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“You can more easily ask the spirits questions and get answers without me having to relay them to you. Also, I find a lot of spirits level up their communication ability when speaking through a host—in this case, me. Their answers can become more complete and understandable rather than just certain sentences on repeat.”

I notice our friends talking with Beau and wait.

Beau focuses back on me and gestures to our spirit lineup. “Here, we’ve got Jonathan, Archie, Tom, Peter, Devon, and Big Mike.”

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” My shoulders slump in resignation.

He blows me an air kiss. “You catch on right quick, darlin’. That’s one of many things I like about you.”

“Fine,” I grumble, taking out my mobile. “Can I record the audio? That way I can focus on talking with each of them better rather than trying to remember everything they may say for later.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Just be aware that each one will sound different from me.”

“How so?”

“It won’t be my voice coming out, but theirs. Or as close to theirs as my vocal chords can mimic.”

That doesn’t sound the slightest bit creepy now, does it?

I steel myself. “All right. But if I think things are turning dangerous, can I… I don’t know, shake you out of it?”

Beau’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a laugh. “If it makes you feel better, then sure.”

I harrumph my displeasure but subside into silence.

Taking that for consent to start, Beau closes his eyes and settles himself into readiness.

“By all that is holy, like Miz Dolly Parton, I call you forth, Jonathan Turner. By earth and by bone, you who know truth may speak it through me.”

For a second nothing happens, then Beau’s posture slumps forward, his head hanging down. I’m about to move closer to check on him when he sits up straight and stretches his arms overhead. Then he looks down at himself in dismay.

“Christ, this bloke’s clothes are naff.”

Hearing another voice come out of Beau—and with a British accent, no less—is all kinds of strange.

“Am I speaking with Jonathan?” I ask uncertainly.

He grins widely at me. “That’s right, handsome.” He eyes me up and down. “Always had a thing for sexy Scotsmen.”

I clear my throat. “Let’s stick to business, all right? This is your chance to talk. Tell me what you remember about the night you died.”

“Oi, have a bit of tact, mate. We’re talking about me popping me clogs here.”

I grimace. “Sorry. What do you remember?”

“More things have come back to me since we last talked, and I feel less foggy when talking through your friend here.”

“Good. Start from your earliest recollection of that night, please.”

“Hmm. I got to the Midnight Vault around ten. Spent a few hours drinkin’ and dancin’, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone like me who might be looking for a good time.”

“Cruising, you mean?”

“That’s right. Had to be awfully careful. It looks like it’s changed so much since then…” His expression turns wistful.

“Did you pull?” I ask, trying to redirect him.

That makes him grin. “Too bloody right I did. Tall, strapping bloke like yourself. We snuck off to the toilets and he made me see stars.” He sighs. “At least I got laid one last time before I corked it.”