Alyson Noël - Shimmer

Like a mirror, it reflected everything outside of it, while obscuring the secrets inside.

Although I couldn’t see past my own glaring reflection, I knew my guide and my dog were both trapped in the same way I’d been. And, if their experience was anything like mine—well, then they were both about to find themselves reliving their own personal version of hell.

I squinched my eyes till they were nearly shut and continued to stare at the bubble, searching my brain for answers, clues, anything Bodhi might’ve mentioned about a pretty, dark-haired girl named Nicole, but came up empty.

The truth was, I didn’t know much about Bodhi’s time on the earth plane. Aside from when and how he’d died, aside from his claim that he was on his way to being a professional skateboarder, I was ashamed to admit I didn’t know much of anything.

I knew nothing about where he came from, nothing about where he lived, who his parents were, his friends, if he had any siblings, and if he ever really missed his old life as much as I sometimes missed mine.

Though, I guess the amount of longing he held in his voice as he called out her name pretty much answered that last part.

He did miss her. A lot. That much was clear. But what I didn’t know was why he missed her—who she was—what she might’ve meant to him.

I slumped down to the ground and continued to squint at the shiny globe before me. Wavering between feelings of deep-seated shame at being so self-centered I’d never even bothered to learn my guide’s personal history—never even showed the slightest bit of interest in learning—and wondering just what it was I could do to break them out of that place.

How I could free them from Rebecca’s world of pain.

What my next move might logically be.

The longer I pondered, the worse it got, as I allowed my imagination to take over. Running amok with visions of Bodhi undergoing all manner of humiliation and emotional torture (our being dead may have left us well past the point of physical torture, but it did nothing to boost our immunity against things like fear and dread, and other forms of self-induced psychological warfare), while Buttercup … well, I couldn’t imagine him ever experiencing a bad day in what had amounted to an overly cushy, almost ridiculously indulgent, well-fed, well-cared-for, former life. But knowing Rebecca, she’d dig up something, and I had no doubt it would involve her laser-gazed, razor-toothed Hell Beast companion.

Call it intuition, call it what you will: Even though I had no sure way of knowing what might’ve been going on in there, I knew it was wrong.

Terribly, tragically wrong.

I also knew that I’d brought it on.

If I hadn’t decided to go snooping around, if I hadn’t decided to go against Bodhi’s warnings and track down that stupid Snarly Yow, none of us would be in this predicament now.

I’d decided to exercise my free will by sticking my stubby nose where it clearly didn’t belong.

And now my guide and my dog were both trapped as a result.

I felt awful, guilty, and, truth be told, more than a little worried about how all of this would go over with the Council. I had no idea how they’d punish me, though I’d no doubt they would. And while Bodhi had tried to warn me against it, tried to warn me against doing the very thing I was so determined to do, I’d failed to listen. Making me solely responsible for getting us into this mess, which also made me solely responsible for getting us out.

But as worried as I was about what I might face once I returned to the Here & Now, at that moment, I had to push it aside for more pressing concerns. My guide and my dog were trapped, and I could no longer allow myself to sit there and do nothing about it. So I sprang to my feet, rushed toward that gleaming bubble, and hurled my body against it. Pounding my fists into the sides, railing at it with all of my might—but it was no use.

It was impenetrable.

Despite my best efforts, I hadn’t left even the slightest sign of a dent.

Only one thing was sure:

Absolutely no one was allowed in or out without Rebecca’s consent.

I shrank back, shrank away from it all. Feeling anxious, helpless, and woefully inadequate as I gazed all around. Wondering if there was something else I could do that wouldn’t make it any worse than I already had.

I’d already called out their names—already alternately pleaded with and threatened Rebecca—and was quickly nearing the point of losing it to complete and total hysteria.

Was well on my way to becoming so desperate, I was actually considering making a trip back to the Here & Now so I could try to recruit some kind of backup team that might be willing to help out—when I heard it.

A slight, barely there, rustling kind of sound that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.

I turned, my face wary as I searched for the source. Watching as it slowly emerged from the shrubbery—a foot, a leg, a torso, a head—all of it coming forth to say, “You are Riley?”

His eyes bore into mine in a way that, well, had I still been required to breathe, let’s just say that would’ve been the exact moment I held my breath until it swelled up into my cheeks.

Would’ve been the exact moment I held it for so long my face would’ve turned blue as my eyes threatened to pop from their sockets.

But, as it was, I just met his stare with one of my own. Trying to decipher the truth from fiction—unable to tell if what I was seeing before me was actually real.

Even though he wasn’t the least bit familiar, even though the words that followed meant nothing to me, that didn’t mean Rebecca wasn’t in on it, or somehow behind it.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t sent him forth for the sole purpose of terrorizing me.

“How do you know my name?” I narrowed my eyes until they were slits.

“I am Kanta. Prince Kanta,” he said, keeping his face soft and still. “And you, Riley Bloom, have nothing to fear. Or at least not from me anyway.”

I pulled my shoulders back, straightened my spine, and tilted my chin in a way that I hoped would come off as far more confident and commanding than I might’ve seemed at first. Steadfastly holding his gaze as I said, “While that doesn’t really answer my question, just so you know, I have nothing to fear from anyone. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m dead.”

He half smiled. Hinting at what could have been a dazzling display of large, slightly crooked, boxy white teeth, pink-tinged lips, and two very deep dimples that marked his smooth, dark skin—if only he hadn’t dropped it so quickly. “As am I.” He nodded, presenting the words in a manner that was regal, kind, and serious all at once. Then he bowed low before me, his shiny bald head dipping and lifting, as those deep, ebony eyes settled on mine. “Normally, I would allow time for a more formal introduction, but I’m hoping we can move past all of that and get down to the business at hand.”

“What business?” My brow rose as I took note of the details: the impossibly high cheekbones, the wide nose, the full lips, the strong chin, and the well-muscled body with the ultra-broad shoulders clad in what clearly amounted to a disgusting pile of rags.

My eyes grazing over a stained and battered white shirt that was neatly tucked into a pair of dark, severely torn, threadbare trousers cut off and frayed at the knees, I couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of prince would go around looking like that. Why someone of nobility, royalty even, would possibly choose to dress so … shabbily .

Though I shouldn’t have been so surprised, since it’s not like he was the only one. Out of all the ghosts I’d met so far, not one of them chose to step it up a notch, keep up with the changing times, or take the slightest bit of advantage of the wonderful gift of instant manifestation that pretty much allowed for an all-access pass to the closet of your wildest imagination.