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- Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Serie: What Walks These Halls
- Sprache: Englisch
The chill intensified, and Archer opened his eyes to see the candles extinguish one by one … PSI – Paranormal Surveyance Ireland – are in deep water. When the operators of a luxury cruise ship ask for their help with a series of unexplainable events, Raven and the team are hopeful that this case, for once, won't endanger their lives. As they try to blend in with the wealthy passengers, it quickly becomes clear to Davis, Fionn and the others that there is more lurking in the shadows than they've realised. With the eerie encounters escalating and rising tensions threatening to tear the team apart, time is running out for PSI. Can they save the ship – and themselves – before it's too late?
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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1Praise forWhat Walks These Halls
‘There is a creeping dread in What Walks These Halls by Amy Clarkin that builds with each page, absolutely loving it, very sharp YA for your shelves.’
Lucas Maxwell, former UK Librarian of the Year
‘Deliciously creepy debut YA title. An eerie abandoned mansion, a malevolent spirit, family secrets, paranormal investigators, secrets revealed … gorgeous, gothic & utterly gripping. If you liked Wednesday, you’ll love it!’
The Bookaneer
‘A great start to a new series that is as much about friendship, love, and found family as it is about the paranormal.’
Children’s Books Ireland in the Irish Examiner
‘A thriller story about a band of young investigators who are determined to discover the truth about a haunted house in their neighbourhood. Clarkin has created a wonderfully diverse group of characters with rooted backstories that makes them altogether relatable and each one of them unique. She has a real talent for building tension from one chapter to the next, making it next to impossible to put this book down. With the door left open for a potential sequel, this could be the beginning of series ideal for thrill-seekers. Recommended for ages 12 and up.’
Irish Examiner
2‘What Walks these Halls will warm your heart while chilling you to the bone. A thoroughly gripping story, of ghosts, legacy and chosen family. I adored it.’
Deirdre Sullivan, author
‘This debut has all the ingredients that fans of the genre will love – an eerie, abandoned mansion, a truly malevolent spirit, family secrets and a team of young paranormal investigators. But it also has a wonderfully diverse group of relatable characters with credible backstories … Skilfully told from multiple points of view … There is a real creeping sense of building menace, and one genuinely fears for the outcome for these engaging protagonists. The character dynamics are so enjoyably portrayed that I am sure readers would be delighted if this exciting debut developed into a series.’
Joy Court, Lovereading4kids
‘OMG Wayfarers! I LOVED this book! If you know me, you know that I love a good scary story/thriller, especially when it’s done well. And Amy honestly knocked it out of the park with this debut. I was transported into the story through Amy’s storytelling and loved every second. It felt as if I was there alongside the characters trying to get to the bottom of the mystery of Hyacinth House … I also thoroughly enjoyed all the representation within the storyline. I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in reading ghost stories, especially if they want ones based in Irish lore. I’ll absolutely be looking out for future releases from Amy Clarkin. This novel has proved her talent for storytelling and building a multi-layered plot line to keep readers interested … fantastic.’
WayfaringBiblio
3‘Deliciously dark.’
@Serendipity_Viv
‘A spooky book with amazing ghosts and funny characters … will keep you on the edge of your seat.’
BotsBookShelf
‘The novel’s small cast of main characters becomes ever more closely knit, not only through their mutual connections to the house, but their various burgeoning relationships, which simmer so intensely that they threaten to overpower the paranormal plotline … a chiller with cinematic echoes of the Hammer House of Horror and has all the spooky ingredients required for torchlit reading by those whose imaginations thrive on things that go bump in the night.’
The Echo
4Praise forWho Watches This Place
‘Comes to a tremendous climax in scenes that cleverly tie the ghostly elements with the emotional turmoil of the characters. Romance, ghost story, family saga – it’s all of this and more and comes thoroughly recommended.’
Books for Keeps
‘A YA horror with some genuinely terrifying moments. Also features an amazing found-family friendship group.’
ScorpioBookDreams
‘A story with plenty of supernatural elements, including a chilling haunted portrait, but ultimately it’s an ode to friendship, a cosy hug of a book that celebrates found family and relationships of all kinds … Clarkin has built a world in which friendship can literally save the day. This is the kind of book that will make so many readers feel seen and comforted and hopeful.’
The Irish Times, Claire Hennessy
‘Perfect for those who love spooky with an emphasis on paranormal investigation and will leave you either wanting to spend the night in a haunted building or never setting foot in one.’
PrythianBworm
‘The plot, the pace, the setting, the emotional baggage grumbling in the background, the evocative twists and turns; all create a tale that will leave you glued to the page and on the edge of your seat. This book will haunt your dreams (or rather nightmares) for a long time. Absolutely brilliant!
Fallen Star Stories
‘Readers with an interest in the paranormal will love this gripping thriller about Irish teen ghost hunters … this book is much more than a ghost story; it also deals with loss, love and found family. Highly original and deliciously chilling.’
Irish Independent
‘Spine-chilling … with a fantastically paced plot, a growing sense of creeping dread and building panic, the story deals with not only ghosts, but also chronic illness, sexuality, mental health and acceptance.’
Children’s Books Ireland’s Annual Reading Guide 2024
5
6
For Rebekah BFH and proof that platonic soulmates exist
7
Contents
9Previously inWhat Walks These Halls andWho Watches This Place
When Archer O’Sullivan started up his parents’ business again, Paranormal Surveyance Ireland, or PSI, his sister Raven, wanted nothing to do with it. She was there in Hyacinth House in County Wicklow five years ago, the night their father died during a séance. She couldn’t remember what happened, but she was sure she was to blame.
