by Mara McQueen
Bertha shook her head and scowled. “Yer the reason muzzles exist.”
“Milo’s really gone?” Sarah piped in, momentarily abandoning her bridge game with Mrs. Bolton and Martin. “Too bad we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. He was a nice boy, I could tell. Got along with Dorothea. Didn’t he, Emma?”
Emma, standing behind Mrs. Bolton dutifully, looked out the window, a blush creeping into her pale cheeks. She nodded once.
"Don't get yer hopes up." Bertha grimaced. "Said he'll be back in a day, then wouldn't shut up about his bloody car."
“Shame Milo won't be here for tonight's dinner,” Martin said distractedly, his small eyes darting to Mrs. Bolton’s loosely held cards.
“Our cat’s run away?” Mrs. Bolton said abruptly. “Emma, get the milk.”
Olivia sighed. “Ma’am, Milo’s my colleague.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Bolton shrugged and placed one of her cards on the table. “Then tell him he might consider changing his name. Milo sounds a bit too furry for my liking.”
An awkward silence fell over the room. Perhaps it seemed normal to the rest of them, but it grated Olivia's ears.
They also didn't seem to care Milo was gone, past polite and creepy comments. His impact at the manor was nonexistent. For all his talk and his constant nagging presence, it was as if he had never set foot in the manor.
Olivia didn’t know if she should’ve been happy or concerned.
Summon
The rain took mercy on Olivia’s nerves and stopped around late afternoon. She ran out, gulping down the freshest air that had ever filled her lungs.
Her borrowed sneakers, two sizes too large, already had mud smeared all over them, the bedazzled shoe-strings soiled beyond cleaning. The trek to the boathouse felt longer than the first time, in no small part because of her jumping around the path, trying to avoid the bigger puddles. With the signed contract safely stowed in her bag, and the only person standing between her and the sale on his merry and secretive way, Olivia could breathe easy. Or at least try to.
Though she still had a sneaky suspicion Milo only wanted to scare her off the sale—again— with that weird video, Olivia had kept her eyes open, just like he fake-warned.
The most likely—and quite frankly, only—suspects could’ve been Addie and Darryl. But all they did was snog each other and then retreat into their room between pilfering family heirlooms.
But until she saw the whole video, all she could do was guess. And that had to wait, because the power was still off. Of course.
Kieran had actually seemed a bit too relieved to be rid of Milo once Olivia had walked into his office and asked if he knew something about it.
He'd shrugged and took his car keys from his desk, promising to bring back some sickly sweet dessert once he got back from whatever business he had to attend to.
“Now you can finally relax,” he had told her when she started going off on Milo leaving so suddenly. “And actually enjoy your stay here.”
He had stared into her eyes, captivating her. Her heartbeat had done that weird thing again where it suddenly decided skipping was perfectly natural. Then he'd kissed the breath out of her, and Olivia forgot all about videos and stupid coworkers.
“Maybe tonight we lock the door,” he'd whispered against her lips, peppering small kisses on the corner of her mouth. Then he'd jumped into his tank of a car and sped off, leaving Olivia alone to gather her scrambled thoughts.
And she was not staying alone in this house.
She wanted to explore the boathouse, but Emma had been nowhere to be found, and Bertha had just ushered Olivia out of the foul-smelling kitchen.
But Olivia wasn't one to give up so fast.
The sturdy boathouse door remained stubbornly stuck, even as she tried to jam it again. At least the rain had driven the mosquitoes into hiding, but it made the building's rotten wood reek.
This place needed to be completed renovated. Whoever decided to buy the place needed Grand-Canyon-deep pockets anyway.
She bent to take the photos from just the right angle, trying to avoid stepping in the mushy patches of dirt. A particularly bad misstep forced her to spread her legs wider, and something crunched beneath her foot.
The cord from Martin’s binoculars lay forgotten in the wet grass. Olivia ripped a clean leaf from one of the nearby trees and picked it up gently.
Ever since meeting Martin, she became convinced the only reason he hadn’t electrocuted himself by accident until now was due to Sarah's vigilance.
