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‘Ooo! I’m quaking in my fluffy bunny slippers.’

His eyes dip to said slippers, face contorting in abject horror before he sneers. His eyes are alight with some sort of unholy fire kindled by the promise of a reckoning. My flesh pimples and the hairs on the backs of my arms all stand on end. Regrettably, I shrink back a step. The bastard smirks.

And just like that, he’s gone.

Chapter Five

The Town

My first night in the new place was only slightly horrific. After announcing his presence, Walker faded back into the oblivion and didn’t reappear. Not even a light flicker. With any luck, he’s gone for good. All in all, I think I got about two hours sleep, which is actually a bit of a miracle, circumstances considered.

One can only toss and turn so long before relenting to the haunting of the thing that hovers above one. Sometime around witching hour, I relented.

I was being watched.

Moon spilling in across the pillows pillaged from a closet downstairs, it seemed no matter how tired, it’d be a miracle if I got even a wink of sleep. Turning on my back, I withheld my gasp and reminded myself in calm soothing tones, he can’t actually hurt you, he can only make you wish to acid-bath your retinas.

The moody gaze of tall, dark and brooding was burning holes in the top of my head as I fought (with valiant effort) to ignore it. Alas, those steel-grey eyes peeking between long dark locks pinned me like a frog on the dissection table. And perhaps his artfully chiselled abdominals also played a small part in my captivation. Honestly, I think what stole most of my attention though was his hands. I’m a sucker for nice hands. Strong hands. A vein protruded on the back of his wrist as he gripped the neck of his guitar, obviously held away from his body lest it obstruct the view. I did think it rather creative how they’d incorporated the sprinklers to look like piercings on his nips.

I had to count my lucky stars his one-eyed snake was tastefully hidden by the beam of the four-post bed. I’m not sure I’d have fared as well, ignoring the attention of that particular member.

As it turns out, the only thing more disconcerting than the mural above my head was the additional mirror ceiling in the spare bedroom. This guy.

Thankfully, my new roommate didn’t deign to make a reappearance. Perhaps he’s moved on to greener pastures.

Eventually, I gave up the fight for sleep and settled on reading instead. I reckon if I could do anything always, forever, it would be reading smutty romances. Although I do care to indulge in the occasional horror, too – just to shake things up.

The night passed rather quickly while my head was buried in a book about villains and anti-heroes and young women that find themselves in all sorts of trouble. They’re my favourite kind. Perhaps because I find a certain degree of similitude in their utter stupidity.

Unfortunately, the morning passes with less than ideal proceedings. When I open the fridge, I discover it’s been unplugged, and when I go to brush my teeth at the sink, the faucet flies off and I’m sprayed within an inch of my life. Regardless of there being no physical appearance of my new ghost roomie, his presence is certainly felt.

I shut the front door and peer down the side of the house. Lavender is entertaining a very dainty Dryad, with autumn in her hair. She must have moved her date forward. A quick link, indeed, with the bee-shifter – it’s only half past nine.

Lavender spots me, and with a vacant sort of effort, she lifts one willowy branch and sends me off with the regal dismissal I’d expect from the fae queen. That bee-shifter worked wonders for her buds; she’s really thriving. Pity he’s not around anymore to witness the bloom of his efforts. Lavender flicks her hair and laughs at something the Dryad said. Damn her for looking so good this early in the morning. Her foliage looks incredible from her tryst with the bee-shifter.

I march over with little to no consideration of the canoodling taking place between tree and Dryad.

‘You bitch.’

I round the corner of the building, face and hair dripping wet after the faucets took up arms against me.

‘What?’ Lavender asks, looking at me with feigned confusion.

‘Oh, don’t you play dumb with me! Are you kidding? Didn’t want to divulge that the fucking house is haunted?’ I seethe.

Lavender studies me from the corner of her eye and flicks her mane of flora over a shoulder-esque branch. ‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’

‘You didn’t think it was relevant to tell me someone else was inhabiting the place I’m currently residing?’

At this, she does look slightly chastened. ‘It never came up.’

‘It… you…’ My hands close into fists, and I try not to be distracted by her glow as I continue, ‘You could have at least warned me.’

‘Well, I did – sort of.’ She crinkles her nose.

No, she most certainly did not.

‘Tell me everything you know about him.’