Page 17 of Purrfectly Haunted

“Both times, the ghosts disappeared when you told them to. And the Urchin implied that only you could free him. Do you know why?”

I finish my second drink, needing some liquid courage, and James pours me a third one with a knowing smile.

“I've never talked about it with anyone,” I whisper.

“You don’t have to, if it really makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I—I need to. It’s relevant to our... situation. It’s just that I thought I was crazy for so many years, I buried that part of myself.” He nods thoughtfully, and waits patiently for me to go on. “I saw things, when I was a kid. People that weren’t supposed to be walking around. It took me a while to understand I was the only one who could see them. I think they were common ghosts, the ones described in the handbook as level one and two entities. Poltergeists like the ones here are rare, I guess.”

“That’s why they need us,” he says, he gestures at the both of us. “To deal with the difficult ones.”

I nod. “Yes. But the common entities are everywhere. There was a man at our community pool, always swimming in circles. Or the young woman standing by the road every afternoon when my brothers and I walked back from school. Half of her face was missing. I was the only one who could see them, and I didn’t know why... My brothers made fun of me. Told everyone I was a pathological liar, so I stopped talking about what I saw. But I still saw them. For a while, at least.”

“You have a gift,” James says, eyes twinkling. “Are you some sort of medium?”

I cringe and shake my head. “No...” That’s too much weirdness for me. “I’m not. I’m just...” I trail off. I don’t know what I am, actually.

He laughs. “You literally hunt ghosts for a living now, I think we’re past being spooked by words and labels. You have a gift, Ewan, and quite a useful one.”

Fear surges through the soft haze of alcohol. I’m glad I’m not crazy, but I don’t want this gift. I don’t want to see the ghosts walking around campus. Edinburgh is an old city, and the dead are everywhere. I started seeing them again a few months back. Some had gruesome wounds, and it became harder and harder to avert my eyes.

And then I wondered if something was just wrong with me. I’m glad, at the very least, to know that I’m quite sane. The world is crazy, not me.

I’m not sure it’s entirely a relief. What is worse, hearing voices in your head or knowing the voices are from the dead?

James notices my hand shaking on the table, and he grabs it. His grip is warm and comforting. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. It looks like your gift gives you a power over them, and we can harness that power and you’ll be safe. Safer than the rest of us, even, who are blind to the dangers lurking out of sight.”

Oh. I didn’t think of that.

I nod. “Yes... thank you.”

James squeezes my hand one last time and lets go. I already miss his touch.

He finishes his drink and gets to his feet. “Come on, time for bed. We have work to do tomorrow.”

We drop our glasses in the sink and make our way to the stairs. James sways as he climbs, and I have to steady him.

“It looks like the whisky hit just right,” he says. His back is to my chest, and I feel his laugh resonate through me. “How come you look sober?”

“I’m big. It takes a lot to get me drunk.”

“That you are! Big, I mean.” He winks at me over his shoulder.

Sweet lord have mercy on me.

He’s not flirting, is he? I can never tell.

He leads the way upstairs, pulling me by the arm, and I’m happy to follow—I have a feeling I would follow him anywhere right now.

A surprise awaits us in our room. The ginger cat, Lucifer, sits on my air mattress.

James curses. “Didn’t we lock the door?”

I’m pretty sure we did. Shirley gave us a key, to ensure that our things were safe while we were away.

“Hello you,” I say to the cat.

I saw him briefly today, while I was helping with the Halloween decorations. Shirley described him as a prime example of orange cat energy. “He’s a tornado,” she said.