Page 137 of Love at First Fright

“Charlie!” Bat’s voice cracked with terror.

A now blurry Brad whipped out the PolterPulse, the weapon humming as he aimed it at Margery. The neon-blue beam struck her dead centre.

Nothing. She didn’t even flinch.

“Leave him alone!” Bat roared, floating high to position himself between Margery and me. His form blazed brighter than I’d ever seen it, violence radiating from every translucent inch of him.

Margery’s face snapped to Bat, her expression twisting with annoyance as her gaze travelled over his leather wristbands, the stitched bat on his shirt, his choppy haircut. “What manner of garb is this? Thou dost dress as a street urchin gone mad with coal dust. What is that upon thine eyes? Art thou ill?”

“It’s eyeliner! It’s called fashion,” Bat snapped. “At least, it was fashion for a hot second, anyway.”

“Thou art most peculiar,” she said. “Thou dost aid these grave robbers, spirit?”

“No, I didn’t aid them. In fact, I told them multiple times to leave your bones alone!” Bat shot back. “But Charlie’s innocent. You want to kill someone, kill that one, but leave Charlie out of this!”

“Innocent?” Margery laughed like breaking glass.

“Innocent,” Bat confirmed. “And so am I. I told them that you weren’t actually a witch. I told them that you were a victim.”

Margery appeared to consider this, her burning gaze fixed on Bat. “Innocent? Like me, when he drowned me in that pond?”

She gestured towards where I’d danced with Bat last night, her translucent hand trembling.

“Called me whore and witch. His two men held me beneath the water till I drew breath no more.”

Bat’s form flickered, his rage dissolving into something softer. “I’m so sorry. That’s… that’s horrific.”

Margery’s eyes snapped back to him, narrowing as she studied his face, his wound, the way his spirit flickered in and out of visibility. Her expression shifted—confusion bleeding into recognition, then something almost like fear.

“I see his mark upon thee,” she whispered.

“What?” Bat said.

“Yes. Thou art innocent,” she said. “Killed by him. Like so many others who linger here.”

Brad’s head snapped back and forth between Margery and empty air, his face a mask of bewilderment. He couldn’t see Bat, couldn’t hear half the conversation happening around him.

Bat’s form blazed brighter, confusion and panic warring across his face. “Who? Who killed me?”

“I…” Margery’s shape wavered, her eyes darting towards the manor. That fear intensified, twisting her spectral features. “I can feel him still. Locked beneath the stone and earth. He never rests. Never shall rest. Pure malice, that one. He troubles thy dwelling—not I.”

Brad latched onto this immediately, stepping closer despite the supernatural hurricane still raging around us. “Who? Who’s locked beneath—”

Margery’s head snapped towards him, madness blazing back into her coal-black eyes. When she spoke, her voice was poison and hatred distilled into sound.

“If thou dost disturb my bones again, mortal fool, I shall kill thee all. Ye can join me in this eternal torment.”

And with that, Margery vanished. Her bones tumbled to the earth in a cascade of yellowed fragments, and the supernatural force holding me against the tree released all at once.

I pitched forward, face first into the mud. Earth and decay filled my mouth as pain lanced through me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the fire in my chest.

“Charlie!” Bat’s hands gripped my arm.

I pushed myself up onto my knees, spitting mud and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Everything hurt, but I was alive. Somehow.

“You’re shaking!” Bat said.

“I’m alright,” I managed.