Chapter 1

I jolt out of sleep at the sound of my alarm, which has all the subtlety of the horn blare of a cruise ship coming into dock.

Reaching out, I desperately jab my finger several times against the lit screen of my phone on my bedside table, but it does nothing, just continues to blast obnoxiously at me. Unable to see anything other than a bright blur, I grab my glasses and wrestle them onto my face. Once I'm finally able to see the cancel button, I hit it with a little more force than needed and then flop onto my back, my heart hammering.

I've tried the alarms that ease a person gently out of sleep, but they never seem to work with me. Only a sound reminiscent of a host of stormtroopers making their way through my bedroom stomping along to the sound of The Imperial March can wake me up.

Fuck. I hate mornings.

I turn my head towards Danny to once again apologise for the volume level on my alarm—I don't know why; it's not like he isn't used to it at this point—but the other side of the bed is empty. The duvet is tossed back to reveal cold, rumpled sheets. Somewhat confused, I lift my head from the pillow and listen intently.

Nothing.

If Danny is up before me, I can usually hear him in the shower or pottering around in the kitchen, but the flat is silent. There's not so much as a drip of water or the hiss of the kettle.

I toss back the duvet, climb out of bed, and shiver. Any other day, I'd ignore the alarm for at least another fifteen minutes and burrow down into my warm cocoon, but for some reason I feel uneasy, like something's wrong.

Curious, and maybe a little unsettled, I grab my favourite fleece blanket from the BJ throne in the corner of the bedroom and pad softly out of the room in search of my husband.

I shiver again in the cold air and remind myself to reset the timer so the heating comes on a little earlier now we'd hit a cold snap. Wrapping my blanket around my body, I head for the living room and pause in the doorway. Danny is stood in front of the window staring out into the pitch black outside. Given that it's late October, it's still an hour or so from dawn.

I'm not sure what he's looking at, but I'm even more concerned about how still he is. Honestly, I'm not even certain he hears me or senses my presence. I cross the room and wrap my arms around him from behind. He doesn't even startle, just shifts slightly and lets out a slow breath.

"You're freezing," I mutter. Pressing against his back, I open the blanket and enfold him in a comforting hug, trying to warm him with my body heat. He's like a bloody ice cube. "Danny, what's wrong?"

He sighs again, his body relaxing slightly against me before he turns in my arms and gazes down at me. I can barely see him, his face shadowed and backlit by the pale moonlight.

"Danny?"

"Sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't. My alarm went off and you weren't in bed. How long have you been up? You're freezing."

He shrugs, and his voice comes out as a low, contemplative rumble. "I don't know. A few hours, I suppose? I couldn't sleep."

From experience, I know there's no point in pushing him to open up before he's ready.

I rise up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. It's a soft, chaste kiss, one filled with love and comfort.

He pulls back as the kiss breaks and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. I can feel the warmth of his breath as he tucks his face into the crook of my neck, breathing me in.

"Come on," I say, as I rub his back soothingly. "Let's go into the kitchen. I'll flick the heating on and make us some tea and toast."

For a moment he doesn't say anything, doesn't even move, then he slowly draws back a fraction and nods. One hand still clutching the blanket to me, I slip the other in his and tow him from the room. The kitchen is even colder than the living room, and Danny is standing so close to me I feel him shudder.

"Sit." I flip on the light and push him onto one of the kitchen chairs, then unwind the blanket from my body and fold him into it like a human burrito. He doesn't look good. His face is pale and there are dark shadows under his eyes.

"Are you coming down with something?" I automatically raise my hand to his forehead to check for fever, but his skin is cold.

"No." He manages a small smile and cups my other hand resting on his cheek. "I'm okay, promise. I just didn't realise how cold it was. I should have put a hoodie on or something and definitely should have checked the heating." His brows draw down in a frown. "It should've come on by now."

"We forgot to reset the timers when the clocks went back." I shake my head, turning towards the cupboard where the boiler is.

Quickly and efficiently, I open it up and switch the heating on, adjusting the thermostat. "There, that should warm up quickly enough."

Filling the kettle, I switch it on and nip back to the bedroom to pull a hoodie on over my PJs. I jam my cold feet into the slippers shaped like ghosts. Our nephew, Nick, had thought they were hilarious and bought them for my birthday a couple of months ago. Before I leave, I also grab a pair of thick socks for Danny.

