The Secrets of Ghosts

by Sarah Painter

  She felt his hand on her waist and then running up her side.

  Panic washed over her.

  Katie pulled away, her lust-drunk feelings draining away in a single moment of cold clarity. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Max said. He moved away, lay back on his back and folded his arms behind his head.

  ‘I mean, I don’t know you.’

  ‘No problem.’

  It was annoying how cool he was.

  Katie opened her mouth to say something else when there was a whistling sound and a massive crash. One of the large china urns from the balcony smashed into the ground inches from where they were lying.

  ‘Fuck!’ Max put a hand to his cheek and brought it away bright red. He looked at Katie. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine.’ Katie got to her feet. She looked up to the balcony but there was no one there. The window was shut.

  ‘How the—?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Katie said. She frowned at the sky, then got up to inspect the broken pieces of urn.

  ‘You’re shaking,’ Max said. ‘It’s the shock.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Katie said. Her mind was racing. Had she done it? Telekinesis wasn’t a power she’d even considered coming into, but who was to say it wasn’t possible? And she’d seen it with her own eyes. Although, if she’d done it, why had it been aimed at Max’s head? She looked at him. Did she sub-consciously want to hurt him? Had she felt threatened or something?

  ‘You should sit down. You’re a bit pale.’ His cheek was bleeding freely, giving a grisly cast to his unshaven chin, but his eyes were filled with honest concern. No. She was fairly sure she didn’t want to stove anybody’s skull in and definitely not Max’s. It was too pretty.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it,’ Katie began, ‘but—’

  ‘What?’ Max looked at her as if she were crazy. ‘Of course you didn’t. Someone must be up there.’ He looked up, hands on hips. ‘There’s no wind or anything. The window looks closed from here, though—’

  ‘What if I did?’ Katie was panicking, and the words were out before she could stop them.

  Max stopped staring at the window and treated Katie to a long, sceptical look. ‘You think you can move objects with your mind.’

  ‘Telekinesis. It’s a thing.’

  ‘It’s a made-up thing, yes.’

  ‘If you knew my family, you wouldn’t be so sure,’ Katie said, under her breath.

  ‘Okay.’ Max shrugged. ‘Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that it was you. Did you feel anything while it was happening? I mean, apart from being incredibly turned on by my amazing moves.’

  ‘Funny guy.’ Katie was determined not to blush. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ruffling her. He was insufferably confident. Maybe she had wanted to hit him over the head, after all.

  Max was back to staring up at the window. ‘It’s weird that it came from the same room. Maybe it’s a warning.’

  Of course, someone else might want to hurt Max. It could be a curse. She sat up straight. ‘Have you pissed anybody off?’

  ‘Recently?’ Max said. ‘Probably.’

  If he was hexed, he needed a cure. The next flying object might find its mark.

  ‘Who has access to that room?’ Max was still scanning the outside of the hotel. The stone balcony was tiny, just an ornamental feature, really. The window was an ordinary-sized one, not a door.

  ‘If someone was out there, we’d be able to see them,’ Katie said. ‘They haven’t had time to climb back through the window and shut it again.’

  ‘Maybe someone rigged the room. With wires or something. Same thing that made the curtains go all weird.’

  ‘Or one of us is hexed. ‘Do I seem weird to you?’

  Max glanced at her. ‘Very. Why?’

  ‘No, like glazed. Kind of drunk.’

  He frowned. ‘Why? Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  Max shook his head. ‘We have to go and warn people. Someone could get hurt out here.’ He picked up a couple of the pieces of broken urn. ‘And I need another look in that room. See if it’s been rigged. Although why—’

  ‘You’re right. We should tell Patrick.’

  Katie headed to Reception to find him. He was behind the desk and, for a moment, Katie saw him as a stranger. A well-groomed man in his late fifties, with a patch of sunburned skin on his neck and a smile that didn’t go anywhere near his eyes.

  ‘I have a complaint,’ Max said, before Katie had opened her mouth.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir. My name is Patrick Allen and I’m the manager and owner of The Grange.’

  ‘Someone is throwing stuff out of one of the upstairs windows. I was almost hit by this.’ Max held out the broken pieces of china.