As the sun started to set and the wind blew colder, Olivia retreated back into the house, making quick work of changing her clothes.
The rain turned vicious again just as she arrived in the dining room, moving stiffly in her borrowed pants. Martin and Sarah popped in at the same time, busy picking small leaves from their hair.
“Oh, bless your young heart. We knew we left this somewhere,” Sarah said when Olivia gave her the cord. “We got so excited. The energy next to the house is unbelievable. We heard some gloomy noises too.”
“Haven’t seen anything worthwhile yet.” Martin sighed as he sat down. “Those Locklears stiffed us with the map.”
Sarah yelped as she dislodged a gnarly sprig from her cap, a few needles flying onto the floor and table. She then folded it neatly in a napkin and tucked it inside her pocket. “Come now, sweetheart. The sketch we bought is several decades old and some of the paths aren’t there anymore. We must’ve misread it.”
“Poppycock. They knew what they sold us. I should ask for our money back.”
“Don’t you dare. Their business is already in the pooper.” Sarah glared at her husband and leaned sideways, whispering to Olivia. “Some bad investments the husband made. Bought a biofuel patent—turned out to be a children’s toy design from the 30s. Lost most of their savings, poor souls.”
“I didn’t know that. Good heavens, they must be devastated,” Martin said, visibly concerned. “We should send them something. A quiche? Maybe muffins?”
As Sarah and Martin debated which food would spoil less on a transatlantic flight, in their perpetual endearing oddness, Olivia chanced a glance at Kieran.
He was immersed in a conversation about fairy circles with Mrs. Bolton. While he didn’t openly acknowledge Olivia as she took her seat next to him, his right palm glided across the table. He tapped his index finger in her direction.
So he’d caught on to her dislike of making things public, had he? Her heart tugged.
She leaned back in her chair, her foot sliding closer and closer to his under the table. A tingle raced through her body when Kieran visibly shivered. She grazed his leg again, away from prying eyes. His arm flinched against his glass.
But her fun didn't last long. Darryl's eyes and Addie's knowing grin caught her, and Olivia straightened her back as if nothing had happened.
Bertha wandered into the candle-lit dining room, carrying a heavy silver tray with a charred piece of meat surrounded by even blacker vegetables. Olivia’s stomach growled in protest.
“Roast beef, just like the missus ordered.” Bertha heaved the tray on the table, drops of sauce staining the crisp white tablecloth. “With all the trimmings.”
She carved the burnt meat herself, declining both Kieran and Martin’s offer to help. “Can do it meself. A bit tough on the outside is all.”
After she was done, Olivia stared at her grey slice, swallowing audibly, while Mrs. Bolton moved hers around the plate.
“We have pudding too, I hope,” Mrs. Bolton said as soon as Bertha left.
Kieran pushed his plate away. “Bought it this morning. Multi-flavored, as you requested.”
Mrs. Bolton squealed in delight, and Kieran smiled warmly at her. If he faked his affection like Addie said, he should’ve become an actor instead of....what did he actually do aside from looking sexy behind his desk?
“Kieran, you’re in a good mood.” Addie grinned as she draped herself over Darryl’s broad shoulders. He was the only per
son at the table eating, stuffing his puffy face with both his and his girlfriend’s servings.
“Always in your presence,” Kieran replied without missing a beat, not bothering to look at her.
Addie sniggered. “Really? Not because you’ve been spending all your time with Olivia?”
The room fell silent. Olivia’s heart beat so loudly, it surely covered up the noise of the rain. Murdering Addie reached the top of her priority list.
“How nice of you to remind me.” Olivia narrowed her eyes at the woman. If Addie thought she had the upper hand, she was out of her trashy mind. “I was going to wait until we finished our meal, but you’re so eager.”
Addie snorted a laugh and whispered something into Darryl’s ear, making him smile for a second before he continued to devour his food.
Whatever. Olivia had specialized in making the best out of a shitty situation. “Mrs. Bolton, Kieran and I have been talking. Now that Milo’s no longer with us—”
Mrs. Bolton bowed her head. “Yes, quite the tragedy. We sent his family a big bouquet, along with our regrets.”
