6. A wrinkly ball sack
six
A wrinkly ball sack
EWAN
Shame is one of the worst feelings in all known existence. It slithers around your heart like a snake, inflicting venomous bites every time you remember its cause.
I came in my pants while sucking James’ fingers.
I whine and bury my face deep under the blanket.
I’m pretty sure that what I did is considered sexual assault, evil ghost or not.
And I was on my knees while doing it. I’ve never been more ashamed in my entire life, not even that time when I was fourteen and I ripped my shorts at the pool one summer, and all my friends and classmates saw my bum.
I’ll never be able to look James in the eyes ever again.
I debated sleeping on one of the couches in the common rooms, but it’ll look unprofessional and raise questions.
The curfew ends at 5am, and the early risers would have been up and about, staring at me.
How would I explain to Shirley that I’m avoiding James because I came in my pants while sucking his fingers?
I whine again and hit my forehead on the wall by the bed.
The best plan I could come up with was to get in bed, take as little space as possible, and pretend to be asleep when he comes back. I hope he won’t kick me out of the room. He sounded really angry earlier...
What if he doesn’t want to work with me any longer? Tears prickle my eyes, and I keep them shut. I was really starting to like James. He makes me feel safe and he knows my secret. Way to destroy your relationship with your new teammate, Ewan. You imbecile.
As soon as I escaped the library, I ran to our room and took my soiled clothes off and hid them in my bag. I might set them on fire in the back alley behind the hostel when I get the chance.
I hear the scuffle of feet outside, and I go slack just before the door opens. I hold my breath and wait, wondering if he’ll kick me out. He walks in and closes the door.
The silence stretches, then James whispers, “Ewan, are you asleep?”
I keep very still and quiet.
There’s the rustling of clothes, then he turns off the light and climbs into bed.
Long after James has fallen asleep, I’m still wide awake, staring at the wall in front of me.
“Sorry,” I whisper in the dark.
We’re awoken by a scratch at the door. When I open my eyes, James is facing me in bed, looking confused and still half asleep. I smile at him before remembering last night, and my face crumbles when my shame comes roaring back.
James’ smile too, falters, and he frowns. “Ewan—”
There is another scratch, followed by a loud meow outside.
“We should open the door,” I say, happy about the interruption.
He curses and gets to his feet. “What?” he growls as soon as he reveals our visitor.
Pearl meows adorably, then dashes inside the room and lands on me. She purrs like an engine and curls on my chest.
James looks exhausted. “It’s too early for this shit...” he grumbles, even though the sun is high in the sky, shining brightly through the small window. He tries to go back to bed, but Pearl hisses at him. He backs away, horrified. “Well then, time for breakfast. You coming?” he asks me.
I nod. “In a moment.”
He’s about to say something, but Pearl hisses at him again, so he stomps out of the room, mumbling things like “fucking cats” and “furry menace”.
When James has left, I bury my face in the Ragdoll’s soft fur. “Thank you, sweetie.”
None of this is James’ fault, but I need some time to compose myself. I don’t want to have a talk about how depraved I am. I don’t know how to face him yet. I sigh and stroke Pearl’s back. She licks the tip of my nose.
“Ewan, what about breakfa—” James falters as he reenters the room an hour later. “Oh my fucking god...”
“Sorry,” I say. “I really meant to come... I mean go do... down...” I stammer. Fuck. Why does everything sound dirty? “I meant to join you for breakfast, but then I couldn’t move.”
The seven cats found their way to our room moments after his departure, and they all sat on me.
Misty, the white cat, is on my chest beside Pearl.
Then I have Lucifer on my legs, with Retia and Rava, the black cat and the tabby, a bonded pair.
The fat calico, Mouche, is a heavy weight on my bladder.
The Russian blue, Lupin, is sleeping on the pillow behind my head, tail curled around my throat.
“These cats aren’t normal,” James mumbles. “I’m telling you.” As if on cue again, the seven cats look at him. He shudders. “Fucking creepy. I’m going back to the kitchen to think about our next course of action. Join me when you can, please.”
