Page 45 of Squad Ghouls

“Besides insanity?”

Popty’s shadow drew itself up in offence anyway. He seemed very attached to Owain. But Bronwyn nodded, looking at Andrew again to explain.

“What did the ExorSquad teach you about mediums?” Andrew asked, and I blinked because…I’d had virtually no training other than a folded pamphlet attached to each of the gadgets I’d been given, basically telling me how to turn them on, point and shoot.

“Um…”

“Figures,” he said. “Nothing ever changes.”

I furrowed my brow. “Are you familiar with the ExorSquad?”

He looked away immediately. “Something like that.”

It was a closed door in my face and an end to that line of questioning.

“Mediums can talk to ghosts, right?” I said instead of pursuing it, vaguely remembering seeing a weird lady on TV with puffy blond hair and talons the size of eagles’ sprouting from her fingers. She was a medium, wasn’t she?

“That’s an oversimplification, but yes,” Andrew said. “A medium can connect to and reach across the divide between worlds to talk to a spirit even after they have crossed over.”

“Is Owain a medium?”

“No.” Andrew shook his head. “Owain is a psychopomp.”

“A what now?” I asked, because what the fuck was a psychopomp?

“Usually, psychopomps themselves are mythical beings. Translated quite literally into ‘guide of souls,’ psychopomps are creatures who help souls navigate their way from the world of the living to the beyond,” Andrew said with such an air of intelligence and confidence that he had to have studied this shit at some point in his life. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had his Masters in Weird.

But that wasn’t the thing that arrested and held my attention.

“Owain is a mythical ghost tour guide?” I asked dumbly, a little stupefied. The arse suddenly made sense. There was no way an arse like that was humanly achievable.

“Crude,” Bronwyn scolded me, putting her knitting down, grabbing a spoon from the pocket of her dress, and waving it threateningly.

Apparently, I’d said that out loud. “Sorry, Grandma.”

“Owain is a human,” Andrew corrected me. “But…specific circumstances surrounding his ancestry have given him powers beyond those a human should have.”

“Right…” I wasn’t even going to pretend to understand that.

“He can help ghosts lingering in the world of the living cross over,” Andrew explained with a roll of his eyes. “Well…in theory.”

“Was that what he was fucking trying to do back there?” I jerked my thumb toward Owain’s room, recalling the very-near-death experience I had prevented not fifteen minutes ago. “Because no way in hell did that help that gooey arsehole cross over.”

“Yes…well…” Andrew scratched the back of his neck. “Owain is still trying to get a handle on his powers. Once he does, he will be invaluable in this world. Right now, though…”

“He’s a liability, he is.” Bartholomew sighed sadly. It came out as a very subdued “Argh.”

“You can say that again,” I said. “He could have mentioned it before nearly getting both of us killed!”

“He wouldn’t mention it to you at all,” Bronwyn said. “He is quite determined to only come out with his power publicly when he’s sure he can use it properly.”

“Might take him a bit.” I sounded mean. I wasn’t trying to be, but it was fucking true. The number of times he could have died tonight were uncountable.

“It might.” Andrew nodded. “But we need him to get there. We need him to learn so he can help those who want to find peace.”

“The fuck does that have to do with me?” I asked.

“We saw you act tonight,” Bronwyn said. “You risked your own safety to help him.”