Free Spell Bound by Rachel Hawkins Page B

and softly brush my lips over his. I hadn’t meant for it to be a real kiss; it was more a gesture of thanks and comfort than anything else. But when I went to pull back, Cal cupped my cheek, and his mouth slanted over mine, and just like that, it was definitely a real kiss.
    I kissed him back, my hands clutching at his T-shirt. For a minute, it felt nice. Well, better than nice, really. I felt safe and comfortable, and his arms were so warm around me.
    And then, suddenly, I was pulling away, my face hot. “Oh, God, and now I’m sorry for that ,” I said, turning my back to him and wiping at my cheeks with trembling hands.
    I’d only thought the atmosphere in the tent was tense before. Now I was practically choking on it. From behind me, I heard Cal sigh. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “We’re both…We’re in a weird place.”
    I turned back around then and gave him a shaky smile. “Both metaphorically and literally,” I said, gesturing around the tent.
    Cal gave a tiny smile back. “You should probably go. Check on your dad. We can talk more tomorrow when things aren’t so…” His words trailed off, and finally he just shrugged.
    I nodded. “Right. Tomorrow.”
    I could feel his gaze on my back as I left the tent, and it was like it stayed there, a hot spot between my shoulder blades, as I jogged back to the house.
    I kissed Cal. Again. For real.
    The words pounded inside my brain in time to my footsteps, and I wasn’t sure whether it was guilt or giddiness jumping around in my stomach. My hands were still trembling when I opened the back door. The house was strangely silent, and I crept toward the living room. Dad was still on the couch, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. Mom sat on the floor next to him, a steaming mug beside her. She was looking at Dad with such a strange expression: sad, and scared, and…something else. Her finger barely touched his skin as she traced the purple whorls on his hand.
    I backed out before she could see me.
    As I made my way upstairs, I felt shaky and hollow. Sometimes I think we have a limit to how many emotions we can feel at once, and I had clearly reached mine. Between Dad and Cal reappearing, and kissing Cal…
    I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and took a shuddery breath. Yup. Definitely had all I could handle for one night.
    When I opened my bedroom and saw a soft, ghostly glow, I groaned. “Not tonight, Elodie,” I sniffled. “I’m not in the mood.” The words died in my throat. It wasn’t Elodie’s ghost standing in the middle of my room. It was Archer’s.

CHAPTER 11

     
    “O h, good, it worked,” Archer said, his ghostly face relieved. Unlike Elodie, his voice came in loud and clear, and so familiar that my heart broke all over again.
    I stood frozen, my back against the door. Even though he was faint, I could see him smirk.
    “Um…Mercer? Haven’t seen you in nearly a month. I was expecting something like, ‘Oh, Cross, love of my heart, fire of my loins, how I’ve longed—’”
    “You’re dead,” I blurted out, pressing a hand against my stomach. “You’re a ghost, and you think—”
    All the humor disappeared from his face, and he held up both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not dead. Promise.”
    My heart was still hammering. “Then what the heck are you?”
    Archer almost looked sheepish as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out some kind of amulet on a thin silver chain. “It’s a speaking stone. Lets you appear to people kind of like a hologram. You know. ‘Help me, Sophie-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.’”
    “Did you steal it from the cellar at Hecate, too?” Archer had collected all sorts of magical knickknacks back when we had cellar duty at Hex Hall.
    “No,” he said, offended. “I found it at a…store. For magical stuff. Okay, yes, I stole it from the cellar.”
    I rushed across the room and thrust my fist at his solar plexus. It went right through him, but it was still kind of satisfying.