Epilogue

2016

“Good afternoon! I’m Danielle Johnson,” the estate agent burbled to the three teenagers who walked into her miniscule office.

The tallest one, a blond boy with big blue eyes and a cheeky face, stepped forward and shook the offered hand. “Hey, I’m Ollie Taylor-Williamson. This is Kyle Wilson and Stacey Mackenzie,” he said politely in an Edinburgh based accent that was definitely tinted with America, motioning to a brunette with spiked hair and an eyebrow piercing, and a girl with long light brown hair and too much eyeliner for Danielle’s liking. “I’m looking for a flat…because…”

The girl let out a sigh, “Don’t be so bloody precious, Taylor. Basically, the whole of his block of flats have six months to move out before they bulldoze the land.”

“Oh,” was all the agent said in response.

*****

“Now, this-” she said later on. “-is a gorgeous flat. And it has such a defined history.”

“What’s the history?” Stacey asked casually.

“Kenz! Don’t you dare!” Kyle hissed across the room.

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind…” she said sweetly to the agent, before heading over to Kyle. Ollie had disappeared into the bedroom moments before, so the estate agent headed that way. “Okay, Wilson. You are not telling me that you can’t sense that energy. I don’t like this, at all.”

Kyle sighed softly. “I can sense it, but it’s not that powerful. And Ollie needs a flat, Kenz,” he argued as she opened her mouth to protest. “And you know as well as I do that spirits are mostly harmless.”

“Mostly. And it doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered.

Kyle put a hand on her shoulder, “Leave it. You know how picky Ol is, anyway. He probably won’t even buy this flat…”

*****

Ollie sighed at the sight of his female best friend wallowing in the depths of his sofa. “Stace…” he whined in the most annoying tone he could muster, flopping down next to her. “Look, I know you ain’t comfy with the new flat. But it was in my limited price range, and you’ll get used to it. Please, just be happy for me that I ain’t havin’ to move back in with Dad and Helen.”

Stacey had to laugh at the face he pulled to accompany that last word. “I am happy for you on that account, Taylor. But there’s just something about this house. It feels…weird. Haunted, almost.”

In typical Ollie fashion, he didn’t pick up on her sly hint. He, instead, glanced around. “I can’t feel anythin’. Don’t be paranoid. This’ Edinburgh, Stace. There’re ghosts everywhere!”

“Not with this force though…”

“What?”

She shook her head, “Nothing. Just…thinking out loud. I need to pee. I’ll leave you to your unpacking.” She patted him on the knee before standing up, “I’ll help out once I get back, okay?”

Ollie grinned, “You better. I didn’t ask you to come along so you could just sit around. You have to make up for the fact that D ain’t here.” Stacey laughed again and headed towards the bathroom, but Kyle cut her off before she reached it.

“Would you stop being such a bitch?” he hissed.

She threw up her hands, “I can’t win! I’m truthful, and say I don’t like the flat, you go on a rager! I offer to help him, and you go on a rager!”

“I’m not on a ra-!” Kyle began to defend himself then stopped. “I’m not even going to say that word!” He leaned further towards her, “If you don’t abandon this stupid idea that this flat is haunted, I swear I will hurt you.”

Stacey let out a very unladylike groan, “Please, Wilson! Don’t act like you can’t sense it. A guy in a coma could sense it!”

“Then how come Ollie can’t sense it?” Kyle shot back.

“Did you seriously just ask me how Ollie can’t sense something?” she asked incredulously, raising a fair eyebrow. “Ollie?! Do you not know your best friend or what?” When Kyle looked down uncomfortably, she continued. “And I researched this place online-” She pointedly ignored the way Kyle rolled his eyes at her. “-it’s a paranormal legend! Every single person who’s lived here since 1946 has either died or vanished! We have to get Ollie out before he gets added to the list.”

Kyle looked a little worried now, “Maybe we could just tell him. Then he’ll want to leave.”

“Wilson! He’ll have a heart attack!”

Kyle stared at her, “Don’t be so dramatic, Kenz. He’s not that bad…”

“The boy’s scared of sheep.”

“Point taken.” Kyle tweaked one of his spikes, “God, this’ insane! I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you! There is no killer ghost in the house! Just let Ollie have it and stop trying to get attention!”

The dark blue eyes narrowed dangerously, “If Deryck was here, he’d agree with me.”

“Only because he feels he has to…” the English boy said softly.

The Scot let out a half laugh, “Don’t get into ‘what Deryck says behind your back’ with me. Because I know things about you that you haven’t even told your twin.” She smirked, “Deryck’s good at reading body language.”

“I’m still not letting you wreck this for Ollie.”

“Then you’re the one who’s fucking insane. Just don’t come crying to me when Ollie ends up dead, because I’ll be mourning, but not enough to forget I warned you.” Stacey turned and stormed off into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her, and locked it. She leaned heavily on the sink, bracing herself. She looked up at her reflection. A sixteen-year-old teenager stared back at her. Stacey swiped her hands across her cheekbones, to pick up any stray eyeliner. Then looked back down at the sink with a sigh. She looked up again, and a gasp escaped her lips. The mirror image appeared to have frozen, with a hand on either cheek. As Stacey stared, the image stared back at her.

“Get out,” it said clearly in her stuttering Edinburgh accent. Then, before her wide eyes, it morphed into a man. A man with dark hair, hazel eyes and a serious face. He stared at her in the same manner for a moment, then whispered:

“Now.”