taught him that she would—shealways did—whether or not she wanted to. But a flutter of panic still rose inhis throat when he turned away from her and slipped into the first-class securityline. It was short and fast, and when he emerged on the other side, picking uphis bag from the conveyor belt of belongings, Emmeline was waiting there.

Benedict put his earbuds backin, pocketing his phone and wallet.

She stared straight at him, andhe stared back.

"Did you evertravel?" he asked.

"Only once," shesaid. "They put me in a car and drove me to my death."

He took steps closer to her,the world moving around them in a rush to catch flights or grab that coffee fixbefore lift-off. "We could go somewhere—anywhere you want, after thefuneral."

Emmeline's lips twitched, buthe couldn't tell if it would have been a frown or a grin if she hadn't reinedin the gesture. "You're going tomiss your flight," she said, voice flat and a storm of electric greengathering in the depths of her dead eyes. She was daring him to go through withit… daring him to get on that plane and drag them both back to his family home.

He stared at her long enoughto see the shadow of bruises skitter across her skin, there one second and gonethe next.

Benedict nodded once. So, thiswas how it was going to be? She was going to be angry at him for doing what hehad to? He set his jaw and turned, walking away from her and into the labyrinthof high-end shops, cafes, and gates. She would forgive him when this was overand they were home again.

Chapter Six

Benedict drove down the longdirt road between thick woods. The sun gleamed through the branches, castingshadows on the cornflower blue hood and across the windows.

Emmeline sulked in thebackseat beside his duffle bag. She hadn't said more than a word at a time inanswer to him during the ride to the estate. It was almost three hours from thecity. He had left the highway an hour ago and taken to the dirt road. Strange,that he could be gone for so long but still know the way without checking fordirections.

He glanced at her in therear-view mirror. She didn't look angry, but she was far from her usual self.She studied the trees outside with a strange mix of wonder, terror, andfamiliarity.

"Em?"he asked.

She hummed softly in reply,still watching the woods. There were deer out there, hidden in the thick of

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