“This was a bedroom,” Xan muttered.
“When the house was first built, sure.”
“There was a bed there,” Xan went on. “And over there, a writing desk.” He looked up at Gracie. “And you were there.”
She laughed, placing a gentle hand over her heart. “Who, me?”
It all made sense now: why Dolina had addressed the staying-late instructions to him and not her, why none of the other staff members reacted to anything she said. They couldn’t see her. They couldn’t hear her. Because she was a ghost.
“This was you,” Xan went on, his legs so weak with fear he couldn’t stand. “I saw you die. I saw your death. I know what happened.”
Gracie c****d her head suspiciously. “What exactly were you smoking while I was in the bathroom?”
“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he assured her. “I kno
