CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“WELL, IF RICHARD’S not a ghost already, I’m sure going to make him one,” I growled, stomping away from Leonora’s cottage. “I can’t believe he fucked around with ghosts and sent Julie to the hospital. And that the only reason he hasn’t been fired yet is that the college has been covering his ass all these years, thanks to a generous donation from Mommy and Daddy. When I find him, I . . . I will . . .” I trailed off, blowing out a long breath. Rage was threatening to consume me again, a hot blaze through my chest.

“Evie.” Aveda put a hand on my shoulder and I stopped in my tracks, forcing myself to breathe. We’d re-glamoured ourselves, so Angelica’s face stared back at me as I turned to look at her.

“Yes, I know,” I spat out. “I am mad for me, too, don’t worry—I’m mad for everyone that man has wronged.”

“No, I mean . . . I was going to congratulate you on the rage,” Aveda said, her mouth tipping into a smile. “You’re really letting it flow.”

“I am, aren’t I?” I said, drawing myself up tall. Now I really felt like I was glowing. “Let’s catch this fucker. I have so many questions. Like how do the reverse portals fit into all of this, was that also something Richard figured out how to do while he was studying demons and playing around with ghosts? Did he kidnap Pippa? God . . .”

I took another deep breath, trying to make sense of it all. But I didn’t attempt to calm the rage. It felt good now, flowing through my veins, powering me forward. Scared Mouse Evie was now Pissed-Off Superheroine Evie and I liked that.

“Where should we look for him?” Aveda said, her brows drawing together. “How else can we—”

“Hey, guys.”

We both yelped and whirled around to see Shelby Tran—who had somehow managed to sneak up on us during all of this very important Pissed-Off Superheroine discussion.

“Hi, Shelby,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “Um, what’s up?”

“I . . .” Her eyes shifted to Leonora’s cottage. “I was, um, looking for you.”

“That’s . . . nice?” Aveda said, looking at her quizzically. “Why?”

“I, um . . .” Her eyes shifted to the cottage again.

What was going on with her? Had she been coming to see Leonora? That didn’t seem likely, given how odd and chilly their interaction had been at the ghost-hunting society meeting. But why had she come here if she was looking for us?

“Shelby, we love you, but we’re kind of in the middle of some important TA business, honey,” I said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I . . .” Shelby forced her eyes away from Leonora’s cottage, looking at the ground. “I need a costume.”

We both blinked at her, not sure how to respond.

“A Halloween costume,” she clarified. “For the Courtyard Bash tonight. And I need someone to help me find one.”

“We’d love to,” Aveda said, studying her intently. “But now might not be the best time—”

“I need to talk to you,” Shelby said more insistently, her head snapping up so she could look at us. Her eyes were more intense than usual, something like fear brewing in their depths. She took a step closer to us. “Off campus,” she hissed. “Away from . . . all of this.”

Aveda and I exchanged a look—Shelby’s demeanor was unnerving me. She didn’t just seem upset, she seemed desperate. Like she knew something really, really bad was going to happen if she didn’t get that Halloween costume.

“I’ll help you find a costume,” I said.

“What?!” Aveda blurted out. “But . . .”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. Shelby turned and stared at Leonora’s house again, as if in a trance.

“Something else is going on here,” I whispered, jerking my chin at Shelby. “Let me go with her, see if I can get it out of her. You try to track down Richard—maybe Scott can do a locator spell, go grab some of Richard’s possessions from the cottage. Somehow all these pieces fit together, we just have to figure out how.”

“All right,” Aveda said, frowning in Shelby’s direction. “But if it turns out that all she actually needed was a Halloween costume and the two of you come back with matching Sexy SpongeBob outfits or something, I will be severely displeased.”

“Jeez, of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “I’m much more of a Sexy Squidward anyway.”

---

I took Shelby to the best costuming source I knew—the Berkeley branch of my friend Shruti’s fabulous vintage boutique. Shruti had started off with a single tiny shop in San Francisco. A pop-up edition at Pussy Queen (yes, the same lingerie emporium with the demon portal on the floor) had grown her now-rabid fan base, and in the past year, she’d expanded to three new locations in all areas of the Bay.

Her Berkeley shop was positively palatial compared to the minuscule store she’d started with. It was two stories, crammed top to bottom with beautiful vintage finds, all organized by era, color, and style. An entire rack on the bottom floor was devoted to outrageous Halloween-worthy garments, and as soon as we entered the shop, I dispatched Shelby to go paw through it.

“Well, hello!” Shruti came bustling up to me, a bright smile lighting her face. Her gorgeous mane of black hair was twisted into an elaborate formation and piled on top of her head, and she was wearing a bright yellow satin frock with a nipped-in waist, a full skirt, and a glittery rhinestone-emblazoned collar. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” She swept me into a fierce hug, then pulled back, studying me. “Look at you, girl, you’re—”

“Do not say glowing,” I said, laughing. “I know that’s not true.”

