Charlie #3
Brad fired again. Bat dematerialised with a cry, then popped up beside Brad like some vengeful jack-in-the-box. His hands slammed into Brad’s chest, sending him flying across the corridor. Brad’s body hit the opposite wall so hard that dust and plaster exploded in a white cloud around him.
“You!” Brad wheezed, struggling to his feet and pointing a shaking finger at Bat. “It was you who threw me across the attic!”
Bat glared at him, fury radiating from every line of his translucent form. “You bet I did. You were hurting Charlie.”
Brad raised the PolterPulse again, but Bat vanished just as the blue beam cut through empty air.
The temperature in the corridor plummeted.
Molly materialised behind Brad, her bloodstained face cloth fluttering, dark hair escaping her bun in wild tendrils. Her one visible eye fixed on Brad with murderous intent.
Brad spun around, saw her, and flinched so violently he nearly dropped his weapon.
“Excuse me, sir,” Molly said, her voice peppered with perfect politeness. “But I believe you’ve outstayed your welcome here.”
Brad spun towards her, weapon raised. The PolterPulse discharged with that horrible whining sound. Blue light slammed into Molly’s chest; she dissipated instantly.
“Molly!” Bat shouted, lunging forward.
My breath caught. I’d never taken Brad’s silly devices seriously before—they seemed like props from a budget sci-fi film. But the lingering fire in my chest told a different story. If the PolterPulse could do this to me, could it really “kill” the ghosts?
I forced myself to my feet, legs still shaky but functional.
Just in time to see Rosemary sink her teeth into Brad’s ankle.
“ARGGGG!!! WHAT THE FUCK!” Brad screamed, thrashing wildly. He kicked at the Victorian child clinging to his leg like a determined terrier, but she held fast, her little jaw locked around his Achilles tendon. The PolterPulse went flying from his grip, smashing directly into my abandoned coffee cup.
Ceramic exploded everywhere. Hot coffee splashed across the corridor tiles, mixing with broken pottery in a caffeinated disaster.
Henry materialised beside the fallen weapon, his cherubic face split by a wicked grin. He grabbed the PolterPulse with both hands, hefting it like it weighed nothing at all.
“New toy!” he announced cheerfully.
The weapon discharged wildly as Henry swung it around like a lightsaber.
Blue beams cut through the air in random directions.
Brad shouted and thrashed, trying to dislodge his sister whilst dodging the laser show.
One beam smashed into two oil portraits hanging on the wall—some long-dead Grimthornes—and the frames splintered.
Glass rained down in a glittering cascade, adding to the chaos on the floor.
Brad fumbled at his belt, unhooking a leather pouch. He upended the entire contents over Henry’s head—black salt cascading down like volcanic ash.
Henry shrieked, a sound like nails on a chalkboard, and vanished instantly.
“Henry!” Rosemary released Brad’s ankle and disappeared too, leaving perfect bite marks in the fabric of his jumpsuit.
Brad collapsed against the wall, bleeding from a dozen tiny glass cuts, chest heaving.
That’s when Vivian appeared at the end of the corridor.
She wasn’t alone. A well-dressed gentleman stood behind her, his face obscured by shadow but his posture suggesting old-fashioned menace.
“Jesus Christ!” Brad gasped, wild-eyed. “How many of you fucking things are there?”
Bat solidified beside me, his expression somewhere between amused and threatening. “Far, far too many, my friend. Just give up and get out of here. I don’t give a shit if you live, but Charlie here is too pure for this world and would probably not be okay with me murdering you.”
At this point, I could take or leave Brad being alive.
Vivian stepped forward, her pin curls perfect despite the chaos. “We’re not killing him,” she announced in her crisp, movie-star accent. “I’m not living here with him for the rest of my eternal existence.”
My heart slammed against my ribs as she produced a knife from somewhere in the folds of her dove-grey dress. The blade caught the light streaming through the corridor windows, gleaming silver and very, very sharp.
“But we can still cut off some body parts,” she purred, her voice dropping into something altogether more dangerous. Her whole demeanour shifted, shoulders squaring, eyes narrowing with predatory focus, a shark scenting blood.
The well-dressed man stepped back into the shadows, content to watch.
Vivian lunged forward with fluid grace, pinning Brad to the floor before he could react. Her blonde hair whipped around her face as she straddled his chest, knife hovering inches from his throat. Brad lay stunned beneath her, eyes wide with shock and terror.
“Now, darling,” she whispered, her crimson lips curving into a smile that belonged in a thriller film, “let’s discuss your future prospects…”
A horrible screeching sound cut through her words—metal grinding against metal.
The front door.
Multiple footsteps echoed through the entrance hall, growing closer.
My brain stopped working the second Harrison and Evelyn Lancaster appeared at the end of the corridor.
Broken pottery and glass covered the floor. Coffee stains splashed across the walls. Brad lay pinned, bleeding from glass cuts, his face twisted in terror as he stared at something—someone—the Lancasters possibly couldn’t even see.
“Good heavens!” Evelyn’s hand flew to her chest, eyes locked on Brad’s sprawled form.
Vivian and her companion vanished. Bat remained—but Harrison and Evelyn’s gazes darted between Brad and me, sliding right through where he stood.
“What… what’s going on?” Harrison’s features twisted with fury.
Brad struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. Glass crunched under his boots.
For a horribly long moment, I held my breath, terrified he’d lead with the fact that he’d caught me with my cock down a ghost’s throat in a cupboard. Which, quite frankly, would have been mortifying beyond all measure.
But instead, he said, “Powerful entities, sir. Very powerful entities, as I’ve been saying all along. I need to call Gerald for backup. Right now.”
Harrison and Evelyn exchanged a look.
“That won’t be necessary,” Harrison said cooly.
Brad blinked. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re fired.”