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“It’s hardly a big secret. And gossip gets around, even when it dies with some people.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t put so much stock into gossip.” It was a weak defence, which made me wonder when Ted had started to step down from the barricade of Gerald’s fortress.

“Maybe Gerald shouldn’t have opened a ghost business if he didn’t want his dirty laundry aired out. Can’t even knock someone off and have them take what they know to the grave. So sad. Fuck, maybe that’s why the bastard opened this hellhole in the first place. Wanted to exorcise the truth.”

Ted groaned and there was a muffled sound like he was rubbing his face. “What did you need, Ryan? You obviously called for a reason. Are you finished with the job? Do I need to send the invoice? I have other cases lined up—”

“About that… I’m going to need a few extra days. It’s a bigger job than anticipated. Lots of ghosts.”

“Do you need backup?” Ted asked. “I bloody told him not to send you out solo.”

“I can handle myself,” I said, only slightly offended.

“It’s nothing personal. The turnover has been insane lately.”

“I’ll be fine.” Would I? I had zero clue.

“You’ll have to be,” Ted said. “Not like we can afford more people even if you did want backup.”

“Tight arse Gerald strikes again.”

I lingered on the phone and Ted noticed.

“Anything else?”

“What do you know about psychopomps?” It was out before I could second-guess how bad of an idea it was.

“Pscho-whats?”

I cleared my throat. “Nothing. I’ll check in soon.”

Usually Ted would have chased me down like a dog with a bone, but he really did seem out of sorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

He clicked off before I could say anything else and I sighed in relief.

It had been a stupid idea to ask Ted. For one, even though he seemed to now be regretting it, he was only one degree of separation from that old coot. I didn’t want to risk Owain catching Gerald’s attention.

He was far too interested in the occult.

A human with ghost-exorcising powers? Sounded like it definitely fell into that category.

But how else was I supposed to gather accurate information? The internet was too saturated with falsehoods and I didn’t want to risk testing out unsubstantiated theories with Owain’s life on the line. The handbook was next to useless and I didn’t really have any friends in the company. The only person I’d spoken to more than once was Hollis before his, uh, death thing, and even that was in passing. He was an ExorSquad technician so maybe he might know more than the average worker. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, maybe.

I quickly showered and redressed as I thought it through, throwing on the same old, same old. And maybe I took a little extra time with my hair, just to spite that bastard down the hall, but that was between me, the mirror, and whatever ghost was peeping in on me this time.

I was starting to get used to it.

I replied to the six more messages my mum had sent while I was on the phone as I walked down the stairs, neatly crashing into Owain on the bottom step. I ended up dropping my phone on the floor (that shock case was getting a workout today) and instead grabbed the small of Owain’s back to keep him steady.

He blinked owlishly at me from behind his glasses, a new set of long-sleeved shirt and cotton shorts looking soft on his shower-warm body. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Ditto, love.” Owain smiled and I tried to ignore the way it made my stomach flutter, because no, we were not doing that. “Everything set up for dinner?”

“Bronwyn is setting the table as we speak, Harri and Larri are on drinks duty, Andrew is being moral support from his room, and Popty is polishing the serving trays,” he said. “Fair warning, Bronwyn is a tiny bit agitated because someone made off with half of her pecan pie.”

“Someone?” I asked, knowing full well who it was.

“I kinda talked Popty into taking the fall,” Owain said. “We can’t have her angry while the guests are here.”