“I disagreeeee!” Shruti trilled, linking her arm through mine. “But actually I was going to comment on this new glamour Scott has going on. It’s nice. Subtle.”

“Don’t forget to call me Eliza in front of Shelby,” I said, motioning to the girl, who was all the way across the shop, out of earshot. She was scrutinizing a long, black gown on the Halloween rack. “I have a cover to maintain.”

“Of course,” Shruti said, guiding me over to the rack. “This new mission you and Aveda are on sounds very exciting—and I love any chance to provide costuming.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.

“Finding anything, Shelby?” I asked, as we approached the girl.

“Uh, yeah, I guess these?” Shelby held up a messy pile of clothes she’d amassed.

“Wonderful, let’s get you into a dressing room!” Shruti said, taking the clothes from her.

Shruti guided us to the back area of the shop, which featured a row of dressing rooms and a collection of funky flowered couches—perfect for a little fashion show.

I plunked myself down on one of the flowered couches and waited. Shruti stayed standing, occasionally glancing toward the front of the shop for new customers.

“Ooh!” Shruti said, when Shelby emerged moments later, clad in a brightly colored mini dress with a pattern of interlocking, psychedelic swirls. “That’s vintage Pucci, can you believe someone wanted to part with such a precious baby? So cute, so mod. Tease your hair up and add some go-go boots and you’ve got a costume.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Shelby murmured, tugging at the hem. “It’s a lot shorter than what I usually wear.”

“I think it’s perfect,” Shruti said, waving a hand. “Oops! Looks like I have a new wave of customers. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

She bustled off to the front of the store.

“Why don’t you look in the mirror?” I encouraged Shelby. “You really do look fantastic.”

Shelby shuffled over to the mirror, pulling self-consciously at the dress with every step. I pushed myself up from the flowered couch and joined her, both of us scrutinizing her reflection.

“Maybe with a pair of big hoop earrings?” I said. “Accessorizing is more Angelica’s forte than mine, but I bet she’d help.”

Shelby didn’t respond, just kept fiddling with the dress, turning this way and that. Hmm. If I just straight-up demanded that she tell me what was going on, she’d probably bolt. But what was with this charade of picking out a Halloween costume?

“Remember, you’ll probably want to wear tights under it anyway,” I blathered, deciding to just go with it for now. “The Courtyard Bash is outside and it’ll be cold tonight.”

“Good point,” Shelby murmured, her eyes narrowing as she zeroed in on a tiny piece of lint on the dress, then picked it off.

We stood there in awkward silence for a few moments as she picked a few more pieces of lint off the dress—some of them nonexistent. It felt like we were frozen in a very mundane moment, unsure of what to do next. I couldn’t help but feel that whatever I said next was very important, and would either take me a step closer to unlocking the truth about everything . . . or would shut that door forever.

“Shelby,” I finally said softly. “Honey, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything. I want to help you however I can.”

“I . . .” She looked at the floor, then met my gaze in the mirror, her expression growing more serious as she seemed to come to a decision. “You can’t trust Leonora—Professor Quinn,” she said baldly, her voice getting stronger with every word.

“Can you tell me why?” Aveda would be jumping out of her skin at this point, demanding answers. “I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll believe you, Shelby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“She . . .” Shelby grimaced, tugging at the hem of the dress again. “She and I were at the same, um, school. Before this. She was actually kind of my faculty advisor.”

“Oh, really?” I kept my voice neutral, even as my heartbeat spiked a little. Was this why there had been such a weird vibe between Shelby and Leonora at the ghost society meeting?

“I was kinda like her protégé?” Shelby screwed her face up, as if trying to decide if this was the right way of putting it. “She taught me a lot. But then I wanted to, um, change my major. And she got angry at me.”

“What happened?” I honestly had no idea what Shelby was going to say next, but my heartbeat sped up even more, convinced I was on the brink of something big.

“She . . . I guess you could say she blackballed me. At that college,” Shelby said. “I couldn’t seem to get a new advisor, my major change paperwork kept getting mysteriously lost. All my friends stopped talking to me. So I decided to transfer.”

“Didn’t Leonora start teaching at Morgan before you transferred in?” I asked, trying to follow her story. “Why did you want to go where she was going?”

“Um, yes,” Shelby said hastily, tugging at the hem of her dress again, her eyes going to the floor. “My transfer paperwork was held up. Because of Professor Quinn. By the time it went through, I’d already committed to Morgan. I had to go. And then I found out she was here, too.”

She met my eyes in the mirror again. Her expression was pleading, desperate. She knew there were things about her story that didn’t add up, but she needed me to believe her. And some part of it was true, I could see that very clearly. How had Leonora and Shelby ended up at the same campus, after all that? It was way too much of a coincidence.

“Why not report her?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, trying to convey that I was on her side. “That doesn’t sound like the behavior of a reputable professor.”

