Ghosted

Chapter Twenty-One

We don’t mention Krissy again, or my awkward meltdown. We’re eating pizza, drinking wine, looking over the photos when a notification suddenly pops up on the laptop screen. An email from Rosing.

Callum quickly opens it and reads out loud.

It relays Edward Western’s stories of the haunting.

Some of the sightings occurred as recently as last year, when Edward was preparing to finally move into the house after his uncle’s death, while others go back generations.

They match what we’ve read online for the most part, about the ghost of a woman who’s been seen around the house, and another female spirit that stalks the grounds.

He also mentions an illness that tore through the family, which could tie in with what Martha Parish told us.

Multiple members of the household were struck down, he says, and the illness has often been attributed to the dark presence that haunts the halls.

‘Maybe that’s the nausea I felt at the house,’ I say.

‘He doesn’t say anything about any violent attacks,’ Callum adds, ‘so that’s good. It’s not the horror show I thought it would be.’

‘I would like to remind you that you were nearly impaled by a fence post, and I was practically electrocuted by a haunted tree.’

‘True.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘But if we go by Edward’s stories, this sounds like a fairly standard haunting.’

‘What about Richard and the man he bludgeoned with the flashlight. What was his name?’

Callum checks his notes. ‘Andrew Dobbs. I don’t know him, do you?’

I shake my head as I drag Callum’s laptop towards me. ‘His website’s still up. He claimed to be a powerful psychic who could connect people with their dead relatives. Hmm. He can’t have been very good, though, or one of us would have heard of him.’

Callum stares at the photo of Andrew Dobbs surrounded by the letters of a ouija board.

‘So going back to our earlier theory,’ he says, ‘that Garrett Western killed Elizabeth Howell because he thought she was an actual witch. What if that was somehow related to the Poculum Vitae thing? What if he didn’t kill her because he thought she had powers, but because he wanted those powers? ’

‘How would that work? It’s not like they’re transferable, or I would have given them away years ago.’

‘I don’t know,’ he says quickly. ‘But it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? Elizabeth Howell believed she could see dead people. Dobbs claimed he was a psychic. Both of them murdered—’

‘But the Westerns didn’t kill Andrew Dobbs. Richard did.’

‘Right.’ He nods. ‘You’re right. I’m just thinking out loud.’

I wiggle forward and grab my phone, pull up a number and hit call.

‘What’s going on?’ Callum asks.

I listen to the voice message, then say, ‘Mr Rosing, it’s Holly Daniels. I wanted to check your schedule for tomorrow. We’d like to organise to go inside the house and have a preliminary look around.’

Callum cocks a brow as I hang up. ‘We’re going in?’

‘We can’t just sit here throwing around theories forever, and we have information from Edward Western now. We’ll go during the day and get a feel for the place. We’ll be careful. But I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?’

He studies me, brow creased and face serious, then he claps. ‘Alright!’ He stands quickly, reaches for my hand and helps me off the floor. ‘We’d better get to bed then. I think you should sleep with me tonight.’

I cough out a laugh. ‘That was smooth.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ His head tilts. ‘Unless…’ He tugs on my hoodie, pulling me closer and nuzzling my neck. ‘You want it to mean that?’

I quiver from the heat of his breath, close my eyes and lean against him, as he trails feathery kisses up my throat and along my jaw. I let out a low sighing moan. I wasn’t going to do this again, but…

I press my hands to his chest and push him away, just far enough so I can loop my arms around his neck. He smiles; his pupils already doubled in size. I like how their darkness sets off the green. I like how it sets me off too. I lift onto my tiptoes and kiss him.

The chilli from the pizza still on his lips makes mine tingle. I push my leg between his legs and he jolts, flexing against me with a tiny grunt, his fingers sinking into my waist.

Every lingering worry, every old panicked feeling, every rational or semi rational thought floats away on a wave of pleasure that’s all Callum. I want this and I don’t need to wait any longer.

I slip my hands up inside his shirt and trace my fingers along the bumps of his spine.

‘Fuck,’ he moans against my mouth. Then he gently untangles himself from me, gulping for breath.

I grab his shirt and drag him back to me. ‘I think we should…’ I glance at his bed.

‘Are you sure, because you said we shouldn’t—’

‘I know I did, but I think I’ve changed my mind.’ And in case he had any doubt, I crush my mouth to his.

Callum moans again, thick and throaty, the sound a hum against my lips. He pulls me tighter, twining one hand into my hair, the other splayed across the small of my back. I’m desperate to get closer and I press against him, practically grinding, loving how his arousal presses back.

‘Holly,’ he pleads. ‘Holly, are you sure—’

I slip one hand between us and run my palm over the soft material of his sweatpants and the solid ridge beneath them to show him just how sure I am, and his groan is so deliciously needy I want to breathe it in.

Callum lets me step us across the room until the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles to the mattress, taking me with him. We laugh, both of us already breathing heavily.

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ he asks one more time.

‘I’m absolutely sure I want this off,’ I say, dragging at his T-shirt.

He helps me wriggle it up his body and over his head, mussing his hair that way I like.

His pale cheeks glow pink and his adorable freckles pop against them.

I want to kiss every one of those freckles.

I want to name them and get to know them personally.

My eyes dip to his lips, already red and swollen from mine.

I give the bottom one a little nibble and his fingers dig into my waist with a tremble.

I shimmy backwards, over his bare and beautiful chest, careful to avoid the wound on his ribs, the friction of my body against his making him grunt.