“Uhm...right. You—you do remember asking me to sell your home?”
“Of course, dear. Why else would you have flown here from the US?”
Olivia took a deep breath. “Given the circumstances, I will be handling your estate. So the contract business is done. I've already discussed the minutia with Kieran, but if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me anytime.”
“You’re not thinking of leaving my birthday celebrations, are you?” Mrs. Bolton said, aghast.
Olivia had to be extremely cautious. Kieran already watched her like a hawk.
True, the thought of leaving had crossed her mind.
But she was in no rush to anger the old woman—or disappoint her grandson. And Olivia kept her promises.
“No, of course not. I just wanted to get the bureaucratic nonsense out of the way, so we can enjoy the rest of the party. Relaxed all the way.”
“Wonderful idea.” Mrs. Bolton clasped her hands together. “We should’ve done that in the first place. Kieran, why didn’t we do that?”
He shook his head appreciatively at Olivia. “Better late than never, Nan.”
“Good, good.” Mrs. Bolton nodded and cupped her hand in front of her mouth to be stealthy, but talked just as loud as before. “I like her.”
Olivia felt vindicated. She looked over at Addie, who had gone so red her fake tan appeared more orange than before, and winked at her.
Nobody fucked with Olivia’s public image. And as long as she had clothes on, she could talk herself out of any situation.
The rest of the meal passed quickly—the cake disappeared in record time, despite its unusual taste.
But Olivia couldn’t properly enjoy it, as Kieran’s legs wandered dangerously close to hers a few times. She resisted the temptation. After Addie’s interruption, the last thing Olivia wanted was to be caught playing footsie. Again.
That didn’t stop her from maybe—probably—licking the cake off her spoon a bit too slowly. Or licking her lips a few times too many. Of course, she didn’t look at Kieran once, pretending to be interested in Martin and Sarah’s story about their fifth honeymoon. She could feel his eyes glued to the one spot on her neck he seemed to have developed a small obsession with.
“Now, then. We have a special surprise of our own. You’ll all love this, I can feel it,” Sarah said excitedly and hurried out of the room as Bertha began clearing the table and eyeing the uneaten roast with sorrow. Martin volunteered to help her, struggling to fold the lacy tablecloth into a proper shape. Olivia tried to help him, but he wouldn't hear of it.
“After this,” Kieran whispered in the commotion. Olivia flinched when his hot breath glided over her skin. “I say we go over the contract again. I don’t think I adequately reviewed the facts the first time. Would that be agreeable with you?”
Olivia turned to him, pushing back her hair. She didn’t miss how his eyes snapped to her chest. Or how his pupils dilated. “Presumptuous fellow, aren’t you?”
He licked his lips, involuntarily leaning in closer. “I like to think of myself as hopeful.”
The moment was broken when Sarah stumbled back in, her arms full of candles and junk food.
“What in the hell?” Olivia whispered.
"I hope everyone's ready." Sarah dumped everything onto the table and met everyone’s questioning eyes. She tried to appear calm but practically bounced with excitement. “We’re going to summon a spirit! Right here, in Bolton Manor!”
Red
Addie’s roaring laughter filled the silence. She slammed her small palms on the table in between fits.
Martin cleared his throat and gave her the stink eye.
“It’s actually called a séance,” he said, horribly butchering the pronunciation, and making a very dramatic hand gesture. “Sarah’s got an official summoner certificate and everything. We’re going to call the Butcher.”
Kieran sighed. “I don’t think this is the right time. Nan’s probably tired—”
“Oh, but I do love entertaining guests. One more can’t hurt,” Mrs. Bolton said, taking a sip of her drink.
Kieran sighed, leaning back in his chair.
“Yeah, Kieran,” Olivia said, grinning. Finally, some form of entertainment that didn’t involve going out into the muddy wilderness. She didn’t foresee the exciting ending Martin and Sarah were hoping for, but making Kieran wait for a bit longer was too tempting to pass. She rested her chin on her shoulder, batting her eyelashes. “Are you in a hurry or something?”
