Page 51 of Dead Vengeance

A sound cracks into the room from the stairs—a creaking of the boards, heavy.

And the very last thing I need…

“Out, Simon!” I yell up the stairs.

“Simon?” asks Fabian. But he says it like he expected this, his chair scraping back as he stands to behold his entrance.

“Stay in your chair,” Liam warns, and I appreciate that, even though Simon assured me he would be on his best behaviour and absolutely not kill anyone today. But then he also promised me that he wouldn’t come in here.

That same familiar darkness stretches into the room ahead of him, as if he’s setting the lighting on a stage for his own soliloquy. He couldn’t have a more attentive audience. Liam, just as wary as yesterday, but intrigued. Me, feeling like I’m about to explode. Then Fabian… arranging his hair? Pulling his sweater back to reveal a little collarbone? What the…

His mouth drops wide open.

Simon enters as extravagantly as ever, advancing to the far side of the coffee table to stand, or more, pose, lifting a cigarette between long fingers, and blowing a ghostly mist into the air.

Fabian remains standing despite Liam’s warning, and therefore Liam stands too, slipping around the table and putting a hand on Fabian’s arm before he can move any closer.

But Fabian doesn’t look like a threat to me, and I don’t think Simon’s seeing him that way either.

In fact, Simon’s just standing there, preening, watching him back, smoking, like he’s at a ball, quizzing the room from the punch bowl.

“It’s you,” Fabian whispers, eyes glued to Simon.

Liam reacts by weakening the grip on his arm, as if he’s a little taken aback, which, fair. So am I. He’s who?

Fabian follows it up with, “You’re magnificent.”

Before either of us can speak, Simon, who never talks to anyone new, says, “Do you really think so?”

Fabian lets out something akin to a sigh, but louder, breathier.

And Simon smiles. At him. In a very particular way. Then walks straight through the wall, outside of the house, taking all the darkness and weirdness with him.

“Oh my god,” Fabian rasps. “Did you see that?” As if we could have missed it. “Did you see that?” And he starts straight for the door.

“Hey, stop!” Liam dodges in front of him. “It’s your first day! Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re here to see ghosts, aren’t we?” Fabian virtually shouts at him, eyes digging into Liam as if Liam were the odd one.

“It’s not safe,” Liam reminds him. “That ghost almost killed someone yesterday.”

Fabian’s fingers twist around the collar of his sweater. “Oh, did he?”

There’s something so… I don’t want to say ‘sexual’ in his speech, but it sounds quite sexual. And it worries me. And I’m not sure this guy should be here at all.

“Please sit down,” Liam insists, gesturing to the chair, but unwilling to move first, as if Fabian might run off ghost-chasing the second he steps away.

And Fabian does eye the door a few seconds longer, as if that were his intention. But then, “Fine!” He flops into his chair like a petulant child and starts tearing into a friand.

“You should know,” says Liam, with an authoritative note in his voice that I’ve never heard before, “we’re not here for these ghosts.”

Fabian’s mouth opens, but Liam talks over him, some rather sweet confidence replacing the shyer man of yesterday. “There’s something in this house that is… evil. Isn’t that right, Mr Gravely?”

‘Mr Gravely.’ I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this. “Yes, that’s right. I think it’s actively evil, whereas Simon is just… morally grey?”

“Morally grey?” A low, slow whine pours out of Fabian, and he looks like he might make for the door any second.

I think I might have to talk to Gerald about this one. As well as my other two hundred and fifty pounds.