Bat #3
“You don’t understand. We’re doing important work here,” I said, defensive now.
“Important work?”
“We’ve made it our job to make sure this place is never inhabited again.”
Charlie stared at me. “By terrorising all the workmen away?”
“Precisely.”
“Apparently you almost killed someone. A carpenter. With a flying hammer.”
“That wasn’t me! That was Vivian. She has terrible aim. And she felt awful about that. And she did try to say sorry to him, but that didn’t go down terribly well either.”
Charlie leaned against the wall, studying me through his glasses. “But why do you have to scare everyone off? Who cares if this place gets turned into a luxury hotel? It might be entertaining for you guys, occasionally spooking a guest or two.”
The words stuck in my throat. How could I explain? The weight of it, the responsibility, the fear that had soaked into these walls like damp.
I glided away down the corridor, hoping he’d follow.
He did.
I stopped at the basement door, ground-floor corridor. Heavy oak, not thick enough for my liking. My hand hovered inches from the surface without quite touching it.
“It’s because of what’s down there,” I said quietly.
Charlie’s breathing hitched. “What’s down there?”
“Something bad. Something very bad. Which is why I had to possess Brad last night. The idiot wouldn’t stop trying to get through the bottom door.”
Charlie pressed his palm flat against the door. “So there’s something like… locked down there?”
“Exactly. And it needs to stay down there.”
“Why?” Charlie whispered.
I slowly moved my hand to rest on top of his. The connection snapped into place like a circuit closing.
Darkness. Cold that burned. A presence that pressed down like drowning, like suffocation, like the air turned solid in your lungs. Rage that wasn’t rage, not quite. Something older. Hungrier. A thing that fed on fear and pain and—
Screaming. Always screaming. Someone screaming and screaming and never stopping and—
Blood on stone. Blood on metal. Blood everywhere, soaking into ancient mortar, into foundations laid when kings still ruled absolutely and mercy was a foreign concept.
Chains. The sound of chains dragging. Scraping. Endless scraping against stone.
A face in the darkness. Wrong. All wrong. Features that shifted and melted and reformed, mouth open too wide, teeth too many, eyes—
Charlie wrenched away from me, stumbling backward. His face had gone white, sweat beading at his temples.
“Fucking hell,” he gasped. “What was that?”
“I told you. Something bad.”
“But… is it a ghost, or—”
“Who are you talking to?” Brad’s voice boomed from the staircase. Heavy footsteps descended toward us.
Charlie jumped like he’d been electrocuted. I went invisible.
Brad marched towards him, a frown on his horrible face. “Well?”
“Um… a friendly ghost,” Charlie said, walking toward the kitchen. Brad stomped after him.
Go away, I silently screamed at Brad. Nobody wants you here.
“Ghosts aren’t friendly.” Brad caught up, looming over Charlie’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Charlie gestured vaguely at the kitchen counter.
“I’m trying to make contact with the one?eyed maid.
To try to stop her from making us cups of tea.
” He pointed to a cold mug sitting on the side, steam long since dissipated.
“It’s a waste of tea bags unless she’s going to hand them to us directly, nice and hot. ”
Brad scowled. “Tea is the least of our problems here.” He jabbed a finger at the wound on his forehead, still oozing slightly around the edges.
Charlie frowned. “I thought you said that was no big deal.”
“Did somebody say tea?” Molly’s voice drifted from the drawing room.
“No!” I shouted back. “Nobody at all.”
Brad crossed his arms, glowering at Charlie. “By the way, where’s my SpecterTrack Monitor?”
“How should I know?”
“You moved it. Out of my suitcase.”
Charlie laughed—a brilliant, wonderfully loud laugh—right in Brad’s face. “Nope. A spirit’s probably borrowed it to do some tracking of their own.”
Giggling erupted behind me. I spun around to find Rosemary and Henry materialising through the wall, smirking like the little demons they were.
“Is this your doing?”
Their smirks widened.
“Good work,” I muttered.
Charlie’s face suddenly lit up. “Oh, Brad. Did you bring any books with you?”
Brad, who’d turned his attention to the empty fridge, frowned into its barren interior. “Books?”
“Yeah. You know. Novels. To read.”
“What? No, of course not. Why?”
