The Cold Hearted Ghost Hunter

Unintentionally, Harper started humming a tune, which soon progressed into a slow chant.

What a sad song, she mused, thinking about the words she was singing.

Care no more to clothe and eat; to thee the reed is as the oak...”


Irritably, Dorian opened a bottle-green eye – couldn’t the girl just shut up for one moment?

Her voice wasn’t that loud, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t hear it.

A normal human might not have been able to detect the haunting notes, but he sure could – what with this ‘ghost hunter’ thingymajigy and all.

He could make out the words – they sounded archaic…Shakespearean, that was the word for it.

Fear no more the lightning flash…

“If only,” Dorian murmured agitatedly, trying to get back to what semblance of sleep he had been holding onto.

All lovers young, all lovers must, consign to thee and come to dust...”

The singing ceased completely, and was taken up by sounds of resigned sniffling.

Eh, she’ll learn to deal with it.

And he slept.

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