by Lily Morton
I don’t care though. Levi and I will be together. I’m not leaving him here.
I dial the emergency services. The woman listens calmly as I spill out a story of my roommate falling down a flight of stairs. She promises to send someone.
I put down the phone and take a deep breath. The atmosphere has an underlying sense of thwarted rage there now, rather than the menace I’d sensed earlier.
I stroke Levi’s thick, shiny brown hair. His face is white and still. Before I can second-guess myself, I bend and kiss his face. “I won’t leave you,” I say vehemently, hearing the tears in my voice. “I won’t leave while you need me, Levi. Not ever.”
A tinkling comes from directly above me. I look up to find the chandelier is rotating. Slowly at first and then faster and faster, it spins around, the crystals jingling.
A creaking noise begins as the pictures in the hallway sway. They move from side to side, picking up speed until one falls, the shattering glass as noisy as a bomb. Another one falls, the glass exploding outwards.
“No,” I shout, hovering over Levi, protecting his face. “I’m not going. I will not leave him.”
The scent of lily of the valley floods the hallway, so pungent that it brings tears to my eyes. The chandelier comes to a gentle stop, and, on the wall, the remaining pictures are as upright and unmoving as a chaperone at a ball.
I take a breath and go still. The perfume smells different tonight. There’s a coppery taint to it that’s very much like blood. I look around warily, assessing the changed atmosphere. Rosalind has scared the other entity away.
“For the time being,” a woman’s soft voice says in my head. “Not for long though.”
I nod grimly and sit down. My foot scrapes something that Levi is half lying on, and tugging it out, I find the murder book he bought me at the shop. It seems like a lifetime ago now, but warmth fills me at the thought of him solemnly adding it to his pile. The cover is now creased but it’s intact, and so I put it into my pocket as delicately as if I was handling the crown jewels. Then I settle down to wait for the ambulance to arrive, Levi’s hand held firmly in mine and my body hovering protectively over his.
Chapter 13
Levi
The first time I come awake it’s to a blur of pain and cold and somewhere the sound of Blue’s voice. I cling to it like it’s a rope in the dark, but it vanishes, and I sink back down.
The second time is slightly easier. I open my eyes a slit and gingerly test for pain. It’s centred in my arm and my head, but it isn’t as bad as it was, and I cautiously open my eyes.
I’m in a bed with a curtain drawn around it. The smell of disinfectant tells me it’s a hospital. Blue is curled up in a chair next to the bed, sleeping with his mouth slightly open. He looks thin and drawn and worried even while asleep.
I stir and the bed creaks. Blue’s eyes shoot open. When he sees me looking at him, he moves so quickly that he nearly falls out of the chair.
“Levi,” he gasps. “You’re awake.”
I nod and immediately regret it. Pain clangs sharp and bright like a bell tolling the hour. “Oh shit,” I mumble, hearing the slur in my words. “Hurts.”
“Stay there,” he instructs me sternly. “I’ll run and get someone.”
My mouth twitches. “Not going anywhere,” I whisper.
He hesitates before leaning forward and dropping a kiss on my lips so quickly that I think I’ve imagined it.
“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he whispers and then vanishes, the only sign he’s been there the gentle swaying of the curtain.
I close my eyes and when I open them again, a tired-looking doctor is bending over me.
“Let’s have a look at you, Mr Black,” he says kindly.
The next five minutes are excruciating, and I can’t keep back my gasps of pain. Blue hovers, looking fraught and grabbing my hand and squeezing it when he’s not in the way, and sometimes when he is.
Finally, the doctor stands back. “Well, you’re a very lucky young man, Mr Black. You have a light concussion, a broken arm, and lots of bumps and bruises.”
“Lucky?” I mouth.
He smiles. “Lucky because people have been seriously hurt in the type of accident you had. Can you remember what happened?” he asks carefully.
I draw a complete blank, and I’m fully frightened for the first time since I woke up. What did happen?
