Rampant

“The accounts I have to work with are mostly those kept by preachers and witch hunters. They don’t paint a pretty picture, as you might imagine. They had to cover their backs after putting men and women to death.”

Gritty stuff. “Um, so how did she die?”

“Do you like pasta?”

“I do, thank you. Are you avoiding my question?”

He went to a different cupboard, shuffled some things around, and brought out a bag of pasta. “She was ousted as a witch, strangled by rope, and then her corpse was burnt.”

“Oh.” Zoë felt a deep tug, like a well of pain being dredged inside her. She felt connected somehow, as if she was being told about a friend’s demise. Grayson didn’t seem altogether easy with that part of the story either, and went about his tasks silently for a while.

“It was the fate of many folk back then. Witchcraft was often used as a scapegoat in feuds. People were accused who weren’t involved with the craft at all. Part of the job is trying to figure who was a member of the brethren and who wasn’t.” He lifted his wineglass, breathing in the aroma appreciatively.

“I take it that’s a bit of a minefield?”

“Aye, that it is.” He smiled at her, and the expression in his eyes was so warm and inviting, that she was immensely glad she hadn’t left, and that she was here with him now.

With panache and ease, he set about cooking. While warming a pan on the stove, he crushed several cloves of garlic in his fist before chopping it finely, together with onions and peppers. Zoë watched, fascinated by him, as the vegetables sizzled in olive oil and he whisked up a quick sauce with passata and pepperoni. “I’m impressed by your skills in the kitchen. Do you live alone?”

“Yes I do, but I’m a typical bachelor, I can just about cope with the basic stuff.” He winked. “You’ll get no cordon bleu cookery from me, alas.”

By the time the pasta was cooked, he’d flaked Parmesan cheese and torn a baguette into smaller hunks with his bare hands.

“My mother would have loved all this if she’d been alive,” she commented, while he served the food, “all the talk of ghosts. She was much more into that kind of stuff than I am.”

“She’s not around?”

“No, she died in a car crash about three years ago. It’s just Gina and me now. Gina is my sister, but she’s married.” Gina would be proud of her, actually telling someone about their mother’s death without being prompted into it.

His gaze was understanding. “It was just me and my dad for many years. He passed away when I was nineteen.”

He fed the cat a tin of tuna before he served their food.

“Tuck in,” he said, when he sat down on the stool alongside her. The steaming bowls of food on the breakfast bar in front of them smelled good, and she was hungry.

As they ate their meal, they talked. When their knees touched Zoë realized that they had turned to face each other. They were holding their dishes in their hands, just inches apart, as if magnetized. Along her thighs, the nerve endings tingled because of his proximity. She pressed her knees together when mischievous thoughts suggested she pull her legs apart and lean over to kiss him.

“You know what’s bugged me most of all about this,” he said, “is why Annabel is so close to the surface of the real world right now. She didn’t haunt the place for years. But over the last year, year and a half, she’s been increasingly visible. Sightings have been reported by several visitors. The psychic energy in the house is off the scale compared to six months ago.”

This was all so new to her, but she was increasingly curious. “Any theories?”

“The only thing I can come up with is that it’s to do with her physical anchor, the house. In a few more years the house will be uninhabitable, and then gone. Once she loses that anchor, she may not be able to surface so easily in our world.”

“Oh, right, I see.” The food was good, the wine was good, and the company was beyond good. Cat was back at their feet, purring and washing himself. As weird as the subject matter was to her, she wouldn’t have changed it for the world. As she ate she glanced at the adjoining wall. “You said something about sensing the spirit, last night, or something.”

“Yes.”

“Can you sense it in here?”

“I’m aware of the activity, but it’s not as easy to monitor on this side of the wall.”

She was just about to ask how he measured the activity, when he continued on quickly.

“Are you worried about being in there alone?”

Immediately, she thought of sex, of having him with her. Her libido was on constant simmer since she had got here. Having him around would do that to a woman.

He paused and locked eyes with her. He knew what she was thinking, she was sure of it. Heat rose in her face and her gaze dropped. “Over the course of the day I realized I wasn’t afraid of her as such, just…rather disturbed. I sensed no animosity in her. Really, it was kind of like she was curious about me, like she could really see me. Maybe she’s like that with all the visitors.”