Éabha McLoughlin grew up seeing and hearing things no one else could. But when she started college, she finally had the freedom to find out why. The daring Archer and his resourceful team seemed like a good place to start.
Real estate agent Cordelia Cassidy Cuevas was tasked with selling Hyacinth House. When she called on PSI, hoping they could give the property a clean bill of psychic health, Archer and his friends, Fionn and Davis, couldn’t resist the chance to investigate.
The team waded through secrets – both the property’s and their own – to discover the mysteries of Hyacinth House, their past, and the terrifying spirit that had haunted the house for years. Their confrontation with The Lady left its marks on PSI and revealed more than just the truth about the house.
A few months after the events at Hyacinth House, the team were asked to investigate The Merrion Hub, a private members’ club in Dublin city. Tensions were running high: Éabha and Raven were clashing over Raven’s new clairvoyancy gift, Fionn was feeling 10isolated by the team and Davis was frustrated by a journalist who was convinced PSI were frauds – and was determined to prove it.
All their conflict got pushed aside when Éabha disappeared during a survey. With the team running out of time to save her, they had to pull together or risk losing her forever. But their showdown with Adrian Fitzgibbon, the ghost in the portrait, changed their lives forever.
Prologue
ELIZABETH CARMICHAEL STUMBLED DOWN the long corridor towards her cabin, resenting how much her fitted, satin Alexander McQueen dress restricted her gait and trying to convince herself the swaying was because she was on a boat and not because of the half-drunk bottle of champagne still dangling carelessly from one hand. The other hand held her Valentino Rockstud pumps, her bare feet welcoming the feel of soft, luscious carpet after an evening in heels, even as the rest of her seethed with rage. She would have stayed dancing longer, drinking in the admiring glances she’d gotten in her olive-green dress, but one of the staff had informed her it was against the ship’s safety policy for someone to be barefoot on the dance floor.
She had told him that with what she was paying for a superior cabin with a sea view it should entitle her to wear whatever she wanted, but instead he’d had the audacity to tell her if she didn’t put her shoes on, he would have to ask her to leave. And when she’d refused, he’d actually signalled to the security guard lingering unobtrusively by the wall. Security. As though she were some kind of criminal. She’d seen heads start to turn and, with as much dignity as she could muster, left before she could be ushered out. She’d noted his name, though, and the captain would be getting a strongly worded complaint about his unprofessionalism in the morning. When she’d told him that, she could have sworn he was holding back a smirk. As though it was funny. That was the 12problem with these people: give them any sort of power and they’d cling to it, trying to make themselves feel that they were in any way important. Trying to forget that they would always be there to wait on people like her.
The lights flickered overhead and she staggered, putting a hand out against the wall to brace herself.
Terrible staff, faulty electrics. She wouldn’t be returning to this ship, that was for sure.
The lights flickered again, for longer this time, and when they flashed on she could see a figure standing at the end of the corridor.
He – she was pretty certain it was a man – wasn’t moving, and she couldn’t make out his face from this distance. Even through the champagne fog engulfing her, something made her pause. A sense that something was off. She stopped in the middle of the corridor.
He was completely still, staring at her. Or she thought he was. She couldn’t make out his face because of a cap pulled low over his eyes.
A cap. On a five-star cruise liner. He must be one of the staff and had wandered up from below deck into the guest quarters out of uniform.
Maybe she’d have two employees to complain about tomorrow.
It was cold now, as though the AC had started blasting despite it being well past two in the morning, and her arms broke out in gooseflesh. What was wrong with this ship? She wrapped her rose-pink Dior stole more tightly around her. Why was he just staring at her?
‘Hello,’ she said, annoyed that it came out as more of a question 13than a statement. The lights flickered again and when they came back on, he was three metres further along the corridor. She stifled a shriek, dropping the champagne bottle to clap a hand over her mouth. The cold liquid splashed over her feet but her entire body felt like it had been plunged into ice.
The lights went out again.
He was just a couple of metres away when they came back on.
She didn’t waste time trying to make out his features this time. She turned to flee, running barefoot up the corridor, her shoes flailing in her hands as she ran, praying the lights stayed on long enough for her to reach the end of the corridor, to where the ship opened out into a large foyer that should still have a member of crew stationed there.
They did not.
The entire corridor was plunged into darkness, a single scream cutting through the stillness, summoning the crew member on watch from the foyer.
As he stepped into the corridor, the lights came on.
It was empty, save for an abandoned pair of Valentinos and, further down, a spilled bottle of champagne.
With a shaking hand, he reached for the radio.
‘There’s been another one.’
Chapter One
ÉABHA MCLOUGHLIN WAS TIRED.
Actually, ‘tired’ was too gentle a word for what she felt. Tired didn’t feel enough to capture the bone-deep exhaustion that permeated her whole body, how even the smallest movement felt like wading through wet cement, how her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and filled with buzzing and her vision was covered in gauze. How, whenever someone spoke to her, she would blink for an extra couple of seconds as her brain scrambled to process their words, understand them and dredge up a response.
