There were no ghosts where there should be ghosts. That worried her.
“Maybe you’re wrong about a rip in the Veil,” Brea said.
“I’m not wrong,” Chels said. “I’m never wrong. There’s a rip and it’s here and there should be ghosts.”
She remembered the last time a rip site was cold. They’re typically vibrating with movement between the worlds, spirit of all kind passing back and forth. But the last time — all spirit had left, steered clear of the rip site, got as far as it could away.
Because there are things worse than ghosts. There are things that terrify the dead. There are things that make the dead prefer being dead to being alive.
And the thing that came through the rip in the Veil was that kind of thing.
“So… there just aren’t any ghosts?” Brea said.
“There are ghosts,” Chels said. “There are always ghosts. There are just things out there bad enough to make ghosts… ghost.”