Then the man’s face from the hallway comes back to me. The dark, the cold, and the whispers that surrounded me when I resurfaced for a second at the bottom of the stairs.
If I tell the doctor that, I’ll probably end up being sectioned.
“I must have missed the step,” I say hoarsely, my throat pained. “It was dark and I didn’t put the light on, and the next thing I knew I was falling.”
The doctor smiles at me, looking somewhat relieved. God knows what he thought had happened.
He directs a less cautious smile at Blue. “Well, you were lucky that Mr Billings found you.”
“Who’s that?” I ask blankly.
Blue snorts. “That’s me, you idiot. That’s my surname.”
“Oh, I remember now. The Mysterious and Amazing Blue Billings. It’s a cool name,” I say, my voice slurring again.
The doctor laughs. “It was a good job that Mr Billings came home when he did. If you’d been lying there much longer, it might have been a very different story.”
“Good timing,” I whisper.
The sound of Blue’s laughter and the feel of his hand on mine remain with me until I fall asleep again.
When I next wake up it’s dark outside the window. The ward is lit low, and it’s very quiet, telling me it’s probably the early hours of the morning.
Blue is sitting beside the bed, one hand clasped around mine and his nose buried in a book. Squinting, I can make out the title of the murder book I bought him—the one I was reading last night. The night before last? Whenever.
“How are you still here?” I say sleepily. “Don’t they kick visitors out?”
He jumps and drops the book into his lap. “Shit, you startled me,” he whispers, getting up and standing by the bed. He strokes my hair back, his face darkening as he looks at me. I wonder what I look like but dismiss the concern. It’s a million to one I’ve looked better.
“I know one of the nurses,” he whispers, answering my earlier question. “He says if I’m quiet and stay out of the way, he’ll pretend that he can’t see me.”
“If you know the nurse, he must surely have an inkling that it’s impossible for you to be quiet and stay out of the way,” I mutter.
He laughs and then astonishes me by bending forward and kissing me gently. It’s a soft almost butterfly kiss that still manages to pack a wallop. I blink as he draws back.
“What was that for?” I ask sleepily.
“Because you’re here,” he says fiercely. “And you might not have been.” He shudders.
I reach out to squeeze his hand but stop as pain knifes through me. “Shit,” I jerk out. “That hurts.” A plaster cast encases my left arm up to the elbow. It’s pink.
“It’s bound to hurt,” he mutters. “You’ve broken your arm.”
“Why is the cast pink?”
“To remind you to look after yourself. I chose a bright colour because sometimes you don’t seem so bright.”
“I think I remember.” I try to smile but close my eyes as pain floods around me. When it’s receded, I open them to find him watching me carefully.
“What happened, Levi?” he whispers. “I know something did.”
“How?”
“Because…” He falters slightly but rallies. “The ghost of the Devil’s victim told me you were in trouble.”
I blink. “Am I on morphine?”
He chuckles. “No such luck, or I’d have asked to join you. No, I was about to start the ghost walk and she appeared. Told me you were in trouble. So, even the ghosts of York are warning me now.”
“She told you.”
Pride crosses his face. “Yep. I did what Tom said, and I heard her.” He leans forward, his thin, mobile face alight with enthusiasm. “It bloody worked.” He pauses before honesty obviously compels him to add, “For a few seconds, anyway.”
“Well, I’m grateful for the few seconds,” I mutter, trying to sit up and subsiding back down as he puts a gentle hand on my chest. A thin hand that nevertheless manages to push me back firmly.
“Nope,” he says. “No moving around yet. Lying still.”
I smile up at him. He grimaces as if suffering a strong emotion. Then his expression clears, and he perches his arse on the side of my bed. I feel the warmth of his body and edge a little closer. He smiles at me as if he knows what’s going through my head and cups his hand on my hip over the blankets.
