He didn’t strike me as too bright.”
“He’s quiet, not thick.”
“You only think so because you fancy him.”
Briar rose from his hiding spot and assessed the disaster made of his flat. “What a mess.”
With a scrabble of claws, Vatii emerged from under the bed and flew to the counter. “What are you going to do about it?”
Briar picked up one of the cast-iron pans. “I have a plan.”
It took effort to find enough iron items to contain a ghost, but between the pots, pans, and filings packed into his tithe belt, he had enough. He arranged the items in a wonky circle. In charcoal, he sketched a sigil onthe floor, then dug a few candles out of his trunk and lit them for good measure.
“You’re going to summon it? Are you insensible?” Vatii said.
“I just want to talk with them. Have you got a better idea?”
“Yep. Ask Rowan for the shop next door.”
“Then the second witch who moves here will have to deal with it. Might as well find out why this ghost is so agitated. Anyway, you’re the one harping on me to find a talent to capitalize on. This’ll be great practice for exorcism.”
Vatii croaked sourly. “Not the talent I had in mind.”
Briar finished lighting candles and sat facing the circle in a dining chair. He focused on the circle, but not intensely. It felt rude to drag the ghost out of hiding without permission.
It took time. Briar wasn’t patient, so he started to hum a naughty verse from a sea shanty he’d learned as a teenager while living above a pub in Port Haven. He hadn’t understood the words at the time. His mother had laughed and explained, kindly and factually, what was really happening with the barmaid’s tongue in the third verse. Briar had been equal parts horrified and delighted.
He didn’t make it far into the song. The candles flickered then guttered out in a violent draft. Light danced mirage-like in the circle. One pan gave an alarming judder, and Briar toed it back into place to keep the circle closed. The mirage shifted, purple and undulating, before resolving into a human.
The ghost had sleek black hair worn in a messy bun. She wore an oversized jumper, leggings with holes in the knees, and enormous boots with scuffed toes. She carried a miasma of gloom about her, shoulders slouched and hands stuffed in her jumper.
In a drawling voice, she said, “Well, this is inconvenient.”
Briar tried to sound friendly, but it was difficult when addressing a near-death experience. “It would have been more inconvenient if I’d lost my head just now. I wanted to ask you not to throw knives at me.”
The ghost looked at him as if she’d only just noticed he was there. “Oh. You.” She looked down at the iron pots and pans, nose wrinkling. “You know ghosts are allergic to iron, right?”
“That was the point.”
“It’s pretty uncool. Like if you were allergic to peanuts, and I trapped you in a creepy circle of them.”
“I’m not allergic to peanuts. And again, knives.”
“That was, like, ten minutes ago. Get over it. You’d be peeved too if someone came into your house and made it smell like a chum bucket.”
Briar sat back in his chair, affronted. Vatii cackled so hard she nearly took flight.
“Okay, my cooking needs improvement, but it wasn’t worth killing me over.”
“Ugh, the living. So obsessed with not dying. It’s really no big deal.” She somehow managed to sound aggravated and disinterested at the same time. “What do you want?”
“I’d like to not be haunted. But you’re not striking me as very agreeable, so maybe we can sort something out? What doyouwant?”
“I want you to leave me alone, obviously. And let me out of this dumb trap.”
“The second one I can do, but I sort of live here. Don’t you want to cross over? Be at peace?”
“Look at me. I was a witch your age. Just finished my apprenticeship when I got murdered. Would you be feeling peaceful?”