Today had been a bad day. She had slept until eleven am, returned to her bed for a ‘nap’ from three to eight, and it still felt as though she was barely functioning when Archer and Davis collected her for the investigation. The only thing worse than the physical weight dragging her deep into an ocean of tiredness was feeling Archer O’Sullivan watching her, feeling his concern and apprehension washing over her until they were drowning her more than the tiredness. She could barely breathe with the weight of it.
Things were hard enough. She didn’t need his doubt shackling her too.
She took a swig of the noxious but effective energy drink she’d cracked open a little while ago, studiously avoiding Archer’s gaze as she looked around the room. They were in a terraced house in north Dublin that overlooked a graveyard, and the owners were convinced it was haunted. 15
‘Ready to do the vibe check?’ Raven O’Sullivan asked as Éabha took a second long swig of the drink, leaning against the wall beside her. Raven’s silvery-blond hair was in her usual plait and she pulled her flannel shirt tightly around her. Éabha surveyed the rest of the team casually. Archer, Davis and Fionn were on the other side of the room, Fionn holding about six cables in his hands, Davis gesturing emphatically about something – a small smile fought its way through her fatigue as she saw him wave his arms dramatically, a tiny spark of curiosity managing to burn its way through the fog. Raven followed her line of sight.
‘He’s either discovered empirical proof of the afterlife or he’s trying to convince Archer to add Coco Pops to the shopping list,’ she said.
Éabha laughed softly. Davis fought just as passionately about small, mundane things as he did about the big ones. She always enjoyed seeing how the outrage he could muster over a teaspoon being left in the sink instead of the dishwasher could rival someone finding their wallet had been stolen. It could be exasperating at times, but it was something so Davis she couldn’t help being fond of him for it.
‘Possibly both,’ Éabha said, taking another gulp of her drink.
Raven wrinkled her nose. ‘Ugh, I can smell the chemicals from here.’
‘Says the girl who runs on, like, eight cups of black coffee a day.’
‘They’re not manufactured in a lab, though,’ Raven glanced at her out of the side of her eye, her arms crossed. ‘You good?’
‘I’m managing.’
Éabha stiffened as Raven studied her a second, and braced herself for the questioning, the doubt. Instead, Raven nodded. 16
‘Good, I’d hate to see the carnage it would unleash if I had to take the lead on the clairvoyant shenanigans,’ she said lightly, pushing off the wall and clapping her hands together. ‘Right lads, we getting this started or what?’
A rush of affection for the petite, often abrasive girl rushed through Éabha as she watched her stomp over to the boys in her heavy boots. She and Raven hadn’t exactly had the easiest start, but ever since the events of early spring they’d formed not just a truce, but a tentative friendship.
‘We were waiting for you two to stop chatting,’ Davis teased. Raven rolled her eyes at him.
‘Oh, as if you wouldn’t have kept ranting for another fifteen minutes if I hadn’t stopped you.’
‘I was just sorting out seven different types of equipment, but don’t mind me,’ Fionn said, handing first Raven, then Éabha a voice recorder. Éabha mustered up a smile for him as he did, and his blue eyes looked seriously at her from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
‘You feeling OK, Éabhs?’ Archer asked, sliding an arm around her waist.
Éabha had to stop herself from pulling away. It didn’t feel like the easy, affectionate gesture it used to be; it was more like he thought he needed to hold her up. She hadn’t even taken off her tourmaline bracelet, a chunky black crystal that helped her to block out energies, but she could still feel the faint edges of his concern.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.’
The words came out more clipped than she’d intended, and she saw Davis and Raven glance at each other as she stepped out from 17Archer’s arm as gently as she could manage, squeezing his hand to try to soften her words.
‘So I have the cameras set up,’ Fionn interjected, beginning a breakdown of where everything was in the house. Éabha tuned out, using the moments to breathe and try to calm her emotions. It wasn’t fair to get annoyed with Archer; he was just looking out for her.
By asking her if she was OK every five minutes and giving her sceptical looks when she told him she was.
Very helpful.
Fionn finished speaking and Raven turned to Éabha, tying a long chain with a purple pendant on it around her neck as she did. It was amethyst, a crystal Éabha’s aunt, Lizzie, had gifted her. Éabha and Raven were PSI’s – Paranormal Surveyance Ireland’s – two clairvoyants. Their gifts were similar in a lot of ways, but while Éabha’s problem was keeping energy out, Raven’s was lowering her walls enough to let it in. Amethyst helped enhance Raven’s psychic abilities while Éabha had a range of tourmaline jewellery – her staple piece a black bracelet – that shielded her from other people’s emotions. The two girls were opposite ends of the spectrum, but they worked well together. Or were learning to, anyway; Raven being willing to sacrifice herself and stay trapped in a portrait so that Éabha could be freed had been a pretty unique bonding experience.
‘Next time the grand gesture is on you,’ Raven had deadpanned afterwards. There was an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes as she’d spoken, a softness Éabha saw more and more as they spent time together. The events at the Merrion Hub had unlocked something in Raven, dropped part of the wall that she kept around her. She 18was still sardonic, still spiky, but more and more, she was becoming a version of herself that, Davis had confided, was closer to the Raven he’d known before the death of her father, Pádraig. Archer said it too, his eyes bright with hope, that he felt like the sister he’d called his best friend for most of his life was coming back.
Éabha hoped she’d stay.
For now, she could lose herself in the comfortable familiarity of a PSI survey. They’d already planned the areas to focus on in the preparation sessions, and Fionn was going around double-checking that all the equipment was set up correctly. It was the area everyone deferred to him on – what worked the best and where. For today it was thermal imaging and EMF meters, alongside voice recorders held by each of the team.
