16. A Ghostly Reintroduction
sixteen
A Ghostly Reintroduction
Archer
Along croak comes from the open window, and I glance across to find Edgar nodding and bowing excitedly.
He’s obsessed with Liam. And I can’t say I’m faring much better.
I’ve had all morning to think about this situation, and I’ve come to the conclusion that Liam is:
Hot
Captivating
Sexy
In need of my protection.
“Thanks for letting me know he’s here, Edgar,” I call over. I flip the kettle on and slip the pastries into the hot oven.
Did I go overboard? I don’t know. I may have made some blueberry friands, and some raspberry ones, maybe a few danishes that might have taken me longer than is strictly necessary for a casual breakfast. But there’s nothing wrong with freshly baked bread and good French butter. Unless it’s to go with pastries…
Ugh, it’s so carb heavy. I hope he likes carb-heavy breakfasts.
I hope he slips into a carb coma and naps right there on the sofa where I can ogle him with abandon.
Snap out of it, Archer!
I’m having Liam over for one reason and one reason only. Until that man quits this ridiculous job, he’s staying here with me, safe and sound, where I can keep an eye on him.
Well, relatively safe and sound. But given the recent uptick in ghost activity across the UK, he’s got to be better off here with me than in any of the other hundreds of haunted buildings dotted about the place.
I’ve got ghosts aplenty, tonnes of stuff I can teach him about for the next decade if need be. And I can control most of them. And if these ghosts aren’t enough, I’ll call a few more up.
I just need to keep him safe from the thing. That I can try to take care of by myself. Or find someone else to call who is actually experienced with the supernatural.
Just not Liam. Not sweet, hot Liam, who’s walking up the drive right now, chestnut hair shifting in the breeze, skin fresh and glowing, his very fashionably oversized overalls dipping in all the right places to show his arms and chest off.
That man is built. Damn, I’d love to see what’s beneath that sweater—
Shut up, Archer!
He’s here for one reason, and one reason only.
A relationship is not happening.
It’s just me sprinting through my living room like a totally normal and calm person. Just me throwing the door open and skipping down the stairs. Just me, “Good morning, Liam!”
Just that smile. God, that beautiful, glowing smile. “Good morning, Mr Gravely.”
Fuck, the way he melts me every time he calls me that. Does he realise? Is it deliberate? “I was hoping you’d be back today,” I say, not at all desperate-sounding, I’m sure.
If I am, he lets me off with a sweet and casual, “Well, you promised me pastries, so how could I resist?”
Going over the top with carbs was the correct choice!
When is it ever not, though?
“Come in.” I say it eagerly, then turn towards my door before I actually register that there is some other guy here.
That probably needs addressing. So I swivel back, and Liam almost walks into me, which would be fine by me.
He stumbles back with a blush, and he’s only here for a few ghost-pointers, so I don’t actually notice how cute that is.
“No guns,” I say to the other guy, because Liam would never.
To my surprise, Liam, indeed, does.
He pulls a weird little blue gun out of his pocket, but asks, “I should leave it outside? I don’t want to spook them.”
The other guy, who hasn’t said a word yet, cracks up, cackling like it’s the funniest thing ever. Liam and I both settle frowns on him.
“Spook them,” he repeats. “Good one.”
Who is he and why is he talking when Liam could be talking?
“Because they’re ghosts,” the new guy explains.
He should definitely go home.
I lead them in anyway, settle them at the table, then start pulling things out of my oven as casually as I can, like I didn’t make a whole breakfast feast for this man with the recurring daydream of this being more than a one-off event.
“Did you eat?” I call across.
“No,” Liam replies, much to my pleasure. “I got called into the office early, so I kind of had to dash.”
My hand pauses on the oven door. “Not about Raul?”
“No. No, apparently he’s okay.”
I knew he would be, but it’s still good to hear.
Liam continues, “He’s, um, I guess he made a full recovery because he was well enough to quit and tell them he’s joining the police force instead.”
I slide the friands off the hot tray onto a pretty yellow plate. “I wouldn’t trust that man with a real gun,” I mutter under my breath.
Liam must have heard, because he laughs out, “That’s exactly what I said.”
He should have a license to carry that smile.
You’re here to protect him and nothing more. Stop staring.
“I actually got a bonus,” he says then, beaming like it’s his personal mission to entrance me. He does, of course. He looks so happy. And he deserves it after yesterday.
“Did you?” I try to act surprised, and I think I’m doing a decent job.
“I did. Two hundred and fifty pounds!”
