Page 10 of Love at First Fright

“And I can tell you now,” he said, leaning in horribly close enough, “it’s not going to be me.” He smirked then. Finally. It wasn’t the sort that made you want to smile back. “I’ll see you Monday. We’re off to Grimthorne Manor. Near Devizes, in Wiltshire.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged. “Until it’s done.” And with that, he marched off, his shiny white trainers squeaking down the corridor.

Alone with this guy. In the middle of nowhere. For who knew how long.

Fuck this shit.

I knocked once on Gerald’s door, then shoved it open before he could answer.

He sat hunched over his desk, another cigarette dangling from his lips, surrounded by stacks of what possibly looked like crumpled betting slips.

“I want to swap partners.”

Gerald didn’t look up. “Not going to happen, kid. It’s final.”

“But… but he’s homophobic!”

That got his attention. Gerald’s eyes snapped to mine, his brow furrowing into deep crevices. “Brad? Homophobic? Don’t be ridiculous. His cousin’s a lesbian.”

My mouth opened. Closed. The urge to laugh hysterically bubbled up again, but I swallowed it down.

“Now, Charlie,” Gerald stubbed out his cigarette. “Brad’s the best operative I’ve got. You’re lucky to be paired with him. Most newbies don’t get that kind of experience on their first proper job.”

“Lucky,” I repeated.

“Very. Now, Brad will pick you up Monday morning. Seven sharp. Don’t be late, and don’t forget your handbook. You’ll need it.”

“But—”

“That’s all, Charlie.”

I stood there, fingers curling into fists at my sides, until my legs found the energy to move. The door clicked shut behind me. I marched past the empty reception area, out of the door, down the stairs, and onto the street. The autumn air hit me like a slap, cold and sharp. Leaves skittered across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a car alarm wailed.

Fury raged inside me. I should quit. Walk out right now. Find a normal job. Something in an office. Something where my co-workers didn’t threaten my life during introductions or inform me that accepting biscuits from ghosts would cause me to spontaneously combust.

Monday. Grimthorne Manor. Brad.

I had the weekend to prepare.

Or to run.

three

Charlie

“—and that’s when I realised, Chaz, that the trick to a proper exorcism is all in the confidence. You’ve got to commit fully, yeah? No half-arsing it.”

I stared out the passenger window at the blur of motorway, willing myself to dissolve into the upholstery. Brad’s Ford Focus smelled of protein shakes and something vaguely chemical—probably whatever he used to maintain that aggressively gelled hairstyle. The rugby-ball-shaped air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror fought a losing battle against the stench.

“Mm,” I said.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out, grateful for the distraction.

Emily’s message lit up the screen with a photo that made my heart break. My niece Lily had her face scrunched into the most grotesque expression of despair—bottom lip jutted out, eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching at her cheeks like a tiny, devastated opera singer.

Emily