Page 23 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

“Have you finished?” I ground out.

A very definitive no came back at me, and I smirked. Leafpoint had been my companion since I died. While she couldn’t actually speak words, she could form images and impressions.

Charles warned me when I took over Leafpoint that something was different about it. I’d not believed him until Leafpoint began warning me about potential shipwrecks. It allowed me to light the lantern earlier if I needed to. I didn’t question Leafpoint’s ability to communicate. At the age of five and thirty, I was aware things existed beyond my comprehension.

I wasn’t a highly educated man, nor a man of the church, although I attended services on Sundays. Best to make sure I avoided upsetting the big man in the sky. Nor was I a bumpkin who believed in Piskies and Spriggans. Leafpoint had surprised me, but I soon learned to value her. We’d worked together. She let me sleep and would wake me when the oil ran low at night. Leafpoint helped me prepare for storms and bad weather. In return, I ensured she was running smoothly.

She’d taken a liking to Lyra. Maybe it was the Jasper blood. But Leafpoint wanted to keep her. The issue was the evil I kept trapped. If I had any idea what it was, I could make a plan. But I didn’t, and that bothered me. Clearly tonight had been some manifestation of it. Leafpoint poked me impatiently.

“I’m moving.”

Obviously not quick enough, as Leafpoint shoved me in the back again. Carrying Lyra up to her bedroom, I tucked her in and then headed to the kitchen. My mother swore sweet tea was good for shock. I made Lyra a cup, marvelling at the kettle. So much easier than how I used to make it.

As I entered her room, Lyra was sitting in bed, staring at me aghast.

“How did you get in?” she demanded.

I didn’t bother explaining; I set her tea down and disappeared. Lyra shrieked and scrambled back against the headboard.

“What is this? Some sick joke?” she yelled.

“No,” I manifested again and held her panicked eyes.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” she muttered.

“So you keep saying, but here I am.”

“Did you drug my water?”

“No. That action is beneath me.”

Lyra cocked her head. “You’re a real ghost?”

“Yes.” I sighed.

“You’ve been moving things around?”

“I was trying to scare you,” I admitted.

“That’s mean.”

Holding Lyra’s gaze, there wasn’t much I could say to that. “You need to leave,” I said softly.

“That is definitely not happening. I own this. It’s my home. You’re dead; move into the light or whatever you’re meant to do,” Lyra ordered.

I bit my lip, amused despite myself. Lyra had courage.

“You are the one who needs to go, Lyra. Dark things occurred here…”

“Yes. You were murdered along with several others. I’m sorry that happened to you, but that was over two hundred years ago. This is the time for you to rest.” Lyra flapped her hands at me.

“I can’t rest. I was given a duty, Lyra, and you are interfering with it,” I stated.

Lyra cocked her head. “You’re the reason the lantern is suddenly working, aren’t you?”

“The lantern serves as a beacon of hope. The evil I protect against lay dormant from when I died and trapped it. But something woke it, and since Christmas it has been trying to escape. The lantern keeps it imprisoned. Should I fail to light it, it risks escaping.”

My words gave me pause. Had Ajax awakened it? No, that made no sense, already feeling it stirring before Christmas. Ajax had merely helped me awaken Leafpoint and aided my abilities as a ghost.