TWENTY-ONE
PATRICK
Patrick watched Liv exhale as she hung up the phone.
"Well, that went well," he said, backing up to perch on a headstone.
She glared at him.
"Could you have made it less obvious that you were blowing him off?" he said.
"I couldn't concentrate with you flailing over there."
"Flailing? I was trying to signal directions."
"Directions for an incoming plane, it looked like."
She walked to the headstone and knelt in front of it. "I should call him back, shouldn't I? Tell him the truth. Maybe he'd like to come out. Join this fiasco of a seance. Couldn't hurt."
"Oh, yes it could. Imagine how that call goes. Hey, Gabriel, I'm in the cemetery, trying to summon a ghost. Wanna play? No, Gabriel does not want to play ghostbuster. Nor will he want you playing ghostbuster. Did you tell Ricky what you're doing?"
She shook her head.
"Rule of thumb?" Patrick continued. "If you think it's too dangerous to tell Ricky, don't even think of telling Gabriel. I'll handle any fallout from this. I'll tell him I offered to help only if you let him enjoy his Saturday night in peace."
She straightened. "This isn't working anyway. I should call Gabriel back and ask if he wants to meet up. See what he had to say."
"No and no. We've been at it barely an hour. And it's ten o'clock. Hardly the witching hour."
Her finger brushed the phone in her pocket.
"No," he said. "Now come over here and--"
A pale figure slipped between two tall monuments.
"Did you see that?" he said.
Liv sighed and slumped to the ground, leaning against Christina Moore's gravestone.
"I'm serious." Patrick pointed. "Didn't you see her?"
"Nope. Not this time. Not the last two either."
"I saw something before, not a figure." Okay, lied about seeing something might be more accurate. He had to keep her attention somehow, not unlike a small child who wanders off after five minutes of playing catch. The problem was that Liv wasn't a small child, meaning by the third time, she'd caught on. Just when he'd actually spotted something.
Patrick headed that way. "It was a pale figure. A woman, I think."
"Wait..."
He stopped and smiled. See, that wasn't so difficult.
"Wait," she said again. "I see her, too. A pale figure in the darkness, walking 'in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright--'"
"You know Byron. Wonderful. But you know what? I actually knew him. Partied with him a few times."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Oh, but I bet I know things about him that would surprise you."