Page 3 of Tempting Fate

Chapter Two

Emerson

The email comes in at two in the morning. I should be asleep already, but I’m scrolling through, trying to research the ghost I think I saw last night, and besides…

Maybe it gave me the creeps. That’s a normal reaction to seeing something like that.

So, when the email arrives, I open it. Better that than lie on Cate’s uncomfortable sofa all night, trying not to stare into the dark corners of her living room.

Dear Mr Hedges,

I am writing to enquire as to your availability to investigate several strange occurrences that have taken place in London over the past few months. We have a recording of one such occurrence but are seeking more in-depth, credible evidence. Having viewed your public accounts, I am of the opinion that you are the best suited to retrieve what I require.

Find also a document attached with relevant conditions and guidelines. Should you acquire and deliver the evidence requested, I am willing to pay in the vicinity of £50,000.

My eyes widen. I jerk into a more upright position. Fifty thousand? Holy—I shake my head and scan the email again, heart racing. A zipped folder is attached to the email, as well as a PDF titled ‘Requirements’. No contract, though. I frown.

Someone is having me on. I sigh, deflating, but scan the folder and download it all the same. It’s not as though I’ve never received joke emails before. I’ve been signed up for every shitty newsletter under the sun.

Go hunting for magic, and people figure you’re fair game.

Apparently, they’re taking the jokes a little further now.

The problem is that, as I read through the documents attached to the email, everything looks real. Legitimate. I remove my glasses, rubbing the bridge of my nose, and realise that at some point it turned three o’clock and I probably need to go to sleep.

I lean forward, glancing down the hall towards Cate’s room. She shut the door at midnight, but I still see a chink of light beneath it. She might still be awake. She can talk me down from this, at least, before I make any impulsive decisions.

I shove my blanket aside and move to rap on her door.

“Em?” she calls. “What’s up?”

I open the door and duck my head inside. Cate’s still sitting up in bed, but she looks like she plans to sleep soon, too. She shoves her bookmark in her book and sets it aside.

“Nothing bad. Just… Something weird.”

“Weird is what you do, right?”

I grimace at my catchphrase—the one I use on every stream, in every video. I might not show my face, but my audience knows my voice, and those words specifically.

“This is weirder than that.” And somehow more mundane at the same time.

Cate slides across her bed and pats the duvet next to her. “Lay it on me, then.”

Like that, any tiredness disappears from her expression. I sit on the bed next to her and sigh. “I shouldn’t have bothered you this late.”

“Well, you have, so tell me what the bloody issue is before I shake it out of you.”

“I got this email.” I angle my laptop so she can see it, then read it aloud. Cate’s eyes narrow behind her dark-rimmed glasses and when she’s had the chance to scan the documents herself, she’s quiet for a few moments.

“That’s… suspicious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“The video’s compelling. Could be CGI, of course. Manipulation like that is pretty easy now.”

“I know.”

“What’s got you on the fence about it?”