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“We need you to keep doing that,” Andrew said.

“I mean…yeah,” I said. “Kinda what his family hired me to do.”

“Not exactly,” Andrew said. “We need you to let him try before you intervene.”

“You want me to sit back and watch him chat to ghosts before I save his arse,” I said, and they all nodded enthusiastically. Even Popty. Somehow. “I rescind my judgement from earlier. You’re all insane.”

“Probably,” Andrew said. “But you’re our best shot at getting him to where he needs to be without him getting hurt in the process. He’s too precious to lose, Ryan.”

“He’s a menace.”

“Again, we don’t disagree,” Bronwyn said. “But he is also one of the kindest souls you’ll ever see. We ghosts…we see humans as more than just the flesh they inhabit. We see the essence as well, and Owain…he’s so bright. We need your help to protect that.”

“Fucking hell.” I ran my hand over my sticky hair and down my face. I was actually entertaining this lunacy. I was actually thinking about the cute glasses and that stubborn pout and considering saying yes to letting him try to befriend whatever arsehole goo-ed its way through these walls. “I was hired to do a job, you know.”

“And you’ll still get to do it,” Bronwyn said. “Just…delay your reactions slightly. Give him a moment to try before stepping in. You’ll still get paid either way.”

“Why don’t you guys help him? I know Mr. Microwave is a pacifist, but what about the rest of you?”

“We’ve done our best in the past to mitigate the circumstances as they arise, but the only way to properly help a ghost move on isn’t from this side of the veil.” Bronwyn gave me a stern look.

I felt the weight of it, like the responsibility was being placed on my shoulders, but the weird thing was that I didn’t feel the pressure like it had just been put on me now. It made me aware that as soon as I’d met Owain, I’d taken that weight from that absurd boy the moment he’d swung a paint can at my head and batted his innocent lashes at me in the aftermath.

God fucking dammit.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Ryan?” Owain called. “Are you awake? I heard talking.”

Bartholomew didn’t even hesitate before he jumped out of the window, tricorn hat floating after him like a cartoon.

“He can’t know we told you,” Bronwyn hissed as Harri and Larri shoved each other through the floor, fighting about who should go first.

“Uh…” I called back. “I was just talking to my dick.”

“Jesus wept,” Bronwyn muttered.

“It’s believable!” I whispered. “And you have no room to complain. You want me to lie for you, so you get what you get. You rolled those dice, not me.”

She got out the spoon again and raised it toward my ear. “You listen here, child—”

“Oh, okay. Say hi to him for me and I’ll wait here until you’re done,” Owain said pleasantly over our bickering.

I perked up, forgetting all about the spoon rocketing forwards to clip my ear and the argument. “Love, you can give him all the greetings you want. He’s very much liked making your acquaintance.”

I was already walking to the door to open it without thinking about the fact that, oh yeah, I was supposed to be hiding a ghost secret society in my room.

I swung it wide and watched Popty flatten himself against the wall like a pancake, Bronwyn fading into the ether alongside Andrew with a sigh of disappointment at my intelligence level.

The line between genius and penis was a tightrope I’d been walking my whole life. I fell one side or the other…mainly the penis side.

Owain blinked at me, his hair wet and curling slightly at the edges, dressed in a different pyjama set. This one wasn’t crocheted, it was a fluffy orange fleece material in the style of a long-sleeved jumper, but of course it also involved fluffy shorts in the same material.

“You didn’t shower?” Owain asked.

I looked down at my disgusting appearance. “I was testing out how well ghost goo worked as hair gel.”

Owain lit up, entirely intrigued. “I never thought about that! The hold looks great, actually. Maybe there’s a niche for that? You could take it to the next market day and set up a booth!”