Free A Gift of Ghosts (Tassamara) by Sarah Wynde

sense?”
    He was so damn matter-of-fact, thought Akira. There was
something profoundly annoying about it. She sighed. “Okay, so it’s a little
more than a visual sense. Seeing different wavelengths, plus hearing different
frequencies. Or maybe my brain just translates the extra sense into something
more comprehensible to me? The point is, it’s not who I am. It’s like being
left-handed, or having perfect pitch—just a, a quirk.” She waved a hand
dismissively.
    “A quirk that allows you to speak to my grandson,” Max said. “And,
I hope, to my wife.”
    Akira wanted to cry. Relatives. Oh, how she hated dealing
with the relatives. “Yes,” she said simply, and then shrugged. “Or maybe, I don’t
know about your wife. But yes, I can talk to Dillon. And?”
    “What do you mean?” Max asked.
    “What then?” Akira asked in return. “Yes, I can talk to your
relatives. So can you, for that matter, but okay, I can maybe actually have a
conversation with them. And then what?”
    “Can’t you help them? Help them move on or do whatever it is
they’re supposed to be doing?”
    She shook her head. “No. Ghosts—they just are. They’re not a
problem to be solved. Well, except sometimes for me. But they’re not a thing
that needs fixing, any more than, well, than say, lightning needs fixing. They’re
just energy. Leftover energy. “
    Max rubbed his chin. “But why are they still here?”
    Akira exhaled, a quick breath that was almost a laugh. “Ask
me about low-temperature collision dynamics. You’d get a better answer.”
    “I’m not actually interested in low-temperature collision
dynamics,” Max responded, voice dry.
    Akira’s mouth twisted. It wasn’t a smile. “Nor
sonoluminescence, I assume?”
    “I don’t even know what that is,” Max admitted.
    Akira closed her eyes and sighed, inwardly cursing herself.
She should have asked more questions. She should have remembered that things
that look too good to be true are too good to be true. “I don’t know why ghosts
exist,” she said. “For obvious reasons, it’s not a subject that’s easily
researched. But I don’t fix them, I don’t make them go away, and—before you
ask—I don’t know anything about any white lights.”
    She pressed her lips together. Across the table, Max was
silent, his disappointment obvious. “I should go back to California,” Akira
realized. “If I had known you were—” She let the sentence end there. She didn’t
want to accuse either of them. And yet her disappointment was acute. She had
wanted to believe that this would be a place for her, that she had found a new
home.
    “Not a chance,” said Zane.
    She glanced at him. Sure, she’d signed a contract, but there
was nothing in it about ghosts.
    “I bought you a very nice digital oscilloscope, and I took
the money for it out of Smithson’s budget,” Zane continued. “If you don’t show
up tomorrow and play with it, he’ll get annoyed, and that’s never fun. Grace
will yell at me—it’ll be a whole messy thing.” He grinned at her and it was
such a comforting smile that it almost felt like he’d rubbed a consoling hand
along her back.
    “Yes,” agreed Max. He too smiled at her, and if his smile was
a little more strained, a little more disappointed, it was still a smile. “Regardless
of whether you can help me, this is a good place for you. And I’m sure your
research will prove interesting.” For a moment, his eyes stilled, and then he
added in a tone of mild delight, “Hmm, and profitable, too. That’s nice.”
    “Profitable?” Akira was startled.
    “Not that sono-thing, though, I don’t think. Something else.”
    Akira looked back at Zane. What was his father talking about?
    “Max is psychic,” Zane said. “He can see the future.”
    Psychic.
    Right.
    Were they kidding?
    A small smile was playing around Zane’s lips, but he wasn’t
looking at her. He seemed focused on catching the attention of their waitress.
    According to