Page 181 of Love at First Fright

I stayed frozen for a moment, listening to him go. When the sound faded completely, I finally exhaled. Then I forced myself to my feet to stretch. My spine cracked in about six places.

“Boo.”

I yelped and spun round. Bat floated near the window, grinning like an absolute bastard.

“You—” I pressed a hand to my racing heart. “Bloody hell, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That was the idea.” He drifted closer, his form more translucent in the morning light. “Though your scream needs work. Very undignified.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You absolutely did.”

I grabbed the blanket and stood, wrapping it round my shoulders like a cape. “Right. Well. I suppose I should go pack, then.”

Bat’s smile dimmed slightly. “Suppose you should.”

“But…” I hesitated. “You’re going to haunt me for the next couple of hours, yeah?”

His smile returned, softer this time. “Definitely planning on it.”

The reception area felt cavernous and cold. Our bags were already loaded in Brad’s car.

Bat’s guitar was in there too. I’d hesitated before taking it downstairs, but Bat had looked at me with those wide brown eyes and said, “Please. Just… play it sometimes. Think of me.”

Like I’d be able to think of anything else.

Brad had raised an eyebrow when he’d seen me carrying it down. “Taking souvenirs now, are we?”

“It’s—”

“I don’t care.” He’d waved me off. “We’re getting fuck all pay for this job now, thanks to the Lancasters. Take that whole bloody chandelier if you want.”

Now rain hammered the front windows, sheets of water obscuring the courtyard beyond. Thunder rolled overhead, deep and ominous, like the manor itself was growling.

“We can’t catch a break,” Brad muttered. He stood near the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze kept darting to the storm, then to his watch. “Bloody typical. Weather like this, we’ll be crawling back to London for hours.”

I said nothing. The journey stretched ahead of me—three, maybe four hours of rain-slicked motorways and Brad’s commentary on my various failings. What a delightful way to end this trip.

Bat hovered near the staircase, horribly translucent in the grey light. He looked wretched. Each time I glanced his way, he forced a smile that made everything worse.

Thunder cracked directly overhead. The lights flickered.

“Just splendid,” Brad said.

Headlights cut through the rain. Two beams swinging toward the gate.

Brad straightened. “Finally. About bloody time.”

I squinted through the downpour. Wrong shape. Too sleek, too low to the ground. A Mercedes, all gleaming silver paint and tinted windows. Certainly not a mechanic’s van.

The car idled at the gate. Harrison jumped out, rain immediately plastering his hair to his skull. He fumbled with the padlock, yanked the gate open, then jogged back to the driver’s seat. The Mercedes rolled through, tyres splashing through puddles.

“I thought maybe we’d dodge seeing them again,” I said, sighing. “At least that corridor is looking spotless.”

The car pulled up in the courtyard. Both front doors opened. Harrison emerged first, then Evelyn, clutching her handbag over her head. But the rear door opened too.

A man climbed out. Tall. Thin. Black suit, white collar stark against the storm’s grey backdrop.