Page 26 of Dead Vengeance

“How are you holding up?” I ask.

His laugh sounds slightly manic. “I’m not great.” His eyes dart to the doorway that Raul disappeared through, then linger there.

“He’ll be fine,” I assure him. “You saw him afterwards. Not a scratch on him.”

“But so much blood.” His jumping knee bumps into mine when he shifts towards me. “Why did he have so much blood, and not a scratch?”

“Well, um…” Not because I resurrected him, obviously. We very much don’t want the hot ghost catcher to think that I, too, am associated with the spirit world. “Maybe he did have some scratches. Under the blood. But he was walking around fine, talking…”

“Maybe it’s some kind of nasty injury we couldn’t see,” Liam worries aloud. “Maybe it was under his clothes. And… and…”

My hand does drop then, partly to calm that shaking knee, but mostly to calm him. “He’s going to be all right.”

Liam’s eyes fall to my hand, so I take it back fast, wrapping it around my little cardboard cup. It’s too hot, and it burns my skin, but I hold on to it anyway.

I’m not coming onto him. I’m not. And I very much don’t want him to think I am. Because maybe if I wait, play my cards right, maybe when this is all over…

Ugh, who am I kidding? I can’t date anyone. And this is all my fault anyway. I should have sent them away at the door as soon as I realised how inexperienced Liam is. I should never have let him go through any of this. And when he finds out I’m responsible for the lot of it…

He slides his hands together, knotting his fingers, then leans forward, elbows on his thighs. A long sigh makes his shoulders stoop. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He says it so quietly, like a confession.

I lean forward to match his pose, that hot cup making my fingers ache. “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, just a little. “For what? It’s not your fault you’ve got a ghost.”

A ghost. If only he knew. That thought twists in my stomach. If he had any inkling of the real problem… If he’d met the thing…

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he mutters. “I was useless today.”

“Liam, you weren’t at all.”

“I spent the whole time hiding in your sitting room,” he argues.

“I locked you in there,” I argue back. “It’s not like I gave you a choice.”

“What did you do that for?” His eyes are more than accusatory when they meet mine. Definitely quite accusatory. Guarded. But there’s also a shade of… hurt?

“I just…” I don’t know what to say to him. “I wanted you to be safe.” And to not see my powers. “And it’s my ghost, so it’s my responsibility. If he’d been hurt, really hurt… I suppose I just didn’t want you to see that. On your first day. And have that memory.”

He watches me a little longer, and I can only hope he sees the truth of it in my expression. Because that is true. I’m only realising it now as I say it. There’s something about this man that makes me want to take him under my wing, or… protect him. Which is weird, I guess. Since we’ve only just met. But there’s something about him. Some kind of pleasant energy, almost like a familiarity. Though I’m sure I’d remember if I’d ever met him before.

He unwittingly makes the intensity of the urge double when he looks away again and says, “I need this job. I’m… I don’t have anything else. And my mum, she… we—”

“Liam!” a voice calls from across the room.

Liam’s up like a shot. “Gerald!”

Gerald, huh? So that’s the boss. The head of ExorSquad himself. The man I paid to send me this poor guy who’s been put through the ghostly wringer today and spat out the other side.

Gerald looks like the kind of guy who’s just spent his final penny betting on the dogs. His ancient suede coat appears thrifted at best, maybe a hand-me-down from his probably equally shifty-looking grandfather. A gold tooth gleams when he grins at Liam, when he places a tobacco-yellowed hand on his shoulder. Then he lowers his head in a show of listening to Liam, but his quick brown eyes never stop darting back to me.

Judging by the look of him, and by today’s disaster, I’m not convinced this guy has any idea how to run a team of ‘Spirit Extraction Specialists.’

In fact, the only thing that’s being extracted right now, as far as I can see, is my money.

I push myself to standing and make my way over to them, Liam’s hushed but frenzied words growing clear on approach. “A real ghost. I’m not even kidding. I saw it. A whole man, not some mist or-or-or a light or something. And then it was like… it did something. The ghost. And a whole chandelier fell on him, but then it was back in the ceiling. And I can’t explain how it got there. And—”