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Her monotone gives her the appearance of a poorly calibrated robot. She's not the kind of person who inspires vocations or arouses curiosity.
I thank her half-heartedly and walk away, planting myself in front of one of the screens already switched on.
What was the name of that place again?
“Is your brain a sieve or something?”
Are you kidding? I wasn't making it up! Not only is he persecuting me, he's reading my mind!
“Forgive me for not knowing a single remote village in Wales! And get out of my head, I didn't invite you!”
“Out of your...?” he wonders with a contrite air before pulling himself together. “I didn't know I was capable of such a thing; you think so hard!”
And it’s my fault too! He's got a lot of nerve, that ghost!
He calms down immediately, which surprises me a little; I had imagined I would have to fight more. I can resume my research in peace, although I’m uncomfortable with the idea that I’m not alone in my head.
One thing at a time, Believ, I think, kicking myself. Concentrate on your mission. The sooner you find it, the sooner you’ll be rid of him.
And too bad if he heard me.
No matter how much I widen my search, I can't find anything. Apparently, with the exception of the manor's owner, there hasn't been a death in a while. What was the body doing in the basement, then? How is it possible that no one mentioned this disappearance anywhere, not even in a local newspaper? Did the missing person have no relatives to announce his tragic departure?
“What's up?”
“Nothing.”
“I can see you're upset; your brow is furrowed...”
Ah, because he also plans to count my wrinkles?
“I don't...”
He pauses, aware that he has once again overstepped the bounds of my intimacy.
“I forbid you to do that!”
“Hush!” a reader tells me from his seat in front of a huge leather-bound book whose yellowed pages creak every time he turns them.
Who do I think I am, talking to an invisible being and tapping away on a keyboard that dates from the beginning of the millennium? A madwoman, for sure.
“That's enough!” I whisper to the ghost. “If you do that again, I'll stab you.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to,” he apologizes, materializing in front of the computer screen.
It's the first time he's adopted such precise features, far from the vaporous entity hovering over the ceremony that should have rid him of this wandering existence.
His hair forms a perfect wave that conceals part of his clear gaze riveted on mine. His square jaw and slim nose give him a determined appearance despite the doubt in his pupils. He looks so young; what could he have succumbed to?
“We won't find anything conclusive here,” I mumble as I stand up.
“Good riddance!” says the bookworm, convinced that it's him I've just spoken to.
I'd love to make that moron eat his precious book!
“At the manor, perhaps?”
“If only it were that simple. The people who requested my intervention have no desire to discuss anything with me. And to tell you the truth, asking them directly questions about yourself would be likely to attract a lot of attention, if not reveal that I haven't done the job they've paid me to do.”
