I’m pathetic.
This place is too freaky.
So, just take me.
Take me.
Fucking—
“Are you okay?”
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” I scream, jack-knifing straight off my bed, levitating about five feet in the air before falling to the floor. Quick to my feet, I grab the lamp on the night table, and like a bat out of hell, I start swinging it around, blaring my war cry as I jab the midnight air in front of me. “Back, you beast. I have a lamp and I know how to use it. Fa-bam. Fa-bam.” I jab.
“Whoa, Lilly, it’s Keller.”
Keller?
I pause my jabbing and stand tall. I reach under the lamp shade and switch it on, illuminating the dark room. And sure enough, Keller is standing in my room in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. If my heart wasn’t about to beat out of my chest, I would actually appreciate his loungewear, but I’m hanging on by a thread at the moment.
“Keller,” I breathe out. “What . . . what the hell are you doing?”
“I heard a weird . . . squealing and thought I’d check on you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. “That’s being kind, but correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not sure you’re a kind man toward me.”
“It’s not that I’m not kind, it’s just that you irritate me.”
“You know, if I wasn’t so fucking terrified right now, I’d have a witty response, but I’m afraid to say it, this Hagrid place is spooky as shit.”
“Harrogate.”
“Whatever.” I set the lamp back on the night table and sit on the edge of my bed. “My nerves are absolutely fried. What the hell is that tapping sound?”
“What tapping—oh, I was drumming my finger on my night table. Is that what you were hearing?”
My nostrils flare in aggravation. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell are you doing, tapping your nightstand at night? Sending a morse code to the ghosts to freak me the hell out?”
“There aren’t ghosts in here.”
“BAH!” I say loudly. “If you truly believe the haunted aren’t living in these stone walls, then you are suffering from a severe case of the delusions.” I jab my finger into my bed. “This place is crawling in spooks.”
“You’re playing tricks on yourself.”
“Don’t you tell me what I’m thinking. I can smell a ghost from a mile away, and they’re standing in this room, laughing at us as we speak.” I toss my arms up in the air. “Laugh all you want. You don’t scare me.”
I think we all know that’s a giant lie. I’m surprised I didn’t piddle the bed.
“Seems like you were scared.”
I flash my disdain at Keller. “Is there a reason why you were tapping on your nightstand?”
“My pen was drying up.”
“Your pen? What, are you writing in your diary or something?” I laugh but he just nods.
“Yes, I was.”
“Wait. You have a diary?”
“More of a journal, but, yes. It’s my responsibility to record history, just like every other private secretary before me.”
Huh, well, I guess that makes sense.
“So . . . did you happen to mention me in your journal?”
“Yes.”
“Can I read it?”
“No.”
“But it’s about me.”
“It’s still my private thoughts.”
“Uh, it’s not private if it’s for history.” Good one, Lilly. Got him there.
“I record everything, and then it’s my choice when I retire if I want to contribute them to the royal archive. It’s not a requirement.”
“Well, still, I’d like to know your thoughts on me.”
“You really don’t,” he answers.
Tilting my head to the side, I say, “You know, you seem to have an attitude problem. Are you aware? It’s very surly, unpleasant, and—”
“Need I remind you whose jacket you borrowed this afternoon?”
“Eh—well, that was yours—”
“And must I bring it to your attention who had Lara pick up clothes for you so you’re comfortable while staying here?”
“Yes, that was in fact you, but—”
“And despite wanting to go to sleep, I came in here to check on you because it seemed like you were scared.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, that was all you, but, you know . . . it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer in conversation.”