Chapter Three
Callum leans on the cafe counter as the young woman serving him twists her long blonde hair around her fingers.
We’re supposed to be doing research on the Western house.
And Callum is supposed to be talking me into going with him.
I push a forkful of pancake into my mouth as I watch him laugh with the server, their heads thrown back.
A flirting difficulty of five point five , I think.
I’m always astonished by how effortlessly people can talk to each other.
How strangers can strike up a conversation in the supermarket or on the street and connect like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s never been that way for me. At least, not since I saw my first ghost, when I was eight.
Life got weird after that, and it was easier to withdraw into myself than see the suspicion and doubt in my family’s eyes.
Easier to shut myself off than to listen to my classmates calling me names like Holly the Freak.
God how I hate that word. Freak . Scrawled across my locker.
Whispered behind my back. Freak, freak, freak .
I even started calling myself that, the word became so tangled up with my sense of self. Carved into my heart.
When I met Celeste in college, she helped me to see I was more than that word.
She became my friend, something I thought I’d never have until I met her.
Celeste was a sensitive who couldn’t see spirits but knew when they were around.
She told me to stop fighting my gift, to learn to control it and find a way to use it to my benefit.
She made me practise shutting my mind to the spirits, until I could open and close it to them at will.
When she hefted in a big book of spells one day, I laughed.
But we tried some out, mostly for fun, and then one day, boom .
I uttered some Latin words neither of us understood, while holding a rosary we’d picked up in a thrift store, and a ghost I’d been struggling to block just vanished.
That moment changed everything. I felt like I finally had control of my life.
The satisfaction of watching a spirit leave this plane never gets old.
They all exit in a different way – some go quietly, others howl and some just flick off like a light – but each is just as gratifying.
On a good day, it feels like a sweet deal watching the things that plague my life vanish from it. But then there are the bad days.
Callum turns and waves at me, giving me a smile. I shake my head at him, look away and concentrate on my pancakes.
I need to be careful here. I’d forgotten how easy it is to be around him.
How normal he makes me feel. The memories of what it was like when we worked together keep knocking at my heart, and I find myself wondering if I could bury what happened between us and go back to what we almost were.
No confrontations, ugly truths or excuses.
No reliving what happened. Which would probably suit me fine, because I’m great at hiding from my feelings and avoiding confrontation, unless it’s with a ghost. Except I can’t do that, because I’ll always have that doubt when I look into his eyes.
I open my photo roll and scroll until I find a selfie of me and Celeste lying on the grass in Central Park, laughing and squinting into the sunshine.
That was the day she introduced me to Callum.
I’d already heard of his podcast and had checked it out.
I liked the idea of this guy who believes in the paranormal so completely that he’s made it his mission to debunk fake hauntings and the fake ghost hunters that promote them.
It didn’t hurt that he was witty and charming and wasn’t bad to look at.
But watching him on YouTube didn’t prepare me for meeting him in person.
I think my chin actually dropped. He just glowed from the inside out.
Callum asked me to join his paranormal investigation team, and I shocked myself by agreeing.
His enthusiasm was contagious, and the thought of being around like minds and souls was irresistible to me.
I felt the spark between us from the very beginning; the air practically ignited whenever we were around each other.
He made me feel a part of the world I’d always felt separate from.
We had so many late-night conversations over burgers and fries and Cheetos in the small studio where he recorded his show.
About why he loved ghosts and why I didn’t.
About my powers and how fascinating he found them, and about his passion and how baffled I was by it.
He enjoyed teasing me, and I liked him doing it.
He made ghost hunting fun, something I’d never thought possible.
After a couple of months of getting and closer and closer, he asked if I’d like to meet for a drink.
I met him at a bar in SoHo and we spent the night laughing and flirting, something he is an expert at.
Around him I was the kind of person I’d always wished I could be, relaxed and funny and maybe even brave.
That night he told me how much he liked me.
