Page 2 of Ghost Broker (Mercury Raine #1)

M ercury tugged at the cuffs of what Baby Blue called his “business coat.” It was the one he always wore when greeting a client upon arriving at Aventine Manor, whether that client was new or returning.

The dark gray was a somber color that conveyed capability, but the cut and fit were fashionable and spoke of wealth and influence.

Both were essential in his line of work.

He paused a moment at the top of the grand staircase.

He knew he was visible from the client table below, where Smythe would have directed the new arrivals to wait.

Tipping his top hat the tiniest bit askew, he began the slow and steady descent.

Right on cue, his ghosts began floating across his path from all directions, one at a time, dramatic, impressive, and just a little theatrical.

They swirled around, hovering lower and lower as he descended.

Mercury could now see the table where his newest potential clients sat.

He felt certain they were a mother and daughter, clearly of the upper class, the younger of the ladies likely in her twenties.

Hovering near them was an elderly ghost watching the swirling and floating with wide, translucent eyes.

But to which of the two ladies was the ghoul attached ?

Utilizing a well-rehearsed wave of his arms, Mercury dismissed his ghostly companions. Their sudden flight had the usual effect: both ladies looked impressed. A good start.

He smoothly removed his hat, set it on the seat of an empty chair, and set his curls to rights once more before sitting on a different one, facing the ladies from across the tea-and-scones-spread table. “I’m Mercury Raine. What can I do for you?”

The assumed mother leaned eagerly toward him. “I’m Mrs. Huddleston. This is my daughter, Miss Huddleston.”

He dipped his head to them in turn.

“We simply cannot go to London for the Season with such a non-judgmental ghost.” Mrs. Huddleston motioned toward the elderly specter still standing wide-eyed behind the two ladies. “We are told by simply everyone that you are the premier ghost broker in all the kingdom.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mrs. Huddleston.”

She smiled broadly. Her daughter appeared to be listening. What she did not appear to be was impressed.

“Who was your previous broker?” Mercury asked, not caring which of them answered.

“This is our first trade,” Mrs. Huddleston said. “We aren’t even entirely certain how the process works.”

Mercury let his eyes dart to Miss Huddleston, doing an on-the-spot evaluation.

He had become a quick study of people over the years.

Generally, he could accurately ascertain connections and personalities within moments of meeting people.

The mother in this duo was domineering. Her daughter looked almost bored but was clearly listening.

Miss Huddleston had what seemed to be an intellectual curiosity about the matter, but Mrs. Huddleston had an eager passion for the undertaking.

The mother, then, was most likely the one to whom the elderly ghost was attached.

“Allow me to explain,” he said with one of his winning smiles.

“You cannot sell or simply unattach yourself to a ghost. You arrive with a ghost; you leave with a ghost. Whether or not it is the same ghost depends on a few things. The one with the attachment has to, in the end, choose to make the exchange. Neither ghost can be openly opposed to the swap.”

“The ghosts get to choose?” Mrs. Huddleston sounded horrified.

The silent Miss Huddleston’s expression changed for the first time. She shifted from almost indifferent to disapproving, though he thought she might have been reacting to her mother rather than to the idea of ghosts not being forced into transfers.

“They don’t get to choose in the same way their human counterparts do,” Mercury clarified, “but neither can they be exchanged if they are firmly opposed to the trade. Also, a first trade is a more complicated one.”

“In what way?” Mrs. Huddleston didn’t seem pleased by the idea of complicated.

“It cannot be completed if any immediate family members in the same household are opposed to it. A person’s first ghost is likely to have been part of that household for years.

The prevailing theory is that the trading of a ghost so connected to a household impacts that household, and thus there cannot be vehement objections. ”

Mrs. Huddleston watched him closely, nodding along with his explanation. Her daughter simply watched him.

“Are there any other members of your family in your household?” Mercury asked.

“No,” Mrs. Huddleston said. “Only the two of us.”

That would simplify things .

“The Season will be in full swing in only another fortnight.” Mrs. Huddleston's already clasped hands turned white-knuckled. “How long is this process likely to take?”

“That depends on how long it takes for a ghost to be chosen for the swap,” Mercury said.

“How many ghosts do you have?” Mrs. Huddleston asked.

“A lot.”

“The rumor is you have a dozen.”

Mercury only nodded. Even his ghosts themselves didn’t know his actual number. Society was astounded at the possibility of twelve. But he had nearly twice that many.

“And after a ghost has been chosen?” Mrs. Huddleston asked. “What happens then?”

Miss Huddleston sat in silence, seemingly neither impressed nor interested in being part of the conversation. Interesting.

“Once the ghosts decree that they are not opposed to the trade,” Mercury continued, “then it can be accomplished within a few hours, usually.”

Mrs. Huddleston released a slow, dignified, relieved breath. “Then we still have time. We simply cannot arrive in Town with an unfashionable ghost. We cannot.” She gave a firm nod. “We would like to ask you to broker this ghost exchange.”

That was easy enough.

Mercury stood and took up his hat once more, though he didn’t put it on his head yet.

“Your traveling trunks will be placed in guest chambers.” One of the benefits of having a ghost butler with the ability to move physical items. “Explore the estate at your leisure. You will most certainly encounter the ghosts. Get to know them as you are able. I will see you both again at dinner. ”

He dipped a quick bow to first the mother and then the daughter before setting his hat on his head and turning about. He undertook his usual polished and confident exit, knowing it left his clients with the assurance that they had come to exactly the right place for all their ghostly business.

Mercury had, for a decade, been the foremost ghost broker in all of the kingdom for a reason: he was remarkably good at every part of what he did.