“What do you think you are doing?” He asked me after he half drug me to one of the offices neatly arranged in the bowels of the church. (Actually, he pulled me from my feet and I floated, which I hate by the way, behind him, through walls, to his former office.)

I frowned before answering, still feeling perturbed that I had been forced to float after all this time. My eyes turned toward the floor, I felt like a child, again, being reprimanded. I am looking for a way out of here. I “muttered” in Ghost speak. At least that is what I call it, because you don’t actually force air through vocal cords to make sound.

This absolutely infuriated him even further, if that was possible. His greyish- blue eyes blazed, seriously, blazed. Like there was a fire from within.

I floated. Crap. Then I blinked out to the mist again. What the.. And back. This is getting old, quick.

He grabbed my wrist, rather harshly, I might add. “Stop that!” he commanded me. Adding, “Just leave if you want to.”