Page 15 of How I Met Your Murderer

I needed a clear head to start making myself useful around here.

Once I was clean, Pepper and I returned to the van, where I kept a couple blank notebooks for jobs. Last night, Síofra had said something about vanity, and now she appeared in mirrors as a rotting, plague-ridden corpse. I wondered if I could help with her self-image in some way, maybe erase some of her ex’s cruel words with a few well-placed scraps of paper tucked into the corner of every mirror.

I wrote down every affirmation I could think of. I would have googled for more, but my phone barely had a signal out here at times and I didn’t feel like driving all the way into the village today.

Your presence lights up a room.

You glow with confidence and grace.

Your worth isn’t defined by anyone else’s opinion.

It was lovely to meet you. Sure we’ll talk again.

– Raff

I was making a show of myself, but thankfully, Pepper didn’t seem inclined to judge. He trotted at my heels as we combed the castle for every mirror, leaving a little note of encouragement for Síofra in each.

We were finishing up with what looked like a small hand mirror mounted to the wall in one of the many parlors when I caught a whisper.

“Wearing all that black brings out the green in yours eyes, Raff dear.”

It sounded warm and fond, and when Síofra didn’t appear in the glass, I took it as a sign that the words were helping already. Which gave me enough confidence to start thinking about the castle’s other haunts. Perhaps I should start with whatever disaster was stirring in the kitchen.

But first I needed to take notes on each spirit and how they died, their method of haunting, their level of manifestation. Eric’s offer of a tour would make that a lot easier, assuming he didn’t plan to push me down the stairs or scare me literally to death—my predecessor’s death was still on my mind. And my warning vision of the falling chandelier refused to fade, but maybe that had nothing to do with Eric. And besides, little Pepper fancied him, and dogs were a great judge of character.

Spending time with Eric would be dodgy, especially now that I knew where I had seen him before, but what part of this job wasn’t mighty strange at the best of times?

Which was how I found myself alone in the castle at half past ten at night, standing with my back to the cold exterior wall of the foyer and a notebook in hand, not whistling but singing the chorus of “All Star” and hoping it would be enough to make Eric appear.

When it wasn’t, I started on a verse, making up some of the words as I went.

seven

The Lodgers

Eric

No, I didn’t watch Raff shower in the bathroom off the parlor. I wasn’t . . . wired like that, in life or death. But I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind. He was—well, he was built, with a sculpted chest, strong back, and thick waist under those company overalls, and I’d noticed. Anyone would. Still, that wasn’t why I lingered nearby. I just didn’t want any of the other lodgers giving him grief while he was in there.

Pulling guard duty, I guess, like I intended to do for the duration of his time here. I had told him I was trying to protect him, and I meant it, whether he believed me or not. Because last night, when he thought I, a perfect stranger, was alive and afraid, he had immediately put aside his own fears to look after me.

I’d played the hero often in life, at least around the gaming table. But I hadn’t had anyone try to be the hero for me. Even if only for a few minutes, it had been nice. Something I never thought I’d experience after I died.

If Raff stayed all the way to Halloween, maybe I’d get to be a hero in real life, too. Or the afterlife, such as it was.

In the parlor, Jordy Dolan and the lead decorator danced around some kind of unrealized feelings. It would have been interesting to watch if I wasn’t keeping an eye on the other spirits for Raff while he was at his most vulnerable.

I wondered if he had someone waiting for him at home in Killorglin. Someone he comforted when they were scared. Someone who tempered his fire when he got all worked up. Someone who admired his strength and balanced it with softness.

Not that it was any of my business. Like I said before, I just had too much time to think these days.

And when I saw the kind words he left in the mirrors for my beautiful friend, it only confirmed what I’d suspected: he had a good heart, and I wasn’t going to let it suddenly stop like mine or the last ghost expert’s. I was, to my knowledge, the strongest spirit here aside from Chef Máirtín and little Gráinne, and maybe the shadowy rider who lurked by the stables. And if I could use my power to protect him, I would.

Right now, though, I was using my ghostly abilities to remain unseen. I indulged myself by hovering on the ceiling to watch Raff, who was clad in a sleek black leather jacket that hugged his broad shoulders just right. Long fingers clutched a notebook to his chest as he made up random verses of a nineties pop hit.

His voice was unpolished. Rough, but warm and enthusiastic. He sang like he meant it, and rarely veered off-key. I couldn’t help wanting to hear more.

“Eric?” he finally asked into the quiet, so hopefully that I almost materialized on the spot. “Come on now—please? Are ya still cross with me about zapping you yesterday? Don’t make me beg, or . . .”