Page 12 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

“Not anymore.” Kit snorts. “Silver Springs is in Wales now. I heard a few coven members talking outside saying they saw powerful magic at play. They think it’s a spell gone wrong.”

“I’ve never been to the United Kingdom before.” The man who says it is wearing what looks like a very expensive suit. He’s as well dressed as I’ve ever been and he’s holding a small child in his arms, completely unconcerned that the little one’s hands are covered in ice cream and gripping his jacket. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here? I wouldn’t mind exploring a little.”

“Can’t see us staying in Wales long enough for that, Enzo,” the man beside him replies.

The first man, Enzo, looks down at the child in his arms and practically coos, “Isn’t Wren a silly billy, Nik?” before tickling him until he lets out a peal of laughter.

I try to get to my feet. Apparently, I’ve completely forgotten how to use my limbs. My legs give out beneath me and I have to hold on to a nearby chair just so I don’t find myself back on the floor again. Brushing off the awful brown dust that has covered my clothes, I test my feet and try to take a step towards Rhiannon.

But my legs practically bend beneath me and I find myself sprawled out on the floor again. No doubt, I look like a pillock. The only consolation is that Red and Topher look just as ridiculous.

We should probably check to make sure that Henry Jones is still where we left him, locked up in the basement. But that’s easier said than done. There’s no way my legs are going to manage stairs. I can’t even walk in a line or, God forbid, stand up straight.

Plus, Jones is magically bound and locked up. There’s absolutely no way he could escape. And he isn’t alone down there. Robert is guarding him and wouldn’t hesitate to sound the alarm.

I refocus on trying to walk. Just as I manage to put one foot in front of the other, a skinny brunette comes running through the crowd towards Rhiannon, a random assortment of clothing under her arm.

“I grabbed these from the lost and found for you,” she says, her tone apologetic. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better. There wasn’t much there.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” Rhiannon says with a blush.

“Come on, Lupine!” Enzo calls somewhat impatiently. “I want to go explore.”

The brunette gives Rhiannon another slightly apologetic smile before rushing off.

My mate’s eyes widen with horror as she holds up a belt, a huge pair of pink shorts, a multicolored cardigan, and a t-shirt with a unicorn on the front.

“You’re going to look almost as ridiculous as us,” I say teasingly, giving her a grin.

Her cheeks flush as the men and I form a circle around her. We turn our backs to give her some privacy, and clothes rustle as she takes off the coat and pulls on the items from the lost and found. When she’s done, she looks like a fashion disaster. An adorable fashion disaster drowning in too-large clothes.

I can tell she’s uncomfortable with the attention, and focus on trying to walk about some more. My body feels like it has pins and needles, as if it’s been asleep for the longest time. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been a ghost far longer than you were ever human.

“You look like you wet your pants, Topher.” I let out a small chuckle as his legs curl unnaturally with each attempted step.

“Bugger off,” Topher says, his voice clipped. “You don’t look any better. You look foxed.”

“You look jug-bitten,” I retort.

“I think we’ve established that we all look like we’re in our cups,” Red says, trying to stop the argument in his usual fashion. That’s Red for you. He’s the peacekeeper. Without him, Topher and I would have murdered one another decades ago… Well, if such a thing were possible for ghosts, that is.

“What are you all talking about?” Rhiannon asks.

“They’re saying we all look drunk,” Red explains awkwardly. Drunkenness isn’t something we’re comfortable talking to a lady about.

“Can I offer you my cane?” the old man called Arthur asks me. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

It’s bad when even a man in his nineties is making jokes at your expense. Damn. This is embarrassing.

I politely refuse before flopping back down on the floor next to Rhiannon. She grins at me, and I’m caught momentarily speechless.

Forget standing up. Forget walking. Forget everything else. All that really matters is that my dick works because I really need to fuck my mate.

Although, I guess I should probably fix the walking thing so that I can fuck her somewhere that isn’t quite so public. That and I’m not sure I have the coordination to fuck just yet, unless she’s on top. I really need to get my shit together.

Taking my hand, Rhiannon helps me up again, and it feels like fire is running through my veins at her touch. I never want to let go, but I have to because she goes to help Red and Topher up next. Damn it. I really don’t want to share her. And definitely not with Topher.

If I’ve got to share her with anyone, why couldn’t it be someone short and ugly, with a tiny dick? But I don’t think Topher has a tiny antler. Based on the bulge in his breeches, he’s bigger than me. Even if he is walking like Bambi.