Abby moved to the edge but only caught a glimpse of Mrs. Truman, Jenny, Kieran and the rest of them standing in the courtyard outside, everyone illuminated by the blazing lights that customarily lit the castle. Abby saw all of them were looking up at the tower before Cash yanked Abby away.
“Don’t go near the edge,” he warned, his voice sounding a wee bit irritable.
“Cash Fraser!” Mrs. Truman shouted. “You get Abigail off that parapet this instant!”
“Who’s that?” Lorna asked and Abby jumped when she saw Cash’s ghostly grandmother floating at her side close to the edge looking down at the assemblage.
“Who’s that?” Mrs. Truman screeched, obviously catching sight of Lorna.
“That’s my friend,” Abby told Lorna then shouted as loud as she could, “It’s okay Mrs. Truman! Everything’s under control! This is Cash’s grandma!” Lorna turned amused eyes to Abby and Abby continued in a normal voice. “Um, sorry for shouting.”
Cash’s arm still around her ribcage, grew tighter. She didn’t know if this was amusement or something else. She reckoned it was something else so she decided not to look at him. She was already freaked out enough.
“That’s quite all right,” Lorna said on another sweet smile.
“Well!” Mrs. Truman shrieked. “She should know better! Cash’s Nan! You get Abigail and Cash off that parapet! Right now!” When no one immediately acquiesced to her demand, she finished on a bellow. “Don’t make me come up there!”
Cash let Abby go, leaned over the edge and yelled, “Kieran, I don’t care if you have to stake her to the turf, do not let her come up here.”
“You got it, gov,” Kieran shouted back.
At Kieran’s response, Abby glanced at Cash and saw his eyes roll to the heavens.
“And who’s that?” Lorna asked, peering over the edge again.
“Kieran, my best friend’s husband,” Abby replied. “My best friend is the redhead. Her name is Jenny.”
“Her gown is lovely,” Lorna commented, narrowing her eyes to look closer.
“I’ll tell her you said that,” Abby promised on a smile.
Lorna looked at Abby. “Your gown is lovely too.”
Abby put her hands out at her sides, tilted her chin down, her eyes skimming her dress then she glanced back at Lorna. “It’s my great-grandmother’s.”
“It’s extraordinary,” Lorna remarked.
“If I can interrupt your little chat,” Cash bit out and Abby and Lorna looked at him as he continued, “perhaps, Gran, you can tell us what the f**k is going on?”
That’s when they heard another ghostly voice say, “Conner, don’t speak to your grandmother that way.”
They all turned to see Cash’s father not hovering but standing on the roof like he had real feet even though he was see-through.
“Holy crap,” Abby breathed again, eyes staring at Anthony Beaumaris, “you just told Cash what to do.”
Anthony looked at Abby and replied, “He’s my son.”
Abby kept staring, her night so bizarre, her mouth somewhere along the line became disconnected from her brain so she blathered on, “I know but still, he’s a big guy and he’s scary. I’d never tell him what to do.”
Anthony gave her a look that stated, quite clearly, even in its supernatural weirdness, that he thought maybe she was a little touched.
Then his gaze moved to his son. “Bodes well for your future, son.”
“As pleased as I am to see you both,” Cash clipped, sounding anything but pleased, shrugging off his dinner jacket and settling its voluminous warmth on Abby’s shoulders before he continued, “on the top of a tower in the freezing, f**king cold at midnight when Abby doesn’t have a coat and her life hangs in the balance, I’d prefer it if someone would tell me what in the f**k is going on,” Cash clipped.
Abby leaned toward Lorna and muttered, “He has a short fuse.”
Lorna’s disembodied voice muttered back, “They all do, dear.”
Abby decided to explain Cash’s behaviour. “He says the f-word a lot when he’s angry.” Lorna looked at her. “And other times besides,” Abby finished, feeling the need to be truthful (it was Cash’s grandma).
At that, Cash lost what little patience he had left and snapped, “We’re going.”
“You’re not going,” Anthony returned.
“We’re going,” Cash shot back.
“You can’t go,” Lorna put in.
“Why the hell not?” Cash retorted.
“You have to save Abby and you’re the only one who can do it.”
They all turned at the new voice drifting through the air.
Ben’s voice.
Abby saw he stood in the opposite corner, also see-through, his phantom feet on the roof’s floor. Zee was sitting by Ben’s feet, his tail sweeping casually from side-to-side as if he stood beside his dead master a thousand times.
“Ben,” Abby whispered, her heart leaping into her throat making her voice sound suffocated.
“Not now, Abby,” Ben returned tersely, his eyes on the door in the floor and at that moment, it flew open.
Abby jumped, Cash positioned himself in front of her and took two steps back, guiding Abby to the middle of the tower, his hands behind him, fingers curled into Abby’s sides.
Angus emerged from the door, grunting and straining, pulling the golden rope.
He came fully into view and kept tugging. Vivianna came after him, still fighting frantically against the rope at her waist. Cassandra was last through, her wand pointed at Vivianna, a pale, slim thread of gossamer gold coming from the wand and hitting Vivianna in the back, its purpose, Abby suspected, aiding in binding the ghost.
“Jesus,” Cash murmured.
“We got her, laddie,” Angus proclaimed stoutly.
“Jesus,” Cash repeated.
Abby wasn’t paying attention.
She was watching Ben, Anthony and Lorna position themselves in a circle around Angus, Cassandra and Vivianna. Zee had started prowling the edges of the roof, his yellow cat eyes turned to the restrained ghost.
“Not gon’ get away now, are you beastie?” Angus taunted.
Abby examined Vivianna who had stopped fighting against the rope and her head was whipping this way and that taking in her fellow phantoms, Cash and Zee.
It dawned on Abby that the spectre actually looked scared.