Page 127 of Love at First Fright

Blue light flooded the kitchen in blinding bursts. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

The beam passed through floating crockery, through empty air, through—

Cold slammed into my side. Bat’s arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me sideways.

Teacups crashed to the floor. Saucers shattered.

Dave scrambled backwards on his ass, shoes squeaking against tile. “You’re all insane! Harrison’s insane! This whole place is insane! I’m going to the police! I’m suing you for this shit!”

He lurched to his feet, sprinted for the back door. Fumbled with the lock. Hands shaking so badly he could barely grip the bolt.

Then, finally—he got it open.

A cheer erupted around us—childish voices, Molly’s pleased hum, Lady Grimthorne’s haughty approval, Vivian’s theatrical applause.

Dave bolted through the doorway without looking back.

Brad lurched towards the door, PolterPulse still raised, shouting after him. “Wait! Please don’t call the police! They’re such a pain!”

The back door swung shut.

Silence crashed through the kitchen.

I stood in the wreckage—broken crockery everywhere, cupboard doors hanging open, frost clinging to the windows. My teacup sat perfectly intact on the counter, steam still rising. Maybe I could enjoy it in just a moment.

Brad and I stared at each other across the destroyed kitchen.

Bat stood right by me, arms crossed, grin unrepentant. “So. Impressed?”

I tried to glare at him. Failed spectacularly when my mouth twitched.

The sound of a van engine roaring to life shattered the quiet. Tyres screeched on gravel, the noise fading rapidly into the distance.

Brad slowly holstered the PolterPulse. Turned to face me fully. “Right. Well. That went about as expected.”

“He’s not coming back, is he?”

“Would you?”

Bat shrugged, examining his fingernails with studied nonchalance. “They never come back. If we do our job correctly.”

Brad’s gaze snapped to me. Eyes narrowed.

“What are you looking at? There’s still one left, isn’t there?” His voice dropped, sharp with suspicion. “You can see them.”

My breath snagged. “What? No. I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Charlie.” Brad stepped closer, combat boots crunching on broken porcelain. “What can you see? What are they doing?”

Bat raised his eyebrows, leaning back against the counter. Watching me with obvious curiosity.

“I can’t see anything!” The words tumbled out too fast, too defensive. “Same as you. Exactly the same. Flying crockery and… and that woman on the stairs. Vivian, maybe. That’s it.”

“You started saying all that random shit about her winning a BAFTA.”

“Well… my mum was a big fan of hers!”

“I don’t buy this.” Brad’s hand visibly tightened on his PolterPulse. “There’s something you’re not telling me. And I’m going to find out what.”