Page 70 of How I Met Your Murderer

I could tell myself I’d made my peace with that, but every time Eric’s eyes met mine, something in me clung on harder, stupid and stubborn as ivy on stone, screaming that I should tell him how I really felt when it wouldn’t change our separate fates.

When it came to him, I’d never be ready to let go.

It was strange to find myself in Caoimhe’s office again so soon after the conversation (if we could call it that) Eric and I had had with nervous Lorcan.

Caoimhe was at her desk when I limped in after making a cup of tea and grabbing a leftover roll for breakfast. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up to the elbow, and her ash-blond hair pinned back with the exacting precision of someone who didn’t have time for flyaways getting in her face.

At the back of the room, under a mullioned window, Jordy was sprawled on a battered leather sofa. His boots were crossed at the ankle, tattoos peeking from under his cuffs like half-told stories while he scrolled on his phone. Now that the wi-fi was up and running, it was easier to do things like send an email without driving to the village.

Pepper lifted his tiny head from Jordy’s lap as soon as I entered. His ears perked, and he sniffed the air, glancing around as if searching for someone. He was that used to Eric being a step or two behind me.

Caoimhe finally looked up as I got closer, her glacial eyes narrowing against the brightness from the windows. “Morning,” she greeted briskly before studying me more closely. “Well now. You’ve a bit of color in your face. Does that mean you’ve been off seeing that cute friend of yours from the banquet again?”

Heat crept up my neck, and I was helpless to stop it. “We’ve seen each other here and there. Put it simply, it’s, uh, hard to stay away.”

She smirked, satisfied that she’d figured me out so quickly. “Fair play to you. You look less like death warmed over, so I suggest you keep him around.”

“Believe me, I would if I could,” I muttered. When she frowned and rubbed her ear, I added more clearly, “Right. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

“So what brings you in on a fine morning like this?” she asked curiously. “You’re not usually down this way, unless—oh, no. Has one of the poltergeists flooded the third floor again?”

Jordy sat up and tossed his phone aside, ready to spring into action with a plunger and a prayer like he’d done so many times over the past few months.

Displaced by the motion, Pepper hopped down and trotted over to nose at my trouser leg, still searching for Eric. I knelt to rub behind his ears, and he leaned into it, his fur sleek and warm. When I scooped him into my arms, he settled against my chest with a soft sigh. It was clear that while he was annoyed I wasn’t Eric, he’d accept second-best just this one time.

If Eric and I had gotten a dog, I doubt he would have ever agreed to a dachshund even though Pepper was, arguably, his biggest fan.

“I need to talk to you both,” I said. And maybe I should have considered my words more carefully, but I was tired and worried and didn’t know what else to say but “I think you should call off the grand opening. And not just postpone it, but cancel it. Indefinitely.”

Caoimhe closed her laptop with a soft click. Jordy’s brows lifted, concern flickering there for the mate who had set him up on what seemed like a rather successful coffee date.

“Come again?” Caoimhe asked coolly.

So I told them what I’d learned about the powerful entity who also called this place home, about how fighting it was probably well beyond my ability and even the village witch, about how it had killed the occasional living person over the centuries and how it was probably preparing to do just that again, given the way it was consuming other ghosts to make itself stronger.

“I’m especially worried about Halloween. I’m worried that it might kill several people, not just one this time, like what it did to Eric or Chef Máirtín or Gráinne or who knows how many others,” I blurted, becoming increasingly agitated as I watched Caoimhe’s expression shutter. “I don’t think it wants you opening its home to the living like this at all, and this is its way of showing you how angry it is.”

Finished now, I realized the gloom that permeated the rest of the castle had settled over us all. Caoimhe’s arms were crossed and her jaw set, and even Jordy looked worried—though about his sister’s mood or my mental state, I couldn’t say which. Pepper whined softly and pressed his head into my chest, like even he sensed the tension.

Finally, Caoimhe broke the silence with a long exhale. “So,” she said. “There’s a dangerous spirit about, and your solution is to shut down the business we’ve spent three years and our life savings building.”

“It’s not a business problem,” I argued as gently as I could. “It’s a safety problem. This thing—I call it Gary—feeds on the dead, and sometimes the living. So if we open the castle to hungry crowds—”

“We’ll have waivers,” she cut in, clipped and tight. “Liability sorted.”

I blinked at her, ignoring the way Pepper was wiggling in my arms for attention. “Caoimhe, waivers won’t stop someone from dying. Surely they taught you that at whatever business school you attended.”

Right now, it seemed like that might have been the School of Selling Your Soul For a Fiver.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with neatly manicured fingers. “People die everywhere, Raff. They die all the time,” she said, with a shrug that made the castle’s cold settle more deeply into my chest. “On roads, in hotels, hell—in their own kitchens. Life is random and cruel. And if someone dies here once every few decades, that’s hardly cause for alarm.”

“It is when something’s murdering people!” I protested, my voice rising a little more than I meant it to. Even I winced. I wished Eric was here with me to put a hand on my back and keep me centered. Instead, I made do by calming myself with a few breaths before I added softly, “And I’m telling you, on my honor, there’s a killer here.”

Jordy rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish at having waited so long to speak up. “Caoimhe, look, maybe we should at least take a few days to think about—”

“No, we shouldn’t.” She didn’t raise her voice like I had, but her words struck like tossed stones all the same. “I’m not throwing away everything just because our ghost hunter is spooked by something that might just be a bit of folklore.”

“It isn’t folklore,” I said, quietly this time. “I’ve seen what it can do.”