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“Oh no.” Huck cringed.
“What?”
“It’s after nine o’clock,” Huck said quickly.
“So?”
“Uh, ding.”
Grant gasped. “Oh, wait! Fuck! Mrs. Charles? Nobody went ding?”
“Well…” Huck glanced over at a very sheepish Rebecca and Precipitation. “I’m gonna say that’s a very big no. So, yeah, this might be bad.”
“How fucking bad?”
“Verybad.”
CHAPTER14
Huck
Huck had always considered himself to be a very brave person when he was alive. Being faced with the possibility of having to battle both an ancient Aztec deity who wanted to take over his boyfriend’s mortal body and a very angry clock-punching ghost who didn’t get her ding and might destroy the entire hotel, however, inspired some not so very brave feelings.
The urge to flee at very high speeds was very real.
It was thankfully fleeting as the urge to protect Grant was much stronger and—wait, hadn’t Grant just said those three magical words? The magical I love you words to him? And Huck hadn’t even said them back?
Oh, fuck.
The entire hotel was shaking now, and Huck didn’t know what to do.
The last time Mrs. Charles had gotten like this had ended in a lot of terrible destruction, and Precipitation was already racing away to hopefully head her off. He’d always been the only one who could talk her down, and Huck prayed that Precipitation was charming enough to stop her before any other parts of the hotel fell.
Precipitation didn’t have to run very far as Mrs. Charles was suddenly standing right there in the doorway that led out into the hall, and she was definitely pissed.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Cary whispered. “Another one. It’s another one.”
Right.
Everyone could see ghosts now, which was a weird fucking mystery to solve at some other time when all of their lives and afterlives were not in imminent danger.
Mrs. Charles’s eyes were glowing like wildfire, and when she screamed, her voice made the foundation quiver. “Where is my bell! Wherrrreee isss myyyy belll!”
Though she was quite small, Precipitation approached her as if she was as massive as the Thing. He took small steps with his hands out, much in the same way someone might approach a wild animal. “Uh… Ding?”
She snarled.
“Okay, right. Silly of me to think that would work right now. You’re clearly a bit agitated beyond that. Ahem.” Precipitation cleared his throat. “Mrs. Charles,” he cooed sweetly, “everything is going to be all right, I promise. Take a few deep breaths—”
Mrs. Charles roared.
Teetering back a step, Precipitation tried again, “Mrs. Charles. Hello, hi. It’s me, Sip. Precipitation Per Chance. Remember? We had a lovely chat about your hat once and how much I loved it?”
Mrs. Charles snarled, but she didn’t seem ready to tear anything down, so that was a good sign.
“What the fuck is happening?” Grant asked between clenched teeth.
“We’re hoping that Sip can calm her crazy ass down,” Huck mumbled back from the side of his mouth. “He’s done it before, and he’s probably our best bet to make sure she doesn’t wreck the whole damn hotel.”
