Haunt Dead Wrong Read Online Free Page B

world.
Banter was bawdy and bloody, censorship crushed underfoot, as we submerged ourselves in our characters, playing out their adventures. There was only one thing could really upset the apple cart, and
it had happened since my passing. A girl had joined the party.
    This wasn’t just any girl, either. This was Bloody Mary. When Dougie and I were first coming to terms with my haunting, we had enlisted the help of our resident school goth. Mary had been
in her last year at Brooklands, cutting an intimidating figure as she puffed away on her cigs behind the bike shed. Dougie had invited her back to his house under the pretence of seeking
supernatural advice. After all, she was supposedly a medium and had the afterlife on speed-dial. Kids said she was the real deal. Then again, kids say a lot of things. It hadn’t gone well.
Crossed wires led to Mary thinking Dougie had the hots for her. Chaos had followed.
    ‘OK,’ said Mary, picking up the die and blowing it in her cupped hands. ‘Momma wants a critical hit . . .’
    The die flew, bouncing across the table past a bowl of M&Ms as Dougie, Stu Singer and Dungeon Master Andy Vaughn watched on. The multi-faceted icosahedron skittered to a halt.
    ‘Boom!’ she shouted, high-fiving Stu. ‘Twenty! How d’ya like them apples?’ Another roll of an odd-shaped die and Andy was left calculating the damage she’d
dealt to the goblin king.
    ‘Right,’ said the Dungeon Master. ‘Your battleaxe takes the king’s head clean off, his ugly mug flying across the cave and into the crowd of onlooking goblins. They
shriek and stampede, their morale broken.’
    Mary whooped again, planting a sloppy kiss on Stu. That’s right; they were an item. Some things really didn’t need to be witnessed by others. The local vicar’s son and Mary
smooching topped that list.
    Dougie seized his moment as the other two were distracted in celebration. ‘Andy, can I creep forward and try the king’s treasure chest? Firstly, I’ll check it for traps and
then—’
    ‘Whoa, whoa, Nosebleed,’ said Mary, pulling away from Stu’s embrace. ‘What do you think you’re doing? I killed the king. I get first dibs on treasure.’
    ‘Oops,’ I said. ‘You’ve awoken the kraken.’
    This was how it went. Mary was full-blooded in her approach to gaming, wanting to win at all costs, even if that was to the detriment of others participating. Her half-orc barbarian only helped
her intimidate her fellow players. Specifically Dougie. Stu happily went along with all she did. It appeared he rather enjoyed being dominated by her, and he was terribly easily led. Dougie’s
poor little halfling thief, Filo Bigfoot, never stood a chance.
    ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m the thief, you’re the fighter. Knock lumps out of the bad guys, but step aside when there’s a chest to open. That’s my area of
expertise. Unless you fancy disarming a trap if there’s one in there?’
    Dougie waited for a response from a glowering Mary but none was forthcoming. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. Since the ‘misunderstanding’ on his and Bloody
Mary’s one and only date last autumn, each would have happily never set eyes upon the other again. For Stu Singer to then start seeing her had really put the cat amongst the canaries. There
were certainly less volatile, incendiary girls out there that Stu might have pursued, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder. It was tough to argue with love.
    Dougie nodded and dipped his hand into the dice bag, retrieving his lucky twenty-sided die. ‘I’m going to investigate the chest for traps.’
    ‘Right,’ said Andy, revelling in the building atmosphere. ‘You stalk carefully across the chamber, the sound of screaming goblins disappearing into the tunnels at your back.
Your bare, furry feet step lightly across the ground until you arrive at the chest. Crouching, you open your lockpick kit as Priest of Pelor, Father Ivor Biggun—’
    Stu laughed, but