There was a faded photograph of her with me and my brother Michael when we were kids which she used to keep in her wallet. Her old cellphone which I’d only kept because I could charge it up and listen to her voice on the voicemail when the shadows drew too close. And her mother’s wedding ring which was inlaid with sapphires and hung from a thick silver chain. She’d always worn that necklace, I couldn’t remember a single moment when I’d seen her without it. I’d placed the necklace Tatum had asked me to look after in amongst those things, knowing it was as precious to her as my mementoes were to me.
I’d been pacing for the last ten minutes. Tatum was late. She’d text to tell me she’d be here at nine and I’d replied reminding her that this idea was fucking insane and that I was her headmaster and if she got caught here I’d end up hung from the main gate by my balls. She replied with a squid emoji. A fucking squid. What the hell did that even mean?
The front door swung open suddenly and a spike of rage swept through me as Saint Memphis strolled into my house like he thought he owned the fucking place.
Kyan, Blake and Tatum followed him in, the guys nodding at me in greeting while continuing an argument they must have been having before they arrived. It took me less than thirty seconds to realise they were arguing over the merits of wielding a flamethrower or an axe in some Xbox game and I quickly tuned them out.
“She should be yours from six pm onwards,” Saint said, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was currently enduring some kind of crisis. “But as we were unprepared, I didn’t have everything in place to deliver her on time.”
“Deliver her?” I asked, arching a brow. “I didn’t realise it was like ordering a pizza. Do I get extra sides because you’re late then?”
Tatum smirked behind him but Saint didn’t seem to find that funny. “I can only apologise and assure you it won’t happen again.”
“Whatever.” I shrugged. “A nine is an upside down six anyway so it’s basically the same thing.”
Saint’s right eye started twitching and his hands curled into fists as he turned away from me, muttering something about me being worse than Kyan as Tatum giggled.
I couldn’t help but smirk at her as I fought against the urge to keep pushing Saint’s buttons and gave him a moment to calm down.
He started looking around the neutrally decorated room like it had taken a shit on his shoes. I arched a brow at him as he moved to the bathroom door and ran a finger along the top of the door frame.
“For the love of hell,” he muttered, visibly shuddering before heading into the bathroom to wash his hands.
Kyan dumped an overnight bag on the coffee table before dropping onto a seat at the end of the couch and Blake quickly joined him, leaving me to stare across the empty space in the room at Tatum.
“Hey,” she said hesitantly, tucking a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear. She was wearing a black wrap around dress which was just low cut enough to draw my gaze.
“Hey,” I replied, huffing out a breath as I glanced at the others before heading to the fridge to grab out a six pack of beers.
I tossed one each into the laps of Kyan and Blake before passing one to Tatum. Her fingers brushed mine as she accepted it and my gut tightened as I imagined being left alone here with her all night. We’d done it before on lockdown in the pool house, but this felt different. There was a bed and four walls surrounding us with a door that locked and curtains that closed. Whatever we did in here would remain a secret so long as we both kept it that way. Not that I had any intention of doing anything that required secrecy. Aside from plotting the downfall of the Night Keepers of course.
“Rebecca is going to come and deal with this place in the morning while you’re out,” Saint announced as he emerged from the bathroom, tucking his cellphone into his pocket. “I told her it needs a deep clean so she will probably be here for a few hours, but in future she’ll just come and go daily to keep on top of this situation.
“Who the fuck is Rebecca?” I asked in confusion.
“The ghost who cleans The Temple,” Tatum supplied. “She’s never been seen, but rumour has it, if you leave a saucer of bleach out at night, by the morning it’ll be gone and your bathroom will be clean enough to eat off of every surface.”
Saint smiled at that, his gaze raking over her appreciatively in her dress and I had to wonder if he’d picked it. If he had then he had good taste which was pretty damn infuriating. “Good help are quiet and thorough in their work. They do the job you needed doing before you had time to request it and are seen even less frequently than they are heard. And Rebecca is the best.”
“I don’t need a cleaner,” I began but Saint waved me off, rolling his eyes.
“The fact that you believe you don’t only emphasises the dire state you’re in. But don’t worry, it’s done, you won’t even know she’s been here. Aside from the
