Dylan has finished his tea, taken his bag of ghost-repellents, and left Aimee and me alone in the flat. I can tell that she’s still uneasy about being here; her body is hunched, her arms are crossed, and her eyes are constantly travelling around the living room. But it’s daytime. Nothing seems as scary when the sun is shining.
“So what do you think?” I ask, struggling to hide my scepticism.
Aimee shrugs and then looks at me, her eyes broader than usual. “I don’t know. He seemed like the real deal, and I have heard about burning sage before.”
“So does that mean we can come home?”
Aimee’s eyes inspect the room again. “Maybe,” she replies with another shrug.
“How about we both stay away until after the honeymoon? You know, to give the place a good airing.”
Letting out a long, tired exha