It still blew Éabha’s mind slightly how at ease she was with all of this now. Less than a year ago, she’d thought the clairvoyancy stuff was all in her head, and if you’d said the words ‘EMF’ to her, she never in a million years would have guessed it meant ‘electromagnetic field’, or that it was a reliable method for PSI to detect ghosts. Now she was a member of the Paranormal Surveyance Ireland team and studying clairvoyancy with her previously estranged Aunt Lizzie.
‘We good?’ Davis asked, straightening up from where he’d been putting his phone – turned off, as all of theirs were – back into his bag. They couldn’t risk a phone going off, or any kind of signal affecting their equipment, so they only communicated by walkie-talkie during a survey.
They were downstairs in the living room. It was one of the two rooms that the couple who’d moved into the house reported the activity in: the living room and their bedroom, both of which 19overlooked the graveyard behind the house. Both rooms were decorated in thick, navy-blue wallpaper, so blue it was almost black. Alice, a thirty-five-year-old marketing manager, had grimaced as she’d shown them the rooms. ‘We haven’t had the budget to redecorate yet,’ she’d said. ‘It’s a bit dour for our tastes. We’d prefer something brighter, but honestly, we’re just happy to have anywhere at all.’ She and her partner had done their best to hide the air of dilapidation that permeated the house – a bookcase lined the majority of one of the walls in the living room; beside it, in the corner, there was a tall étagère laden with spider plants while a large, vibrant print hung on the wall over the couch, obscuring most of the wallpaper. It was the same throughout the house: photos and artwork and carefully placed furniture covering as much of the inherited décor as possible, just rogue flashes of the wallpaper appearing in the gaps between them.
No offence to the people who had lived there before, but Éabha didn’t blame Alice or her partner, Neil, for wanting to change it. It made everything feel … heavier, in a way.
‘Shields down?’ she asked Raven, who nodded, closing her eyes as her face furrowed in concentration. Éabha followed suit, slowly guiding Raven through the breathing exercises Lizzie had taught them to help them be in a state of calm as they delved into their energy. As Éabha guided Raven to begin to reach out, she felt comforted. This was familiar. This was routine. This wasn’t draining her too badly.
Yet.
She cast her senses out, brushing over Fionn, over Davis and Archer, trying to ignore the emotions coming from them. 20
She couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. No presence beyond the five of them in the room, the four familiar energies she knew like the back of her hand. Opening her eyes, she looked at Raven.
‘Nothing out of the ordinary on my end,’ Raven said.
‘Mine either,’ Éabha confirmed. She sighed, steeling herself. Time for the next level.
Psychometry, the ability to pick things up by touching objects, had always been Éabha’s strongest gift. So now she walked around the room, resting her hand on the different objects there, letting the feelings wash over her. When she got to the couch, which was at the back of the room, up against the wall, she felt herself stumble slightly.
Instinctively, she threw out her other hand, not to catch herself, but palm up to stop the others from speaking to her or trying to touch her.
She needed to dig deeper. Figure out whether this was her, or something she was picking up on.
Blurring fog. Confusion. Tiredness. A shortness in her breath that made every inhalation feel like a battle. She said it all out loud automatically as she felt it, both for her own voice recorder and the one she knew Davis was holding to capture their reports. It was their protocol, because the deeper she went into the layers of an object, the harder it was for her to remember afterwards what she’d picked up. That had always been the way, even before him, so she didn’t resent it. The sensations felt familiar, as though she could recognise the feelings, but they weren’t from her. They were from whoever had sat on this couch. It felt like Alice and Neil, the 21same energies she’d picked up on when she’d shook their hands. She reported it all, coming back into herself and letting the rest of the team finish up as she took a bag of sugar-covered jellies out of her pocket and ate a few. Sugar and caffeine were not ideal coping mechanisms, but at times like this, they were her best options. She could feel Archer watching her carefully and avoided making eye contact with him. She just needed to do her job, and it was hard when she could literally sense Archer hovering protectively around her.
They decided they had finished with the living room and moved upstairs, her ballet flats feeling like cement blocks on her feet as she climbed the stairs behind Fionn. The bedroom felt the same. The heaviness. No sense of other energies, but a weighty feeling, a shallowness in her breathing that made her feel like she was struggling for each inhalation.
She left the bed until last, resting her hand on a pillow. Alice had reported waking in the night gasping for breath and seeing a figure standing over her in the dark, the same one she kept seeing out of the corner of her eye while they watched TV in the living room or got ready for bed up here. She said it looked like it was reaching for her.
Éabha felt it immediately, her hand jumping to her throat as she took long, ragged gasps, choking out what she could feel. It was a relief to take her hand away, to take the bracelet Fionn offered her and slide it back onto her arm, dimming the sensations and memories that had flooded through her.
‘There’s something going on,’ Éabha said frowning. ‘But I don’t sense the energies of anything besides Alice and Neil.’ 22
‘Me either,’ Raven confirmed, folding her arms and tapping a heavy boot against the ground. ‘We’re missing something.’ She said it like she was personally offended by that fact.
‘Let’s think through the timeline,’ Archer said. ‘They started having these experiences a few weeks after they moved in. Then the bathroom flooded and the plumber said it was a leaky pipe, but they felt it was malicious, that they’d already felt on edge before then, like they were being watched.’
