“…here…”
Graden clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes closed against the image of the ghost. Stinking wind whipped around his room, like it had for the past week or so, but tonight she was talking. Talking, voice eerie and wavering, most words indistinguishable from moans. He kept his eyes closed until she grew quiet and the wind died down, the smell receded, then he kept his eyes closed longer, until his heart had quieted some.
Damned ghost. It was all in his head, had to be. But instead of the magic in the doctor’s treatment helping drive her away, Graden saw her all the worse now. He couldn’t bring himself to mention it—he liked what the shot did for him more than the drink and he wasn’t about to give Louk any reason to switch him back. That extra bit of magic eased a lot of what was