He glares at the cats one last time before grabbing his bag and leaving.
I sigh and pet all the cats one by one. “Thank you, my friends, but I’ll have to face him sooner or later. Also, I really need to pee.”
The cats purr loudly.
Half an hour later, I make my way to the staff kitchen with my heart in my throat. At least James is still willing to keep working with me after last night. Maybe if we can pretend it didn’t happen, this feeling of intense shame will go away eventually.
When I enter the kitchen, James is seated at the table. Shirley is pacing the room, and Lana is leaning on the counter, stirring a cup of tea.
“Good morning, sugar,” Lana says. Today, she’s wearing a dusty pink track suit and her red hair in a high ponytail. “I heard you had an awful encounter with the Lady in Red.”
I look at James, mortified. What did he tell them?
“She almost knocked us both out,” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. “I was so fucking horny I thought my cock would explode.”
I flush. He was? I was too busy sucking his fingers and coming in my overalls to really pay attention to his cues.
It sounds like he didn’t give them details about my... sexual assault situation...
Lana cackles, seeing my face. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. That ghost is a dignity hazard. I went to the library once to try to stop a threesome at two in the morning. Let’s say it became a foursome. One of the men, a Portuguese tourist was so big he—”
“Boss...” Shirley cuts her off. “Too much information.”
Lana hides her smile by sipping her tea.
To my surprise, James is laughing. And in the blink of eye, I feel slightly better.
“Well, tonight we do need a decent plan of action,” he says. “I admit I let my temper get the better of me last night, and it made things worse. The Lady in Red seems to be more coherent than the other two ghosts we met. Maybe we can negotiate with her.”
“And maybe masturbate before going,” Lana says.
Shirley groans. “Oh my god, boss...”
I laugh, and Lana winks at me. I wonder briefly if she’s doing it to make me feel better about the whole situation. If so, it’s working.
We spend the afternoon devising a plan involving a lot of flattering and heartfelt apologies.
When midnight comes and the last guests trickle to bed, my anxiety is through the roof. Will I be able to control myself this time if the Lady in Red uses her ability on us again? Or will I do something I’ll regret terribly? I can only take so much shame.
“I really think we should split-up if we face her wrath again,” I repeat for the hundredth time. It can only help if James isn’t close when I get terribly horny. He’s a catalyst, no doubt about it. I find him quite attractive.
“No fucking way,” he says. “Haven’t you watched any horror movies? Never split-up when facing an evil entity. I’m not letting you go in alone to face a crazy ghost lady. I’m your bodyguard, remember?”
I don’t actually watch horror movies, I get scared too easily.
He’s walking in front of me in the dim-lit hallway leading to the library, and I keep getting close to him instinctively, then having to force myself to slow down. I should really keep my distance, but I’m attracted to him like a magnet.
The oil painting of a woman petting a cat seems to judge me from her position on the wall. Lana really likes to collect anything cat-related, and the hallways are filled with them.
I stop walking as I feel a quake under my feet.
“James?”
He turns to me. “Hm?”
“Did you feel that?”
He frowns. “What?”
There’s a second tremor, and his frown deepens.
“That,” I say.
“Who did that?”
I dig through my memory. There was a mention of it in Lana’s notes, but it wasn’t attributed to a particular ghost. “I don’t know.”
A cold breeze travels through the hallway, coming from the lower floors, ruffling our hair.
“It feels like the house is breathing,” James muses.
I groan. “Stop. That’s terrifying.”
He changes direction and walks back down the stairs. “Let’s check it out.”
I don’t know if I’m happy about the diversion or not. On the one hand, it delays having to deal with the Lady in Red, but on the other hand I’m not sure I want to face whatever is powerful enough to shake the entire house.
As we reach the first floor, the quake intensifies, and I wonder why no one is waking in panic. The hostel is at full capacity, there must be someone who’s a light sleeper. And yet, the house is quiet. Not a single door opens.
“James...” I whisper as I follow him down the basement stairs.
“It's coming from below,” he says, turning the light on. There is a lone bulb above our heads.