‘What damage was done again?’ Fionn asked. ‘I know it leaked down into the living room, but they said they caught it before it completely destroyed anything, right?’
‘The bathroom’s on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?’ Davis asked. He was standing beside the large, full-length mirror placed between the wardrobe and the adjacent wall and was pointing towards it.
‘Yep,’ Fionn confirmed.
Davis placed a hand on either side of the edge of the mirror and pivoted, lifting it out of the way with a grunt.
‘That’s heavier than I expected,’ he said. He placed it carefully against the wardrobe before running a hand along the now-exposed wallpaper. He pulled his hand away. ‘That’s coming away from the wall,’ he said, frowning.
‘Feeling anxious and unwell, seeing things out of the corner of their eyes, shortness of breath … a heavy sensation …’ Archer said out loud. He looked at Davis, and Davis gave a triumphant grin.
‘Mould.’
They had to wait for Neil and Alice to come home before they could confirm it. Even clients this eager for answers might object 23to them ripping the wallpaper off the walls, whether or not they hated the wallpaper to begin with. So when the couple returned, they explained their findings and hypothesis, and with their consent peeled away the wallpaper in the bedroom and on the living-room wall, where the couch was, to expose thick expanses of dark mould.
‘The wallpaper shade is so dark you wouldn’t see it as easily,’ Davis explained. ‘And because it was mostly covered by furniture and artwork, there were only small gaps where you could see it at all. It’s completely understandable that you missed it. The pipe was probably already leaking and the mould starting to grow when you moved in, which was why things felt off before the bathroom incident. Then once the bathroom flooded, it would have developed even more widely.’
‘Mould can cause a lot of the symptoms you’re experiencing,’ Archer explained gently. ‘It can be–’
‘Really toxic,’ Alice filled in. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘You probably saved our lives.’
‘Or at least saved us some major health complications,’ Neil added.
‘I’m so embarrassed. I was convinced it was a ghost,’ Alice said, putting her head in her hands.
‘You are absolutely not the first person we’ve met who had an ordinary reason for something they thought was paranormal,’ Archer said reassuringly. His handsome face had a gentle smile, and his blond hair was shining under the lights of the kitchen. Éabha was always impressed by how his confidence ensured that people took him seriously; sometimes people did a double take when a nineteen-year-old walked into a meeting. The rest of the 24team were aged between nineteen and twenty-two, but a few moments with them, and especially Archer, showed they knew what they were talking about. Not only that, but it was always clear that all Archer wanted to do was comfort people, to alleviate any embarrassment or worry. He was an exceptionally kind person. It was one of the things she loved most about him.
‘The majority of our cases are like this,’ Raven added.
Éabha nodded fervently, pulling her gaze away from Archer to focus back on the couple. Davis and Fionn were already carrying the equipment out to the car, Davis brimming with his usual mix of delight at successfully solving a mystery and disappointment that it was, once again, an ordinary reason. PSI only ever seemed to find completely ordinary or extremely life-threatening surveys, and Davis was desperate for them to find one somewhere in the middle.
‘A real ghost, just not a homicidal one,’ was his general way of phrasing it.
Éabha said goodbye to the couple, waving to avoid shaking their hands. She felt shaky, fragile, like the barriers keeping her energy in and theirs out was brittle. Touch would be too much right now. She left Archer and Raven finishing up with them and went outside to Davis’s car, where he and Fionn were just slamming the boot closed.
‘You good?’ Davis asked, scanning her, a faint expression of concern on his face.
She nodded.
‘I am … I just … need to be … not standing.’
What was the word for that? 25
Neither Davis nor Fionn remarked on her word choice. Instead, Davis simply opened the car door and ushered her in. Éabha collapsed against the back seat, Davis gently closing the door behind her as Fionn got in on the other side. Davis and Archer, as the tallest of the group, always sat up front.
‘Raven looked wiped after that one,’ Fionn said. ‘It must have been pretty intense.’
‘Yeah, it was a bit,’ Éabha managed to say, summoning up a smile. She could have cried at his kindness. Raven, when she poked her head in the window to say goodbye before getting into her own car to drive to either her flat or her girlfriend, Cordelia’s, looked mildly tired but by no means ‘wiped’.
Archer and Davis got into the car, already beginning a dissection of the survey. She looked out the window as Davis drove, to avoid seeing how often Archer glanced in the rearview mirror to check on her. Experience had taught her it would be a lot.
It took her three-quarters of the drive back to Kilcarrig before she remembered the word was ‘sitting’.
Chapter Two
THE FAMILIAR CHAOS OF THE PSI FAMILY takeaway night washed over Fionn as he walked into the O’Sullivans’ living room. Raven and Cordelia were sitting on the couch, Raven’s leg carelessly slung over Cordelia’s as they bent their heads together to look at something on Raven’s phone. Probably a cat reel on Instagram. Davis and Éabha sat in the two armchairs by the fire, Davis talking enthusiastically about something while Éabha listened thoughtfully, a small smile on her face. Her legs were curled up underneath her and she had her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jumper. She was pale, and the concealer under her eyes didn’t fully hide the tiredness there.
