Page 94 of Purrfectly Haunted

The basement of the town house is rank and humid, being so close to the river. The place gives us both flashbacks of the one where we fought the monster, and James give me a worried look through his mask.

I touch his hand to reassure him that I'm fine.

Since we entered the house, I've been feeling the cold touch of the veil. It's stronger now that we're in the basement. Pearl emerges from James' backpack, hissing.

Our clients share an horrified look. "No cats allowed in here," the woman says. "I'm allergic."

James sighs. "She's our ghost hunting cat. Do you want your ghost problem handled or not?"

"Yes but—"

"Then she has to stay. Trust me, you want her on your side."

Right at that instant, a cold breeze travels through the basement, and I see a figure float out of the dark. The ghost is tall and thin, reminiscent of Slender Man, their head and shoulders bent as they touch the ceiling. They have no features, their face a shapeless, moving mass.

The other three are still arguing, unaware that the entity has made an appearance, but as soon as Pearl hisses again, James turns his attention to the overall direction of the apparition. The couple must see something, too, because they both run upstairs without looking back and, judging by the sound, lock us in.

"What do you see?" James asks me.

I describe the tall spirit to him, then say, "You?"

"A stretching shadow, along the wall."

The entity is content to stand there, unmoving. A year ago, the uncanny vision would have made me run screaming like our clients, but now all I feel is calm. The ghost, on another hand, emanates pure anguish. Exorcising this one will be a mercy.

"Come on. Let's do that ritual," James says, and I nod.

When we decide to call it a night around four in the morning, we have dealt with six entities. The first one was the saddest, but the others were actually a wild ride. We even had to pursue two naked ghosts who died while having sex on a rooftop. Another one, the ghost of a young woman, tried to possess James, then me, but our tattoos did their job. Pearl fell on that one with feline rage, and the exorcism after was a piece of cake.

We came to realise that I have a hold on ghosts now. I can touch them, like Pearl can. I was always different, but my ability only grew over the past year.

"You're incredible," James says to me as we make our way back to the hostel.

We've both taken our masks off, at last. Even at such a late hour, the streets are still busy with drunk partygoers in costumes.

"I was just following your lead," I mumble, blushing.

He gives me a look. "Ewan. You tackled a ghost to the ground and almost sent him to outer space. I'm pretty sure they felt it resonate through the veil. You're a force of nature."

My blush deepens, and I grab his hand and keep walking. I'm surprised too, by how easy tonight has been. I'm no longer scared of ghosts, and hunting them actually felt like a relief, like I was taking back control over my life. I feel truly at peace for the first time in over a year.

When we enter the hostel, the Halloween party is long dead and the employees are cleaning up the great hall. Lana and Shirley were waiting for us, wearing their sexy vampire costumes. We hug and they fuss over us, then we help them finish cleaning the place.

We all trudge back to our rooms and promise to meet for brunch at noon.

I take a shower first in our private bathroom, then sit on the bed as James takes his. There is something building up inside me, and I can feel the buzz under my skin. After tonight and the relief of feeling whole again, I'm restless. I want to live, to love, to feel it all.

I get in bed wearing only my boxer briefs and pull the comforter to my chin. My eyes travel over our room. It's bare, mostly, the only decorations being the ones that were already here before James moved in. It used to be a shared room for employees, but Lana replaced the bunk beds with a queen size bed when she gave it to him. There are three windows with red velvet curtains, and a painting with a ship lost in a storm on the wall. It's probably far older than me, and the whites have turned yellow with age. The only wardrobe is a massive thing, sculpted in wood with gothic designs. But James' discreet touch is everywhere. From his combat boots by the door, to his leather jacket on the chair. The bed sheets smell like him and there are cat toys scattered all over the floor.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, toes tingling with anticipation.

Moments later, James comes out of the shower, vapour billowing behind him. He's shirtless and his pyjama bottoms ride low on his hips. I swallow thickly.

"I'm knackered," he says, turning the light off.

He jumps in bed, and I feel it dip under his weight. In the dark, my senses are attuned to him, and all can hear and feel is his breathing and the warmth coming from him.

His hand appears on my chest, seeking me out, and he asks, "Are you okay baby?"