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“Unearned, if it’s the godly one you’re referencing.”

“And he looked at you as though he had found that treasure at the bottom of the sea—wondering and enchanted. I knew he would have to die then.” Branok flinches as if struck, and the vicar laughs and says, “And the irony is it wasn’t me that killed him, Branok. It was you.”

Uncertainty runs across Branok’s face, appearing alien in place of his usual weary confidence. “What do you mean?”

Boynton leans closer, his expression gloating and greedy. “Your disappearance killed him as surely as if you’d dealt the blow yourself. And all because you couldn’t keep your nose out of other people’s business. You only had to turn the other cheek. Better men than you did, but no. Not Saint Branok. You had to be better, and it killed you and then him. He faded every day.”

“Stop it!” I shout.

He ignores me, all his attention fixed on Branok. He winks at him. “I had my fun with him, though.”

“What do you mean?” Branok asks hoarsely.

Boynton smiles wickedly. “I played the concerned friend so many times. He never knew the pleasure I derived from turning up at the hall with another clue that might promise your safe return, and how much I gloried when the false trail I had laid went cold. And every day he grew fainter and less interested in life. He knew, you see. I think he always knew you were gone. The horrible thing about finding an anchor in life is that when it’s taken away, you drift unmoored.” For the first time, he looks uncertain. “When one senses the absence of another from this world—what would you call that?”

“Love,” Branok says simply. “You have never had it aimed at you, and so you could not recognise it.”

Boynton glowers, his eyes narrowing. “Well, my fun was cut far too short. The silly boy caught a fever and died, and although I tried to control him after death the way I have controlled all the others, it never worked. I tried so hard to find him and bend him to my will. What fun that would have been.” He shrugs. “But he would not answer my call. In retaliation, I made it so he had to stay where he was for eternity. And I did the same to you, Branok.” He brushes his jacket fastidiously and something gleams on his finger.

Branok stiffens. “What is that?”

Boynton looks down and smiles cruelly. “A mere gimcrack. A fancy, if you will. I picked it up many years ago.”

For an instant, Branok flares pure white, a light so strong that I put my hand up to shield my eyes. When he dims there is utter rage on his face. “That is mine,” he says furiously.

Boynton’s eyes widen. “Is it?” he mocks. “How can that be, for I am wearing it?”

“’Tis my ring. Xander gave it to me.”

“Ah, how touching.”

Branok stands completely still for a few seconds and then he looks back at me. “’Tis what I forgot,” he says. “We wore rings. Promise rings.” My eyes widen and he nods, his eyes gleaming, willing me to understand. “We could never exchange vows in a church in front of the world, so they were for us. We said our vows in a small cove that has been many years lost to the sea, but the promises remain. And promises are powerful things.”

I bite my lip to hold in a gasp as he turns back to Boynton. I sneak a look at Levi. I don’t think the vicar has noticed him. His attention was all on me and Branok, and he missed Levi standing back in the shadows.

Levi holds my gaze, and I know he’s thinking the same thought. Is this the missing piece that is keeping them apart? Two rings that were meant to bind their lives and keep them together. Where is Xander’s ring, though? I fucking hope he wasn’t buried with it, because there is no way my husband is going to dig up another grave. No, it must be in the hall somewhere. I have to believe that.

I suck in a breath, trying not to make a sound and then tap my wedding ring in a tiny gesture unseen by Boynton and Branok, who continue to argue. I look at Levi and then tip my head toward the hall. Find the ring, I mouth.

He glances at the two spirits, and then carefully nudges the book towards me with his foot. He takes a step back quietly. Then another, and another. Be careful, he mouths, and then he whirls around and is gone. I have the immediate strong desire to drag him back. His presence always makes me feel calmer, and I’m going to need to keep my head if we’re all coming out of this safely.

“Where is your husband, Mr Billings?”

I slowly turn to Boynton. He and Branok have drawn a halt to their fighting, and the vicar is watching me intently. I make myself say casually, “He just nipped out to lie on the road and hope for a crow to eat him. Anything has got to be better than listening to you monologue for hours.”

He studies me for a long second and then makes a dismissive gesture. “Much use he is, anyway. The time I spent in his body was utterly tedious. It must take work to be that boringly nice.”

Rage churns into a fiery ball in my belly, but when I speak, my voice is just as violently cold. “You’re going to regret making that choice, Richard Boynton. You should have left Levi out of it.”

He laughs. “Oh, how will I sleep at night?”

“I don’t know, seeing as you’re fucking dead.” I wag my finger mockingly. “You know, marriage and relationships are full of little lessons. I tell you this because you’ve never found anyone mental enough to overlook your personality.” His eyes flare with anger, but I continue talking. “The biggest lesson I’ve learned is never to take Levi for granted. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

I’m trying not to look over at the book. I remember someone famous once said that no harm could come from a book, and I want to laugh out loud. They obviously don’t move in the same circles as me.

“Blue’s right,” Branok says. “Despite all your talents, you never learned not to underestimate humans.”

Taking advantage of Boynton’s distraction, I take a careful step towards the book, only to freeze when his head twists around. “What are you doing, Mr Billings?”