“At least we weren’t kept in suspense.” Slate replied. “Should we go check on them?”
“Probably.”
The bedroom that shared a bathroom with Meredith was the last one on the left. The door was shut, so Slate knocked.
After a long pause—too long given the size of the room—Thomas poked his head through the door. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, may we come in?” Dash asked. “My traumatized sister is downstairs getting coffee and a muffin.”
Thomas’s head disappeared back through the door, and then it opened. Thomas had joined Oliver, and they stood in the middle of the room. They looked like teenagers who’d been caught doing just what they’d obviously been doing. Oliver was still adjusting his waistcoat, even though it was perfect. Thomas stared at the floor with the kind of focus usually reserved for defusing bombs.
“So,” Slate said gently. “Meredith…”
Both ghosts turned colors that Slate didn’t know spirits could achieve.
“We didn’t realize anyone would be up—” Oliver said.
“Everyone except you two was asleep when we picked—” Thomas said at the same time.
Slate almost laughed again, but Oliver looked on the verge of tears. “It’s okay,” he said, “And you’re not in trouble. But maybe we should get you a key.”
Thomas looked up finally. “A key?”
“Yeah, you know that thing that can lock the door. That key,” Dash said. “Then no one can walk in on you.”
“You’re not upset?” Oliver’s voice came out small, uncertain.
“Why would we be upset?” Slate asked, sounding like it was a ridiculous question. “It’s your room. You deserve your privacy.”
The carefully controlled expression Thomas usually maintained cracked. “Thank you—for the room, for letting us stay, and for giving us our own space.”
“You’re welcome.” Dash looked down his nose at them. “Now you know how it feels to have someone watch you.”
Slate tilted his head, waiting for them to make the connection.
“We do,” Thomas said. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Okay then.” Dash exhaled. “Now we need to go check on Mermaid, and then Ireallyneed a shower.”
They turned to leave, but Oliver caught them before they left. “Thank you both. We appreciate everything you do for us.”
Slate didn’t think they did all that much. Short of binding them, there wasn’t much he and Dash could do to keep them away. Plus they were good company. “You bet.”
They made it halfway down the stairs when Meredith passed them going up, muffin in hand.
“It’s too early for this, Doc,” she announced. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep well,” Slate offered.
“Thanks.” She held up a muffin. “These are great. You need to teach me how to make them before I go back to London.”
She climbed past them as if Slate had agreed, and it was all settled.
Slate shook his head and turned to head back to the kitchen. Dash grabbed his arm before he made it one step. “Our room is that way.” He pointed up the stairs.
Slate stared at Dash in confusion before he understood. He didn’t change direction at first. Maybe all the interruptions were a sign to make new plans. Dash, however, didn’t let go, so Slate let himself be rerouted to his bedroom.
“What if Cain wants a room?” Slate said. “This could get out of hand.”
