GARRETT POV
I hated being useless, but there was nothing I could do now... they were doing their thing and, well... I knew basically nothing about witchcraft... let alone spirits or ghosts or lost souls. Apparently three different things.
My gaze shifted back to Amaranta.
She hadn’t moved.
Not really.
But I could see it anyway, because I always saw it when it came to her—the tension sitting in her shoulders like something coiled tight, the way her fingers pressed just a fraction harder against the planchette, like she was trying to keep control over something—or someone, I should say... the subtle change in her breathing, slower now, deliberate, like she was holding something in place that very much wanted to slip out of her grip.
And yeah, I didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
“Angel,”