  Patrick frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘From the balcony outside The Yellow Room,’ Katie said.

  Patrick shook his head. ‘No one is staying there. That’s the room—’

  ‘Mr Cole’s room, we know,’ Max said.

  Patrick looked at him. ‘And you are?’

  ‘I’m the guy who almost got his head split open at your hotel.’

  ‘I’m very sorry for your shock,’ Patrick said smoothly. ‘I shall look into it and deal with the person responsible. Please dine free of charge during your stay. Which room are you in?’

  ‘I’m not,’ Max said. ‘I was just visiting a friend.’ He indicated Katie, who winced. ‘On her break,’ he added.

  ‘Oh.’ Patrick visibly relaxed. ‘You were trespassing.’

  ‘No. Visiting. As far as I’m aware this is a public building. It’s a hotel. Visitors are kind of expected, yes?’

  Patrick narrowed his eyes, which made him look like a lizard. A very well-fed lizard. ‘But if you were thinking of taking legal action regarding the incident—’

  ‘I’m not,’ Max said, irritated. ‘I just thought you should know that someone was upstairs taking potshots.’ He handed the pieces of broken china to Patrick.

  ‘I apologise,’ Patrick said, with no sincerity. He tilted his head in Katie’s direction. ‘I assume you’ll tell me the same story?’

  ‘Jesus,’ Max said, shaking his head. ‘Your concern for your employee is touching.’

  ‘I’m a very busy man,’ Patrick said, his eyes snapping back to Max. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Free tickets to see Greg Barton would go a long way to curing my shock.’

  ‘I see.’ Patrick’s lips had gone very thin. ‘I think I could manage that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Max said. ‘Incidentally, when does Mr Barton arrive?’

  ‘I can’t divulge personal information. Confidentiality is of utmost importance, I’m sure you understand—’

  ‘I guess his people arrive before him, anyway. Sort things out. Make sure he only has blue M&M’s, that kind of thing.’

  Patrick looked nonplussed. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Performers. They have riders, don’t they? Like Van Halen demanding a bowl of M&M’s with all the brown ones taken out.’

  ‘Mr Barton has made no demands.’

  ‘He’s easy-going, then. Does he like to meet his fans before the show?’

  Katie looked at Max. Why the interest in Greg Barton?

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Patrick’s lip was curling. Not a fan, then. Or Max was just annoying him.

  ‘They’re probably a bit cagey about their methods,’ Max continued, seemingly oblivious. ‘These psychic types. Don’t want to give away trade secrets.’

  ‘I don’t want to keep you,’ Patrick said, and he waited until Max turned and left. Katie wanted to follow before he disappeared. The feeling that he’d been cursed had grown. Seeing him piss Patrick off so effortlessly made it more likely that someone disliked him enough to place a hex. ‘Make sure he stays away from Greg Barton when he arrives. I don’t want any complaints.’

  Katie opened her mouth to explain that she didn�
��t know Max, much less have any control over what he did or who he spoke to, but then she thought better of it. Patrick never listened to anybody and she needed to talk to Max before he disappeared.

  ‘I think we should visit my aunt,’ she said once she had caught up with Max, grabbing him by the hand and towing him around to the driveway. ‘It’s not far.’

  ‘I’m not really one for family stuff,’ Max said. ‘Maybe another time.’

  ‘Not like that,’ Katie said. ‘I think you might have heatstroke. And she’s really good with things like that.’

  ‘Is she a doctor?’

  Katie dragged Max along, and used the effort required as an excuse not to answer him. She had parked in the shade of some trees, but the car was still stiflingly hot. Katie felt the sweat run down the back of her neck and stick her vest top to her back. Despite the heat, she was glad she’d decided to drive to work today. Driving Max would be easier than physically dragging him to End House. ‘Lovely day for a run,’ she said brightly. ‘Let me show you the sights of Pendleford.’ Katie wound all the windows down and started the car to get air movement as soon as possible.

  ‘Have you seen a medical professional about these mood swings?’ Max said, but he belted up and stuck an elbow out of the window.

  *

  Gwen was in her back garden, a large hat shading her face and a book open on her lap.

