Page 21 of Squad Ghouls

Which… Fair.

I squinted at the door for a moment. There was no way there wasn’t some ghost surveillance going on.

I got to my feet and cracked the door open, coming face to face with Larri. I jerked back at the jump scare. “Motherfucker!”

Larri scowled. “Excuse your mouth.”

Harri snorted in laughter, poking fun at him only for Larri to try and shove him.

“Why are you two perverts creeping at my door?” I demanded.

“We’re not perverts!” they said in unison.

I crossed my arms. “Sounds like something a pervert would say.”

“Larri was the one creeping, I was just dragged along,” Harri declared.

Larri gasped. “I’ll wring your neck you lanky pool noodle.”

I closed the door on their argument.

At least they were distracted, but I couldn’t exactly slip out the door.

I glanced at the window. “It’s not so far down, surely. As long as I don’t have a cliffside view.”

I peered out into the night, seeing ghostly lights speckled around the cliffside. But below was solid ground. I gathered the bedsheets and knotted them.

This wasn’t exactly my first rodeo. I’d climbed out of my fair share of bedroom windows in my time while angry parents or partners I hadn’t known about raged at my naked arse scuttling across the front garden to escape.

It would have been much more satisfying to have been climbing out of Owain’s bedroom window after doing unspeakable things to him, but alas. My dick stayed dry and my mouth stayed unaffixed to that arse.

Lamenting my lot in life, I made sure my anchor and tether were strong before I risked opening the window. I didn’t want to die because of a cracked bed post or an old sheet tearing. When I was confident, I dropped the makeshift rope down the side of the house, keeping my eyes peeled for any activity.

Not that I could confidently guess without my equipment.

“Gorgeous little twat,” I grumbled as I swung my leg over and got to work scaling down.

I hit the damp weeds and mud with a tiny grunt, keeping low as I moved along the side of the building. I peeked around a corner and saw none other than Bronwyn pacing the front porch, smacking a spoon into her palm as she guarded the front door.

I rolled my eyes, trying to come up with a game plan on the fly.

How do you trick a ghost?

I quickly flipped through the handbook and found nothing of use. Swearing under my breath, I considered my options for a minute before a stupid idea came to me.

I took out my phone and found the video I wanted, then snuck around to the back of the house and hid the phone in a crack in the foundation. I turned the volume on max and pressed play on the video, darting away to take refuge in an overgrown shrubbery.

Voices began to filter out into the night, and soon after the ghost of Bronwyn floated by me, an angry scowl on her face.

“What are you doing out of bed!” she wailed like a headmistress at a boarding school. “Is that you, Harold, you viperous snake?”

“Why did you do that?” a voice whispered.

I startled, turning to the side to find the ghost of an elderly man hiding in the shrub next to me. He had a bunch of hair over each ear and a bald spot on the top of his head.

I put two and two together.

“You’re the husband?” I whispered back.