Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Five

Contrary to what Ada seems to believe, Tara Fitzpatrick does pay attention to what goes on in her daughters' lives.

It's been about a month and a half since the incident with Mallory, and I've spent almost every weekend at Ada's house since.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick is less than thrilled about it. 

It's obvious she doesn't want me around. I'm unsure if it's because she's my teacher, or if she just doesn't like me, but there have been nights when she's seemed more hostile than Hank.

"My mom's just like that," Ada assures me as she scoops chocolate ice cream into two bowls. "Hey, want to take these up to my room and try to talk to some ghosts?"

I let out a sigh. "Not really, Ada."

"Oh, come on! I need to practice," she whines.

Ever since I confessed to Ada that she successfully contacted the spirit of Damian's grandmother, she's been talking about it nonstop. She's convinced she is a ghost whisperer. I will admit she has a gift, but I doubt she's the next Melinda Gordon.

"I just wish I had more people to talk to," she goes on. I know by 'people,' she means spirits. "Like, no one in my family has died."

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"When you're trying to talk to dead people, it is."

"Maybe you should visit the graveyard up the street," I say with a chuckle. "I'm sure there are plenty of ghosts there who are jonesing for conversation."

The way her eyes light up makes me regret my words immediately.

"Ada, no." I shake my head. "I was kidding. I was totally kidding. We're not going to the cemetery."

"But we have to. It's such a good idea!" she exclaims.

"It's a terrible idea. We are two teenage girls. If we walk down these streets at night, we won't even make it to the graveyard."

"Layla, are you scared?"

"A little bit, yeah," I admit. "Can't we just stay here and eat our ice cream?"

"Fine." She dramatically rolls her eyes. "If I can't coerce you into accompanying me to the graveyard, we'll stay here and binge eat frozen sugar."

"Yum!" I lick my spoon and lead the way to her bedroom.

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"Layla! Layla, wake up!"

Slowly, I open my eyes. Ada is so close that she's practically on top of me, cloaked in a black hoodie, jeans, and her Nikes.

"What are you doing?" I mumble.

"Taking a nice little stroll to the cemetery. You're not gonna make me go alone, are you?"

"Ada...."

"Please? Pretty please?" she begs.

I glance at her alarm clock. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"I know. It's the devil's hour. Fitting, right?"

"This is stupid. I want to sleep."

"And I want to talk to the dead."

"Then go talk to the dead!"

She lets out a sigh. "Fine, I guess I'll walk down to the cemetery all by myself while my friend sleeps soundly in my bed."

"You're so dramatic." I climb out of bed and pull on my jeans. "We better not get murdered."

She gives me a hug. "Yay! You're the best."

As we sneak outside and make our way to the graveyard, I wrap my arms around myself. All I have is a light sweater, and the frigid November air chills me to the bone.  I wish Ada had offered me a thicker coat. Really, it's the least she could do after waking me up in the middle of the night to visit a creepy mausoleum.

"We're almost there," she announces once the headstones are in eyeshot. "I'm so excited!"

"That makes one of us."

"Oh, come on. This will be great."

We reach the cemetery and examine a row of gravestones. I listen as Ada reads off the names of the deceased. No one seems pique her interest until we reach a woman named Clover who died in 1931.

"Clover was born in 1910," she says. "That means she was only—"

"Twenty-one when she passed," I finish. "She died during the Great Depression."

"You would know that." Ada rolls her eyes. "Alright, I'm gonna try and talk to her. Give me your hand."

"Why do you need my hand?" 

"To syphon your energy. Communicating with ghosts is no easy task."

Gripping my hand in hers, she closes her eyes and whispers something in Latin. She squeezes my fingers tighter as the wind picks up around us.

"It's freezing," I say, praying this doesn't work so we can go back to bed.

"Shh," Ada whispers. "I'm so close. Just give me a second."

The wind grows stronger. It's only blowing around us, like we've stepped into the eye of a tornado. My stomach does a flip. Everything about this feels wrong.

"I've gotcha!" Ada screams. Blood trickles from her nose.

"Okay, that's enough!" I pull my hand from hers, but nothing changes.

Ada's eyes fly open, except they aren't her eyes at all. They're too wide, too bloodshot, too black.

"Ada?" I murmur.

The wind stops. Ada wears an aggravated expression. She looks at me, and I realize that she isn't in there at all.

"This is exhausting," a low, sultry voice says. "Can you necromancers just leave me alone?"