Page 5 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“No.”

“Many claim to hear the heavy breathing of a man in this room or see a glowing orb of light lingering in the farthest corner.” The guide rounded the group, bent low and creeping as his voice filled the room. Pen rolled her eyes but curled her hands into her jacket as he stepped between her and Laszlo. “Maybe they were just seeing things, hmm?” He raised a brow. “Or were they?”

Laughing, he urged them on, and Pen followed behind Laszlo and Louise as they leaned into each other. She didn’t like this place. She captured Laszlo’s hand with hers, and though he raised a brow, he didn’t say anything as he squeezed her fingers. Louise followed the movement with a question in her eyes, but her brother only shook his head.

“While people without housing ventured here for a reprieve from the streets, the seedy underbelly of Edinburgh trickled down to these vaults. Illegal gambling dens, distilleries, and even the storing of illegally obtained corpses all took place here not long after the businesses fled. But the cold, damp conditions of these vaults led to many, sometimes gruesome, deaths.”

Pressing a finger to his lips, he motioned them on. The group stopped in a small room, and he continued, “Perhaps the most beloved ghost of these vaults is the Watcher, or Mr. Boots if ye will.” The group laughed, and Pen chuckled along with them, ignoringthe creeping feeling of something on her left shoulder. The tour guide held up a finger, expression suddenly serious. “Many say he was a city guard, but all know him by the sound of his boots.”

“Is he real?” someone called.

The guide shrugged. “There’s only one way to know for sure.” Silence filled the chamber, and Pen straightened, searching the group as they waited for some sound, some sign that this ridiculous tour wasn’t all just a way to scam them out of their money.

And maybe she was imagining it, maybe it was someone else in the tour company, but she could have sworn she heard the sound of heavy boots on stone.

“And to this day,” the man drawled in a slow, deliberate tone, “ye can hear the sounds of his boots on the stone.”

He flicked off his lantern, plunging them into darkness. Pen froze in place, fingers tightening around Laszlo’s. The underground rooms were pitch-black without his guiding lantern, making the nerves in her gut twist. The guide laughed, but before he could turn the light back on, someone squealed. Pen screamed and stumbled back into the wall, pulse thundering in her ears as she scrambled for purchase before righting herself.

“Are you okay?” Laszlo asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

As soon as the lights flooded the space, she tugged Laszlo out of the crypts, sucking in a sharp breath of cool, fresh air when they emerged on the street, Louise following quickly after. It was fully night now, dark except for string lights and old lampposts illuminating the streets.

“Pen, are you sure you’re okay?”

She shivered as she tugged on the sleeves of her jacket. She was not okay. Not in the least. Pen didn’t believe in the paranormal. She’d never had any reason to, but she was starting to doubt herself. That silly little tour was making her question everything. And she was meant to spend a week in a supposedly haunted castle?

“I need a drink.” She sighed, meeting Laszlo’s curious gaze. Louise waited awkwardly off to the side, lips puckered in thought as she scanned the darkened street, giving them some space.

Laszlo smiled. “Good thing we’re in Scotland.”

They meandered until they found a small pub on the Royal Mile and went down a set of stairs with “Live Music” posters plastered to the brick. Scottish punk music filled the place, loud and blaring, the words molding into one another. After motioning to the bartender, Pen ordered a whiskey, and Laszlo and Louise asked for ciders.

“It’s good seeing you,” Laszlo said to Pen as they found a corner booth in a small room off the main hall. “It feels like it’s been years.”

“Well,Ihaven’t seen you in a year,” Louise said, taking a long sip of cider.

“Hush, you,” he chided.

Pen smiled warily. “Only since…” Since Book Con.

He’d been there, of course, to witness the beginning of her downfall. Laszlo had been with her through it all. Pen swirled the amber liquid in her glass as she watched her friend. His fingers flew across his phone, the screen casting a bluish light across his pale skin, throwing shadows over his eyes. She took a drink of her whiskey, reveling in the burn as it seared a path down her throat.

Louise looked at her phone with a frown before standing. “I need to take this really quick.” Smiling, she slipped out of the booth with her cider in hand and disappeared around the corner, a quiet “Isi, are you okay?” melting into the sounds of the pub.

The pub smelled of booze and cigarette smoke, the table and floors sticky. Pen tried not to think about the way her sleeve had adhered to the table as she lifted her hand for another drink.

“So, what’d you think of the tour?” Laszlo asked, turning back to Pen.

“I don’t know.” She sighed as she swirled her glass from sideto side, staring at her warped reflection. “Do you really believe in all that stuff?”

“Ghosts? Not really, but it’s fun, isn’t it? I love hearing local legends and myths. This city is full of them.”

“I bet,” she murmured, taking another sip.

Louise reappeared, a whiskey in hand this time. She slid onto the bench beside Pen, grinning sidelong. Her curls danced with her every movement, brushing the collar of her jacket as she turned to Pen.