Éabha had always been good at putting up a front, but even she couldn’t hide the effect the Merrion Hub investigation had had on her. Her aunt, Lizzie, who was deeply skilled with all things clairvoyant, was trying to help her heal from it, but this was outside of even Lizzie’s remit. Whatever Adrian – the homicidal ghost who’d painted his soul into a self-portrait and preyed on the living, stealing young women into the portrait to take their energy – had drained from Éabha was taking its time coming back, to the point where, months later, Fionn was starting to wonder if it ever would.
Davis had been quietly deep diving into physical illnesses that mimicked this, to see if there was any correlation or cure. Now that the seemingly endless onslaught of essays, presentations and exams that had accompanied his final semester of university had 27finally ceased, he had plenty of time to research. He brushed it off as ‘needing a project to keep him distracted from panicking about his results’, but he obviously just wanted to help his friend in the way he knew best – via science. So far he’d narrowed in on ME: myalgic encephalomyelitis, a neurological condition that triggered a range of symptoms, including brain fog and extreme fatigue, two of the things affecting Éabha the most.
‘It’s been recognised since the nineteen-eighties but no one has taken it seriously,’ Davis had said to Fionn when they were alone in the office, pulling his tightly coiled black hair into a low bun at the base of his neck, his sign that he meant business. ‘Long Covid research is helping a bit but there’s no medicine or treatment.’
‘Well, that’s … not helpful,’ Fionn had said. What an understatement! He hated this: seeing how much it was affecting Éabha and knowing there was no way he could help.
He did, at least, know not to hover. Archer was dealing with it by trying to help Éabha with her every need – even the ones she hadn’t asked him to help with. Éabha visibly tensed every time Archer rushed to do something for her, and despite both Davis and Fionn gently suggesting to Archer that he tone down the assistance, he hadn’t quite managed to follow through.
‘You warm enough, Éabhs?’ Archer asked, coming into the room behind Fionn. Éabha nodded. ‘I got you this blanket,’ Archer continued, holding out a thick, fluffy blanket, ignoring the fact that she had just indicated she was fine.
‘I’m fine at the moment, thanks,’ Éabha said, giving him what looked to Fionn like a slightly strained smile as she took the blanket and placed it folded up on the arm of her chair. 28
‘I can get you a warm drink?’
‘I’m fine.’ There was just the slightest sharp undertone in her voice now, a level that was basically default for Raven but, coming from Éabha, it sounded like a snap.
Raven cleared her throat.
‘What have we got planned for dinner, Little Brother? I’m starving.’
‘I’d love Thai,’ Davis said immediately.
‘I’d be down for that,’ Cordelia chimed in.
The moment of tension passed as Fionn and Davis started enthusiastically debating the merits of one place over another. They both loved Phad Thai, but each fiercely maintained that their favourite place did the best one. It was an argument they rehashed every time they ordered.
Archer took out his phone and pulled up a menu, walking over to hand it to Cordelia.
‘Here, I have a feeling Davis is going to win this one,’ he said.
Fionn opened his mouth to protest but just as Cordelia reached for the phone it started to ring, and she jerked her hand back, startled.
‘I didn’t think anyone had their phone off silent any more,’ she said as Archer answered.
‘Hi. Yes, of course I remember. Lovely to hear from you again,’ he said as he walked out of the room.
Fionn immediately forgot about bickering with Davis, looking at him with raised eyebrows instead.
There was glint of excitement in Davis’s eyes. ‘Sounds official,’ he said. 29
‘He used his adult voice,’ Fionn agreed.
Éabha was watching it all quietly, and Raven pulled out her phone, looking up the Thai restaurant.
‘Here’s the menu,’ she said, handling it to Cordelia. Fionn stopped worrying about winning the Thai food battle, his mind already racing from the way Archer had tensed with excitement, his voice taking on his professional PSI tone.
They had a new case; he knew it.
Fionn wasn’t surprised when Archer came back ten minutes later, brimming with barely contained excitement.
‘Do you remember the cruise ship?’ he asked.
Davis nodded immediately while Fionn wracked his brains. It sounded familiar, but how?
‘After Hyacinth House,’ Éabha said, her voice echoing the tiredness her slumped shoulders demonstrated. ‘You got the call, when we were all celebrating not getting held liable for the house being burned to the ground.’
Archer nodded, and it all clicked into place for Fionn.
‘I thought they’d dropped off the radar,’ Raven said.
‘They had,’ Archer replied. He grinned. ‘Until now.’ He paused dramatically. ‘They want us to fly out on Saturday. Urgently.’
Fionn could see Raven studying Cordelia out of the corner of her eye. Her girlfriend was clearly trying to keep an enthusiastic expression on her face, but she couldn’t quite hide the worry shining through. Raven reached out and took Cordelia’s hand silently, and Fionn looked away. He was intruding on a private moment.
‘This week?’ Davis asked, pulling his attention back towards the conversation.30
‘It’s urgent,’ Archer said. He looked around the room at the rest of the team. ‘There’ve been a few … incidents.’
Adrenaline shot through Fionn as the atmosphere in the room shifted. They were on to a big case here. He could feel it in his bones.
Chapter Three
ÉABHA ARRIVED AT PSI HQ in the O’Sullivans’ home in Kilcarrig the next day for their team meeting to plan the cruise-ship survey. The company had said to Archer that they’d send over a brief immediately, but the team didn’t have a lot of time to prep before they’d have to fly out. Fionn lifted a hand in greeting as she walked in, barely looking up at her. The noise-cancelling headphones he wore and the way his eyebrows knitted together made it clear he wasn’t ignoring her: he was just in the middle of something, probably an audio file he wanted to finish going through before the others got here. Éabha waved back and sat at her desk, leaning against the supportive back of her chair with relief. It was hard to be upright when she was fatigued, and today was another tired day. All she had done so far was shower and eat breakfast, but these days that was enough to begin to wipe her out.