We reach an iron door that looks as old as the house, as if time never caught up here.
“Yes, but—” A cat zooms between my legs, and I scream.
It’s Lupin, the Russian blue. He hisses when James puts his hand on the doorknob.
James jumps back. “What is wrong with this cat? Shoo! Shoo! We’re trying to do our job, buddy.”
Lupin growls and circles around us, his tail twitching rapidly. Pearl and Misty join us, looking distraught.
“James...” I say. “The cats...”
But he’s already trying out different keys from the ones Shirley gave us. “What’s in the basement, do you know?”
Misty meows at me.
“I don’t know...”
“A-ha!” James says, victorious.
There is an audible click as he turns an old-fashioned key and he pushes the heavy door open. Immediately, we’re hit by a wave of musty, damp air. It smells wrong, like forgotten places.
James grabs his phone, turns the flashlight on, and aims the beam through the open door. It barely pierces the oily darkness, and we can’t make out what’s really on the other side. But when the light reaches the ceiling, there are dark patches spreading on the paint.
“What is it?” I whisper, as if afraid the house itself is going to hear me.
James hums and leans through the doorframe. I resist the urge to pull him back out. “Looks like mould. It can’t be good.”
I get closer to him. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, you might be right.” He backs out from the door. “We’re unprepared and—”
There is a sudden freezing wind coming from the basement, and the heavy door slams with a loud bang, making us both jump. There’s another click as something—or someone—locks it again.
“Holy shit,” James breathes out. And that’s when we hear someone scream in Gaelic above us. “What the fuck? What now?”
The cats yowl and run up the stairs, James follows them. I find myself alone by the closed basement door. There is another quake, and the house groans around me, as if the building itself is holding on for dear life. A cold shiver slithers down my spine, and I run away without turning back.
By the time I make it to the first floor, James is cursing loudly as a suit of armour is charging down the stairs towards us with a war cry. I stand frozen for a moment, unsure of what's going on, and James grabs me by the arm and pushes me against the wall just as the armour comes barrelling down.
For a moment, I wonder if a guest at the hostel had too much to drink, but then James says, “It must be the Warrior.”
My eyes widen. Oh. Of course, a ghost.
The suit of armour peels off from the entity and falls to the ground in a cacophony, revealing a translucent old man underneath, wearing a kilt and padded leather armour. My Gaelic is rudimentary at best, and so I can’t make sense of what he’s screaming at us.
“Do you know what he’s saying?” James asks me. “He’s going to wake the whole damn house.”
I shake my head.
James walks up to the ghost and tries to get his attention, but the Warrior screams angrily at the whole world. He floats around the hall like a ghostly bull charging.
Then the entity does something quite unexpected, even after all we’ve seen so far since we arrived here. He bends forwards, pulls his kilt up, and flashes us his butt and wrinkly ball sack.
“Oh my fucking god!” James says. “Are you kidding me?”
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.
So that’s why Lana and the staff call him the Flashing Warrior, and not just the Warrior like the Ghost Tour book.
“I need bleach for my eyes!” James says. I laugh some more, and he looks at me with a smile. “I’ll try to distract him long enough for you to release him from the house,” he shouts over the ghost’s nonsensical war cries.
I nod. “Alright.”
“Here goes nothing.” He raises his arms as if approaching a scared animal. “Hey, Warrior! We need your help fighting off the British.”
Of course, this works wonders to catch the old highlander’s attention. If Lana’s notes are right, he lived during the eighteenth century, a time when the Scots and the Brits didn’t really see eye to eye.
The Warrior’s toothless smile widens and an honest-to-god claymore appears in his hands. He brandishes his weapon with another of his war cries and charges towards me.
“Oh shit!” James says. “I’m the Brit! It’s me!”
He puts himself in front of me and zaps the ghost with the PolterPulse. The claymore dissipates, but the Warrior continues his mad charge. His immaterial body goes through James, but doesn’t come out on the other side.
I watch, horrified, as James convulses and screams with a distorted voice.