Page 99 of Love at First Fright

“Witch?” His weathered face crinkled. “Haunting the place?”

A beat of silence.

Then he threw his head back and laughed. Deep, booming guffaws that shook his massive frame. He slapped his thigh, nearly doubling over.

Relief flooded through me. I joined in, my own laughter bubbling up. “Right? Absolute bollocks, isn’t it?”

“A witch!” Thomas wheezed between chuckles. “That’s rich, that is. Has Molly heard this? I bet it would give her a right giggle!”

Charlie shifted beside me, confusion written across his face. His hand remained in mine, thumb pressed against my palm.

“So, there’s no ghost called Margery Darke here?” Charlie asked.

Thomas wiped at his eyes, shoulders still shaking with residual mirth.

“See?” I squeezed Charlie’s fingers. “Told you. No witch. Brad’s chasing shadows.”

“Aye, no witch haunting anything.” Thomas bent back to his weeds, tugging at a particularly stubborn root. “Her bones cause me a right barrel of grief, though.”

The laughter died in my throat.

“What?”

Thomas yanked the weed free, tossed it onto his pile. He gestured vaguely toward the east side of the property.

“Her bones. Over by the apple tree. Nothing will grow over them.”

fifteen

Charlie

Achill swept through me, sharp and sudden.

Bat’s fingers tensed around mine. “What do you mean, her bones? She’s buried here?”

“Yeah. Over by the apple tree,” Thomas said.

I inhaled sharply. “And it’s definitely the witch? Margery Darke?”

“You know, just because someone accused her of witchcraft doesn’t mean she actually was one,” Bat said, his voice flat.

“Right,” I said meekly. “Sorry.”

Thomas straightened, brushing dirt from his palms. “There’s a small rock with M.D. engraved on it near the tree, where the lifeless patch is.” He paused, staring at the horizon. “For years I’ve been trying to coax something to grow over that spot. Grass, flowers, anything. But nothing takes. Just bare earth and stones, year after year.” The groundskeeper’s face hardened. “Mark my words. There’s someone buried there who wasn’t meant to be. The earth remembers. Won’t let anything beautiful grow over ugliness like that.”

“Show us,” Bat said.

“Getting dark,” Thomas observed, glancing at the sky. “Not the best time for gravesite visits.”

“Please,” I said. “It might help us.”

He sighed, abandoning his weeds. “This way, then. Mind the brambles.”

We walked in silence, weaving between skeletal trees and overgrown hedges. The manor disappeared behind us, swallowed by shadows and foliage. My mind raced. Bones! A grave! Nothing growing there.

What would Brad make of all this? Though, he probably wouldn’t care if there was no actual ghost in sight to zap…

The darkening sky pressed down on us, stars multiplying. Soon, the apple tree loomed ahead, gnarled and ancient, its branches spread wide, already stripped of most of its leaves.