Page 40 of Meet Me After Life

‘Now. Stare into the bowl and imagine the source of the negative energy.’

I reckon I could have done this myself and saved myself the trouble of having snarky teens invade my home, but okay. Sure. I do as I’m told, and Walker appears in the still surface of the water. Black smoke and shadows roiling around him, rippling the waters, but perfectly maintaining his image.

‘It’s happening!’ Beanie Boy calls.

‘Start the incantation!’ Dark Eyes calls, and they join hands around me and start speaking in some sort of language I’m largely positive is just gibberish. The water begins to fizz and bubble, and I drop the brass bowl, water soaking the shag rug carpeting.

I hope that it doesn’t stink.

Smoke floods the room in waves, as a chill skulks through each and every one of us. I look into Beanie Boy’s eyes and finally see something other than disdain. Shadows scatter and build in the corners of the room. The candle flames flair before fizzling out completely.

‘Maaaa.’

The lights flick on. The shadows perish and the smoke is gone.

Even though I can’t see him, I just know, undoubtedly, that Walker is still here.

‘Maaaa.’

‘What is that?’ I turn and see a red-eyed phantom goat standing in the circle, toeing the shag.

The pathetic youths I hired come out from behind the lounge and quickly school their features back to their standard expressions of disdain and disgust.

‘Do we still get the fifty bucks?’

‘You summoned a dead goat.’

‘We did the jo—Okay, whatever, we’re leaving!’ The door’s slam reverberates throughout the house.

‘Here I was thinking terrorising children was beneath you.’

‘Here I was thinking you’d have learned by now, I believe in equality of opportunity. Everyone has the same rights when it comes to being haunted in my home.’

I turn to face him. He’s so smug. So tall and brooding and handsome. I don’t want to hate him. He’s too hot to hate. Pretty privilege is real. I want him to be good. I want it so bad; I can almost make myself believe all this has just been a big misunderstanding. Despite everything, my stupid little brain still gasps whenever it sees him.

But he’s a villain. Through and through. Nothing is going to change that. Least of all me and my wishful thinking.

‘Well, this was fun, but I have work to do. People to hunt. Children to traumatise. Hopefully when I get back, you’ll have come to your senses and vacated my home.’

‘In your dreams.’

Walker chuffs. He leans forward, invades my space, pins me with his depthless, vacant stare.

‘The only dreams worth haunting are yours,’ he finishes on a whisper.

Fuck the bond, I schedule a viewing for the jerky rental.

Chapter Twelve

The Corner Store

‘This is… quaint.’

I’m standing outside a crack den.

‘This is literally a crack den, Miller.’ Lavender’s voice sputters over the speaker, lip curled in disgust as she takes in the same view I’m seeing. This house is like if the leaning tower of pizza was taken over by junkies.

A stained immortal supremacy flag waves at full mast on top of the house before me.