Page 24 of How I Met Your Murderer

Then he told me all about his torn ACL, the surgery, the recovery and how his knee would never be the same. He talked about going to work for ExorSquad and the oddly charismatic older man who owned the business, who I wasn’t sure I trusted as far as Raff could throw him. He confided in me about growing up as an only child, told me all about his many cousins and his grandparents and his favorite neighbors, how his parents had always supported him—like when he came out as gay.

I liked how he looked at me when he said it. I liked that it wasn’t a big deal to say it, that he was comfortable and relaxed when he did.

So I told him I was bi, which I hadn’t often shared.

Apparently, even with such proud parents, Raff had longed for a large family like mine and eventually found it in his team. Maybe that explained why he was so comfortable around me and the rest of the castle’s spirits. He had already known plenty of loss himself.

The stars watched another week slip by, maybe more, as he taught me about the basics of hurling and made them fascinating.

We talked about our families, and how I missed mine even though my parents were far from perfect. Sharing them with him somehow made them feel a little less distant.

Then one night, Raff finally let Síofra run a brush through his red-brown curls. She loved talking to him in Irish about how much had changed for queer folks over the years, and enjoyed trying to learn current slang in their language. Even though I didn’t understand a word, I was content to listen to both of them.

Each evening ended later than Raff’s job demanded, especially now that he had the castle calmer than it had been in months. Yet he shifted his sleep schedule so we could keep watching the stars until they vanished, talking about books or life or death or nothing at all.

I had rarely been so aware of the passage of time as I was now that the living world held something to interest me again, more awake than I had been in years. More alive, my mind active and my energy stronger, and it was all thanks to Raff. When I thought about inevitabilities—him leaving after Halloween, or moving me on—I got so restless that I had to disappear to the basement dungeon to kick rocks and scream and scare the worms for a while. I hadn’t had a friend in so long, and now here one was, close enough to touch even though I couldn’t. Someone I could whisper all my random thoughts to (and lately, there were a lot), and usually find myself rewarded with a snarky reply or a shared laugh in return.

He seemed to love when I imitated the birds that visited Síofra’s balcony, which was where I spent most of my time. Having died in the foyer, I didn’t feel drawn to a particular room like some of the other spirits, and I liked pretending I could feel the fresh air.

I don’t know that I’d ever had a friend quite like Raff. So funny. So intense. So striking to look at, from his face to the way he carried himself. So sincere. He downloaded my favorite songs to play for me whenever he had service on his phone, and I wasn’t even sure if he liked the music or just liked that I enjoyed it. It was easy to show him exactly who I was, because he was always curious and never flinched away—even if he did double over in fits of laughter when Pepper the demon dog tried to hump my leg again.

Sometimes, when he held my eyes a moment longer than any of my old friends ever had, I could have sworn he was inviting me in.

And maybe that’s why I got a little too restless again, and did something stupid despite my carefully thought-out basement escape plan for such occasions.

We were in the grand parlor. Raff had brought a toy barn and poseable horse figures from the village for Gráinne, hoping a shiny new distraction might encourage her to stop putting the plastic skeletons in compromising positions that made Jordy giggle like a kid and never failed to upset Caoimhe.

“Think of all the positions the rascal can leave these in,” Raff declared, triumphant, when he took them out of their plastic carrying case to show me.

From the coffee table, a huge black candle shaped like a skull grinned up at him. No one could say Caoimhe wasn’t committed to the theme. We were setting the horses up on the parlor’s wide area rug when something chimed in Raff’s jacket pocket. His phone. He usually left it in the van because he didn’t get much signal on the castle grounds, but he reached for it now.

He rolled his eyes at a text, then showed me. “Caoimhe wants to know if we can figure out who’s flooding the third-floor bathrooms before the trial banquet this weekend,” he explained. The phone chimed again. “Oh, and she thanked me for being the reason the banquet is finally possible. You’re the one she should really be thanking, though, if you ask me.”

As usual, I wasn’t quite sure what to say to such generous praise. I rubbed my palm against my cheek, wondering if it was hot—but of course I couldn’t tell.

Setting the phone down on the antique coffee table, Raff gave me a daring look that sent a thrill through my incorporeal veins. “Come on, then,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s put a few of these around for the little rogue to find.”

But I was distracted when his phone screen lit up again.

FLAIR: 28 new messages, it read. The icon was a picture of a flaming heart, and even though I didn’t recognize the app, I knew what one was. I’d played Angry Birds.

“What’s Flair?” I asked in what I hoped was an offhand voice as I made one of the horses moonwalk toward Raff’s leg. It was so much harder to pitch my voice with any kind of inflection now that I didn’t have actual vocal cords, but I had played around with different energy manipulations often enough to make a decent attempt.

Raff’s brows rose, and he stopped messing with the toy horses, leaning back on his heels. “That’s a dating app. You can meet people, have a chat, hook up, whatever. Why?” He followed my gaze back to the coffee table and his illuminated phone screen. “You want to see?”

Did I ever. Stuff like this—swiping through faces like you’re picking out a jacket—was a whole world I’d missed by dying before my time. But after Raff walked me through it, I couldn’t say I felt like I’d missed much. Flicking people away with my thumb felt wrong, like pretending they weren’t as human as I was. Sure, a few profiles were . . . questionable. But mostly, I just didn’t know enough about any of them to feel anything at all.

“You had a lot of messages on there,” I observed as neutrally as I could, making Raff shiver as I drew more energy from our surroundings to take a turn swiping on a few pictures even though it felt so foreign to me.

“Yeah, I downloaded it a while ago and forgot all about it,” he answered, peering at the screen over my shoulder with a frown. “It was back when I was working at the Red Bog Inn. I don’t really . . . date much. I’ve not had the time. But doing nothing at all is the real pity, isn’t it? I thought I should try, at least.”

I didn’t answer, too busy swiping right on everyone for him.

The next profile showed a tall, slim goth guy in a priest’s collar, with dark hair curling around his ears and a sarcastic, playful smirk. Ronan was a demonologist, which wasn’t too far removed from Raff’s line of work, and he had his master’s in psychology. And I guess you could call him cute. Raff deserved someone smart and fun and at least half as handsome as he was, because that was probably as close as anyone would get. Better still if his potential new boyfriend understood Raff’s line of work.

“Oh no, what’re you—?” was all Raff managed to blurt before I swiped right again. “Ah, Jaysus!” he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. I’d never heard his accent quite this strong. “Eric, that was my fecking ex! The shite one I told you about, you remember—don’t tell me you’re setting me up with the ex now?”

My control over energy vanished and the phone dropped through my incorporeal hand, thudding on the carpet. Suddenly, all I could see was that pale, pasty skin. The shit-eating grin above the priest’s collar that wasn’t playful at all, but was clearly smug about having fucked the man next to me in some capacity. It had been a fun game, trying to match Raff with someone when it was just an idea, a far-off possibility—not when it had already happened and was staring me in the face.