By the time I get back to the kitchen, Jacob Marley has sauntered in and is trying to clamber onto Danny's lap. In reality, he's clutching onto the blanket for dear life with his front claws while his fat, furry body dangles between Danny's legs, his little back paws scrambling in the air for purchase.

Danny huffs out a quiet, amused laugh and scoops him up, then settles him in his lap and strokes him affectionately. My stomach unclenches a fraction at the sight of his smile as it eases the tension at the corners of his eyes.

Dropping to my knees in front of him, I yank the socks onto his feet. "Jesus, were you trying to do your best impression of Scott of the Antarctic? You're lucky you don't have frostbite." I grin up at him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Thanks, love." He holds onto Jacob Marley to stop him from falling and leans forward to press a kiss to my lips. "They are a bit numb."

I snort as I stand. "That's not a good thing."

To keep myself busy, I bustle about the kitchen, making tea and buttering toast, while Danny chews over whatever is going on in his head. Finally, I set the plates and mugs on the table and take a seat opposite him.

"You ready to tell me what's bothering you?" I ask and then sip my tea, watching him over the rim of the mug.

He blows out a breath and sets Jacob Marley on the floor. "Work." He picks up a slice of toast, taking a bite and licking the raspberry jam from his lip.

I nod in sympathy. It's not the first time we've had this conversation. It's been frustrating for both of us, and I hate how he's been treated by Scotland Yard in the months since Viv's death, since that fucking dick of a DCI has started making Danny's workplace absolute hell.

After the whole Detective Byrnes incident, I'd hoped Danny's superior, DCI Butler, would get the sack, but the slimy weasel managed to wriggle his way out of trouble. And if that wasn't bad enough, he's tried every trick in the book to get Danny fired, even suggesting that Danny and I had something to do with Detective Byrnes' disappearance.

While we didn't exactly have anything to do with it per se, we did just so happen to have a front-row seat when he tried to raise a demon from a hundred-and-fifty-year-old devil's trap in the Whitechapel bookshop. And when said demon stuffed him headfirst into the trap he'd just been ejected from, that was pretty much the end of Detective Byrnes—or should I say, Issac Crawshanks.

It had turned out that the man who'd had in it for Danny since he arrived at Scotland Yard wasn't Byrnes at all, but rather a descendant of Cordelia Crawshanks as well as a witch himself. A witch who, it transpired, had murdered Madame Viv and attempted to kill Harrison in order to make himself an all-powerful demon master, blah blah blah. To say the whole thing degenerated into a complete and utter mess would be a gigantic understatement.

Fake Byrnes—who goaded Danny into almost punching the crap out of him, which resulted in Danny being suspended pending an investigation—disappeared, and only we knew who he really was and what had happened to him. We figured that, with no body and no evidence, the best thing we could do was keep our mouths shut and see how it played out.

What followed was an absolute nightmare. DCI Butler managed to convince the Yard to open an investigation into Fake Byrnes' disappearance with Danny as the prime suspect.

But, like I said, no evidence. And when I say no evidence, I mean absolutely zero. Issac Crawshanks had covered his tracks well; even his address had been fake. And since Scotland Yard couldn't find where he had actually been living, they couldn't search through his personal belongings. There was nothing in his desk or locker at work.

Ironically, he was like a ghost.

For a while, it seemed the whole incident was going to get shelved as a cold case, but then the body of the real Detective Byrnes turned up in a shallow grave in Manchester, just like Issac Crawshanks had told us he'd done to the man once he'd stolen his identity and had no further use for him.

When extensive testing suggested that the real Detective Byrnes had died months before he'd even shown up in London, both the Manchester police and Scotland Yard had been unable to come up with a plausible explanation as to how a dead man had managed to transfer to the Met and run a bloody investigation before disappearing as mysteriously as he'd arrived. Needless to say, it was all swept very quietly under the rug. Danny was reinstated, and that was supposedly that.

Yeah, not so much.

DCI Butler was livid he hadn't been able to get rid of Danny. I don't know whether it's because he's homophobic, has a personal vendetta against my husband, or is just a gigantic dick—probably a combination of all three, to be honest—but he's made it his mission to make Danny's life—and, by extension, Maddie's—hell.

