Page 38 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow
Which even for Edwina is a bit random. I wince as she tosses it about enthusiastically. Aggie is not going to be happy about that.
Even PC Armitage has made an appearance. I haven’t seen him in the house in a while; he’s usually skulking around outside near the lane where he was run over by a tractor. Now he’s stomping up and down the stairs, blowing his shrill whistle.
It’s making my head hurt.
“Bertie,” I whisper again, “you’re going to get in trouble. Everyone can see you!”
I look around and see the Schäfers standing with their mouths open and their phones held up, presumably in an attempt to record this supernatural phenomena. I haven’t the heart to tell them it probably won’t come out as more that a bunch of light flares and static. After all, the Bureau are very strict about no photographic evidence of the afterlife.
Mr and Mrs Taylor-Jones stand in the middle of the room wide-eyed and clutching each other in shock.
“No, it’s all right, lad,” Bertie booms. “They can’t see us. Stanley was most insistent about that. We’re only appearing to those of you who’ve already had the pleasure.”
Although Mr Clutterbuck and Cedric are nowhere to be seen, Essie and Martha are in the doorway and watching the proceedings with amused expressions.
“I have to hand it to you, Ellis.” Warren strolls up to me and Morgan with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a cookie in the other. “You really have gone all in on the haunting theme.”
He takes a bite of his cookie and chews slowly as he watches the statuette float past him, clearly unable to see Leona holding it above her head like a trophy. “Is that on a wire?” His eyes narrow as he studies it, looking for some clue as to how we’ve managed to pull it off. “A hologram?”
“Warren, this place doesn’t even have an elevator or a decent office chair. What makes you think we could afford hidden holographic projectors?”
“I did wonder.” He hums as he stuffs the remainder of the cookie in his mouth. “Oh so good. Your cook is awesome. I can’t wait for dinner.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Morgan mutters as he continues to watch Artie worriedly. Which is sweet but unnecessary; it’s not like he can fall and hurt himself.
Warren swallows and sips his hot chocolate. “It’s not the first time someone has said that to me, but we were both naked at the time. Well, he was. I still had my socks on.”
There is a loud creaking from the corner of the staircase where it seems Sir Devron Penhalen has decided to join in. His suit of armour is now moving, its head twisting in slow circles, its arms lifting up and down.
“Oh, a mechanical suit of armour.” Warren wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? Didn’t anyone tell you guys less is more? I mean, if you’re going to fake a haunting, you want to be a bit more subtle.”
Suddenly, the metal helmet falls off like it’s been unscrewed and rolls across the floor. The suit of armour steps off its plinth and starts marching towards its runaway head.
“How is it doing that?” Warren mutters, setting his mug down on a console table as it slides past. “Is it remote-controlled?”
He stalks off towards Sir Devron, obviously determined to figure out how he works.
“Oh my god, y’all are never gonna believe this.” Haruto glides past us, talking into his phone screen, with Amelia following him closely and looking utterly bemused by what’s going on. “We’re at the Ashton-Drake in Yorkshire, links in the comment section. I’m here with my new friend Amelia. Say hi, Amelia!” He angles the screen towards her as she looks over his shoulder, giving a shy wave before he pulls the screen back to him. “We came here because it was reportedly haunted. Check this out!” He flips the screen and holds his phone up to capture the chaos.
I sigh. “We’re going to be in so much trouble with the Bureau.”
“Artie!” Morgan yells again. “Get down!”
“No!” he yells back. No wonder they were such good friends when they were kids. They’re both incredibly stubborn.
Artie climbs to his feet, balancing on the metal edge of the chandelier, and, still gripping the chains, starts to swing faster. Then he lifts one foot and starts kicking off the faux candles mounted on its circumference.
“Son of a–” Morgan rubs his forehead as one hits him. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
“Ow!” Warren yells loudly above the din. We turn back to him. “Lady! Stop hitting me!”
Warren has got hold of Sir Devron’s armoured leg, holding it in place while Sir Devron hops on the other, his helmet tucked under one arm. Martha has grabbed one of the umbrellas from the nearby holder and is smacking Warren over the head.
“Let go of Sir Devron!” she orders him, then hits him with the brolly again.
“Ow! Will you stop!” Warren grabs one end of the umbrella right when she starts to swing it upward for another blow. They’re now in a kind of strange three-way tug of war with Warren in the middle, still clutching Sir Devron’s leg and fighting off the old lady.
“Oh my god,” I mutter. At the sound of the front doors opening, I spin around.