Page 13 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

There’s just no escaping the fact that Topher is most definitely a rake! And he’s setting his cap on my mate—Well, our mate. But that’s not the point.

The deputy mayor is busy barking out instructions at paramedics as the four of us make our way out the doors. Instead of the grounds of the Margam Estate, the castle really is in the middle of a town. I quickly glance around for a street sign. Main Street.

There are people everywhere. If I thought the castle was crowded, it’s nothing compared to this. The cobblestone street is packed full with people—some human, some not so human—all staring at the castle with matching looks of horror. And the sun is up overhead, its rays warming my face in a way I haven’t felt in over a century.

“My bakery, Liam!” a redhead wails at a troll in a police uniform. “That castle crushed my bakery, and it almost killed us.”

“Your bakery went out of business two years ago, Mini,” he reminds her.

“I could have reopened it,” she retorts. A small white mouse scurries out of her silk top to nuzzle her cheek, and she smiles at it. “I’m glad you’re okay, Agent Tiptoe.”

The mouse settles on her shoulder, but no one seems to find it the least bit unusual. Then again, they seemed to take the fact that Silver Springs is now in Wales in stride, too.

“Does anyone in town know Welsh?” a man says to another as they approach. “What are we supposed to do with all these Welsh people?”

“They speak English in Wales,” his friend answers.

“They do? Then what happened to all our street signs? They’re definitely not in English.”

“Well, they speak Welsh in Wales, too,” the friend says. “English and Welsh.”

“Welcome to Silver Springs,” the first man says, patting me on the back as we stumble past.

At the feel of his touch—and the casual greeting—I freeze. I’m real. I’m really here!

I pinch the back of my wrist to check that I’m not dreaming. Not that I’ve dreamed once since becoming a ghost. But if anything was going to make me dream, it would be meeting Rhiannon.