Page 15 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow (Crawshanks Guide to Mischievous Spectres & Spirits #2)

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“O w, my foot!” Professor Plume complains loudly. “Bertie, would you care to explain why we’re back in this bloody cupboard?”

“As much as I hate to say it”—Skid sniffs—“the prof has a point. Why are we back in the cupboard? It’s not like Stan don’t know about it. He’s going to find us, you know that, right?”

The light above us flicks on and the tiny, cramped cupboard is flooded with light.

“Actually, I’m actually already here,” Stanley says from where he’s pressed up against Rear Admiral Hilary, his clipboard squashed between them.

“Bertie, what’s going on?” Skid asks, ignoring Stanley, who’s a bit pale and wide-eyed and also seems to be somewhat disinclined to speak further. I’m beginning to wonder if the poor chap isn’t in a smidge of shock.

“Um, I think there might be a spot of trouble on the old horizon,” I admit with a wince.

“Why?” Professor Plume demands. “What did you do?” His eyes narrow on me, and I bristle at the accusation in his gaze.

I huff indignantly. “Actually, I didn’t do anything.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off before he can accuse anyone else. Honestly, we were quite pleased to welcome some fresh blood into the fold just after New Year’s, but he’s turning out to be a bit of an insufferable bore. One can only hope the next few decades dull some of the edges of his personality.

“None of us did,” I add.

“It was the fleshies,” Roger pouts. “They held a séance in the lobby.”

“We know,” Rear Admiral Hilary says gruffly. “But they’re harmless. Just a load of old blarney. It’s all rather dull, that’s why most of us kept away. Had better things to do.”

“Yes, well.” I purse my lips. “This one wasn’t harmless. I think they might have woken up Lady Clare’s unholy triad.”

“What?” Skid frowns. “What do you mean?”

“There was definitely some paranormal activity going on, and not our kind. It was all rather frightful, to be honest.”

“They’re scary,” a small voice pipes up, and we look down.

“Alright, Artie.” Skid nods in greeting.

“What do you mean by scary?” Professor Plume asks.

Leona makes a series of gestures, well as much as she can considering she’s pinned to the door.

“For god’s sake, woman,” Plume snaps. “I can’t understand a bloody word you’re saying. Will someone get her a notepad and a pen or something?”

“She said, their spirits were restless… and angry,” Edwina says in a subdued tone. “I could feel it as well.”

“Who, Lady Clare?” Skid asks.

“And I imagine her husband and lover too,” I muse.

“This is not good,” Stanley mutters, shaking his head. “This is not good at all. How could you let this happen?”

“We didn’t do anything,” I remind him.

“Exactly! Why didn’t you stop them?”

“Because, like Hilary said, these séances are just a load of balderdash. Nothing remotely interesting ever happens unless one of us can be bothered to show up and rattle a few tables or flick the light switch. How were we supposed to know it was going to–” I look at him expectantly. “What exactly did it do?”

“It woke up three potentially homicidal spirits!” he replies, his voice rising, a thread of panic laced through it.

Skid scowls. “Stan, what do you mean by potentially homicidal?”

“It was a little ambiguous, the method of their demise. Nobody seems to really know exactly what happened that night,” he explains. “What we do know is that all three of them died in terrible circumstances. It was very volatile and emotions were high. It’s the perfect breeding ground for malevolent spirits. Dangerously malevolent spirits.”

“But you don’t know for certain,” Rear Admiral Hilary says. “These chaps could be perfectly delightful, and it has been quite some time since we had any fresh blood around here.”

“Hey!” Professor Plume glowers at him. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he mutters. “Forgot about you.”

“Bloody charming,” Professor Plume sulks.

“I’m afraid I don’t really understand any of this,” Edwina says. “There have been dozens of séances, and even those horrid Ouija board things, here over the years. Why now? Why did it wake them up? And how? And why were they asleep? Why didn’t they cross over to the other side?”

“Excellent questions, Eddy!” I congratulate her and turn to Stanley, raising my brows to indicate for him to fill in the blanks.

He frowns. “They weren’t asleep, exactly, they were just, um… dormant, I suppose the word is. I don’t know, that’s not my department. I believe it was the Council of Incorporeal Spirits and Disembodied Souls, one of the original governing bodies of the afterlife that were absorbed by the Bureau back in the nineteen-twenties, that decided it would be safer to not allow the Lovers Hollow trio to roam free.”

Leona makes several quick gestures.

“Not allow?” Edwina translates.

