Page 30 of Meet Me After Life

I’m interrupted by the back door opening and slamming. Blessed silence for all of two seconds.

I shake my head and try again, ‘Henry, I think⁠—’

Just then, I’m interrupted by a hoard of possessed chickens as they tear through the living room like they’re high on crack cocaine.

Henry’s scream could outdo the pitch of a kettle. I think that he’s so stricken the scream can’t quite make it out his throat, and instead sounds a bit like a trapped fart. I underestimated his emotional depth.

‘Where did they come from?’

‘I don’t know, outside!’

‘Why do they look like… that?’

I won’t make the mistake of offending them twice. I redirect some towards the front door, but shitting pissfuck, they’re going upstairs!

‘Help me get them out!’

‘I would, but I’m allergic!

‘Oh, fuck me.’ Of course he is.

‘I totally would but the⁠—’

‘Just get out, Henry!’

‘I’m not gonna take that personally because I think you’re anaemic, but that really hurt my⁠—’

‘Out!’

I shout, and as I do, the house walls start trembling and quaking. Henry grabs the beer I never officially gave him and tucks tail, dodging deranged fowl as he goes.

‘Happy?’ I call out to the haunted house, the possessed poultry, the possessive poltergeist haunting me. I throw my arms up in defeat.

Walker appears with a wry smirk, making him look almost fun. Almost charming. I know better.

‘Ecstatic,’ he says.

He vanishes just as the water sprinklers go off again and the chickens run out in single file like they’re infantry trained co-ops.

Chapter Ten

The Truce

On the couch with his ankle tucked over his knee, there’s a copy of the Keninburgh Times folded in half, balancing precariously as he reads. His glasses are small, black rimmed. His dress shirt is untucked, the top two buttons undone. Sleeves? Rolled. Shoes? Off. Socks only. There’s a belt hanging over the back of the couch. Obscene.

This is, by far, the sluttiest man I’ve ever seen.

I swallow. My mouth has gone dry. ‘We need to talk.’

Walker sighs through his nose. ‘I knew it was too good to be true. Miller the Menace has come to steal my peace once more.’ His drawl is as lazy as his perusal of me. ‘Go on then.’ He unfolds the paper, licks the pad of his thumb and turns the page. ‘Ruin my day.’

Stars, he’s dramatic. ‘I’ve come to propose a truce.’

‘Have you now,’ he says without looking up.

I huff and pinch my fingers between us. ‘Don’t speak to me like I’m the one⁠—’

His eyebrows raise. I master myself, counting backwards from ten and try again. ‘Yes,’ I respond in a voice so diplomatic it’d make the queen of fae tip her royal hat to me. ‘I have come to call a truce.’