It was only eleven thirty.
If she had the energy, she’d scream to the ceiling how much she hated this.
She glanced around the familiar office, at the loose ring of desks crammed into the centre of it, the armchairs that had been there back when it was the O’Sullivan’s front room and not PSI HQ still shoved out of the way into the corners. Archer always said he was going to put them somewhere else, but never got around to moving them. The back wall was now lined with filing cabinets – a recent 32acquisition that had made Davis almost giddy with excitement at the organisational possibilities – while corkboards with various PSI cases decorated another, family photos still wedged between them. This was one of her favourite places in the whole world, the place where she had learned she could be herself and still be accepted. Her muscles started to relax, her jaw unclenching, as Davis came in and sat down at his computer, stretching his arms out in front of him before resting them on the desk. He frowned.
‘Fionn, were you messing with my chair?’ he asked irately, leaning down to pull on the lever and standing slightly up out of the chair. It was just the three of them so far. They were still waiting on Raven and, of course, Archer, who was physically incapable of ever being on time, to join them.
Éabha sneaked a glance at Fionn, who gave her an exasperated smile before answering. ‘And risk the ergonomic safety of Davis Williams? Never.’
‘Look, repetitive strain injury is a thing, OK? I spend most of my life at a desk,’ Davis grumbled. ‘I’m not dealing with carpal tunnel syndrome by twenty-five because you think it’s funny to–’
‘Davis. I did not mess with your chair to sabotage your efforts to have a posture that suggests you have a stick shoved somewhere extremely specific.’
Éabha laughed before she could stop herself, and Davis’s grumpy face turned to her before breaking into a begrudging smile.
‘OK maybe I was being a bit–’ He broke off and uttered a string of curse words. ‘WE ARE NOT THE PSYCHOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF IRELAND. STOP EMAILING US ABOUT CONFERENCES.’33
Fionn and Éabha burst out laughing at his indignant expression. It felt good to laugh like this – she hadn’t in a long time. The team rotated which of them went through the general enquiries email each week. This week it was Davis’s turn, and he’d been plagued by emails from people mistaking PSI for the Psychological Society of Ireland. He’d been losing patience steadily all week and this was clearly the final straw.
‘Oh, I have failed to respond to your email? And this level of attention to detail isn’t acceptable? YOU CAN’T EVEN FIND THE RIGHT EMAIL TO CONTACT. HOW CAN YOU LECTURE ME ON ATTENTION TO DETAIL?’ Davis ignored their escalating laughter, completely focused on his computer screen as he typed furiously.
‘Wait, Davis, you’re not actually replying with that, are you?’ Éabha said, getting up out of her chair to bolt over to him. She wouldn’t put it past him to actually say it.
She realised after two steps she’d made a grave error. Dizziness flooded over her and the corners of her vision blurred; ever since her disastrous encounter with Adrian, the ghost in the portrait, if she moved too fast or stood up too quickly, this happened. The doctor called it postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS. Lizzie called it the lingering effects of having your energy drained almost to death.
Éabha called it something that would have gotten her kicked out of her parents’ house if they hadn’t already evicted her.
‘Éabha?’ Both Davis and Fionn were on their feet as she stopped, reaching for Raven’s empty desk to steady herself.
‘I’m OK, just dizzy,’ she said. Her vision narrowed to almost 34complete darkness, and she felt gentle hands guiding her to sit in a chair that had been pushed up behind her. She looked up to see Davis’s concerned face studying hers.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ Fionn asked, his voice behind her. He must have gotten the chair.
She nodded, but immediately regretted the action as the fuzzy static engulfing her brain intensified.
‘Do you want some water?’ Davis asked.
‘No, I’m OK,’ Éabha said again. She steeled herself for him to push back and start fussing, but Davis just nodded.
‘You’re not going to fall off the chair if I let go, are you?’ he asked.
She realised his hands were still on her shoulders, not gripping her, but placed to support her if she needed it.
‘I promise I will not end up on the floor,’ she said, forcing a smile onto her face. Davis looked at her a long moment, then nodded and went back to his desk.
‘Seriously though, you’re not actually typing that are you?’ Fionn asked him, moving the conversation on.
Éabha missed Davis’s snarky response, focusing instead on breathing as the dizziness faded and was replaced instead by a warmth that was all gratitude. They weren’t making a big deal of it.
Archer could take notes from them, a bitter little voice said. She shook her head. Archer was just being protective. He wanted to support her, to look after her.
It was just that his way of looking after her made her feel like she was slowly being suffocated.
But she was being ungrateful. ‘Oh no, my boyfriend wants to look after me when I’m unwell.’ Get a grip, Éabha. 35
She just wished his care for her didn’t feel more and more like doubt in her.
They worked away for half an hour, Éabha insisting on taking control of the admin after Davis discovered two more emails for the Psychological Society of Ireland in their inbox and reached such apocalyptic levels of indignation that she needed to cling to her tourmaline bracelet to keep his emotions at bay. She even slid the tourmaline crystal earrings Lizzie had given her a few weeks ago into the single piercings in her ears. Éabha’s ability to block emotions ebbed and flowed like her energy, and Lizzie’s gift had been both thoughtful and practical, another line of defence against emotional interference.
