Page 4 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

“This isn’t hell,” the bird shifter ghost says reassuringly.

“You don’t actually know that, Red,” Davydd says with a tug on his blue bowtie. “I’m personally undecided.”

“It’s most definitely hell,” Topher retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Considering I’m naked, I’m inclined to agree.

“Can I at least have a jacket?” I ask the guys. “I’ll even take a waistcoat. Or that hat. Although I might need two.” Kind of fitting that their hats are different sizes, one for each of my unequally sized boobs.

“I wish we could,” Red says. “I’d give you all the clothes off my back, but I can’t even give you this damn hat.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “Honestly! Try and take it.”

He extends his hand—his back still to me—and I reach for his hat, but my hand goes right through it. I grab the hem of his coat next, but my hand goes through that too. And right through his arse and crotch, coming out on the other side.

“Kinky,” Davydd chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I shriek, pulling my hand back. As if this whole situation wasn’t awkward enough, I’m now trying to grope a bloody ghost. Not literally bloody, it’s just an expression. And not trying, so much as failing. But that’s not really the point. My hand does not need to be anywhere near that region of his body. Period.

“Step inside Margam Castle!” a voice echoes around us. The entrance hall door opens with a loud groan, and a crowd of seniors barge through, following a tour guide. There are more cameras—as if I haven’t had enough of those already—and I yelp as I try to cover myself and hide behind the guys.

“They can’t see you,” Red tells me, his voice a reassuring murmur. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” I almost scream. “I’m naked and soaking wet!”

“Oh, we noticed,” Topher drawls, though he has the decency not to turn around and gawk at me again. Thank goodness for small mercies.

“That’s not helpful,” I reply, though my voice is partially drowned out by the tour guide’s.

“Built between 1830 and 1840, Margam Castle was commissioned by Christopher Rice Mansel Talbot.”

“My grandfather,” Topher mutters, “and namesake. He wanted to create a shifter sanctuary.”

“Can we save the history lesson?” I mutter, since I’ve already heard all of it—and then some—from my parents. “We’ve got more important problems. Like clothes. Is there a lost and found where I can get something to wear? Or towels? A tablecloth? Hell, I’d even take a pair of curtains.”

“No can do,” Davydd says. “We don’t really want to look like this either, but we’re stuck with whatever we were wearing—or weren’t wearing—when we died. In your case…”

“Naked,” Topher finishes helpfully. “We’re not exactly delighted about it. As much as I enjoy the view, I don’t want to have a perpetual antler in my trousers.”

Davydd snorts.

“You’re not doing any better,” Topher tells him.

As their backs are to me, I’ll have to take him at his word.

“Since you’re going to be here for a while—” Davydd starts to say.

“A while?” I cry. “How long exactly is a while?”

“Possibly forever?” Davydd corrects.

“Forever? Like this? Naked? Without being able to touch anything?” He can’t be serious. This can’t be my existence from here on out. “How am I supposed to paint?”