It's been an absolute shitshow. Last month, DCI Butler finally managed to separate them and reassign Maddie to some other department. He's also trying his best to isolate Danny from all his other work colleagues. If anyone dares to stick up for him, they're targeted too, which is really pissing Danny off. Not so much for himself, but for the few remaining friends he has there, who have been attempting to intervene and are being punished for it.

Danny was adamant he wasn't going to let that complete wanker win, and I respected that it was his job, his career, and ultimately his decision, but this really can't go on any longer.

I can't bear to see Danny unhappy like this. It hurts. I'm about two seconds away from sending Dusty and my other dead friends in to go full-on The Conjuring all over that prick, but I won't. I let out a sigh of resignation. I'm pretty sure it will only end up with us all in trouble with the Upstairs Management, and paranormal trouble is something we're never short on in the first place.

Danny nibbles listlessly on his toast as I watch him in concern. He's lost weight in addition to gaining those dark circles under his eyes, and thanks to his stress cleaning, the flat has never been so spotless.

"Danny." I draw in a breath as his tired gaze locks on me. "I'm worried about you. I've tried to stay out of it and let you make your own decisions when it comes to your job and your career, but I don't think this is going to get any better. In fact, now that the tosspot has managed to separate you and Maddie, I have a feeling things are just going to get much worse. I'd never try to tell you what to do because I know how much you love your job, but…" I trail off hopelessly. I just can't force the words, I think you should quit , past my lips.

He pushes his plate away and toys with the handle on his mug.

"I know you're right," he finally admits in a quiet voice. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and—" He breaks off and shakes his head. "This isn't what I signed up for, but it's more than that."

I sit quietly sipping my tea and let him organise his thoughts. Now he's finally talking about it, I don't want to risk any interruption making him close down again.

"Ever since I was a kid, joining the police is all I ever wanted to do," he continues. "What happened with the West Yorkshire Police was bad enough, but I was lucky enough to get a second chance with Scotland Yard, and I'll always be grateful for that. It brought me to you." He swallows tightly and I reach out to take his hand, noting how cold his fingers still are. "All I ever wanted to do was help people. I thought things were different, that times were changing, but the politics and prejudices, the power imbalances, they're still there within the system. Everything Butler has got away with is proof of that, and I haven't got it in me to fight it, so what's the point?" He lifts his hand and rubs his forehead as if in pain, and I'll bet running on almost no sleep and the stress he's under is probably brewing a banger of a headache. "It's not just the job."

"What is it then?" I ask softly.

"Being a detective, working on the force, I naively thought I knew the worst that was out there. But the things we've seen, the things we've done… I mean, who the hell has Death dropping by for relationship advice? Or stops an apocalypse by stealing the bones of a dead man to rebuild a magic doorway? And don't even get me started on naked demons climbing out of the floor!"

He breaks off and sighs loudly. "I always had a plan, a path I thought my life would take. I thought I understood the world and my place in it, but…"

"But?"

He shrugs. "Now I just feel small and insignificant, and that nothing I do matters."

I push up out of my chair and edge round the table. Climbing into his lap, I make myself comfortable and cup his face in my hands. "Daniel Lionel Everett-Hayes, you listen to me. It does matter. Everything you do makes a difference, and if those tosspots at Scotland Yard can't see that, then that's their loss. Tell them where to stick their job."

"Believe me, I want to." Danny huffs, but the sound is devoid of humour and filled with frustration.

"So what's stopping you?"

"I can't just quit my job, Tris. I don't even know what I'd do instead, or how I'd pay my share of the bills."

"Look," I say gently as I stroke his jaw with my thumbs. "I'll tell you what my dad used to say to me when I was younger, before he got sick."

"What's that?"

"Break it down into smaller pieces. You've got so much going on in your head you can't see the wood for the trees. Start with something you can change. If you truly feel like you're done at Scotland Yard, then walk away. Your mental health and emotional well-being are more important."

"Tris, we can't afford for me to not work."

