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“He says hello,” Nate said.

Sally beamed. Then she stuck her hand out, straight into the space where his stomach was, and waved it around.

“Sally,” Sophie admonished her. “Manners.”

“I’m not touching him. I can’t touch him.” Her hand passed back and forth through the ghost’s middle. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like anything at all. This child did not have the same presence as Nate. The ghost had felt it when Nate had walked through him.

Even now he shivered at the memory.

“It’s cold,” Sally reported. “He’s cold.”

“That’s enough,” Sophie said, and collected her.

“Now then.” Miriam set the seal down on the table, where it slumped against the water glass. Just a toy again. It was unpleasant to look at.

“Leo,” Miriam said. “Come here, please.”

The ghost looked at Nate. Nate got up and walked around the table, and the ghost went with him, because that was apparently his life now.

Miriam had turned her chair out from the table to face them. She smoothed her apron over her knees and looked at the space where the ghost stood, and for a moment she said nothing at all.

The table had gone quiet around them.

“I’d like to have a look at you now,” Miriam said. “A real look. Not with my eyes.”

The ghost grew wary. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll be looking with my gift. It won’t hurt, but you’ll feel it, and some spirits don’t care for it.”

The ghost’s hands pressed flat against his legs.

There was that memory again.

Hands that burned. A grip he couldn’t break. Something tearing⁠—

“Why?” he asked.

“Because my son tried to move you and couldn’t, and that doesn’t happen. Something about you isn’t the way it should be, and before anyone tries again, I want to know what I’m dealing with.”

Before anyone tries again. So that was still the plan. Solve the mystery, then finish the job her son had botched.

The ghost should refuse on principle.

Except…

Then he might never find out why he could not remember anything.

Or where his frightening powers had gone.

He wanted those back.

“Fine.” He braced himself. “Have a look and tell me what you find.”

“I will. Thank you.” Miriam raised her hands and held them up on either side of his face, palms in, a hair’s breadth from touching.

As if she could touch.

Pah.