Then I kiss his jaw, then his throat, then his collarbone.

I nip playfully at one of his nipples, and he gasps, then he hauls me back up to his lips, kissing me so hard I’m dizzy from it. When his hands find their way under my clothes, I shiver all the way down to my toes.

He caresses me over my bra, his thumbs swirling tiny, all-consuming circles over my hard nipples. I cling to him, bliss licking through me. Then one of his hands is between us, his fingers sliding into the waistband of my leggings.

A needy ‘Yes’ slips from me on a gasp.

I’m moaning and greedily kissing him, sucking at his skin, willing his fingers to get where I need them to be. I want him to hurry up, but I also want him to take it slow, so I can enjoy every tantalising second on the way to what’s about to happen.

A crackle, then a sharp beep sounds from across the room. The sensor attached to Callum’s cameras in the hall bursts to life. We both turn and stare at it, then turn back and stare at each other, hair messy, and lips swollen.

‘Which one is it?’ Callum whispers. ‘George or Elizabeth?’

I draw a breath, sensing the energy. ‘Fucking George,’ I say.

Callum slips his hand free from my tights and I whine with frustration. He pushes up on his elbows, his eyes on the door.

‘Is he in the room?’

I turn his face back to me. ‘No. Can we please go back to what we were doing?’

‘What if he comes in and we’re in the middle of…’ He nods at me. ‘You know.’

I huff. ‘Fine. Wait here, I’ll get rid of him.’

He holds me tight. ‘Holly, you can’t get rid of him. He’s part of the place, and I’m going to do a show on him!’

I shake my head. ‘No. George has to go. He’s brought this on himself.’

Callum starts laughing.

I stare at him, taken aback. ‘This isn’t funny.’

‘It is, actually. Us, being interrupted by a ghost.’

‘I’ll just tell him to go away.’

‘Maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere less haunted.’

I drop my head to his chest and grumble into his skin, ‘See? This is why I hate ghosts.’

He laughs again, lifts my face and fixes my hair where his fingers tangled.

‘Holly, I want to do this.’ There’s still laughter in his voice.

‘I think you can tell how much.’ I can’t help but glance at the thick shape pressing against his sweatpants.

He smirks when I look back up. ‘I’ve imagined it so many times.

Imagined having you in my arms, touching you everywhere, making you cry out with pleasure.

What it would look like when…’ He smiles wickedly, taking a steadying breath.

‘What I would do to get you there. Everything I would do to you and with you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined it.

Even when I was hurt, even when I was angry, I wanted you and I wanted this.

’ He cups my face and looks deep into my eyes.

‘But I want us to have time – days, weeks, so long that people will worry about where we’ve gone.

Uber Eats containers will cover the floor because we won’t be able to stay out of bed long enough to toss them in the trash.

Mail will pile up at the door, because we’ll be far too busy to collect it.

You’ll barely be able to walk. I’ll barely be able to walk.

We’ll just move from the bed to the shower, to the bed, to the shower, to the bed.

And when we finally come up for air, we’ll start all over again. ’

I breathe out a stuttering laugh. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’

‘I’ve had two years.’

‘I’m probably going to throw the containers in the trash though, if that’s okay.’

‘I’ll allow it.’

He lies back down, pulling me with him, and I drape across his chest, looking up into his lovely, flushed face.

‘I want to take you on a date,’ he says. ‘Bring you flowers. Introduce you to the people in my life. Start this thing right. I’m assuming that we are starting something now?’

‘I think I started the something already.’

‘And I want to get down on my knees and thank you for that. Seriously. On my knees. In front of you. Both of us naked.’ His brow cocks and the tingle in my cheeks is a mixture of embarrassment and wild desire.

‘The way I’m drawn to you, Holly, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want to screw it up. I want you to feel safe with me.’

I drink in his words and brush my lips against his cheek. ‘Okay. But you’d better come good on your promise.’

‘Oh, I’m going to come good. We both are.’ His eyes twinkle.

I kiss him quickly then wiggle backwards over him, loving the little hiss he makes as I move across his erection.

‘Sleep it is, I guess,’ I say, my voice full of disappointment. How I’m going to sleep now, I do not know.

‘I’m sorry.’ He pushes off the bed.

‘I don’t blame you. I blame Casper out in the hall.’

He chuckles as he arranges himself in his sweatpants with a shrug and a grin, then pulls back the bedcovers and says, ‘Hop in, Sunshine.’

I drag my hoodie over my head, stripping down to a short, tight tank top, pushing my shoulders back and giving Callum the time he needs to take me in. He mutters ‘I am such an idiot’ as I slide beneath the covers. He flicks off the bedside lamp.

‘Try to sleep,’ I say, rolling onto my side and wiggling away a little. ‘We need to be on the ball tomorrow. And Callum?’

‘Yeah?’

I take a moment to find my words. Tonight has been a lot, with more emotions than I think I’ve ever felt in one hit. It’s going to take a bit of time for what’s happening between us to truly sink in. To trust the promise of that future.

‘I’m sorry about tonight,’ I say eventually. ‘I’m sorry I’m all over the place and so constantly weird. From now on, I’ll try not to be so… me.’

His weight shifts, and I startle as his arm swings over me and gently pulls me back against him.

‘I like you. All of you. Even your weird bits.’ He places a kiss on my shoulder.

‘Callum,’ I whisper.

‘Mmm?’

‘Are you spooning me?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Then you owe me five bucks, Jefferies.’