Page 92 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

Of course it did.

Her breath caught as she turned it, slowly at first, like she was afraid the moment might break if she rushed it. Then, with a click, she heard the lock give, and Augustine inhaled sharply.

For a second, she just stood there, her heart racing as the sound echoed through her. Theo didn’t say anything. But then, he didn’t need to. He simply watched as she pressed her hand flat against the door and pushed, a faint creak breaking the silence as the wood gave way, revealing a narrow staircase beyond, dim, quiet, and entirely untouched.

A breath of air drifted down towards them, stale and musty, the scent of a space that hadn’t been opened in months, and Augustine took a beat before she stepped forward.

The first step felt . . . strange. Like crossing something invisible. Not just a threshold, but something deeper, something that had been closed off for a reason. She took another step, and another, determined to know what was at the top. Determined to see what was so dangerous it hadn’t just been taken from her but hidden away by magic, too.

Theo’s presence was steady and grounding at her feet, as the light from below faded and the space around them shifted into something softer, dustier and older.

At the top of the stairs, Augustine paused. This wasn’t just a room. No, it opened out into something more. A collection of little rooms tucked together like a secret someone had tried very hard to forget.

A tiny kitchen, just to the left. A narrow doorway leading to what looked like a bathroom. Further in, a bedroom, and beyond that, a small living area.

Augustine began to explore slowly, her gaze moving over everything. It wasn’t empty. Not even close.

In fact, there were things everywhere.

She moved from room to room, taking in the shoes kicked off in a corner, like someone had meant to come back for them. There was a coat draped over the back of a chair and books stacked unevenly on a small table. Linen was still spread across the bed, slightly rumpled, as if it had been left in a hurry, or simply abandoned mid-life. A glucose monitor sat on the bedside table. The air held that same musty stillness, but beneath it something oddly familiar.

Cinnamon! A knot of pain rose in her throat. She took a step towards the fireplace, where a collection of candles sat, mostly half-burned. She recognized a few from her shop, but one looked different from the others. She picked that jar up, reading the label. Cinnamon Rolls.

Theo moved beside her, just as quiet now, his eyes scanning the space with a kind of careful scepticism. “This is . . .” His voice died away.

Augustine was already moving, drawn into the kitchen. It was small — barely more than a corner, really — but like the rest of the space, it looked lived-in. There was a mug by the sink. A dish towel hanging slightly crooked. And on the floor—

A cat food bowl, with Bird written across the front in big, black lettering.

Augustine’s breath hitched and slowly, she looked up towards the fridge. Photographs were stuck to it, held in place by mismatched magnets.

Her feet carried her closer without thinking, and quietly, Theo followed.

“Who lived here?” he asked.

Augustine didn’t answer straight away. Her hand lifted, fingers hovering just above one of the photographs before she finally touched it.

Two people. Laughing. Close. Familiar.

Her throat tightened. “I think . . .” she said, her voice soft, almost unsteady. “I think we did.”

She turned slightly, pointing to another photo. And another. And then another. All of them with her. All of them with him. All of them together.

Different moments. Different days. Smiles, half-caught glances, arms slung around each other like they belonged there.

A life. Their life.

Before it had been taken from them.

Augustine exhaled shakily, her fingers still resting against the edge of the fridge as the weight of it settled in. “We lived here,” she said, more certain now. “We lived here. Together.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Theo’s gaze lingered on a photograph, his expression tightening in a way that made something in Augustine’s chest twist.

“We look so happy,” he said.

Augustine nodded slowly. “Yeah. We do.”