Charlie leaned against the counter. “Well, we might be able to trade a book to get the monitor back. I’ve got a strong sense that the ghost in the library likes books.”
Brad slammed the fridge door shut hard enough to rattle the handle. “Listen, I think you and I need a break from each other.”
Poor Charlie looked startled. Hurt flickered across his face before he masked it.
Yes, Brad. Fuck off now.
“I think you should go into town and buy some food.”
No! Not like that!
“What? Why me?”
“So I can keep working.” Brad gestured to the cut on his forehead. “Plus, I might be concussed or something.”
“Well, I might be concussed from yesterday!”
“There’s only three teabags left.”
A sharp gasp came from the other room. Molly, reacting to the crisis.
Charlie’s nose wrinkled. “Fine, then. I could use a break. But I’m taking your car.”
“You can drive?”
“Of course I can!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
I wanted to shout at Charlie that it wasn’t fine, that I couldn’t follow him into town, that he shouldn’t agree to leave. But I didn’t. I just folded my arms and pouted like a pathetic ghost with abandonment issues.
Charlie marched out of the kitchen.
Marched straight back in again.
“Um… so I need money.” Pink flushed across his cheeks, but his jaw stayed stubborn. “For food. And your keys.”
Brad dug through his utility belt, producing his keys and wallet. He handed Charlie a twenty-pound note.
Charlie’s hands remained outstretched.
Brad reluctantly added a ten. “But none of that vegan crap!” He gave Charlie a suspicious look.
Charlie turned without another word. I floated after him down the corridor, through the entrance hall, following him into the garden.
All too soon, he’d pass that threshold that bound me inside it. Sudden fear spiked through me, cold and prickly.
“Wait!”
He paused halfway down the path, twisting to face me.
“You’re… you’re coming back, right?” I asked him.
I really wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Brad was unbearable. The manor was dangerous. And he was being haunted by a pitiful creep who couldn’t stop touching him.
Charlie sighed heavily. “Yes, Bat. I’ll come back.”
I swallowed down the do you promise that wanted to escape and nodded instead.
“Um… if you’re heading into town anyway…” I trailed off.
“Yes?”
“Well, I wondered if you could grab some stuff for me. For us.”
Charlie’s forehead wrinkled. “Some… stuff?”
Giddy excitement bubbled up. I’d never had this opportunity before. Someone who would talk to me, and even leave the grounds to fetch me things.
“Well, for starters, books! Anything you can find! Preferably stuff Lady Grimthorne won’t get too attached to.
And oh! Chess pieces so we can play again.
We’re missing a white knight and two black pawns.
But maybe just buy another whole set? Then, some pencils and paper, maybe colouring pencils—the twins might like those.
Stop them digging up dead animals in the garden.
Oh, and this might be asking too much, but do you think you could get us a… television?!”
For a very long moment, Charlie stared at me like I’d just asked him to fly to the moon and bring back a souvenir rock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then his face crumpled like paper, and he burst into peals of laughter.
“No.”
“No?!”
“Listen, I only took this bloody job because I’m broke. I have thirty fucking pounds, Bat. To spend on food. It’s not going to stretch to a bloody television.”
“Stay there.”
I flew back to the house, searching. Lady Grimthorne’s ornate silver letter opener. The crystal inkwell from the desk in the study. A small jade figurine that had been gathering dust in the piano room for decades.
Carrying them took effort. Energy. The objects felt heavier than they should, dragging at me like anchors. But I managed, clutching them tight as I zoomed back through the garden.
I landed in front of Charlie and pressed them into his hands.
“There’s a pawn shop in town. The last owners of the manor used to talk about it all the time.”
Charlie examined the items, turning them over in his palms. The letter opener caught the light, throwing silver patterns across his face. “I’ll get in trouble for stealing.”
“No you won’t, I promise. Nobody will miss these.”
He sighed, shaking his head. He continued walking, reaching the gate.
“Charlie?”
He turned, the sun breaking through the clouds behind him, and my entire being ached with something I didn’t dare name. Blond hair spinning itself into gold. Blue eyes like summer sky. Fuck. If I’d had any breath to steal, he would have stolen it.
Nothing lasts forever, that’s what they all say.
“See you later, Charlie.” I offered him a small smile.
“See you later.” Amusement touched his lips. “Don’t murder Brad while I’m gone, or you’re getting nothing.”