Page 2 of Heart, Haunt, Havoc
Colin tucked a ballpoint pen behind his ear and traded the bottle from one hand to the other as he shrugged away his coat, folding it neatly before holding the garment out to Bishop. “That’d be lovely, actually.”
Bishop knitted their brows. They echoed the word soundlessly, allowing their mouth to make the shape—lovely—and hung Colin’s coat in the hall closet.
“We’ll start with the basement, yeah?” They tilted their head and took long strides across the room, toeing open a fissured door. An exposed bulb hummed above the wooden staircase, disappearing into thick shadow. “Washer and dryer are down here, but other than that it’s just storage space. Nothin’ special.”
“Any activity?” Colin listened to their shoes bounce on the creaky stairs.
Another bulb flashed. Ugly yellow light washed across bare concrete, illuminating stainless steel shelves stocked with linens, the washer and dryer against the far wall, cardboard boxes taped shut, and a recliner, rocking gently, occupied by something and nothing.
An eyeless face stretched into a snout. Pale hands perched on the armrests. Tailored suit, black on black, hugged lean muscle. Wolf head, human body.
There and gone, as if the click of the switch had chased the creature away. It disappeared in a blink. Hot saliva pooled in Colin’s mouth. He swallowed, scanning the room for another ghost, demon, ghoul. Anything. But whoever,whatever, had given him that beastly attention had slipped away. Nothing except a famished chair remained.
“It’s a basement, so...” Bishop shrugged, unfazed by the apparition. “Kinda creepy as-is.”
“You’ve never felt anything?”
“Watched.”
The sheer, blonde hair on Colin’s arms prickled beneath his cashmere sweater. “Noted. Next?”
He kept his eyes on the stairs as they climbed and sipped from the half-full bottle pinched between his knuckles. Bishop guided him through the living room, modestly decorated with inlaid bookshelves and a buttery leather sofa. The coffee table was adorned with a succulent terrarium, and a flatscreen hung above a yawning mantle, home to charred logs and ashen brick. It was right then, right there, when the house decided to breathe. Colin heard the soft, gushing sound of lived-in beams and thin walls expanding like a lung. Eaves suckled at the ceiling and doors rattled gently on their hinges. Colin felt the presence of something large, comfortable, and certain press inward through the house’s skeleton, studying the two of them with vague interest.
“See?” Bishop said. They jabbed their finger at the hall closet. The door floated open, just barely.
Colin ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “Noted,” he said again, and gestured toward the staircase. “Shall we?”
Bishop skipped their ruddy hand along the banister. Colin steered his eyes from the crisscrossed veins on their wrist to the place an apparition had stooped upon his arrival. Only an imprint remained, as if a freezer had opened and closed on the second-to-last step, blowing icy air around his ankles. A standing fan spun in an empty, doorless room, and tools littered stained carpet outside the primary bedroom at the end of the hall.
“I hear pacing at night. Sometimes walking, sometimes running, or… or crawling, I guess. The window in that room never stays closed,” Bishop said, and jutted their thumb at the unfinished bedroom. They opened the door across from it, furnished with a honey oak bed-set and simple, white bedding. “You’d stay here if you decide to investigate. The guest bathroom is completely renovated—new showerhead, tile, vanity, and toilet.”
“Is there an attic?” Colin asked.
“Yeah, but it’s empty. No one built it out.”
“And your hallucinations?” He walked through the double doors and surveyed Bishop’s bedroom. Chic bamboo blinds, puffy comforter, wicker laundry hamper, macramé wall décor. In the attached bathroom, the vanity was dismantled, claw-foot tub gleaming, mirror cracked in the center.
“They’re hard to explain.” Bishop averted their eyes to the ground. Their face darkened and they cleared their throat, nudging their chin toward the hall. “Have you seen what you need to in here?”
“Yes, actually.” Colin noticed the Juliet balcony as he spun on his heels, hurrying from the room. “I have a travel bag with me. Are there any guidelines I should follow during my stay? Work hours I should know about? Dietary allergies? Partners, roommates?”
He glided his palm across the banister the same way Bishop had and paused before the front door, searching for another apparition, listening for a whisper. The only thing he came away with was Bishop’s caught breath and their steady gaze.
Their lips parted, surprised. “You’ll do it then? The… the cleaning? You’ll—”
“Do my best. You saw my website. I can’t offer guarantees, but yes, I will attempt to clean your home if you’d like to hire me. You’ve reviewed my rates?”
“I have, yeah.”
“Excellent.”
“And no to the guidelines, I guess. Do your dishes, obviously. No allergies, no partner, no roommate. It’s just me.”
“It isn’t,” Colin said, studying the foyer again.
“Excuse me?”
“Just you,” he rasped, and cleared his throat. “I’ll get my things. You can wire me the deposit anytime within the next twenty-four hours.”
