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CHAPTER 14

F riday nights at The Red Lion usually meant a packed house, but tonight—a dreary late October evening with rain threatening—had been uncommonly quiet. By eleven o’clock, Tessa found herself alone, methodically wiping down the bar after shooing out the last lingering customers and locking the door behind them.

The silence felt weighted, expectant. Over the past few days, Will’s supernatural presence had grown increasingly insistent. Lights flickered without electrical cause. The temperature dropped suddenly in specific corners, creating pockets of inexplicable cold. Sometimes, Tessa caught movement at the edge of her vision—shadows that vanished when she turned her head.

“We’re still searching, Will,” she said aloud to the empty room. “Sebastian and I are doing everything we can to find Rebecca. Please be patient a little longer.”

The air around her seemed to thicken, atmospheric pressure building like before a thunderstorm. Tessa shivered despite the radiator’s warmth, pulling her cardigan tighter—a habit she’d developed since Will had started making the pub feel Arctic whenever he got agitated.

The entire day had been spent in fruitless research. Sebastian had called twice with potential leads about Rebecca’s post-war life, each conversation raising hopes only to dash them with dead ends. They were missing something crucial, and Will’s patience was wearing thin.

Tessa forced herself back to closing duties, gathering clean glasses from various tables. One pint glass remained on the bar, half-full of rinse water that caught the overhead light.

As she reached for it, the glass suddenly exploded in her hand with impossible force.

Searing pain lanced through her palm as sharp fragments embedded deep in her skin. Blood welled instantly, more than she’d expected, and she gasped from shock.

“Blast it, Will!” she managed through gritted teeth. “That was completely unnecessary!”

The temperature plunged dramatically, her breath coming out in visible clouds. Light bulbs began bursting throughout the room—pop, pop, pop—like supernatural firecrackers, plunging The Red Lion into near-darkness except for one flickering lamp by the door.

Blood dripped steadily onto the polished bar. Tessa grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around her injured hand, but the crimson was already soaking through. The deep gash looked like it would definitely need stitches. She felt dizzy looking at it, the shock making her legs unsteady.

How was she going to drive herself to hospital like this? Maybe she should call an ambulance, though the expense would be?—

A gentle tapping on the front door interrupted her panicked thoughts.

Tessa’s heart jumped. Who would be here this late? She moved carefully toward the door, cradling her injured hand, and peered through the old glass.

Sebastian stood outside, his hands cupped against the window as he tried to see in. Even in the dim light from the street lamp, she could see the concern on his face.

Relief flooded through her as she fumbled with the deadbolt, struggling to manage it one-handed. When she finally got the door open, Sebastian stepped inside, shaking raindrops from his coat.

“Tessa, I was driving by and saw your lights still—“ He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the bloodied towel and the darkened pub. “Christ, what happened?”

“Just a small accident,” she said, though even she could hear how shaky her voice sounded.

Sebastian was beside her in an instant, gently taking her wrist to examine the injury. His touch was careful, professional, but she could feel the tension in his fingers.

“This isn’t small,” he said, his voice tight. “You’re bleeding badly. This needs stitches.”

“I know,” Tessa admitted, feeling foolish and vulnerable. “I was just trying to figure out how to get to hospital.”

“Will did this?” Sebastian asked, looking around at the destroyed light bulbs and the glass scattered across the floor.

Tessa nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. “The glass just exploded in my hand, then he went on a rampage.”

Something shifted in Sebastian’s expression—something dangerous and protective that she’d never seen before. He looked around the darkened pub, and when he spoke, his voice carried a cold fury that made her shiver.

“Will!” Sebastian called out to the empty air. “I know you can hear me.”

The temperature seemed to drop even further, if that were possible. Tessa felt the supernatural chill wrap around them like an icy embrace.

“You do not hurt women!” Sebastian’s voice cracked through the frigid air like a whip. “Is that the kind of man you were in life? I wouldn’t have thought that from the letter you wrote to Rebecca. Perhaps she was better off without you!”

Tessa flinched at the cruelty of his words, even though part of her appreciated his fierce protectiveness. She could almost feel Will’s presence recoiling from the attack.

“Sebastian, don’t be cruel,” she said softly, her voice carrying sympathy for the ghost despite her injury.

But Sebastian wasn’t finished. His eyes had gone hard, calculating—the same look she’d seen him use in business negotiations, but now turned toward supernatural warfare.

“A man who truly loved a woman wouldn’t terrorize another woman decades later,” he continued ruthlessly. “What would Rebecca think of you now, Will? Would she be proud of the man you’ve become?”

The cold seemed to waver around them, as if Will himself was staggering from the blow. Then, gradually, the arctic chill began to lift. The remaining light flickered once—not in defiance, but what almost seemed like acknowledgment or shame.

Warmth slowly returned to the pub, though Tessa could still feel the heavy weight of emotional tension in the air.

Sebastian turned back to her, his fury immediately softening into gentle concern. “Come on,” he said, his arm slipping around her waist with careful tenderness. “Let’s get you to hospital.”

As they headed toward the door, Tessa found herself studying his profile in the dim light. Why had he really stopped by so late? Was he just driving by, or...?

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For protecting me. Though that was rather harsh.”

“He hurt you,” Sebastian replied, his voice still carrying an edge of controlled anger. “I don’t care if he’s been dead for eighty years. Nobody hurts you.”

The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent unexpected warmth spreading through her chest. She’d been taking care of herself for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.

“Were you really just driving by?” she asked as they stepped into the misty London night.

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, then gave her a look that was almost shy. “I was driving by,” he said carefully. “And I saw your lights were still on, and I thought...I wanted to see you.”

The simple honesty of it made her heart skip a beat. Despite everything—the pain in her hand, Will’s tantrum, the chaos of the evening—she found herself smiling.

“I’m glad you did,” she said, meaning it completely.

As Sebastian helped her into his car, Tessa realized that having someone care enough to stop by just to see her, someone willing to be ruthless in her defense, felt better than she’d ever imagined it could.