Free Hellsinger 01 - Fish and Ghosts (P) (MM) by Rhys Ford

so I stood in the middle of the ballroom and said please.” Gidget shrugged, bending the straps of her overalls. “Seemed to work out okay. We turned everything on and nothing exploded. I took it as a win.”
    “Or whatever we overloaded yesterday burnt out and we’re not feeding anything through it,” Matt suggested. “But he seemed happy about the please. I asked the staff that came in to help if they knew about what happened to our stuff but… you know.”
    “They knew nothing, I take it,” Wolf snorted. “Of course, he might have used another crew. What else do we need to do? Give me whatever you’ve got next on the checklist.”
    “How about if you take a break, boss?” Gidget handed Matt three of their remote viewers. “We’ll set these up in the lobby and call it a day. Or better yet, how about if you interview our host? See if he sparkles or something?”
    “You guys are going to need—” He started to contradict her; then Matt stepped in.
    “Nope, got it covered. Pryce loaned us some of the house staff, so we powered through a lot of it. Third floor’s already done and most of second. Just a few more to put back in and we can call it done until it’s time to man the screens.” Matt jerked his head toward the ballroom door, loading up his own arms with feeds. “An interview would be good. See if you can get something on the spectral reader on him. One of the maintenance guys said strange shit’s always happening around Pryce. It’ll be good if we can get that on film, right?”
    “We’ll want to get the staff too. Maybe for a few minutes before they leave for the day?” Wolf nodded. “Especially Mara.”
    “Which one is Mara?” Gidget sniffed at a cup of cold coffee, then sipped at it, making a face when it hit her tongue. “God, that’s rough. Time for a new pot.”
    “Um, older woman. Kinda plump. Looks like she should be baking pies and cookies?” Wolf raised his hand up to his shoulder, guessing at the woman’s height. “Probably could beat our asses with a wooden spoon if we pissed her off?”
    “Haven’t met her yet, but that’s probably ’cause there’s like thirty people who work here.” Matt let Gidget hook yet another loop of cable over his arm. “Babe, this shit’s heavy. We can take a cart.”
    “Then we’ll have to bring it back,” Gidget muttered. “And I’d rather just head upstairs when we’re done so we can—”
    “I don’t want to hear this….” Wolf threw up his hands to protect himself.
    “Get a nap in before we stay up all night,” she finished, poking him again. “You’ve got a filthy, filthy mind, Kincaid. Onward, Ambrosius!”
    Gidget hefted a camera case to her shoulder, and Matt shuffled behind her obediently before his head jerked up suddenly. Whining plaintively, he complained, “Why the hell do I have to be the dog?”
    Surprisingly, Tristan was easy to find. Standing behind the Grange’s antique reception desk, his eyes were hooded when he swept his gaze over Wolf. Once again, he was talking to himself, seemingly having a conversation with more than one invisible person and scribbling in the hotel’s ledger. Wolf let Tristan wind himself down, taking the time to set up the feeds for the lobby, then checking his handheld’s charge. By the time Tristan closed the ledger, Wolf was cooling his heels near a larkspur arrangement one of the staff placed on the central table.
    He crossed the floor toward the reception desk, then slowed as Mara came out from the door connecting the foyer to the staff area. Wolf motioned for Mara to go first, holding his camera up for her to see. “I’m going to be a bit, so Mara doesn’t have to stay. Hoping the lord of the manor will give me an interview.”
    “Mara usually is quick. It’s nearly one. She’s got stories to watch.” Tristan’s bemused grin did as much to warm Wolf’s belly as the thought of his long legs wrapped around Wolf’s hips.
    “I’ll be as fast as I can.” The