Page 49 of Dead Vengeance

“I actually got a bonus,” he says then, beaming like it’s his personal mission to entrance me. He does, of course. He looks so happy. And he deserves it after yesterday.

“Did you?” I try to act surprised, and I think I’m doing a decent job.

“I did. Two hundred and fifty pounds!”

The tray clatters to the table, friands and danishes spilling everywhere. “Two hundred and fifty pounds?” I repeat, virtually spitting the words at him.

That billion-megawatt smile only grows brighter. “I know, right? For one day of work! How great is that?”

“That’s…” I force the smile like my life depends on it. “That’s so great, Liam. Two hundred and fifty pounds. That’s… so great.”

That bastard Gerald’s pocketed the other half! The utter prick! He’ll be hearing from me.

“So, I am sorry we’re a little late, but we had to go there, then…” His eyes run over the spread I’ve laid out, hungrily, but a bit bashful. “This looks…”

“Eat. Please. Eat and we’ll have a proper talk about things before we press ahead.” I take my seat, near Liam, because reasons, and pour some tea. “I’ve asked Simon to stay out today, so hopefully we won’t get into such a mess again.”

It feels good to be able to be that level of honest with him. We have a long way to go, but had I been able to do this yesterday, how differently things might have gone.

“Who’s Simon?” the new guy asks, looking around with… keen interest. Maybe Liam told him about the ghosts? Maybe he actually knows a few things about ghosts? He’s one up on Raul in that case.

“Oh, this is Fabian,” Liam introduces him. “First day on the job.”

Okay, so… maybe he also knows nothing about ghosts. Great. Should be fun.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.

“Likewise,” he replies, actually looking pleased as punch to be here. Which is nice, I suppose. If a little odd. I offer him an encouraging smile.

Liam’s head lowers, his shoulders hunching.

“Friand?” I almost hit him with the plate in my enthusiasm to get the smile back.

And there it is. “Thank you.”

I pop the plate back down, then attempt to commence a mature discussion about the job and the situation.

But before I can, Liam’s friand splats onto the plate, raspberry oozing out like spilled blood. His face turns several shades whiter, and he freezes there like that, mouth open, staring towards the living room.

And I know. I just bloody know. “Lacey?”

There we are, all three of us, trying to eat our nice breakfast and being interrupted by this weird child ghost. She’s peeking, about as creepily as possible, over the back of an armchair, just watching. Her long, dark hair is dishevelled, soaking wet, running rivulets of ghost water down the chair and onto the floor. Her eyes are bloodshot, as wild as if she were raised in a barn. Maybe she was, for all I know. It’s not like she ever says much of interest.

“Out, darling,” I encourage her.

Naturally, she doesn’t move at all, just stares at Liam, who stares back at her, and if I was going to make a move on him, which I’m obviously not, she would really be messing with my chances right now. “Lacey!”

Fabian pipes up, “Is she a ghost?” sounding far less scared than 99.9999999999 percent of people would be.

“She is most definitely a ghost,” I reply, though my attention’s mostly on Liam, watching for his reaction.

He’s only taking her in, both hands on the table, palms flat. “H-hi, Lacey,” he says, voice shaky.

She, of course, does nothing, just continues to be weird and creepy, watching us in silence.

“Okay, so…” I try again with this morning’s planned discussion. “Let’s call her ghost number one. Lacey. Small, weird child.”

“Don’t call her weird,” Liam whispers, as though a) she can’t hear him, and b) she doesn’t know perfectly well that she’s being weird.