Page 109 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

She shrugged. “I haven’t told him yet.”

Roy sat up instantly, indignant. “Augustine Pepperday,” he chided. “You should go talk to him. Right now. Tell him what you’ve learned.”

Augustine let out a short, bitter laugh. “He’s in hospital, Roy,” she said. “Remember? The coma? The stroke?”

Roy frowned at her. “Not that Theo. The Theo you shagged last night,” he clarified bluntly. “The not-ghost, not-illusion, mysteriously tangible one. Go and talk to him.”

“I . . .” She faltered, the words catching. “I don’t know if I can face him now.”

Roy’s expression hardened slightly. “You have to.”

She looked away. “Roy—”

“No,” he cut in, sharper than usual. “I’m not going to let you hide here and leave that poor—” he paused. “What are we calling him now? Man? Ghost? Patient?”

“Theo.”

“Fine. Listen to me. You’ve just found out that Theo, who you’ve fallen in love with — twice, apparently — is either a witch hunter, a coma patient, or some deeply confusing hybrid of the two. He came to you looking for help, looking for answers . . . well, you’ve got them now, and he deserves to know.”

Still, doubt ran through her. Or maybe it was fear, masquerading as doubt. “I don’t know,” she said, running a hand over her face. “I just don’t know.”

“You fell in love with each other twice, Augustine,” Roy said suddenly, his voice painfully gentle. “I think you’ve both earned the right to the truth at least once.”

“I know,” she said, looking up. “But the thing is, Theo and I . . . we said that once we had the truth, we would . . .” she took a deep breath. “We said we would say goodbye.”

Realization dawned in Roy’s eyes. “Oh.”

“And I just don’t know if I’m ready for that. If I’m ready to let him go. Again.”

“Augustine.” Roy replied. “You told me yourself that ghosts shouldn’t linger. That they need to move on. This is how you help him move on. With the truth.”

“He’s not a ghost,” Augustine tried to argue, but Roy shook his head.

“Then stop treating him like one.” He sighed. “Tell him.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The bell above the shop door gave its usual soft chime as Augustine pushed it open, everything as she had left it the day before.

It shouldn’t feel like this, Augustine thought, hanging up her coat and putting down her bag. Nothing should feel this . . . this normal.

She’d left Theo right there. Left him behind while she went to uncover the truth. He’d said he would wait for her. She half-hoped he hadn’t. Augustine swallowed, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. She didn’t move. Didn’t step forward or reach for the door. Because opening it and seeing him again now felt like crossing a line she wouldn’t be able to step back over. A line that led to the truth.

A line that led to goodbye.

“Theo?” she called out, but there was no reply. Before Augustine could feel either panic, sadness or relief however, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Well. It took you long enough.”

Augustine startled, turning sharply.

Mrs Clayton stood near the counter, one hand curled around her ever-present pearl embossed handbag, her expression equal parts unimpressed and vindicated. Her gaze flicked pointedly towards the now revealed door to upstairs, before going back to Augustine.

Her expression instantly softened on seeing Augustine’s all too evident misery. “I was beginning to think you’d never catch up,” she said gently.

Augustine felt a small dart of betrayal. “You knew.”

Mrs Clayton didn’t flinch. “Yes,” she said simply. “I knew. I knew about everything.”