“Spending the night with you in a haunted house? That’ll absolutely make his Halloween.”
Lukas Kowalski has worked hard for his independence. He emigrated to England to live and work in the White Hart pub in Littleton. He loves his job, the chance to paint and being at the heart of the community.
But something is off. He’s not sleeping, and as Halloween approaches, it’s getting worse. Whether it’s the unexplained noises at night or something unseen ghosting inside himself, he can’t seem to put it to rest.
Now paranormal investigator Ely Douglas has been hired to get to the bottom of what’s been going on at the White Hart. Lukas is expected to help the professor in any way he can. But Lukas is skeptical about the paranormal, not to mention haunted by his and Ely’s one-night stand earlier in the year.
Forced together on a night when the veil between this world and the next is at its thinnest, the truths about the two men’s fears, love and lives will be revealed.
General Release Date: 10th October 2023
The wind howled in the chimney like a lost soul. Rain rattled against the window like it would shatter the glass. The storm, bad even for October, had blown in that afternoon and even now, well past midnight, showed no signs of letting up.
Lukas didn’t mind. The noise drowned out the sounds of the old building he lived in settling for the night.
He layered a gray wash over the background of ice blue he’d already swept over the treated paper. He was working on yet another watercolor of All Saints’. The church stood at the edge of Littleton, surrounded by a picturesque graveyard crowded with worn headstones and ancient yew trees. It had captured Lukas’ imagination when he’d first moved to the village. He’d spent so much time there he knew the names of the dead like they were family. He’d tried to paint it many times but found it hard to capture the feel of the place—the quiet loneliness, the beautiful mournfulness of it. But by painting at night, he seemed to be getting close.
He tilted his head to examine the paper, trying to decide if the base was the right hue before he started building up the darker colors.
Daylight was better for painting, but he had room for three spotlights in his studio bedroom above the White Hart public bar. The landlord let him live there for a peppercorn rent, and right now his insomnia gave him extra time to paint, so he didn’t complain.
He never complained.
Even when Ely Douglas kept messaging, emailing, calling. Lukas snuck a glance at his mobile. There was still a message flagging from earlier that day.
Did you get my email about me coming to town? I really hope you’ll see me :)
The emoji had annoyed him more than anything else—adding a smiley face, like everything was normal between them. It twisted an uncomfortable feeling that filled his insides whenever he thought about the professor. It had been months, and Lukas had never sent a single reply or returned a single call.
Why can’t he let it go?
Lukas shook his head and turned his attention back to the painting. He mixed some water into the indigo and prepared to add some shading to the sky, allowing the sound of the storm to blot out whatever it was hovering at the edge of his awareness, as always, threatening to intrude.
* * * *
When the White Hart opened its doors at lunchtime the next day, the bar was soon filled with wet villagers and tourists alike, all eager for an open fire and a hot coffee—or something stronger—to chase away the chill. The landlord’s Halloween playlist, which was only marginally more bearable than the Christmas one, issued from the speakers. The cheerful notes of the Monster Mash were incongruous in the watery daylight, even with the carved pumpkins crowding the bar and the orange-and-black bunting strung on the wooden beams.
Lukas smothered a yawn as he entered another lunch order and turned to pull pints of ale for the walking party that had just blown in, all smiles and full of stories of their sponsored coast-to-coast hike.
“We had hoped to stay here tonight,” the oldest of the group said as he returned for the last of his party’s drinks. “We did last year. Great little pub. It really feels like the heart of the village…somewhere that brings everyone together.”
“Selling beer does that,” Lukas returned with a smile.
“Ah, but it’s more than that,” the man insisted. “The pub is the great unifier. And at Halloween? Well…” He handed over his money with a glance around at the pumpkins, decorations and posters for the Halloween-night party. “Old creaky building like this? Perfect place to stay. We all heard the story of Bloody Mary the last time we stayed here.” Lukas didn’t meet the man’s gaze as he handed over his change. “And the breakfast was great. But when we looked online to book, it wasn’t available?”
“The landlord is refurbishing the guest rooms,” Lukas said as he placed the last brimming pint glass on a tray. “All new mod cons… Is that how you say it?”
The man laughed and nodded. “That’s it. Wow. I have to say, I love your accent.”
Lukas smiled and wiped his hands on a tea towel. “Thank you. I like yours, also.”
The man laughed. “Just Yorkshire, me…born and bred. What about you?”
“Warsaw,” Lukas said, throwing the towel over his shoulder. “Poland.”
The man chuckled again. “Well, I didn’t think it was Walsall, England,” he said, his smile widening. “When will you be accepting room bookings again?”
Lukas turned to load some empties into the industrial washer so the man couldn’t see his face. “The work is on hold for now. Some…” he hesitated, “minor setbacks. But the landlord hopes it will be done by spring.”
“We’ll just have to come again next year, won’t we?” the man said, something changing in his eyes. “We’re at the Sea View Guest House this time. It looks like they’ve just done that place up, too. It’s gorgeous, really. But if you ask me, the view is better here.” His smile took on a mischievous tilt.
Lukas found himself smiling in return. The man was a bit older than he usually went for, but his eyes were dark and intriguing, his smile inviting. And it had been so long since Lukas had had…well, anything.
He opened his mouth, searching through his English for something witty, but then an attractive forty-something woman appeared at the man’s elbow and planted a firm kiss on his cheek.
“Come on, love. We’re all parched.” She grabbed the tray and smiled expectantly. The man colored, sent Lukas an apologetic look and returned to his friends.
Lukas kept his face masked as he moved to the next customer. The woman was so small she had to tilt her head to smile up at him. Her eyes were blackbird-bright and crinkled at the corners. She was dressed in a blue quilted coat and a chunky home-knitted scarf.
He raised his eyebrows. “Auntie Mia,” he said, “don’t usually see you here during the week.”
“I’m not here for post-church sherry and cake, my dear,” she said. Something in her gaze, like always, made Lukas feel like she was seeing right into his mind. He fought the urge to shift on his feet. She drew something out of her pocket and laid it on the bar with an air of reverence.
It was a watch—an old-fashioned type, on a chain. The silver was tarnished with age. The face was off-white. Ivory, Lukas thought. Its hands, delicate as thread, were set to ten past twelve.
“What’s this?” he asked, unwilling to acknowledge the strange feeling ghosting through his chest.
Mia studied his face a long moment then nodded to the watch. “Take it.”
Lukas picked it up. His fingers prickled. He felt cold. He clamped down on the strange feeling, shaking his head to clear it. He turned the watch over to find an engraving in looped script on the back.
I love you.
S. J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.
She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.
Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.
Find S. J. Coles at her website and on Facebook, and follow her on Instagram and Twitter.
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