CHAPTER 90

"No, that's not what I..." Beth shook her head and held up her hands in defeat. "We'll talk about shopping later. Seriously, is there anything we can do to speed up the process? She'll still be a human long after I'm dead, and that just doesn't seem fair."

"If there's a trick to reversing the enchantment, then I am unaware of it." The naga picked up her tea cup and smiled. "Besides, it will be nice to have someone to talk to over the years."

"Oh, well, since you two seem to enjoy each other's company so much, maybe she should stay down here with you?"

"No." Quetzalli shook her head. "I'm afraid I miss the sky over my head. Besides, Ratu has informed me that my power surges threaten the nature of her work down here."

The naga smirked over her cup, and Beth threw her a dirty look.

"Indeed. Her electrical discharges have already caused a few issues with some of my experiments. It would be safer for all involved if she were to remain topside."

You fucking liar. Beth was glad Ratu wasn't a mind reader. "Okay, well, thanks. So...are we done here?"

The naga nodded, and Beth and Quetzalli bid her farewell.

Asterion led them to the shortcut out, and they were at the door that led into the house in just under twenty minutes.

Beth waved goodbye to Asterion, and then led Quetzalli into the house. Through the nearby back door, she could see Dana outside messing around with one of her drones again.

"Oh! The dead girl is flying her mechanical device again!" The dragon did a cute little hop in the hallway, the ends of her hair fluttering toward the nearby wall.

Beth stepped past her and opened the back door. "I bet she would love to talk to you about—"

Quetzalli was already out the door, holding up her skirt with one hand to avoid tripping over it. Dana cocked her head to see who was coming, and an almost imperceptible look of dread moved across her features when she saw who it was.

The door slammed behind Beth as she ran to the front of the house. She felt bad dumping Quetzalli on someone else, but needed a break. Spending the morning with Asterion was supposed to have made her feel better, but now she just felt antsy.

At the base of the stairs, she paused briefly to look up. Was Mike back yet? She debated climbing the stairs to check, but decided against it. While she really wanted someone to talk to, there was too much weird tension between them right now, even if most of it was just in her head. She still needed to process some things internally before having a chat with him.

Through the open front windows of the house, she heard someone whistling a tune. When she looked outside, she saw Sulyvahn standing right next to the porch, his hands in the bushes. Curious, she stepped outside for a better look and saw that he was holding a pair of clippers and had a bucket nearby.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hmm?" He looked up, and then back down at the roses. "Ah, pleased I am to be seeing ye, lass! The centaurs be lettin' me tend these 'uns. Roses be simple enough, once ye get the hang of them."

"You're...gardening?" It was odd seeing the dullahan hunched over the foliage, wearing his black leather outfit. It made her think of a goth teen being forced to trim his grandmother's bushes, which made her smile.

"Aye. Not much opportunity fer it afore now. There's a reason everyone says to stop and smell them." He snipped a rose free and held it up. "Fer yon maiden faire."

"Thank you." She took the rose and smelled it. The aroma was a subtle perfume that reminded her of the summer, and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. "You don't strike me as someone who likes to garden."

Sulyvahn grinned. "In a way, t'is not so much different from the job I had before. When ye look at a plant such as this, ye cull out the parts that be dying, or clip the buds to be making room for more."

"And that's like...collecting souls?"

"Aye, that it be." He knelt over a rose that had snapped and was supported from below by a few others. "The human soul is much like a flower. When e're ye pass, yer a creature of beauty and light. But if nobody comes to collect, ye spoil and rot."

"Souls rot?"

"Hmm." He stood and pondered her question for a bit. "Not in a traditional sense, I'll grant ye. The human soul be just a collection of memories and emotions, those that ye take with ye when you go. Over time, I suppose some of the memories become stronger than others. Fer some souls, this can mean being trapped, and when it's time to move on, they refuse."

"I guess that tracks with just about every paranormal documentary I've ever watched." She smelled the rose again, then leaned against the railing. "Humans have a theory that ghosts who don't move on can become wrapped up in their own anger."

"Aye, that isn't even the half of it." He gestured toward the house. "That little doll ye have inside is a right proper example."

"That's Jenny. She's mostly harmless."

"Fer now." He moved to the next bush and examined the branches. "How should I be sayin' this now? When yer dearly departed refuses to move beyont, oft time they be gettin' stuck in a loop. They be drawin' their energy from this world, very much like a lightning rod. Ye ever walk through a cold spot? Probably a spirit, takin' just a wee bit o' yer heat to keep themselves going.

"The angry ones, though, that's a different matter entirely. They feed on their own hatred fer the livin', and will be takin' any opportunity to sap the energy of their own if it means gettin' ahead."

"You mean, like, ghosts attacking ghosts?"