Page 48 of The Diamond in the Rough

I see, is what I said to Sylvia.

“Mr. Buckley,” Ward was saying, his voice turning hard. “If you do not leave immediately, I will have to remove you.”

“You can’t do that,” Buckley blustered, confident in his ability to physically resist both Ward and myself. “I’m a paying customer, and I demand that you see this through satisfactorily.”

Ward pinched the bridge of his nose over his mask. “Mr. Buckley,” he said, the words coming out clipped. “You do not get to dictate the end results of your séance, only that you are given one and make contact with the requested deceased person. That has been done. Your brother gambled away the money, which means that you know what happened to it and why there was very little that came to you upon his death. Whether you like it or not, my job has been completed to the full extent of the terms of the contract, and I am now asking you politely to leave.”

Buckley crossed his arms and settled himself more deeply in his chair.

“Would you like me to get Mr. Manning?” I asked. Most people don’t attempt to resist Mason.

“No, thank you, Rayn,” Ward replied, and Archie shimmered into the room, a gleeful smile on his face. “I think Mr. Lagarde will be sufficient to persuade our client that his time here is done.”

I knew Ward didn’t like putting Mason in a position to have to exert physical force—Mason didn’t much like doing it, and Ward was surprisingly protective of the huge orc.

And then Archie took full physical form, and Buckley went a sickly shade of pinkish-white.

Sylvia—still insubstantial and invisible to Buckley—cackled.

“Okay, then, bucko,”the dead man said, cracking hisprotoplasmic knuckles.“You go under your own power or under mine. Your choice.”

I couldn’t help the slight disappointment I felt as I moved out of the way to allow Buckley to exit Ward’s office, then watched as he hurried down the hallway toward the front door, turning only once to see that Archie was still hovering, visible and threatening, behind him.

When the door shut, Archie chuckled.“I do enjoy doing that, sonny. Thanks.”

Ward made a non-committal noise. I knew he didn’t much like deploying ghosts as a means of forcible persuasion or threat, but it was satisfying to watch Buckley be temporarily humbled. Hopefully enough that he wouldn’t come back to us.

9

God,she hated the corporate gigs. She understood the need for them—hotels and convention centers and renovated office buildings had ghosts, too—but working with soulless corporations was deeply unpleasant because there was no humanity there. It was signed forms and corporate contracts and absolutely no interest inwhythe spirit or spirits in question were still haunting the building. Justget rid of it, and then they’d send a paycheck.

At least they sent the paychecks.

I sighed,wiggling the fingers of the hand I’d just used to unthinkingly grab the door handle of the fridge. At least I’d left my mug sitting on the counter so I hadn’t dropped it when I’d been plunged into Beck’s thoughts.

I was getting more used to being inside the heads of the people I worked with. I was also getting better at pulling myself out less abruptly and more quickly than I used to be able to. But I wasn’t really doing better at blocking them.

Not wanting to drop into her thoughts again, I reached out and tore off a sheet of paper towel, opened the door, andgrabbed my creamer to pour it in the mug, holding the door open with my foot so I could put it right back. Then, since I had it, I used the paper towel to add coffee to the mug before tossing the paper towel, taking my coffee, and heading back to my desk.

It was pouring, rain running down the big windows which were occasionally shaken by the roll of thunder. I actually liked the rain, especially when it came with thunderstorms. There was something about the darkness and chaos of storms that was exciting—especially if I wasn’t caught outside in it. I didn’t mind getting wet as long as it wasn’t cold, so I actually enjoyed going for walks in summer thunderstorms, but there was something particularly satisfying about beinginsidewhile the weather ragedoutside.

I settled in at my desk, setting down the coffee so I could pull on the cardigan draped over my chair because the rain had dropped the temperature and the thermostat hadn’t quite caught up yet from the moment I’d flipped the heat back on a little before nine.

Ward and Mason were going to be late coming in because Jackson had some sort of concert or something for parents and guardians at school. Beck had been in—leaving her thoughts on the fridge—and had left again about twenty minutes ago for the airport to be flown to St. Petersburg in Florida to handle some renovated manor house that had become some sort of corporate retreat and conference center.

That meant it was just me, the rain, and the rich scent of coffee.

I pulled up a music app on my computer to turn on some classical music—I liked having music playing in the background, although I usually didn’t actually turn it on at workbecause I didn’t know if other people would mind. I always made sure it was instrumental or classical so that I didn’t ever inadvertently offend someone with whatever lyrics the music happened to have. Personally, I like pretty much all music, whether there are words or not, whether they’re in a language I understand or not. I like the rhythm of it, the shifts and swoops of notes and melodies, the way I can hear emotions in the sounds, regardless of the words that make them.

I did the few things I needed to for Beyond the Veil, entering a couple receipts, checking the inventory numbers, and then turned to my homework for Arcane History. I’d done well on the last paper, and I was now supposed to come up with a topic for the final paper.

I do pretty well when I’m assigned topics. I have a hard time deciding what to do when I’m given open options, though. My mind just went blank. I could make myself focus on something if it was presented to me, but I didn’t know how to choose the thing to focus on.

The first time that had happened, I’d asked Mason how to pick something. His eye had twitched a little, and then he’d told me that I had to care aboutsomethingenough to want to write about it, and I hadn’t bothered asking him again.

What’s bothering you, sunshine?Sylvia asked me, floating into the lobby.

Not bothering, I answered her.Just trying to decide what to write on for my Arcane History paper.