“I got to the house.” He pauses and breathes in. “You were at the foot of the stairs.” He bites his lip, nervously toying with his lip ring, his face pale. “It was horrible. So dark and fucking terrifying. There was something in the dark.”
“And you stayed there? Why? You could have been hurt, Blue.”
He looks indignant. “I wasn’t leaving you. Never.”
My stomach warms, and I smile at him. It falls away as I remember. “There was a man,” I say slowly.
“A man?”
The pain in my head flares. He strokes my hair tenderly and the touch of his cold fingers is lovely against the hot skin of my face. “He was standing outside the bedroom.” I grab his hand suddenly. “He laughed. It was that horrible laugh I heard the first day in the house. What is going on? I thought the only murderer in the house was Rosalind.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “Maybe she didn’t do it after all. Maybe someone else was in the house that night.”
“Oh no, she did it,” Blue says with a grim certainty. “Her hands were covered in his blood and her prints were all over the razor.”
“How did you know? Ah, the ghost tour.”
He shakes his head. “No, that book. It was by your side when I found you.”
“I was reading it,” I say slowly. Then realisation flares. “Oh my God,” I gasp. “I heard the door open and you called my name.”
“I couldn’t have done, babe. When I got back you were at the foot of the stairs.”
“Where did you go?” The question is out before I can pull it back.
He grimaces, looking shamefaced. “The pub to meet Will.”
I relax slightly because I’d imagined him going to find someone else, but his eyes sharpen.
“And you definitely heard me calling your name?” I nod and he frowns. “Jesus, that means it impersonated me to lure you out.”
“Lure me out? I’m not a bloody trout,” I say, trying to smile, but his expression stops it dead in its tracks.
“Levi, it pretended to be me because it wanted you at the top of the stairs. Maybe that’s what happened to the previous owner.”
I stare at him. “This isn’t about the Victorian murderess, is it?” He shakes his head. “And do you have any idea what it’s about?” He shakes his head again. “Okay, good chat,” I say slowly.
“Go to sleep,” Blue says softly. “All this can wait until morning.”
“Will you stay?” I ask, fumbling for his hand.
“I will.”
The promise in his voice follows me into sleep.
I realise that hospitals start their day obscenely early when a nurse pops her head around the curtain to take my breakfast order at six o’clock in the morning.
I stare at her. “I’m not sure I can eat anything at this time of the night.”
She laughs and straightens the bed covers over me. “It’s the middle of the morning.” She looks slightly stern. “And you must eat something, Levi. We won’t be able to release you until you do.”
I look over at Blue who is fast asleep and crunched up in the uncomfortable-looking hospital chair.
“Could I just have some toast and marmite?” I ask.
She nods approvingly. She looks at Blue, and her eyes soften. “I’ll bring him a cup of tea too,” she whispers.
“Thank you for letting him stay.”
She smiles. “It wasn’t so much letting him stay, as just giving in. That’s one determined young man you’ve got there.”
I smile at him. “He is that,” I say softly.
She tweaks a corner of the sheet and is gone, the curtain swaying in her wake like she’s a nurse made of a tornado.
“I thought you didn’t like marmite. You said you threw up in your mouth when you smelt it,” Blue says, blinking at me blearily.
“It’s not for me,” I whisper. “It’s for you.”
He looks confused. “Why?”
“Because you need to eat. You didn’t have tea yesterday, and I bet you didn’t eat while you were out. No wonder you’re so thin.”
Astonishment is written all over his face, and I flush.
“You ordered me breakfast,” he says wonderingly. Then his mouth quirks. “And I didn’t even have to give a blowjob.”
I shake my head and immediately regret it, closing my eyes as my headache pulses red-hot in my temples. When I open my eyes, Blue is leaning over me.
“Sorry,” he says in a shamefaced manner. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” I say sharply. “You never have to perform for me. I like you just the way you are.”
His eyes open a bit wider, the colour startlingly light. “Really?”
