Page 62 of Dead Vengeance

I click my fingers. “I saw him. Downstairs. Fred. Any idea where he comes from?”

“None. And no idea what he was doing on my bridge. He ran off before I could talk to him. But why should there be strangers crossing into your house on my bridge?”

“That’s exactly it. There’s been an uptick in ghosts turning up here—I haven’t invited any of them. I think the thing in my attic might be doing it. Only it’s letting the nasty spirits through as well as the good, and I feel like it’s just a matter of time until some really bad shit goes down.”

“Language, Archer. That’s the third time.”

“Sorry.” I cough an apology, having entirely forgotten her Victorian sensibilities, few as she has. “It’s just, I’m afraid I’ve done this. That I’ve let some big evil into our world somehow, and now I don’t know how to get rid of it. And all of this with Liam’s brother… I can’t have him knowing this about me. God knows what he’d even think of me. And how can I tell him something like this when he’s hurting over that?”

Another nod, but a definitive, panic-easing one. “All right. I won’t tell him a thing. I’m just your friendly neighbourhood ghost. What I can do is ghost reconnaissance. Find out some more information for you about this bridge.”

“That would be amazing. Simon’s been bloody useless—”

Another of those unearthly moans reaches us, and though Helena’s eyebrows rise, she keeps the rest of her face strangely still. “You were saying?”

“We were just about to go down the hall,” I recommence. “To the attic to investigate. I’m pretty sure that’s the epicentre of trouble—where the thing crossed over, or where it resides. If I can get rid of it, I’m hoping I can close this… this bridge it seems to have built. Or stop whatever it’s doing. Raising spirits for… for no good reason that I can think of.”

That groan again. Or moan. That sound. It draws my gaze towards the window. It’s as if it’s coming from outside. But where? Why? Some new thing that’s come through?

I take a step towards the window, and Helena raises her voice a little. “Archer? I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe we should look a little further into this bridge problem of yours. Have a little chat out here in the hall?”

But her voice fades away, and not because of the warding around the door, or that dark/light barrier between us.

Because I catch sight of something out in the yard, and my breath drops away with it.

Shoes.

Just at the edge of the window frame.

And somehow, I already know what I’m going to see if I keep walking, so I want to stop. I do. But I can’t.

One foot in front of the other, I approach, to find those shoes, just as expected, attached to long and thin legs, clad in overalls, wrapping a body fallen flat on the grass by a tree, eyes shut, blond head rolled back, skin bloodless and perfectly, utterly dead.

Fabian.

My hands slam onto the windowsill, my head spinning as I try to process what I’m seeing.

Two days, two dead Spirit Extraction Specialists.

But this time he was supposed to have left. He told me he was leaving. So how is he dead out in my yard?

“These things happen,” Helena calls, forced cheer in her voice. “I’m sure it’s…” I lock eyes with her, furious, and she blinks. “Want me to help you hide the body?”

I advance on her, and she steps back, hands already on her dress as if it’s even possible for me to crumple it. “You knew what was happening down there, didn’t you?”

“I mean…” Her eyes roll up to study the ceiling. “I had a small inkling.”

“Have you already been to see Simon?”

“Well, I tried, but…” A small laugh bubbles out of her, then a guilty shrug and a coy smile, and then… that moan.

That ghostly, ghastly sex moan.

“Oh my god.”

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.”

“Oh my god!”