Page 63 of Dead Vengeance

“Archer, is it really worth—”

“Fuck!” I take the stairs two at a time, dashing across the living room and out into the garden, around the side of the house, to Fabian’s corpse, lying there by the tree. And the fucker has a smile on his face, even in death.

That moan again, but now I know exactly where it’s coming from. I make for the barn double time and fling the door open. “Simon, you fucking prick!”

Some hideously perverse ghost sex noise cracks out of Fabian, then Simon’s head pops up from behind the hay bales. “What?”

“What? You… I swear, I am sending you straight to hell!”

He only laughs, disappears again, then, ugh, that sound from Fabian! They’re just carrying on as if I’m not even here!

This is insanity. This is completely insane, and I’m not having it. That fucker is going straight back in his body, whether he likes it or not. And before Liam sees.

Two dead colleagues in two days? I don’t think so.

This one’s going back in one piece with a ‘fuck you’ note for Gerald attached to his forehead.

nineteen

To Bed, Perchance to Scream

Liam

Edgar’s beak presses against the side of my jaw as I scratch his neck, and who knew ravens were this cuddly? He’s perched on my wrist, held against my chest, and honestly, he’s so adorable.

He’s also exactly the sort of peace I need in this house right now.

I won’t pretend walking into Helena wasn’t terrifying, disconcertingly nice as she seems to be. But the way Archer is with her… It’s like meeting and chatting with ghosts is an everyday occurrence for him. He told me the place was haunted, but this is something else. It’s not just haunted in the way I imagine spooky old mansions are. This feels so… casual.

And clearly he doesn’t want me to know anything about it.

I hate to admit it, but that hurts. It shouldn’t, I know. This is his house, his haunting. I’m just an employee.

Yet when he closed that door on me just now… It’s like he was closing the door on ‘us.’ Or whatever I thought ‘us’ was about to be.

Maybe.

In my dreams.

Now here I am, just ‘the help.’ Some stupid guy who has no idea what he’s doing sitting alone in here while Archer talks ghost stuff with a ghost, even after he told me he’d tell me about ghost matters.

Failure. That’s what it feels like. Failure to impress or progress.

So Edgar’s soft croaks, the way he closes his eyes when I find a place he likes a scratch, that feels like an achievement. At least someone wants my company.

Just as the thought occurs to me, his eyes snap open and his head pops up. He blinks once, then opens his huge wings and flies straight back out the window.

Okay. Good. Great.

Completely alone in the haunted house.

Sitting here on the bed that belongs to the guy I like, who clearly thinks I’m useless, while he does the ghost job I’ve been hired to do.

Great. Perfect.

So do I just sit here? Or do I go out there and push my way into whatever’s going on?

Stay in the salt circle, he said.