"Not long-term, no." I shake my head. "But for now, you need some breathing space to adjust to everything that's happened. You need time to figure out what you want. Life plans change all the time, and there's nothing wrong with choosing a new path. As for the financial side of it, between us, we've got enough saved to carry us for a while."

"Those savings are for a deposit to buy a house," he protests.

"So we'll rent for a little longer." I lean forward and brush my lips against his in a soft kiss. "You're more important than a semi-detached with off-road parking."

"That's what I love about you, Tris." He chuckles. "Your optimism. Our budget would barely stretch to a mid-terrace with a parking permit if we're lucky."

"That's it, love, stay positive."

He snorts and buries his face in my neck. "Ahhh," he moans in frustration. "I really want to tell them to go fuck themselves."

"And I would pay money to see that." I card my fingers through his hair. "But no matter what you choose, I've got your back. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do." He turns his head so he's leaning against my shoulder and looking up at me. "Love you."

"Love you too." I dip my head and kiss him again. "Quit or don't quit, the choice is entirely yours, but at the very least, I think you need to use up some of your leave and take some time off. You need the headspace to work out what you really want."

"What I really want is to be back in bed with you, preferably naked."

"Me too." I grin. "But I need to get ready soon. It may be my day off, but I'm in the mortuary for a few hours this morning as a favour to Hen since she has a doctor's appointment, then I have to be at the shop by lunchtime to help Harrison. He's got a shipment of books coming in, and I said I'd keep him company while he sorts through them."

"I'd have thought he'd want peace and quiet. He doesn't like anyone messing up his system."

"Honestly, I think he's just planning on using me as a human shield," I reply in amusement.

"I'm almost afraid to ask. Just tell me it's not demon related."

"Nope." I laugh. "At least, I hope not. Chan talked Harrison into letting him host his yearly Halloween party in the store—for the ‘ambience'—so Chan's going to be there most of the day, decorating and getting everything set up."

"I'd forgotten that was today." Danny frowns. "I can't believe it's Halloween already. Feels like only yesterday we were snowed in at the Ashton-Drake."

"Oh, that reminds me." I shift in Danny's lap slightly. "Ellis called, and we've been invited back to the hotel for New Year's. I thought we could take Nick, see if Chan, Aidan, and the others are free. It might do us all good to get out of London for a while. We might even be able to convince Harrison to come, and if we can't, Sam will."

"So you want to have a break from all the weird paranormal stuff going on in London by going to the most haunted hotel in the north of England to hang out with a bunch of badly behaved dead people."

"To be fair, Ellis said they've been much better lately. I mean, there was the fiasco over the summer, but it's probably best not to mention it."

Danny barks out a laugh. "I honestly don't know how Ellis manages to get himself into so much trouble with so little effort. Morgan certainly has his hands full with—what did he call him? His little blonde disaster."

"If the shoe fits. So, shall I tell him yes?" I tilt my head to study Danny, who's looking thoughtful again. "And see if I can round up the others to join us?"

"Sure, why not? Although I'm not going to say, ‘What could possibly go wrong?' I learned my lesson from our wedding, and more specifically, the fallout from the wine Olivia gifted us from Dionysus."

I laugh loudly. "Well, it certainly was a wedding reception no one will soon forget."

"Urgh," Danny laments, burying his face in my neck. "I don't want to go to work. Is it wrong to hope the Wicked Witch of the West drops a house on me and I end up in Oz?"

"Actually, it was Dorothy who dropped a house on the Wicked Witch of the East, and as fabulous as I'm sure you'd look in a pair of ruby slippers, you'd be dead."

"Still better than going to work."

"And that should tell you something." I climb off his lap and pull him to his feet. The pale light of dawn filters through the kitchen window. "At the very least, go to work and tell them you need some time off. If they say no, go to the doctor's and get them to sign you off with stress."

"Fine," he murmurs.

"Hey." I catch his chin in my fingertips and kiss his grumpy mouth. "We don't have time to go back to bed, but I can offer you a hot shower and a soapy hand job in exchange."

He chuckles and picks me up, slinging me over his shoulder as he heads out of the kitchen. I catch a glimpse of Jacob Marley scrambling up onto the table and licking the jam off Danny's cold toast as we exit the room, and then Danny has me in the shower, stripped naked and groaning in under three minutes flat.

Totally worth being late to work.