Page 22 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

A tugging on my legs woke me. Startled, I sat up and looked around. Just a thin streak of moonlight pierced the room’s darkness. Fear crawled up my spine as my breath came out in visible puffs. The bedroom was freezing, and I was shivering under the quilt. Despite barely being able to see, I felt something in the bedroom with me.

Unfriendly eyes stared at me, and a scream choked in my throat.

A clawed hand appeared on my bed near my feet, and I froze in sheer terror. I began panting and shaking violently as slowly my duvet was dragged away from me. A foul stench filled the air, and I gagged on it, the only movement I seemed to be able to make. The hand kept dragging the covers off me, and I finally let out a scream. Glowing red eyes looked my way.

I gasped as, within a second, a man materialised out of thin air.

He gazed at me, and then his hands grasped the entity that was attacking me. The black shadow shrieked and grabbed at the bed, and I drew my feet up, terrified. With a heave, the stranger flung the creature away, and I heard scuttling noises. The ghost—that’s what he was—ran after the escaping nightmare.

For some unknown, stupid reason, I threw back the covers and chased after them. Sheer idiocy. The front door opened with a bang, and I guessed they’d fled into the dark. I dashed downstairs, bolted through the open door, and then looked around. The ghost pursued the creature into the night, and I raced after them, skidding to a stop. The man grabbed the black figure.

“You’ve no right to be here!” he bellowed over the wind.

An unholy screech met his words as the shadow raised clawed fingers, swiping at the ghost, who laughed.

“This is my power source, vile being. Begone!” he ordered and slung the miserable thing over the edge of the cliff. Rain pounded down as I gaped like a fool.

“Who are you?” I screamed into the wind.

The ghost turned in the moonlight. He wore a flat cap and a cream linen shirt with a heavy woollen jumper over it. Thick knitted trousers enclosed his legs, topped with robust knee-high boots, and a heavy coat hanging to his knees.

“You’re the murdered light housekeeper!” I yelled against the noise of the rain and wind.

“Go back inside,” he ordered.

“You’re a ghost!” screeching again as the breeze blew my hair around my face.

“And you’ll get ill!” he retorted.

I began laughing. “Ghosts don’t exist!”

“Yet, here I stand.”

“What is your name?”

“William,” he replied.

“Who’s paying you for this? How did you get into my home? Are you working with that Keith person?” I shouted the questions at him.

William snorted, and then, before my disbelieving eyes, disappeared. In the grass, footsteps appeared, and I gasped before my gaze rolled up and I fainted.

William

Blast and damnation. That was not the reaction I’d expected. Lyra had been fired up and ready to go to war with me. Instead, she’d dropped in a dead faint. Materialising, I scooped her up and ignored how good it felt to have her in my arms.

Viciously muttering curses, I carried her back to Leafpoint, who slapped me mentally for scaring Lyra.

“She’s a danger to us and what we protect against.”

Leafpoint snorted in my mind.

“Don’t even begin to—”

I stumbled because Leafpoint tripped me.

“Leafpoint, I could have dropped her.”

Lyra was snatched from my arms by Leafpoint, who then floated her before me. Okay, now she was being naughty.