2. Charlie #2
Gerald’s voice rose, clearer now. “Brad, we need you with Charlie on the Wiltshire haunt. The EMF readings are off the charts. We’re talking multiple Level Four entities. I need you there, with Charlie as backup.”
After a few more grumbles, the door wrenched open.
The man who emerged looked like he’d walked off the set of some gritty crime drama.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with short dark hair that fell just so across his forehead.
Sharp jaw, sharper eyes—blue, a shade paler than mine.
A leather jacket that fitted him like it had been tailored.
A face that would’ve made my teenage self write terrible poetry.
He glared at Gary and me with equal contempt, his gaze flicking between us like he couldn’t decide who he despised more. Gary, for snatching his haunted hotel from him, or me for existing.
Gerald appeared behind him, fingers gripping the doorframe. “Ah, Charlie! I was just telling Brad here about your joint assignment on Monday. He can fill you in on the details.”
“Monday?” I squeaked. “But I’ve only had three hours of training!”
Gerald waved his hand. “It’s all in the handbook.” He retreated into his office and shut the door.
Then, to my horror, Gary, the absolute traitor, shuffled off after Ted without a backward glance.
Silence settled like dust. Thick, horrible dust.
I stuck out my hand. “Charlie Hayes.”
Brad eyed it like I’d just offered him a diseased rat. Several seconds crawled past. Then he gripped my hand and squeezed. Hard. Too hard. The bones in my fingers ground together.
“Any previous experience in this line of work?” he asked flatly.
“Not exactly.”
“Right,” he said, releasing my hand. I resisted the urge to shake feeling back into it. “Well, you need to be tough for this job.”
His gaze travelled down my body. Scrawny arms. Narrow shoulders. The physique of someone whose daily workout consisted of walking to Tesco to rifle through the reduced section. I fought the mad urge to cross my arms over my chest.
“Does it say that in the handbook?” I asked sweetly.
Brad’s eyes dropped to my wrist. To the rainbow bracelet Lily had made me that summer, all wonky knots and uneven beads. She’d been so proud when she’d tied it on, gap-toothed smile lighting up her whole face.
His eyes narrowed. His lip curled.
Hot licks of anger coiled tightly in my stomach. Ah, fuck. Was I really about to set a personal best for fastest firing? But I couldn’t stop myself from spitting, “Do you have a problem with my bracelet, Brad?”
“What?!” The word snapped out of him. Pink coloured his cheeks. “No! Of course not! My cousin’s a lesbian!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it—my first day, and I’d already landed the homophobic dickhead as my partner. How was this my luck?
Brad sneered at me. “Listen. You and me? We’ll only have a problem if you let me down. Because when two people go on a job together, someone always dies.”
I waited for the punchline. The smirk that would tell me he was joking.
It didn’t come.
His hand landed on my shoulder. Heavy. Possessive. The sort of touch that said I own this space and you’re just visiting.
“And I can tell you now,” he said, leaning in horribly close enough, “it’s not going to be me.” He smirked then. Finally. It wasn’t the sort that made you want to smile back. “I’ll see you Monday. We’re off to Grimthorne Manor. Near Devizes, in Wiltshire.”
“For how long?”
He shrugged. “Until it’s done.” And with that, he marched off, his shiny white trainers squeaking down the corridor.
Alone with this guy. In the middle of nowhere. For who knew how long.
Fuck this shit.
I knocked once on Gerald’s door, then shoved it open before he could answer.
He sat hunched over his desk, another cigarette dangling from his lips, surrounded by stacks of what possibly looked like crumpled betting slips.
“I want to swap partners.”
Gerald didn’t look up. “Not going to happen, kid. It’s final.”
“But… but he’s homophobic!”
That got his attention. Gerald’s eyes snapped to mine, his brow furrowing into deep crevices. “Brad? Homophobic? Don’t be ridiculous. His cousin’s a lesbian.”
My mouth opened. Closed. The urge to laugh hysterically bubbled up again, but I swallowed it down.
“Now, Charlie,” Gerald stubbed out his cigarette. “Brad’s the best operative I’ve got. You’re lucky to be paired with him. Most newbies don’t get that kind of experience on their first proper job.”
“Lucky,” I repeated.
“Very. Now, Brad will pick you up Monday morning. Seven sharp. Don’t be late, and don’t forget your handbook. You’ll need it.”
“But—”
“That’s all, Charlie.”
I stood there, fingers curling into fists at my sides, until my legs found the energy to move.
The door clicked shut behind me. I marched past the empty reception area, out of the door, down the stairs, and onto the street.
The autumn air hit me like a slap, cold and sharp.
Leaves skittered across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm wailed.
Fury raged inside me. I should quit. Walk out right now. Find a normal job. Something in an office. Something where my co-workers didn’t threaten my life during introductions or inform me that accepting biscuits from ghosts would cause me to spontaneously combust.
Monday. Grimthorne Manor. Brad.
I had the weekend to prepare.
Or to run.