  ‘Code red,’ Katie said, by way of greeting.

  ‘So I see.’ Gwen looked at Max and then back to Katie. ‘Are you pregnant?’

  ‘No! Christ, no.’

  ‘Just checking.’ She looked at Max again. ‘Her mother fell at sixteen so you might want to be careful.’

  ‘I’m always careful,’ Max said.

  Gwen smiled with absolutely no warmth. ‘I bet you are.’

  ‘There isn’t time for this. Max, this is my aunt Gwen. She’s not usually so hostile. Gwen, this is my friend Max. He just got hit by a falling vase.’

  ‘Only a chip,’ Max said. ‘It’s stopped bleeding. I don’t know what the problem is.’

  Gwen stood up. ‘You’d better come inside.’

  The house was pleasantly cool and Gwen went to the fridge. ‘I can offer you apple juice or white wine. Or there’s water, of course.’

  ‘Water would be great, thank you.’ Max looked even more out of place in Gwen’s yellow kitchen than he had at the wedding.

  ‘Where’s Cat?’ Katie accepted a cold glass from Gwen and drank half of it gratefully.

  ‘Baking on the tarmac, I think. Hope you didn’t run him over.’

  ‘Don’t joke about things like that,’ Katie said severely.

  ‘So, you’re new in town,’ Gwen said. She looked at Max appraisingly, her expression growing more thoughtful.

  ‘I just thought we should have some lemon,’ Katie said brightly.

  Gwen glanced at her. ‘Lemon?’

  ‘Yes,’ Katie said, raising her eyebrows at Gwen. ‘In case we have heatstroke. We both feel a bit funny and you always said that lemon was good for heatstroke. Dried lemon, I think.’

  Gwen gave a tight smile. ‘Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

  She turned away and began rummaging in an enormous canvas handbag that was hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She produced an old tobacco tin. ‘Come here. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I hate it when people say things like that,’ Max said. ‘They’re usually lying. And I don’t see why you think we have heatstroke. We’ve been indoors. I feel fine.’

  ‘You just need to eat this. Ideally, let it dissolve under your tongue.’

  ‘It’s just dried, salted lemon. They use it as a salad ingredient in Greece, you know.’

  ‘Salt’s very bad for you,’ Max said. His voice neutral.

  ‘Drink plenty of water afterwards to counteract dehydration,’ Gwen continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

  ‘I really don’t think I’ve got—’

  ‘Please,’ Katie said. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask—’

  ‘Fine,’ Max said. He took the lemon from Gwen and put it in his mouth. ‘This is fucking disgusting,’ he said, pulling a terrible face. His jaw worked and his expression got worse.

  ‘Try to let it dissolve. Leave it in your mouth as long as you can.’

  ‘God,’ Max said. ‘It’s horrible.’

  ‘Think of it as one of your trials,’ Gwen said, ‘to win the hand of the fair maiden.’

  ‘Hey,’ Katie said. ‘My hands aren’t for sale, thank you very much.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Gwen nodded at Katie. ‘My mistake.’

  ‘Gah,’ Max said. ‘This is really grim.’

  ‘At least it isn’t pennywort. That makes you hurl. Gets the, um, heatstroke, out but purges everything else at the same time.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Max said, still chewing. He swallowed with a visible effort. ‘Purging is still a distinct possibility.’

  ‘Water,’ Gwen said, thrusting a glass at him.

  Half an hour later, they were back outside in the sunny garden. Max was lying on the grass, his hands behind his head watching the sky, and Katie was pretending that she wasn’t watching him. Gwen wasn’t pretending at all and had been staring at Katie with intensity for about ten minutes. Finally, Katie turned to her. ‘What?’

  Gwen didn’t look away. ‘Max. Would you do me a favour and go and refill my glass? Lemonade. Two ice cubes.’

  Once he’d got to his feet and headed into the house, Gwen said, ‘Tell me what happened again.’

  Katie did.

  Gwen leaned in. ‘You know how Lily died?’

  Lily Thomas, Gwen’s ex-neighbour and genuine psychotic. ‘The ceiling collapsed on her,’ Katie said, reaching for the comforting shape of her revolver necklace. ‘In the dining room.’

