Page 36 of Dead Vengeance

I think it’s best for both of us if I just drop him home and tell him goodbye. For good.

End this now before he gets hurt again.

Talk him into quitting this awful job on the way, then let this be just another sad, unwanted memory amongst a million others.

It might have been so lovely too.

But I can see already, Liam and I are just too haunted to ever work out.

thirteen

Drop Off

Liam

Archer hasn’t said much all the way home. Nothing important anyway. He went weirdly distant once we got in the car. Small talk about London, about whatever we drove past. Hardly anything. And now we’re pulling up on my street, a little down the road from my place, where I stopped him early because I don’t want him to see where I live.

Then Archer… does nothing. Just stares forward. And it kind of feels like he wants to say something? So I wait a moment, and he still doesn’t. The atmosphere turns awkward. I guess he just wants me out of his car.

“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

“Liam.” His eyes stay on the road, lips pressed.

My hand stills on the door. “What is it?”

“About this job…” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel, then drop when he shifts to face me. “It’s dangerous. Even regular ghosts—”

“I kind of figured that out today,” I half joke, trying to cut the thick atmosphere.

His words come back clear and stark. “I don’t think you should do it anymore.”

The urge to throw up hits me instantly, as if I’ve just chucked back a shot of garbage water. I thought he liked me. I thought we were getting along. I thought… “You’re firing me?”

“No!” he gasps out. “No, of course not.” And he looks genuinely alarmed I’ve said it, even if I’m still reeling from his words. “No, if…” His hands flail around in the air a few times. “If you were going to keep doing this, I’d honestly rather it’s with me. Even with that thing in my house, in my life, because… because it’s not safe. In general. So if there’s some other line of work you can do—”

I cut him off with a laugh. I feel bad. It’s incredibly unprofessional. But people don’t answer job adverts for ghost hunters that randomly fall down from supermarket notice boards if there are plenty of other great prospects on their horizon. “I can do this job.”

“I don’t doubt your ability,” he says carefully. “I’m just worried for you.”

“I need this job.” And this time there’s no humour in my voice, just a broken vulnerability. A sadness. The raw fact. “I can do it, and I need to do it. And if I’ve let you down—”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He reaches out a hand, but it falls just short of landing on my knee, touching down on the gear stick instead. I wonder if he meant to move closer. “If you’re determined to do this, I’d rather… I mean… I want you… I would prefer you come back to my place.”

His eyes carry so much depth that I can’t sift through it. Like he’s nervous about saying this, and I can’t figure out why. If he wants me back, I’ll be back.

But then he adds, “I advise against it. Strongly. I don’t want you to get hurt. And I don’t think Gerald should have sent you in without more training, more experience.” I almost flare, but he soothes me with, “I know you can do this. Please don’t get me wrong. But wouldn’t you rather stay safe?”

“No,” I tell him resolutely. “No, this is what I do now. I’m not quitting. Not for anything.”

His lips shift into a brief grimace, but then soften, and his face turns an odd sort of thoughtful, along with his voice. “I’ve been thinking about this all the way over here… because I thought you might say that… so… I would like to… if it’s okay with you, if you do come back… I would like to give you some… pointers. From the small amount I know about ghosts. So that, in the future, if you do decide to carry on, you might be… better equipped.”

“You’re…” An unexpected spark of delight glows warm in my chest. “You’re offering to train me?”

“No,” he rushes out. “I mean— To be clear…” That hand rises again, falls again, just out of reach of my knee. “I think you should quit. Genuinely. Walk out now and never look back. I think this will damage you in the long run, if not physically, then mentally. But almost definitely physically too. But if you insist on doing it, I would like you to do it with me. If that suits you.”

The way my heart leaps, it’s like he’s just asked me on a date, not to come to his place and learn to defeat some supernatural evil that can create full hallucinations that actually hurt you.

Which, I won’t pretend isn’t terrifying.