Page 91 of Dead Vengeance

“Fabian!” I call, but far too quietly. The last thing I need is Liam hearing then coming around here to find Fabian possibly already dead. The second to last thing I need is Liam recruiting him to actually do his job and go upstairs to fight the thing. Though it occurs to me, then Fabian might get his wish of getting killed, once and for all, and possibly do us the favour of taking the creature with him. But this line of thought feels some kind of not ethical, so I try to pull that idea back before I can run away with it.

Behind the main building, I search between the veggie boxes, just in case he’s hiding there. He’s not, but I have a very good idea where he’s probably gone. Back to the scene of the crime.

Breaking into a jog-walk, I make my way over to the barn. What do I keep in a barn? Hay bales. And I do that for the aesthetic only. If you’re going to have a barn, you should do something with it, surely. One day I think I will get a cow. I like cows.

Anyway, I make my way towards the enormous blue door of the barn, cheery any other morning, and from there, I hear voices. Simon, that familiar drawl of his, only a little tighter than usual, like he’s properly upset, which is rare. Then Fabian, young and alive and full of argumentative passion.

I want to stop and listen, because this is truly unprecedented. I’m all for young men having obsessive romances. I mean, I am not normal about Liam by any stretch of the imagination, but why a ghost? Why Simon? And why to the extent that he is literally willing to die for him?

But for all that, I’m also scared to stop and listen, as that might give Fabian the precious seconds he needs to do whatever it is he’s come here to do.

I wrench the door back to discover them standing high up in the loft. They’re inches apart, almost touching, the sunlight I’ve let through hitting Fabian’s blond hair like a golden crown, sparkling through Simon’s translucent form. They talk on as if they haven’t even noticed me.

“How can you know?” Simon asks, voice like a dagger, edged with fury.

“How can you not?” Fabian asks softly, a distinct melancholy in every word.

Yet he does notice me. He looks directly at me, his face sad yet determined. Then he takes a step towards me, towards the edge of the loft, where the floor falls away to a five-metre drop.

“No!” I shout, the vision of what he’s about to do smashing into me like lightning.

He’s falling, blond hair streaming behind him in the morning sunshine, then bang!

But it’s not the floor.

I wish it were the floor.

Fabian planned it differently.

He lands face down on a hay bale with one long and sharply carved fence post lodged in it, pointy end up.

Blood bursts out the back of him, splattering the walls and the floor, glistening scarlet shining on the wooden tip that protrudes from his back, soaking the yellow hay and oozing along the packed dirt floor. Fabian spasms once, twice, then all the air drops out of him and he’s dead.

Horrified, shaking all over, I raise my eyes to Simon.

He stares down at Fabian a moment, then shifts his gaze to me. His mouth drops open like I’ve just slapped him, and he shouts, “What did I do?”

My only recourse is to shout twice as loud: “Edgar!”

twenty-seven

A Most Horrifying Turn of Events

Liam

The stairs creak beneath my sneakers, and why wouldn’t they? This is a haunted house. This is a haunted house that I’m going into, all by myself.

This may be the stupidest thing I have ever done.

But it’s hardly my fault my colleagues keep quitting. Not my fault Archer’s decided he won’t let me do my job that I’m here to do.

This is fine. I’ll go upstairs, and I’ll kill this thing all by myself.

The gun, which I’m holding with two hands right by my face as if I’m in a bad action movie, seemed pretty powerful in the ExorSquad office. And they’ve given it to us to kill ghosts, so presumably, it kills ghosts.

I really hope it kills ghosts.

Not that this thing is a ghost. The salt circle and blue paint didn’t stop it yesterday. Archer’s used to dealing with ghosts, and he’s terrified of it. But this is all I have, so I push on, up and up the creaking stairs.