Page 168 of Love at First Fright

“Because you’re fired.”

twenty-three

Charlie

“What?!” Brad asked, jaw falling open. “Fired? What do you mean? Why?”

“Why?” Harrison repeated, looking at Brad as if he were completely stupid. “Because you’ve been here all week, and all you’ve succeeded in doing is damaging our property—breaking crockery, furniture, and now even the walls—with no progress at banishing these so-called ‘ghosts.’ You managed to scare away the electrician I found within one hour of him being here, your boss has conned us out of thousands of pounds, and most importantly, I just want you gone!”

Evelyn winced, grabbing Harrison’s arm as if to calm him. “What Harrison means is, we’ve decided to go in an alternative direction.”

“Alternative direction? What do you mean?”

“We’ve found someone else to help us,” Evelyn said gently.

Brad frowned, shaking his head. “Nobody else can help you, ma’am.”

“The thing is, we have actually been making progress on our investigation,” I chipped in, my voice cracking slightly. Brad’s head snapped towards me, his glare murderous. “We’ve discovered that the source of evil lurks in your basement. It’s so malevolent that the other spirits here are terrified of it. That’s why the bottom of the basement is sealed. Needs to stay sealed. But I wondered if you might be able to help us, Evelyn. Do you know anything about a couple who lived here about twenty-seven years ago? They had a son in a wheelchair.”

Brad stared at me, mouth agape.

Evelyn pursed her lips, though she did seem to be considering my words. “No… Sorry. I have no idea about previous owners that far back.”

“Do you think your estate agent might be able to—”

“Sorry, dear, but—”

“Enough,” Harrison snapped. “Pack up your stuff, the pair of you. We need you gone by tonight.”

With that, they turned and left us, their low voices travelling towards the spiral staircase. Probably wanting to inspect whatever damage we’d potentially done to the rest of the property.

Gone. Tonight.

The two words sank into me, my throat tightening. I looked around for Bat, but he wasn’t visible. Something told me he wasn’t there at all.

Gone. Tonight.

My chest constricted. The air felt thick, impossible to draw into my lungs. Was this a panic attack?

“Brilliant, Charlie. Absolutely bloody brilliant.” Brad’s voice was venomous. “Gerald won’t pay us at all now. Not even for the days we’ve already spent here.”

He ranted and raved, pacing the corridor like a caged animal, but his words became white noise. I should have been fuming too, should have been worried about how the hell I’d pay my rent next month now. But all I could think about was Bat—about the hourglass that had always hung above us, those tiny grains of sand suddenly swept away in one brutal motion.

My chest grew tighter. Tighter. Each breath was like swallowing glass. He was a ghost. I’d known him for less than a week. But it didn’t matter. Didn’t fucking matter. My throat burned.

I stumbled away, down the corridor towards the lobby. The Lancasters’ voices echoed from upstairs. My feet carried me through the double front doors and into the garden. I wasn’t sure where I was going until I found myself beneath the oak tree.

The tree where Bat had first materialised in front of me.

“Bat,” I called, my voice all croaky and pathetic.

Nothing. Nada.

My sadness twisted deeper, sharpening into something angrier. How was I supposed to say goodbye to him if he never reappeared?

“Bat!” I practically shouted. “Where are you?”

A flicker of movement—a shadow shifting wrong near the base of the oak tree.