Page 58 of How I Met Your Murderer

I raised an eyebrow and teased, trying to chase the shadows away: “What, no Britney or N*SYNC tonight? No surprise one-hit wonder?” But I also took his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly.

He shrugged and dragged his thumb across my palm. “Why mess with a classic?”

As he pulled me into his arms like he always did when we were alone, I counted his heartbeats. One . . . two . . . three . . . each one warm and steady against my ribs. The sound anchored me more than the stone floor beneath my feet.

“You know, it looks a bit like Halloween threw up in here,” Raff muttered playfully. “Maybe Caoimhe managed to scare Gary off with all this, and we can relax.”

The foyer—the whole castle—drowned in orange and black. Caoimhe had gone absolutely feral.

Paper ghosts dangled from the chandelier. A dozen carved pumpkins lined each side of the wide front staircase, their flickering faces casting jagged shadows that crawled up the walls. Fake cobwebs draped over the banister like bunting, except some of them weren’t fake—I could feel the faint, skittish energy of tiny beings tangled in them. A plastic animatronic witch cackled and waved every time someone walked past, only she had been going off at random ever since Jordy locked up for the night.

“Or maybe,” I said, lowering my voice so we wouldn’t be overheard, “the spirits themselves scared old Gary off. Look at Brigid.”

The chambermaid drifted across the landing above us, her plain, usually stoic features now blurred like water running down glass. Her hands twitched in repetitive motions as she dusted each of the jack-o’-lanterns with a wet mop.

“She looks like she’s gearing up to be the star of the show on opening night,” Raff whispered back, but apparently not quietly enough.

She turned her head toward us, and when she did, her neck bent too far, like a marionette pulled by a child’s clumsy hand.

Raff took an instinctive step back, bringing me with him, though Brigid waved a hand in greeting and went right back to work.

“She’s not the only one, though,” I whispered. I probably didn’t need to, but I added, under my breath as we hurried out of the foyer and away from the chambermaid, “There’s something off with Síofra, too.”

She hadn’t looked like herself since even before the chef disappeared. Her skin was melting off, her hair lank and ragged, and there were gaps in her once-perfect teeth. It was like she was slowly decaying before us, or losing control over her manifestations that were only sometimes meant to be frightening—and definitely not intended to scare me or Raff.

“Maybe they’re just getting into the Halloween fun,” he said softly as we hurried down a hallway that the sconces didn’t fully brighten like they should have. “Or maybe,” he added as we gained the safety of the parlor with no one else in it, “it’s because of Máirtín. They all seem scared they’ll be next, and maybe it’s . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Messing with how they manifest?” I supplied. “Yeah, that could be it.” I was surprised it wasn’t happening to me, too, but then—I wasn’t scared. Not of that. Just like Raff trusted me in his most vulnerable moments as he was drifting off to sleep, I trusted him with this most vulnerable part of me—tidying up the remnants of my unfinished life.

Raff settled onto the stiff couch and cleared his throat. “Right, well . . . before we get started tonight, I wanted you to know I worked on number six from your list today. I typed up the letter you wrote to Chloe about missing her wedding—you can check over it when I’m asleep, if you’d like. The phone’s out in the van, and you have all my passwords.”

Something in my chest tightened so sharply that I almost lost my shape.

Chloe. My middle sister.

She had been engaged before we came to Ireland, and would have been the first of our sibling quartet to get married. I was supposed to be the Man of Honor—Chloe had asked me on the trip—but dying had put a dampener on that. A few days ago, Raff had looked her up online and confirmed that she was alive and well, and that she now called Annie her wife. They were living up north in Maine. Beyond that, I hadn’t wanted to know the details. It would have been one more tie to the world I was supposed to be leaving behind.

It hurt enough as it was.

Sixteen years’ worth of hurt.

My eyes felt like they were welling with tears, even if it wasn’t possible. They stung so much that I had to look away. “Thanks, All Star.”

When I settled onto the couch beside him, he rested a hand in the hollow of my back, steadying me. “It’s on the list,” he said gently, “and we’re workin’ through it. Oh, and . . . my mam’s looking for that teapot your mam wanted when she was here. She’s got half of Kerry on the hunt, checking antique shops and their own cupboards. And she’s not lettin’ either of us pay for the thing when she finds it.”

A warm shimmer pulsed through me, the ghost equivalent of blushing.

He undid me with his thoughtfulness, then put me back together with those steady arms that held me when I slid onto his lap to show him just how much I appreciated him.

“That’s so much effort,” I protested. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said softly, his breath gusting over my lips, warm and slightly sweet from the tea he’d made earlier.

Drawn in like I always was, I rested my forehead gently against his and wrapped my legs around his waist. Most comfortable couch I’d ever sat on.

“So that’s number six and seven. Two boxes nearly ticked. I’m working on the sheep, and the autopsy report, and we’re finally starting number one tomorrow,” he murmured, like he hoped the progress would reassure me. “Your big Dungeons and Dragons plan.”

My eyes tracked the flicker of his tongue as he licked his lips. It was hard to focus on anything when he was surrounding me, close enough to kiss, like we spent many of our nights doing. He never asked for more, but I knew he thought about it, because I had felt him swell against my leg and even palmed him teasingly through his pants. I just hadn’t been brave enough yet to ask if I could jack him off—something else I hadn’t done before.