The tray clatters to the table, friands and danishes spilling everywhere. “Two hundred and fifty pounds?” I repeat, virtually spitting the words at him.
That billion-megawatt smile only grows brighter. “I know, right? For one day of work! How great is that?”
“That’s…” I force the smile like my life depends on it. “That’s so great, Liam. Two hundred and fifty pounds. That’s… so great.”
That bastard Gerald’s pocketed the other half! The utter prick! He’ll be hearing from me.
“So, I am sorry we’re a little late, but we had to go there, then…” His eyes run over the spread I’ve laid out, hungrily, but a bit bashful. “This looks…”
“Eat. Please. Eat and we’ll have a proper talk about things before we press ahead.” I take my seat, near Liam, because reasons, and pour some tea. “I’ve asked Simon to stay out today, so hopefully we won’t get into such a mess again.”
It feels good to be able to be that level of honest with him. We have a long way to go, but had I been able to do this yesterday, how differently things might have gone.
“Who’s Simon?” the new guy asks, looking around with… keen interest. Maybe Liam told him about the ghosts? Maybe he actually knows a few things about ghosts? He’s one up on Raul in that case.
“Oh, this is Fabian,” Liam introduces him. “First day on the job.”
Okay, so… maybe he also knows nothing about ghosts. Great. Should be fun.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.
“Likewise,” he replies, actually looking pleased as punch to be here. Which is nice, I suppose. If a little odd. I offer him an encouraging smile.
Liam’s head lowers, his shoulders hunching.
“Friand?” I almost hit him with the plate in my enthusiasm to get the smile back.
And there it is. “Thank you.”
I pop the plate back down, then attempt to commence a mature discussion about the job and the situation.
But before I can, Liam’s friand splats onto the plate, raspberry oozing out like spilled blood. His face turns several shades whiter, and he freezes there like that, mouth open, staring towards the living room.
And I know. I just bloody know. “Lacey?”
There we are, all three of us, trying to eat our nice breakfast and being interrupted by this weird child ghost. She’s peeking, about as creepily as possible, over the back of an armchair, just watching.
Her long, dark hair is dishevelled, soaking wet, running rivulets of ghost water down the chair and onto the floor.
Her eyes are bloodshot, as wild as if she were raised in a barn.
Maybe she was, for all I know. It’s not like she ever says much of interest.
“Out, darling,” I encourage her.
Naturally, she doesn’t move at all, just stares at Liam, who stares back at her, and if I was going to make a move on him, which I’m obviously not, she would really be messing with my chances right now. “Lacey!”
Fabian pipes up, “Is she a ghost?” sounding far less scared than 99.9999999999 percent of people would be.
“She is most definitely a ghost,” I reply, though my attention’s mostly on Liam, watching for his reaction.
He’s only taking her in, both hands on the table, palms flat. “H-hi, Lacey,” he says, voice shaky.
She, of course, does nothing, just continues to be weird and creepy, watching us in silence.
“Okay, so…” I try again with this morning’s planned discussion. “Let’s call her ghost number one. Lacey. Small, weird child.”
“Don’t call her weird,” Liam whispers, as though a) she can’t hear him, and b) she doesn’t know perfectly well that she’s being weird.
“Well, she is being weird, aren’t you, Lacey?” I glare over at her, but her spooky face never moves.
Weird.
Creepy.
“It’s polite to just say hello,” I tell her. “And to not stare.” But she stares on, regardless. “She’ll dissipate eventually,” I assure them. “It’s best to just carry on as if she’s not there.”
“Oh, but I’m not alone…” she rasps in a low, eerie voice.
“What do you mean, you’re not—” Just as I ask the half-question, I catch the second pair of eyes boring into me from the far side of the coffee table. “What the f— Who or what is that?”
“That’s Fred,” comes her husky reveal.
A boy. Maybe ten years old? His ghost fingers slide up onto the table, and he lifts one finger a little, like he’s maybe waving?
“Where the hell did Fred come from?”
“He came from the other side,” she whispers mysteriously.
“I know that,” I reply tolerantly. “You all come from the other side. What I mean is, how the hell did he get here?”
“He’s very dead,” she goes on. “Fell down a well. And there was no one to hear him scream…”
“Okay,” I sigh under my breath. “Then you should get along very well, what with you being a drowning victim.” I address him, “Fred, I’m just a little busy this morning.
Can you please pop upstairs with Lacey, and…
” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘And I’ll send you on to your eternal sleep as soon as I get five minutes,’ but I’ve already blown enough of my cover with Liam as it is. “Lacey, please take him upstairs.”