Page 52 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

Roy grinned. “And you’re a sucker for manners. So, he’s polite. That’s hardly the behaviour of a malicious spirit. And he came to you for help, right? You can’t abandon him now.”

Augustine sighed, staring at the floor for a long moment. She knew Roy was right. Theo had come to her; had trusted her with— well, not quite with his life, but with his death, and what had she done? She’d run. Abandoned him because she was scared.

But he must be scared too, Augustine suddenly thought. And not just scared: he’s alone. That must be awful.

She took a deep breath. If this was her power, the gift she’d inherited from her foremothers, she needed to use it. She’d spent her life looking for it. Spent her life feeling like the odd one out.

I need to embrace this. I need to help him.

Augustine stood slowly, her stomach still feeling a little uneasy, but at least the worst of her earlier dizziness and discomfort had passed. “I’m going to help him,” she said as she headed towards the door. Halfway there, however, she paused, still momentarily uncertain.

She reminded herself that Theo had never once made her feel unsafe. Not when he’d first walked into the shop. Not when he’d sat across from her at the table, and not even when she’d realized he was a ghost. As she slipped on her coat though, she chewed on her lip. Because the truth was, she wasn’t afraid of Theo hurting her. Not at all.

No. It wasn’t that. It was something else entirely.

She was afraid of letting him get close. Afraid of seeing him again through someone else’s eyes — of feeling what his girlfriend had felt, of blurring the line between what belonged to that woman and what was starting, dangerously, to feel like it could belong to her.

Afraid of what this was waking up inside her, and the worst part — the part that made her hesitate at her door, made her stomach churn within her — she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted it to stop.

Chapter Nineteen

The light was fading fast as Augustine made her way back through Greenwich, the sky a curious mix of pink and purple as the sun began to set over the city. Pumpkins crowded front steps and shop windows, their carved faces already glowing. Strings of orange fairy lights were draped around railings and door frames, while fake cobwebs stretched between hanging baskets and drainpipes. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the ‘Monster Mash’ playing, while the smell of coffee and popcorn was sweet in the air.

Just another October day, Augustine thought as she cut through the market, weaving between commuters, tourists, and clusters of students wrapped in scarves and heavy coats. From one of the pubs came the muffled sound of laughter and clinking glasses, warm against the growing chill, while the Cutty Sark loomed in the near distance, lit gold against the darkening sky.

By the time Augustine turned onto her shop’s street, Greenwich was wrapped in that peculiar vibe of a late afternoon in October where everything felt stranger somehow, depicting the city itself holding its breath and waiting for something mythical to emerge. Like the southbound extension to the Bakerloo line perhaps.

Or maybe that was just her, she thought wryly, projecting her current situation onto an entire city.

“Theo?” she called as she walked in, but there was no response. He didn’t appear.

The shop sat exactly as she’d left it. The stools by her till were still slightly askew and the tarot deck lay on the countertop. The air felt still and expectant, and Augustine hovered momentarily just inside the doorway. “Theo?” she tried again, a little louder this time.

Nothing. Just that same ringing silence.

She stepped further in, letting the door click shut behind her. “Right,” she said to herself. “Great. Fantastic. I come back to face my emotionally complicated ghost situation and he’s . . . what? Gone?”

She dropped her bag onto the counter, glancing around again, anticipating he would materialize at any moment. Could he even do that? Just appear and disappear at will? The thought made her pause.

Do ghosts have schedules? she wondered. Or do they just float off when they get bored? I locked the door with Theo still inside. What if he wanted to haunt the Cutty Sark or something? Maybe Roy was right. Maybe Theo can go through the walls?”

She frowned, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack by the door, before she turned slowly, taking in the shop properly now.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. The closed sign still hung in the window and the incense had clearly burned down to nothing hours ago. The Priestess Reversed had that faintly abandoned feel to it that small businesses get when left alone too long.

Shit. Augustine winced.

“Well done,” she told herself. “That was an excellent business strategy. Close during peak hours because you accidentally time-travelled into a dead man’s girlfriend.”

The yummy mummies. Gone.

The tourists. Gone.

At this rate, even Mrs Clayton had probably—

“You’ve been closed all afternoon.”

Augustine froze, before slowly, she turned around.