“I-I know,” Shelby stuttered. “But she knows things about me. I . . . I did some stuff at my last school and she kind of helped me out of a jam and ever since I’ve been at Morgan, she’s threatened to expose me and I just can’t—” She stopped abruptly, her voice catching as tears filled her eyes.

“Okay—it’s okay,” I said soothingly. “Come on, let’s sit down on one of these nice couches and talk this out.”

I led her over to the squashiest of the floral couches and we sat down together. She kept toying with the hem of the dress, picking at loose threads.

“Shelby,” I said, trying to get her to meet my eyes. “I know there are things you’re not telling me—I want to help you, I want you to be okay. I want everything in the world for you. But you have to talk to me. Please.”

She raised her eyes, searching my face, her lower lip trembling. Then she burst into tears.

“Oh no, honey . . .” I murmured. I pulled her into my arms and she collapsed against me, explosive sobs wracking her body. “We’ll fix whatever it is,” I murmured, stroking her shaggy hair. “You can trust me.” That only made her cry harder, so I just kept stroking her hair, making soothing little noises.

“P-Pippa,” she finally snuffled out, her face pressed against my shoulder.

“What about Pippa?” I coaxed, pulling back and resting my hands on her arms.

“Sh-she . . . I’m worried about her,” she whimpered, scrubbing at her nose with the sleeve of Shruti’s beautiful dress. I tried not to wince, keeping my expression open, listening. “Leonora knows she’s my only friend and when Pips disappeared, I just thought . . .” Her face crumpled again, and she scrubbed more vigorously at her nose with her dress sleeve. An excess of snot now decorated those beautiful Pucci swirls.

“You thought Leonora had something to do with it?” I frowned, trying to work it out.

She nodded emphatically. “I-I don’t know how. But Leonora knows I care about Pippa and . . . and . . . it’s only a matter of time before . . .” She burst into tears again, pressing her face against her much-abused dress sleeve.

“Shelby,” I began—then I paused, gnawing at my lower lip. A hazy wisp of an idea was floating around the back of my brain, I just couldn’t quite figure out how to verbalize it. “I know this is difficult to talk about, but . . . do you think Leonora had anything to do with the courtyard ghost coming after you? Since the ghost seemed to know so much about you personally, all your fears and worries?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” she whimpered. “Maybe.”

I paused as Shelby continued sobbing, running a soothing hand down her back. Was Leonora working with Richard? She’d seemed genuinely devastated by the whole affair. And their potential motives, on the surface anyway, seemed unrelated. Leonora had said Richard wanted me back, and Ghost Richard had indicated that Shelby and all the other haunting victims were chosen because their specific circumstances would hit me especially hard. Meanwhile, Shelby was saying Leonora wanted to get back at her for whatever she’d done at her old school. Could Richard and Leonora have joined forces to take care of all of these things at once?

“I don’t understand,” Shelby murmured, almost to herself. “Why didn’t she just keep coming for me? Why did she go after other people?” She shook her head. “I would’ve run from that courtyard ghost every night if that would’ve meant she stayed away from Pips. I mean, I even tried to listen to what the courtyard ghost was telling me, I didn’t run at first. Not until it seemed like she was going to run me over with her fucking horses. And then I went back the next night, but she didn’t show, and then . . .” She took in a great gulp of air and blew her nose loudly on the sleeve of Shruti’s dress.

“Wait a minute,” I said, trying not to think about all the damage that poor dress was enduring. “You stopped for a moment and . . . listened to the ghost? You didn’t mention that when we talked before, at the Mara Dash party.”

“Yeah.” Shelby nodded. “I thought . . . well, I dunno what I thought, it was early, I was still kinda soaking in the adrenaline from crew practice. But it seemed like she really wanted me to hear her.”

“You listened to her,” I murmured. For some reason, I was stuck on that. It seemed like such a small thing, and yet . . . wasn’t that what the woman who had become the courtyard ghost had wanted from the men in her wagon train, the ones who had completely ignored her? Shelby had given it to her so freely, even though she was being ambushed by a terrifying supernatural creature.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” I said.

“I . . . I don’t know,” she snapped, looking overwhelmed. “I just know that all this bad stuff started happening after that and . . . I . . . I wish I’d never come to Morgan!” She burst into tears again.

“Shelby . . .” I said gently, reaching for her.

“No, stop—I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” She leapt to her feet, still sobbing, and bolted for the door.

“Dammit—wait!” I yelled, scrambling up from the squashy couch.

But she was already out the door, running away. I cursed myself for not having the power of super speed.

“Everything all right?” Shruti said, popping her head around the corner. “I mean, obviously not, but . . .” She trailed off, watching as Shelby tore down the street. Wearing her beautiful vintage dress with the now-destroyed sleeve.

“Yeah, not really.” I heaved a mighty sigh, and watched Shelby’s bright form get smaller and smaller in the distance. “I’ll pay for the dress, obviously.”