Kiarr adjusts his broadsword, his blond hair blowing in some invisible wind. "Don't worry, lass, we'll protect you from whoever holds this lance."
"No." I shake my head, my nerves dancing in my gut like a bunch of firecrackers. "Lance is my boyfriend. And he can't see you, either of you."
The Victorian ghost frowns but bows his head. "As you wish, my lady wife."
"Gah!" I throw my hands up. "I am not married. I'm not your wife or the Viking Lord's here either."
"I am a Norseman and not a lord," Kiarr grumbles.
"Whatever." I really need to talk to Melanie. She told me this necromancer ritual would send Kiarr back to his timeline not bring me another freaking ghost. One I was sure I'd made out with in my dreams.
"Look, I don't have time for this! I'm not your Abigail," I point to the ghost in lapels, then the Viking, "Or your Brana. I'm Brene and my boyfriend is here right now."
Only Melanie kept him entertained, but he'd come here looking for me.