Page 49 of Hot Ghost Summer

“Ah, Mister Irving—”

“Theo.”

“Theo.” He smiles kindly. “Relationship advice isn’t my specialty. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding at the front…”

I choke on my own spit. Pushing my palms out in front of me, I frantically wave them about. “No. No, it’s not like that. Not between us. I mean, for a start, he hates me. But I thought there was a rule about ghosts where you can’t say their name out loud because it summons them? And I really don’t want t’ summon him. Not after how I left him before I came here. He’d do more than scratch my back up.”

A furious blush hits my cheeks, and I bite the inside of my cheek to shut myself up, then lower my heated face.

Father Byrne lets out a sigh, and shuffles forward in his seat.

I risk glancing at him through my lashes.

“I heard the magic word in there: ghost.” An eager expression shines from underneath a thin sheen of white hair. “Tell me, why do you need my help? You said you’re afraid he’d do worse than scratch you. Is he the one who did that?”

He raises his finger again, this time to point to my face.

Without conscious thought, I raise my own fingers to touch where he’s indicating, and poke the scab on my bottom lip. “Ah, no. Hollis didn’t… He’s never actually hurt me.”

Memories of him silently watching me shower last night push to the front of my mind.

Father Byrne’s pale eyes, in sunken sockets, regard me in such a deep and questioning way that for a split second I wonder if he can read my mind. An absurd internal panic that the idea of Hollis’s eyes on me felt good causes me to look around for an emergency exit.

With more squeak than I’d like, I blurt out, “He blows up all my stuff, blames me for his death, and refuses t’ move on no matter what I do. That’s why I’m ’ere. I don’t know what else t’ do t’ help him. But something has t’ change.”

“A poltergeist, then? And you are his target.” Father Byrne steeples his hands pensively under his chin. “Malevolence comes in many forms, Theo, but at its core, it’s an intense emotional connection. Often, there’s more than one emotion, which is why these spirits don’t respond to any single method to help them move on. This is also why their behaviour can be so dangerous. You did right to come and see me.”

I nod, then raise my hand to check items off on my fingers when I explain, “I’ve tried telling him he’s dead, burning sage, putting him in salt, holy water, and… containing him in a protective barrier. He was pretty confident that the last one wouldn’t work either.”

“Then it’s time for an exorcism, dear boy.” Father Byrne’s eyes light up as if he’s thrilled at the prospect. “We offer that service for free, but we do require you undergo a full psychiatric evaluation first—to rule out other possibilities—and they start at three thousand pounds. I can add your name to the waiting list today, if you like?”

“Three grand for a head check?” I ask, incredulous. “You’re not going t’ find Hollis in there. And anyway, I can’t afford that.”

That crinkle at the corner of Father Byrne’s eyes falls away, and the edge of his mouth turns down. “It might seem like a lot of money, but you’re only young, and your safety, surely, is priceless?”

“Have you tried living out there lately? It’s daylight robbery. Besides, it’d take me years t’ save up three grand. I need a solution a bit quicker than that. What else is there?”

“That is most unfortunate, Theo, because the only other option isn’t without risk.” How he reclines in such an uncomfortable chair I’ve no idea, but he does.

I perk up, leaning forward to occupy some of the space he just vacated, and rest my elbows on my knees. “What’s that?”

“In lieu of an exorcism, you’ll have to resolve the spirit’s unfinished business. Find out what’s keeping him tethered to the realm of the living, and help him conclude it.”

That seems straightforward. “I thought you said this option is risky?”

Father Byrne’s eyes darken. “It is.” He holds my gaze for a long moment before he adds, “Because the most efficient way to discover what that is, is to host a séance. One of our mediums will talk to your malevolent spirit, question him carefully—thoroughly—to establish his motivations.”

He stretches across the narrow table beside his chair and selects a leaflet to hand me. Séance 101: Your Questions Answered.

I accept it automatically, looking at it without really seeing it. “Thanks.”

“Prices start at only four hundred pounds, and I think there’s space in the calendar as soon as two weeks from now.” Father Byrne drags a thick, leather-bound ledger closer.

I balk. “Look, Father, I appreciate you seeing me today, but these prices… We live in two very different worlds.” Flapping the leaflet between us, I ask, “Does this tell me what I need t’ do t’ set up a séance?”

“To a point,” he admits reluctantly. “But I can’t advise you to try to do that. Communicating with spirits can be dangerous.”

Smirking, I huff a breathy laugh. If only he knew. Hollis has no problem telling me exactly what he thinks… when he wants to. “But these séances, they force the spirits t’ talk t’ you, right?”