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Bronwyn wasn’t just a ghost, she was a grandma and a caretaker and the voice of reason. Harri and Larri were comic relief and a welcome distraction, but also ready to throw down when it mattered. Barth was the storyteller, the entertainer. Popty was the kindness where there should be none.

And Andrew… He was the victim of an arsehole. He was who I could have become dozens of times since I took this fucking job. He managed to not go on a rampage and kill everyone through sheer force of will, and dangerous or not, he was trying. He was doing his best.

I dropped to the floor next to Owain and put my weapons down next to my hip.

“He was the first one,” Owain said.

I frowned, wondering what he meant before something clicked into place.

“Shit,” I said. “I saw his portrait! At the headquarters. They paid him a tribute!”

“Shhhhhh!” Bronwyn hissed at me, pulling a spatula out of wherever and smacking me upside the head. “He just stopped screaming.”

“Ow!” I rubbed the sore spot and glared at her.

“Might be best not to mention…the things,” Owain said. “He’s easier to trigger fresh out of an episode.”

“An episode?”

“We don’t want to make him feel bad,” Owain said. “We want to make sure he knows that even his bad side is accepted here and he’s safe.”

“I get that. I understand how much you care. But while you’re keeping him safe, you’re in so much danger I don’t even want to think about it.”

“We have it under control.”

I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him into some semblance of common sense.

I turned to the closed, sealed-off door and narrowed my eyes. Claw marks covered every inch of the wood. There were scorch marks all around it, black goo pooled and dried and layered on top of itself, and I wanted to fucking puke.

“How often?” I asked, needing to know.

“What?” Owain asked.

“How many times have you done this?” I pointed to the carnage around us.

“A few,” Owain said, trying to meet my gaze but failing. “We keep his triggers in check so it’s not that bad.”

“Not that…” I rubbed my hand over my face. “How many times, Owain?”

“Like…ten…maybe? It’s really manageable now that we have a system in place.”

“Using yourself as bait and sealing a vengeful ghost in a room isn’t a system. It’s a Hail Mary if I’ve ever fucking seen one. He’s strong. It’s just a matter of time before…”

“He’d never!” Owain said, anger sparking in those huge eyes of his.

“Andrew wouldn’t, love. But whatever he turns into when he’s triggered isn’t Andrew anymore. That thing would rip you to shreds if it could get to you.”

“Don’t call him a thing!” Owain bristled again. “Don’t be like everyone else when I know you’re different.”

I sighed, trying to get my emotions in check. “I’m scared for you. I have nothing against Andrew. I have nothing against you wanting to do your job and use your powers to help others. I’m scared and it will sometimes come out as anger, and I’m sorry for that, but I won’t apologise for wanting you safe.”

He blinked at me twice before he crawled over and settled into my lap, curling himself in tight and clinging to me.

“He wants me safe too,” he whispered into my neck, and I closed my eyes, hating that I didn’t believe him.

“He’d allow himself to be…removed, to keep you safe, if that were the case.”

Owain shook his head. “He did. He begged and pleaded for me to call someone in and have him removed. He was willing. He tried everything to convince us.”