  ‘It didn’t just collapse. I think Iris did it.’

  ‘Iris. As in dead Iris.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gwen said. ‘I felt like she was still here. When I first arrived. The house had a specific feel and I know I was reading her journals all the time and there were notes from her to me, like she was talking to me from beyond the grave, but it was more than that. A feeling.’

  ‘Fair enough. So Iris was haunting you and she dropped the ceiling on Lily. Go Iris. Hope you remembered to thank her.’ A thought occurred to Katie. ‘Is she still here? Have you seen her or anything?’

  Gwen shook her head. ‘I felt her leave. After Lily. Something changed in the house, suddenly, it was truly my house and Iris had gone.’

  Katie nodded. It made sense. One witch in a house at any time. Any more than that and there was trouble. Just look at Gwen and Gloria.

  ‘The man who died—’ Gwen began.

  ‘Mr Cole,’ Katie said. ‘You think this is something to do with him?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s possible.’

  ‘You mean the magpie thing might not be a curse? It might be a restless spirit, asking me for help?’ Katie leant forward.

  Gwen sat back. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘So what should I do? Do I have to help him into the light or something? Is he throwing vases at me because he thinks I’m not paying him enough attention?’

  ‘It’s really not my area. Iris left of her own accord. I didn’t make her go.’

  ‘Is there anything else in the journals from ghost-whisperer granny? The CSI one?’

  ‘No. Sorry. Iris doesn’t write about it much. She’s very damning about communicating with the dead,’ Gwen said. ‘She says that the dead ought to stay dead.’

  ‘Ironic that she ended up haunting you, then.’

  Gwen smiled. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Katie wondered if there was a way to choose your power. She really didn’t want to start hearing dead people. And she didn’t want any more nightmares, either.

  ‘Iris left once she’d protected me. Maybe it was unfinished business that kept her around. Maybe your spirit has something that’s keeping them here.’

  ‘So
mething that makes them want to knock Max unconscious?’

  Gwen shrugged. ‘Maybe. We don’t know anything about him. Maybe he’s bad news.’

  ‘He does want Mr Cole’s watch. Says he won it off him,’ Katie said.

  ‘He’s too good-looking and he knows it,’ Gwen said.

  ‘He’s not that good-looking,’ Katie lied.

  ‘Could be fun,’ Gwen said, with a wicked smile.

  Luckily, Katie was saved from answering by her uncle Cam. He opened the back door and said, ‘There’s a man in the house. Is he one of yours?’

  ‘That’s Max,’ Gwen said. ‘Be nice.’

  ‘I’m always nice,’ Cam said and disappeared inside.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Gwen said, getting up.

  ‘Why uh-oh?’ Katie said, but she followed Gwen anyway.

  In the kitchen, Max was leaning against the counter, a glass of lemonade in one hand. Cam was leaning on the opposite counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

  ‘Why don’t you go and change?’ Gwen said, kissing Cam. ‘You must be roasting.’ Cam was still in his work suit. He put his arm around Gwen but didn’t look away from Max.

  ‘So, you’re a friend of Katie’s. That’s nice.’

  ‘I’m really sorry about this,’ Katie said, crossing the room to stand with Max. ‘They’re not usually like this.’

  ‘I got the lemonade.’ Max hoisted the glass a little.

  Standing closer, Katie could see Max was sweating although his face was quite pale. He had an unhealthy sheen. ‘You have it,’ Katie said. ‘And sit down. You look a bit wobbly.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Max said, but he sat down at the table.

  Katie looked at Gwen. ‘Could he have concussion? I thought just a chip of the vase hit him, but if it was going fast enough—’

  ‘I don’t think the lemon agrees with me.’ He got up and stumbled out of the kitchen.

  ‘Why are you being like this?’

  Cam smiled. ‘Your dad isn’t here — I figured it was my duty. And I don’t like him.’

  ‘I got that,’ Katie said. She filled a glass of cold water and drank it quickly, then rolled the glass against her hot forehead.

  ‘Look at you, all protective,’ Gwen said. She kissed Cam on the cheek.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Cam said. ‘I don’t think you should see him any more. He’s bad news.’