Page 82 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“Now, you’ve all had a chance to air your grievances. It’s time to put aside your differences,” Death says diplomatically.

“Differences?” The one I presume is Lady Clare yells. “He pushed me down the stairs and broke my neck!”

Her husband, Clement St. John, rolls his eyes and drawls in a lazy tone, “It was an accident!” He huffs and points accusingly to the hooded figure. “Your lover ran me through with a sword! And this was my best waistcoat too!” He sticks his fingers through the bloodied hole in his waistcoat.

“Me!” The third voice exclaims, and Lady Clare’s lover throws their hood back. A long tumble of golden blonde hair falls free, and I suck in a surprised breath at the face of a pretty young woman with a coarser, more common accent than the other two.

“You trampled me to death with your horse!”

“I was gravely wounded at the time!” He shows her his waistcoat again in case she missed it the first time.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Death says firmly. “The past is the past. It’s time to move on. Now apologise.”

The three of them look up at Death and mumble an apology. He sighs and looks up as if searching for his patience. “Not to me… to each other.”

They turn to each other and even though they’re squinting, they all mumble sorry, some more sincerely than others.

“Good.” Death nods. “Now, moving forward, you have the choice to remain here or cross over.”

“I think I’ll stay here,” Clement says. “I’ve been cooped up for over three hundred years.”

“I’m not staying married you though,” Lady Clare declares hotly. “I married you under duress and the marriage wasn’t even consummated.”

“Glad to hear it.” Her lover glares at Clement.

“Your marriage is null and void,” Death tells her. “You are free to do as you please.”

Lady Clare lets out a delighted whoop and, shoving her ex-husband out of the way, flings herself into her lover’s arms. They twirl around laughing before engaging in a very NSFW kiss.

“Splendid!” Bertie claps her hands loudly, and Lady Clare and her lover break apart. Bertie sidles over to them with Roger skipping along at her heels. “How do you do?” She reaches Lady Clare and shakes her hand, then her lover’s, and lastly Clement’s, who turns his nose up a bit. “I’m Beatrice Ashton-Drake, call me Bertie. This is Roger and the chap unconscious on the floor is Stanley. On behalf of the ghosts of the Ashton-Drake, I’d like to welcome you all. Lady Clare, you and I are related, and this is your former home, although it might look a tad different from what you remember.” Bertie dusts some of the splinters off the end of the newel post. “Once you get settled in, there’ll be an orientation and you can meet the others.”

“Hi there.” I give a little wave and, taking Morgan’s hand, step over the wreckage and approach them. “I’m Ellis and this is Morgan. He owns this place with his grandfather. Lady Clare, they’re part of your family tree too. I run the hotel and, like Bertie, I’d like to welcome you.”

“That’s very kind, young man,” Lady Clare says graciously. “This is Osyn,” she introduces her girlfriend, who gives me a little wave. “And that’s Clement.” She huffs and points over her shoulder.

“Well, welcome to all of you. Like Bertie said, we’ll give you tonight to get settled in and then we can acclimate you to your new situation. After all, three hundred years have passed, and things are very different. We do ask that you don’t show yourself to the living until we’ve had a chance to go over all the rules.”

Lady Clare nods. Osyn grabs her and pulls her in close, kissing her neck. “Come, Clare, we haven’t been together properly in three centuries. I say we go find a bed.”

Clare giggles and the pair of them disappear.

“What am I supposed to do?” Clement wails indignantly.

“Come on, old chap, we’ll introduce you to the others,” Bertie says.

There’s a loud groan from the corner of the room, and Sir Devron suddenly sits up, holding his head.

“What happened?” he slurs. “Did I win?”

“You were marvellous, dear fellow!” Bertie calls out. “Top notch.”

“Oh good,” Sir Devron murmurs as his eyes roll and he falls back once more.

“Well, if you don’t need anything else,” Death says, picking an unconscious Stanley up off the floor and hauling him over his shoulder easily. “I’m going to stop by and have a word with this Bureau. I get the feeling they’re overstepping.”

Before anyone can say anything, they both disappear.

“I do hope he brings Stanley back,” Roger pouts.