“Of course.” I sigh. “You’re funny and quick-witted and brave. Why wouldn’t I like you?” I hold my hand up. “Oh, I forgot, because you traded sex for money once upon a time.”
“That would stop most people.”
“I’m not most people. I’m me. And I don’t mind. I understand why you did it, and I understand why you stopped, but my liking you has zero to do with any of it.”
“Does it have anything to do with why we’re not sleeping together?” He holds up a hand to stop me answering. “It’s absolutely fine if you don’t want to. I should have said that yesterday instead of storming off like a twat. We can just be friends, but I need to know so I don’t push some boundary.”
I stare at him long enough for him to look apprehensive. “I want you so much, Blue,” I finally say, my voice hoarse. “All the time. But I couldn’t sleep with you because it would have put you in an impossible position. You’re staying with me because the alternative is a squat. I don’t want you thinking that you have to have sex with me in return for a bed. I want you to want me, but if you don’t, I still want to be your friend. I’ll always want that.”
Something flares bright in his face but then he shutters it. “So, you’re not thinking for me, then?” he says mildly.
I blink. “What?”
“So, you’re not making decisions for this clever and brave person that you seem to think I am? That’s good to know.”
I stare at him and his mouth quirks.
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” I say darkly.
He laughs. “I’m just saying I make my own decisions. I always have.” He swallows. “I’m sorry I was so shitty yesterday and left like that. I’m so sorry I left you on your own. I know you’re trying to think of me, but you must realise that it’s hard to get used to because I’ve done all my own decision-making since I was ten. Probably earlier. Some of them have been shit, admittedly, but I own them all.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday too,” I say softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing the cold fingers.
His expression clouds.
“What?” I ask. “What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t think,” he says, trying to pull his hand away. “Do you want me to call Mason?” He pauses. “Actually, where was Mason when the homicidal ghost was on the rampage?”
“Gone,” I say, lifting his fingers and dropping a kiss on them. “He left about ten minutes after you stormed off.” Incredibly, I manage a smile. “Rosalind smashed his cup and the doors s
tarted their usual chorus.”
He gapes at me. “Rosalind smashed his cup?”
“I know.” I stare at him. “I know I can’t see ghosts and have zero input, but I really don’t feel threatened by her. I got the impression she did it because Mason tried to kiss me and she was warning him off.”
“He tried to kiss you?”
I shouldn’t be so thrilled with the jealousy written on his face, but I must be a bad person because I totally am.
“Didn’t get far,” I whisper. “What with all the cup smashing going on.”
“Well, considering her last warning led to her slitting some poor bloke’s throat, he should count himself lucky with caffeine withdrawal,” he says tartly.
I chuckle and wince at my head. “I’m okay,” I say as his hands fly over me. “Just my head.”
He sits down on the bed, gifting me with a waft of peaches. “I know what you mean about Rosalind. It’s a bloody mystery to me.”
“It’s a mystery we need to solve,” I say slowly, feeling tiredness sweep over me again. “I’m going to contact Mr Fenton,” I say sleepily. “The lawyer in charge of the will. He said to phone him. Looking back, he seemed like he might know something.” I sigh. “They’re likely to discharge me today, and I’m not sure I even want to go home.”
He immediately shakes his head, making me feel slightly better about how cowardly I just sounded. “I don’t think you should go back yet. I think we need to find out what’s really haunting that house. Up until now we’ve just gone along with what’s happening. I think it’s time we did some research and maybe hopefully then we’ll be able to come up with a plan of action.” He shifts, seeming suddenly awkward. “So Mason’s out of the picture,” he says casually. “Why? You two looked good together.”
“Because I don’t want him anymore,” I say simply. “He’s my history, and I have to say a lot of it was good history.”
“Would you still be with him if he hadn’t cheated?”
I consider that. “I don’t think so, because whatever made him cheat would still be there. A bit like a crack in brickwork. It spreads after a bit.” His shoulders relax slightly, and I smile almost shyly. “Besides, I’m very interested in another man.”
