July 1940
Peg was surprised to see the number of people out and about in the early hours of the morning until it struck her that most of them were dead like Hughie and herself. She wondered if she would bump into anyone else she knew.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Hughie. “It’s not been my experience anyways. It's no coincidence I was at yer home tonight. It’s not like I’ve been hanging around there these past few weeks. I knew you were going to bite the bullet.” He couldn’t resist a gentle snigger at his own pun. “I was doing someone a favour by being there when it happened.”
Peg stopped in her tracks, half her attention taken by Hughie, the other half by a figure partly submerged in the shadowy entrance of the fire station.
“Who?”
“What?” Hughie’s concentration had also been distracted by the figure.
“Who asked you to be there? Was it my mum?” Peg asked eagerly.
“Nay, it was Lady Mabel.”
“...Lady Mabel?“
“Yeah.” Hughie took hold of Peg’s elbow and steered her past the fire station. “She's helped me a few times since I delayed. Let’s go to the cemetery. It’s always very pleasant there in the wee small hours.”
He steered their way to a wooden bench under a cherry blossom tree and they sat down together. “I’ve always thought blossom smells best in the dark,” said Hughie, taking hold of a bough above his head and pulling it down to savour. “Champion, eh?”
Peg smiled in return. “It’s lovely, Hughie. Now, tell me more about Lady Mabel.”
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Refuge of Delayed Souls
ParanormalWhituth's living can't see the dead but psychic Elizabeth Whyte can see everyone: living humans, delayed souls, fallen angels, vampires and fae. She helps maintain the fragile peace between light and darkness in her work with RoYds, a unwordly refug...