That was the kind of support she needed: practical things she could choose to use or not use, depending on how she was feeling. Her physical health fluctuated so much day to day that her clairvoyant abilities did too; some days she barely needed even the bracelet, others she had the bracelet, the earrings and wondered if a helmet of tourmaline was a possibility.
As Éabha slid an earring in, Raven clomped through the door, dropping her leather jacket on the back of her chair and sitting on top of her desk instead of behind it. She swivelled to face Éabha, her legs dangling. Raven’s deep purple amethyst pendant hung around her neck, resting on top of the black string top visible under her white shirt, which was unbuttoned most of the way down. Her silvery-blond hair was in her usual plait, and her heavy boots made a thunk when they hit off the wood of the desk.
‘Could you make any sense of the reading Lizzie gave us to do?’ she asked. Her tone was nonchalant, but the all-too-careful way 36she posed, a facade of indifference, made it clear she was worried.
‘I got through, like, three paragraphs and my brain broke,’ Éabha said.
‘Phew, not just me then,’ Raven said with a relieved grin.
Éabha echoed it back. She’d thought it had been her brain fog affecting her, making her struggle to process the reading. Sometimes when she was tired she couldn’t make sense of words on pages, even forgot words mid-sentence as she was trying to speak. But if Raven had found it hard, too … That felt hopeful.
‘Magic class getting tough?’ Fionn asked.
Davis bristled. ‘It’s not magic, Fionn, it’s clairvoyancy, which actually has quite a few scientific bases …’ He trailed off as all three of them turned to look at him with varying stages of amusement.
‘You were joking,’ Davis said, a tinge of sheepishness in his voice.
‘I have been known to do that occasionally, yes,’ Fionn said cheerfully.
It was strange, having Davis leap to clairvoyancy’s defence when he had been Éabha’s biggest doubter. He hadn’t even wanted her to join PSI. But the thing about Davis was, once he was on side, he was the most loyal defender anyone could ask for. And as soon as he had seen her gifts were real, he had immediately pivoted to not only defending her but wanting to study her, and prove to the scientific community that her gifts were real. He was always devising little ‘labs’, as he called them, for them to do together. But she never felt like she was the experiment. They were collaborating. After years of gaslighting from her parents, having someone so enthusiastic about irrefutably showing the validity of her gifts was a such a … well … a gift. 37
‘Lizzie is on the theory portion at the moment,’ Raven told Fionn. ‘Which I understand is important, but also can be very … dense.’
‘I was worried it was me that was dense, so honestly, this is a relief,’ Éabha said.
The others laughed.
‘Nope, we are as doomed as each other,’ Raven said.
‘Who’s doomed?’ Archer asked, walking in the door of the office.
Éabha hadn’t heard the front door open, but even with her hearing aids in she only really heard it when things were completely quiet and the person – normally Raven, sometimes Davis if he’d been reading the comments about PSI on Reddit again – slammed the door shut behind them.
‘Your girlfriend and me, as usual,’ Raven said.
‘Get a hobby,’ Fionn said. Raven laughed, but Archer’s face was serious.
‘Are you all right?’ He asked, striding over, his eyes focused on Éabha.
‘Relax, Arch. It was just some particularly wordy clairvoyance homework,’ Raven said. The usual snark in her voice softened as she looked at him, at the worry that tightened his eyes and set his mouth in a concerned frown.
Éabha knew that what had happened with Adrian, and The Lady before him, had rattled Archer. He needed to be the protector, and he held himself responsible for everyone in PSI. It was what she reminded herself of when he got overprotective, when she wanted to snap at him when he asked her for the sixth time in an hour if she needed anything. Archer’s loveliest trait was his big heart, but 38it could be his most infuriating one, too. They all chose to be a part of this. They all knew the risks. Most of them had reminders of those risks: the burn scars on Archer’s cheek and on Davis’s arms and legs. The way Fionn’s asthma still acted up and how he winced when he sat still for too long, the shoulder he’d dislocated still catching in its joint. Even Éabha’s hair, once long and wavy and now in a short pixie cut after chunks of it burned in the Hyacinth House fire, was a constant reminder. And no matter how many times she told him otherwise, or Raven told him or Davis and Fionn told him, she knew he had never shaken off the feeling of responsibility for them being in that house.
She, thankfully, couldn’t read minds, but she would have bet money that that was what Raven was thinking, what made her temper her usual sarcasm and not accompany the reassurance with an eye roll or raised eyebrow.
‘So, boat stuff?’ Fionn asked.
‘Boat stuff,’ Archer confirmed. He went to his desk and leaned against the front, looking around the room at the four of them sitting at – or in Raven’s case, on – their desks.
‘They’ve asked us to join them for a seven-day cruise in the Med on their ship L’Imperiale. It’s a small cruise ship, very exclusive and luxurious. It has a capacity of a hundred passengers, and around fifty crew, depending on the sailing. Staff turnover has been … high, but they’ve guaranteed that a few of the staff who have been there since the experiences started are still on board and, in their words, “extremely eager to assist in any way they can”.’
‘Oh, they’re spooked,’ Raven said, sympathy clear on her face.
‘Imagine being trapped in the middle of the sea with a ghost,’ 39Fionn shuddered. ‘It’s not like a building – you can’t just leave.’