“There was some speculation as to whether they posed a threat to the living and, if so, how much of a threat. An evaluation was carried out and then an evaluation of that evaluation and then a committee was assembled.”

Hilary sniffs. “Bloody bureaucrats.”

“Anyway, it was determined the risk factor could not be determined with any accuracy.”

“After two evaluations and a committee?” I say dryly.

Stanley nods.

“Bloody bureaucrats,” I echo the admiral’s sentiment.

“Okay, so hang on a minute, darling,” Roger interrupts.

Stanley flushes. “Don’t call me darling.”

“Big boy.” Roger winks.

“Oh god,” Stanley mutters.

“Wait a minute.” Professor Plume’s eyes narrow and he waves a finger between them. “The two of you–”

“What can I say?” Roger preens. “He’s got amazing stamina. Didn’t even drop his clipboard.”

Stanley instantly turns bright red, right to the tips of his ears, and clutches said clipboard closer as if using it as a shield.

“Anyway.” Roger waves his hand. “If I’m understanding this correctly, the Council or Bureau or whoever decided that they weren’t sure if Lady Clare, her husband, and her lover were in fact dangerous, so to be on the safe side, they locked them up?”

“We didn’t exactly lock them up, just kind of… knocked them out for a bit,” Stanley says defensively.

“Knocked them out for a bit?” I blink slowly.

“Well, to be honest, the Council was going through a bit of an upheaval and a change of management. They may have been a tad overzealous.” Stanley winces.

“A tad overzealous?” Roger’s voice rises. “You guys locked them up for–”

“Knocked them out,” he corrects.

“Whatever.” Roger waves a hand. “You incapacitated them for over three hundred years, when they hadn’t done anything wrong, just in case they were dangerous?”

“You say did nothing wrong, but at least two of them are murderers.”

“Which two?” I ask.

“We’re not a hundred percent sure. Recordkeeping was somewhat more spotty back then.”

“No wonder they’re mad as hell,” Roger mutters. “I would be too if I’d been locked up for that long.”

“We didn’t lock them up.” Stanley sighs in exasperation. “We just put them into a dormant state, where they couldn’t move or communicate.”

“Same thing, honey.” Roger pats his clipboard.

“And now they’re loose,” Stanley says unhappily.

“What?” I interject. “Are you worried they’re going to sue for wrongful imprisonment?”

“He’s probably more worried about them going on a murderous rampage fuelled by revenge and retribution,” Skid says mildly.

“Oh my gosh, this is an absolute disaster!” Stanley bemoans.

Admiral Hilary huffs again. “Why are you even here? Why aren’t you off tattling on us to your beloved Bureau?”

“Are you mad?” Stanley exclaims. “I’ll be sacked!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I haven’t had a headache in nearly fifty-one years, but I’m feeling one brewing now.

“So what are we going to do about this?”

“We need to find some way to put them back to sleep,” Stanley says.

“Well, how on earth are we supposed to do that?” I ask.

“I have no idea. I told you, it’s not my department.”

“Can’t you just go ask the right one, then?”

“Then they’ll find out.” He shakes his head. “I think it’s best that we keep this between just us.”

“Oh, good grief.” I roll my eyes. “How did they get woken up in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” Stanley shrugs. “Maybe all that electrical equipment the ghost hunter people brought in? Maybe all the ramped-up psychic energy from your misbehaviour lately?”

“Yes, well,” I say quickly. “Let’s not dwell on the why and figure out a solution. Any ideas? Anyone?”

“Oh, oh!” Edwina flaps her hands. “That nice young man who came to stay, the one with the tall lady who was a spirit guide or something.”

“Yeah, she wasn’t a lady, Eddy,” Skid corrects her.

“She wasn’t?” She blinks in confusion. “What was she, then?”

“A honey trap is what she was,” I lament. “A statuesque stunner with all the wrong parts underneath.”

“Actually, she doesn’t have all the wrong parts, she has all the right parts. They’re just not parts you’d be interested in playing with,” Skid says with his usual bluntness.

“Yes, well, moving on. What was the lad’s name who was with her? Timothy?”

“Tristan,” Skid corrects.

“Ah, yes, Tristan. Excellent idea, Edwina.” I nod. “I do believe he’s friends with our Ellis. I’ll have a word, get him to ring and send up an SOS.”

“Oh my god.” Stanley closes his eyes. “I am going to be in so much trouble.”

I grin. “Welcome to the club, dear chap. Trouble is something we excel at!”