Ghost Silk (Ghost Perfume, Book 2) | ✔

2 - Protect me - Part 3

I knocked several times on the door, to no response.

I guessed Tommy was sleeping, or he had headphones in. Or no interest in opening the door.

When I turned to rummage in my backpack for the key, I saw Lukas waiting on the other side of the street, looking displeased and on the verge of walking over. I flapped a hand at him before turning back to let myself in.

My old home was hushed. All the lights were off, and I couldn't see Tommy anywhere.

The place had an unusually peaceful countenance, and it took me a moment to realize why: papers lay everywhere, like in some kind of scholar's den. They covered the living room table, most of the couch and parts of the floor. They breathed a dusty stillness into the air, almost succeeding in covering over the smell of staleness, old chips and beer. I guessed Tommy hadn't opened the windows lately.

Tommy had changed so much over the last month. Home studying Ashe Perkase's manuscripts, instead of always being out, careening from friend to friend?

I stepped over a discarded sweatshirt on my way up the stairs.

Tommy was taking a nap in his bed. For the first time in my memory, he'd left his door open.

Well, the entire house was his now.

He lay spread-eagled on his stomach, one bony arm dangling towards the floor. His hair was matted with sweat on the back of his neck. He'd left the heat on way too high in the house ... The beard was gone and only a tufty little moustache remained. He looked young.

I soundlessly closed his door and crept back downstairs. I'd let him sleep some more.

I sang to myself as I opened a few windows, letting in the cold clean air. Paused the heating system for the moment. All the empty cans and bags littering the floor went into a trash bag. Then I dusted and vacuumed, careful around the loose pieces of paper.

A ghost wandered in. I'd sensed their approach all day, and here they were.

She said in a tremulous voice that her name was Sylvie, and she asked why my skin shined.

We started to chat, but I asked her to excuse me when Tommy woke up. I explained that I had to talk with him too.

"Of course, dear girl."

I was doing the dishes, as Sylvie told me about how she died, when Tommy stumbled into the kitchen. The hair on one side of his face stuck up adorably. His cheek on that side was pink from pressing against a pillow.

"Hi, Tommy."

Sylvie winked at me and put her hands to her lips. She retreated to float at the side of the death portal.

"Breaking into a house to do the dishes," Tommy mocked. "I was almost worried for a second. Then I realized it had to be you, psycho."

I shrugged and grinned, still elbow deep in soap and water. He had let pasta sauce congeal and get married for life to the sides of our old stainless steel pot.

"It's not breaking in if I have the key," I said.

"Excuse me, you don't live here anymore. I'm the man of the house, you ask my permission." He yawned huge, and I got a whiff of his unbrushed teeth. "What are you waltzing in here for? Come to beg for your bedroom back?"

"I was just afraid I smelled a dead body. I was coming to investigate," I dared to say.

"Ooh, miss thing smelled something offensive!"

"How are the manuscripts?" I asked, to change the subject.

I set the pot to soak on the counter and dried my hands on my new dress, since there were no towels or kitchen paper rolls in sight.