The words sent a light chill over the back of my neck. I could feel my palms sweating, clammy.
“When what finds her?” Selena asked.
Griff glanced at the scene around us—the signs of the struggle, the blood. “The thing that did this,” he said. “The other ghost.”
GRIFFIN HAD JUST GIVEN ME EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED: a reason to believe that he wasn’t our killer, an alternative explanation that fit the evidence just as well. Ink could barely grasp Griffin’s scent. If there was another ghost, it made sense to think it might have that same not-quite-there smell.
But the Griffin I’d known had been a very smart little boy. Smart enough to know exactly what to say to make us follow him. Smart enough to throw suspicion onto someone—something—else.
“Here.” Griffin—who hadn’t said a word the entire t