He said he was happy to take things slow, that he didn’t want to rush me, he wanted me to feel comfortable.
He knew I sometimes struggled around people, I’d told him that much during our late night talks over Cheetos.
And I had said, ‘Maybe don’t take it too slow.
’ I couldn’t believe the words came out of my mouth.
I still remember how much that had made him laugh.
‘Next time, we’ll go on a real date,’ he’d promised.
‘I’ll take you to dinner, because I know how you like to eat.
’ I remember whacking his arm and laughing, and him grabbing my hand and holding it.
He made me dare to wonder if I could have a normal-ish life.
One that included acceptance and love, unconditional and non-judgemental.
At the end of the night, he leant in and pressed a tender kiss to my cheek.
I felt the promise of so much more in the warmth of his lips on my skin.
But the next day, that promise vanished like the ghosts I exorcise.
I close the photo of Celeste, then watch as the server takes a coffee card off the pile on the counter, scribbles something down and hands it to Callum. He slips the card into his back pocket, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, then saunters back to me.
‘Coffee is on the way,’ he says, sliding into his seat.
‘Did you just arrange a hook-up for later?’
A smirk settles on his lips. ‘Looks like you enjoyed your breakfast.’
I narrow my eyes and stuff the last forkful of pancake into my mouth. ‘I was hungry,’ I mumble through the food.
‘I can tell.’
‘You don’t get to judge me. You can’t resist flirting; I can’t resist pancakes.’
‘I wasn’t judging or flirting.’ He leans back in his seat, piercing eyes still on me.
The server arrives at our table with our coffees. She pushes her hair behind her ear as she gazes down at Callum.
‘So, I might see you there?’ She touches his shoulder and gives him a shy smile.
‘I promise I’ll try, but it depends how long I’m out of town. But hey, break a leg, okay?’
A little nod and another smile and she swishes away.
He stares at me staring daggers at him. ‘What?’ he says, looking affronted.
‘Yeah, no flirting at all.’
‘She invited me to see a play she’s in.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
He picks up his teaspoon and starts stirring his coffee. ‘Ms Daniels, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.’
I scoff. ‘Oh please. Don’t be ridiculous.’ I quickly avert my eyes and focus on my cup.
We’ve been in the cafe for a little over an hour, and I’m on my third coffee.
I’m buzzing from head to toe, which I’m almost certain is from the caffeine and not from the way Callum keeps looking at me, all intense eyes and quiet smile.
We’ve both got our laptops out, and we’ve been sifting through the stories surrounding the house.
‘Here’s one,’ he says. ‘Something about… Oh, it’s just about the town wanting to access the land for historical tours and the family saying no.’
‘It sounds like the Western family aren’t particularly nice people,’ I say.
‘Which is another reason we should wait and talk to Edward Western in person. In my experience, asshole people become asshole ghosts. We need to know what we’re walking into.
Not being prepared can get you killed. I shouldn’t have to tell you that. ’
‘Holly, what happened to Celeste was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You understand that, right?’
‘I know that.’ I pick up my cup, disappointed to find it empty again.
‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault.’ He squints at me.
‘I said I know.’
‘Alright, then… why don’t we just drive out there? We won’t do anything until we’ve spoken to Western or Rosing. We can check out the house – keeping our distance, have a look around East Mill. You never know, it could be fun. We could visit the beach or… I hear the restaurants are pretty good.’
‘Reminder: we are not going on a spooky getaway.’ He chuckles.
‘But okay, fine. I’ll do it. I’ll see if I get anything from the house.
From a distance. I mean, 10k is 10k. But before we head out there, make sure you let this Rosing guy know that I’m coming too.
He should understand what I do, in case they want me to move their dead relative on. ’
‘No need,’ Callum says. ‘He knows what you do.’
‘What?’
‘We talked about you.’
‘I don’t… when did you talk to him about me?’
‘When we were talking about the job. I was told to bring backup. Another ghostbuster. Specifically, a psychic.’