7. The chill of the grave #3
She smiles. “I mean just that. You’ll find them in all places, no matter if you locked the doors or not. They have their ways.”
Okay... creepier by the day. “Did you need something?” I ask.
“Oh yeah! We found the suit of armour down the stairs early this morning, and Lana asked me to check on you.”
I sigh and look for clothes to put on in my bag. “We’re fine. The Warrior gave us a tough time, but we got rid of him in the end.”
“Great! Did he—”
“Flash us his wrinkly ball sack and arsehole?” I say. “Yes. Yes, he did.”
Shirley laughs. “Gosh, what a weirdo. We think he was tired of his attacks being inefficient in the material world, so he found a way to annoy Earl Lynch. Lana says the old lunatic mentioned the habit started a few years after he summoned the ghost. He’d appear and scare visitors with his arse.”
“I bet it worked...” I mumble as I push my head through the hole of a t-shirt.
Ewan is still ogling me. I replay the moment in my head, last night when he came all over me in the dark. If only I’d been in full control of my body, how much fun could we have had? He diverts his eyes when he realises I’m watching him, too.
“Come eat breakfast. It’s Saturday, we made brunch,” Shirley says. “And you can tell us all about your ghost hunt. Oh, and by the way, you put your shirt on backwards.” She laughs and disappears.
The cat, Mouche, jumps out of Ewan’s arms and follows Shirley down the stairs.
By the time we make it to the staff kitchen twenty minutes later, we’re welcomed by a little crowd of seven people.
The hostel runs with the help of travellers and volunteers who stay for a few weeks before moving on, Lana and Shirley being the only full-time residents with the cats.
They made a habit of having Saturday brunch to welcome the new volunteers and say goodbye to the ones leaving, apparently.
I’m a morning grump, but I have to admit after getting possessed last night by a ghost and with the aftertaste of death still clinging to my soul and body, I welcome the warmth of the living. Laughter and the smell of food dispel the remnants of the chill of death.
Ewan’s presence by my side doesn’t hurt either. He always seems to be around me, and I’m far too aware of him. Our elbows touch and our eyes meet constantly as we mingle with the others.
Lana’s exuberant personality shines and she makes everyone laugh as we help them finish cooking and set the table. She makes mimosas for everyone, and I don’t know who had the brilliant idea to drink cocktails for breakfast, but I’m now a fervent practitioner of morning drinking.
Shirley tells us about her latest adventure in the city, when she met a Dutch tourist and they spent the night partying and having fun, until he fell in a ditch head first around four in the morning, broke his arm, and she kept him company in the hospital until his friends found him.
The way she recounts the events has us all cackling, and by the end Lana is laughing so much she chokes on her mimosa and it comes out through her nostrils.
Ewan is sitting on my right, and every time he laughs, I can feel it where our arms touch. It's nice.
“We need to go out tonight!” Shirley says. “All of us!”
Two staff members are leaving in the afternoon, but the others agree to. Then she turns to us expectantly.
“I mean, we still have ghosts to hunt,” I say. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Lana swats an invisible fly. “It’s Saturday night! You can take a day off. You’ve been at it for a few nights now. Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s been forever since I went out, too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And who’s going to look after the hostel?”
She smiles. “The cats, of course. And they do a damn good job of it.”
I shiver. “If you say so.” I wouldn’t mind not seeing the furry buggers for a night. I look at Ewan. “Why not. Are you in?”
He nods and blushes. “Sure.”
The others cheer, and Lana prepares another round of mimosas.
We share more stories over pancakes and eggs, and naturally the discussion wanders to sex and dating again.
“Anyone in your life?” a guy called Noah asks Ewan.
My teammate blushes, as usual, and sputters some confusing answer that more or less equals to: no, I’m single.
Shirley immediately pounces on me. “And you, James? Anyone you fancy?”
From the glint in her eyes, I know she’s aware of something happening between Ewan and me. She saw the deflated air mattress rolled in a corner of our small room.
I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t date, to be honest. I don’t have the head space for it right now, nor do I want to, even if I did.” I chuckle. “I like my life as it is, with no expectations to meet but mine.”
“Alright,” Lana says. “You seem to know what you want and don’t want, and that’s a strength.” She offers me a toast.
Shirley’s eyes linger on me a moment too long. It looks like she wants to say something, but thinks better of it.
I feel Ewan move at my side, and he backs his chair a little, as if seeking more room for his legs. Our arms don’t touch anymore, and he avoids my eyes for the rest of brunch.