Page 83 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“Length and intent,” Augustine retorted, scratching Bird behind his ears.

Roy only grinned, though, entirely unrepentant. Then his expression shifted as something sharper and more curious slipped in beneath the humour. “So,” he said, tilting his head. “Where were you last night?” A pause. “Or,” he added, more knowingly, “do I not want to know?”

Augustine looked at him for a long second. “You don’t want to know.”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“Impressive.” Roy grinned again. “Did you do anything illegal?”

“I broke the laws of physics. Does that count?”

Roy blinked. “Let me guess — more metaphysical travel into your mystery man’s grieving girlfriend?”

Augustine shook her head. “Kind of. But also kind of not. It’s hard to explain.”

There was a brief silence as Augustine grappled with what to say next. She shifted slightly in her chair, adjusting Bird absentmindedly.

“What have you been up to?” she asked, trying to buy time.

Roy shrugged. “Oh, you know. Lived my quiet, uneventful life. Wrote a little. Listened to the Dick Tracy soundtrack again. Fed Bird.”

“Thanks for that.”

Roy shrugged. “His litter tray is an absolute state, though, and I refuse to touch it. I’m fond of you Augustine. But not that fond. Oh, by the way. The landlord called this morning.”

Augustine stilled, mentally working out when she’d last paid the rent. “God, what did he want?”

“Obviously, I didn’t speak to him,” Roy replied, and something in his eyes flickered with . . . was it sadness? “But he left a message on the landline that I overheard. Something about the leaking pipe? He said he would come by tomorrow morning to fix it.”

Oh.

Augustine exhaled in relief. That was fine. She leaned back into the chair again, her fingers still moving across Bird’s fur.

“Right,” she said. “I forgot I called him. There’s been a lot going on.”

Roy watched her carefully. “You all right?” he asked, and this time, there was no joking in his voice. He was really concerned, Augustine realized. Concerned about her.

Still, she didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she looked at nothing in particular, her thoughts moving too fast and yet somehow not fast enough. Was she all right? No. She really wasn’t. Her memories were missing, truths were half-formed, and her life . . .

My life might not really be mine.

“Roy.” Finally, she spoke. “What would you do if it turned out your entire life was a lie, and there was no one you could trust?”

For once, Roy didn’t laugh or try to deflect with humour. In fact, he seemed to consider her words, his gaze drifting slightly, like he was turning the question over in his mind instead of brushing it aside.

Then he shrugged. “I guess I’d want to know the truth. Even if it was awful.” A small pause. “Especially if it was awful.”

Augustine swallowed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Roy studied her for a moment longer. “As for having no one you can trust,” he said, a little more gently. “You know you can trust me, right? Want to tell me what happened?”

“Well,” Augustine began, once more stroking her hand down Bird’s back. “Remember Theo?”

“Theo? You mean the dead guy whose girlfriend you time travelled into, who asked you to read the tarot cards? Yeah, the name might ring a bell or two.”

“So,” Augustine carried on ignoring Roy’s sarcasm. “It turns out his girlfriend — the one whose memories I’ve been visiting — it turns out she’s, uh, me.”