Page 7 of Love at First Fright

“As you can see from this diagram,” Ted continued, clicking to the next slide, “entities feed on fear. The more afraid you are, the stronger they become.”

Gary’s moustache twitched. He rolled his eyes.

The new image showed a stick figure running away from a blob with fangs. Actual fangs. On a blob.

“So the trick is to remain calm at all times.” Ted’s voice carried the conviction of someone reading from a script they didn’t believe. “Show no fear. Maintain professional composure.”

“Right,” I said. “Because that’s easy when you’re facing down a literal demon, which according to you, we will be.”

“Well, it’s all in the handbook.”

Ah yes, the handbook. About a hundred pages of spiral-bound A4 paper. Photocopied nonsense, complete with smudged diagrams and sections that looked like they’d been written by different people who’d never communicated with each other. The cover featured the ExorSquad logo and the inspiring title: Employee Safety Manual and Operational Guidelines (Revised Edition).

“Gerald always likes you to have read at least the first ten rules before we send you out.”

I dutifully turned the pages.

Rule #1: The Entity Is Always Lying

Whether it’s claiming to be a murdered Victorian child, a wronged lover, or the ghost of bloody Henry VIII himself, do not believe a word of it. Spirits lie. They lie about their deaths, their motivations, and especially about what will make them leave. That weeping woman isn’t sobbing because she misses her long-lost fiancé, she’s sobbing because she’s bored and you’re entertainment. The only truth you can trust is this: they don’t want to go, and they’ll say anything to stay. So when the ghost swears on its eternal soul that it just needs you to dig up its beloved locket from beneath the rose bush, save yourself the blisters. Zap first, ask questions never.

“What if it’s not lying?” Gary asked. His voice matched his appearance—flat, bored, like he’d already accepted the futility of existence. “Statistically, some percentage of entities must be telling the truth.”

Ted blinked. “Sorry?”

“Basic probability. If every entity lies one hundred percent of the time, that’s actually valuable information. But if even one percent tells the truth, your rule is useless.”

“I… well, you see…” Ted fumbled with his papers. “It’s more of a guideline than—”

“So it’s not actually Rule Number One, then.”

“It’s all in the handbook,” Ted repeated, a bit desperately this time.

I liked Gary.

The next slide appeared. A photograph of what looked like someone’s nan’s living room, except the wallpaper seemed to be bleeding.

“This is a Class Three entity,” Ted said. “Note the physical corruption of the environment. In cases like these, you’ll want to refer to page forty-seven of your handbook, subsection B.”

I flipped to page forty-seven. Subsection B consisted of three words: Run Very Fast.

“Is this a joke?” I held up the handbook.

“What? No. That’s genuine advice.” Ted tilted his head, frowning. “Class Three manifestations are extremely dangerous. The survival rate is—”

“Survival rate?!” Gary leaned forward.

“It’s all in the—”

“The handbook, yes.”

I turned the pages all the way to Rule #412.

Rule #412: Do Not Accept Food or Drink from Spirits

No matter how polite the entity seems, no matter how lovely that spectral cup of tea looks, do not consume anything offered by the deceased. We’ve lost three operatives this year alone to “just a biscuit” or “one sip of wine.” Side effects include: uncontrollable vomiting, temporary possession, permanent possession, spontaneous combustion, and an inexplicable compulsion to waltz. Besides, ghost food tastes like disappointment and ectoplasm.

(Note: This rule does not apply if you are already dead. In which case, carry on.)