Kieran narrowed his eyes playfully at her, and sprawled in the chair, opening two more shirt buttons. He rested his thumb against his lips and raised one eyebrow in challenge. Olivia averted her gaze, cheeks hotter than a moment ago. Damn him.
“We need just the right kind of setting,” Martin said gravely and arranged the small white candles in a circle, a taller one in the middle. Next to it, he placed two scraps of paper, marked ‘yes’ and ‘no’, along with a variety of red candy, red Vines, and red velvet cupcakes.
Olivia stifled a groan. He'd stashed cupcakes in his room while the rest of them had been forced to eat Bertha’s cooking?
“We don’t want to scare the spirit, now do we?” Sarah said.
Kieran shook his head. “No, we most certainly do not want to spook a supposed deceased serial killer.”
After lighting the candles and throwing a hand of salt into the flames, which only gave off a light spark, Sarah straightened her back and instructed everyone to join hands. Kieran grasped Olivia’s fingers gently, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
Heavy breathing, most of it coming from Martin, invaded the large room, accompanied by the sound of rain against the windows. The candles gave off a strong vanilla scent; just the kind of thing a ghost would go for.
“Don’t be frightened if you feel him. He can’t do you any harm,” Martin said gravely. “Probably.”
“What if he decides to choke us?” Addie said, looking all giddy and mean.
“For the last time, the Butcher used a knife. He never choked any of his victims.”
Addie shrugged. “Maybe he’s gotten into some weird fetishes in the afterlife. You can’t know that.”
“Don’t joke about killers and fetishes,” Mrs. Bolton said curtly, finally shutting Addie up. "Go on, Sarah. This is exciting."
“Spirits of the past,” Sarah began in an ethereal voice. “Move among us, your curious vessels. Be guided by the light of our world. Come closer.”
Sarah closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She raised her arms toward the ceiling. If she wanted to contact this Butcher, she’d have been better off lowering them to the ground, as far as Olivia was concerned. But she wasn't about to say it out loud and crush Sarah and Martin's fun.
“Spirits of the past! Move among us. Be guided by the light of our world and come closer. Join us on this plain this dreary night.”
&nb
sp; “Maybe he’s got, like, commitment issues. You should try sounding a bit more casual. Like hanging out or something,” Addie whispered in the silence that followed, earning herself another glare from Martin.
“Beloved...uhm...Butcher,” Sarah tried again, raised arms shaking. “We bring you gifts. The red ones are for you—”
A bubble of laughter threatened to spill past Olivia's lips. She bit her tongue and squinted her eyes shut. Under the table, Kieran’s leg found hers again.
“—to offer you safe passage into this plain. Be guided by the light of our world and come forth.”
“Sarah! Sarah!” Martin jumped out of his seat and pointed a shaky finger at the middle candle. Its flame flickered.
An irrational fear shot through Olivia and her hand clenched Kieran’s. It might’ve been Martin’s sudden shout, coupled with the darkness, the rain, the—
Addie blowing air in the candles’ direction from across the room.
“Nice to see you’re having fun,” Olivia said tersely.
Addie winked at her and blew a kiss to Darryl, who looked about ready to doze off.
“Keep going, honey. Keep going,” Martin urged Sarah, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I smell...I smell...something....something red! And wet!” Sarah exclaimed happily. “I summon thee, oh great Butcher. Grace us with your presence and—”
The front door shut loudly. Olivia tightened her hold on Kieran again and brought his arm closer involuntarily. He flashed her a look filled with concern.
Maybe agreeing to this little nonsense had screwed her mind even more than staying at the manor. Nobody uttered a word as the sound of footsteps came closer and closer and closer to the dining room.
Olivia’s logic kicked in a second afterward.
Finally. Milo had come to his senses and returned. She planned on ambushing him with questions.
But it wasn’t Milo.
Emma entered the room and watched them all like they had sprouted five extra heads. She came closer, officially ending the would-be summon. “What’s going on here?”
