I spit up blood. It poured out of me like bile only without the burning up my throat. I could taste it. I've always enjoyed the taste of blood. I smiled and put my hand to my mouth and stared at the glittering red on my fingers. Then Tate's fist crushed my stomach again, and I sprayed the blood in my mouth over his face. This was our third boxing match.

"Tate!" Ben called, "You sick son of a bitch."

He picked Tate up by the t-shirt and dragged him away. Tate smiled at me as he went and I was reminded of evil clowns. I rolled my shoulder like it was a signal and he flipped Ben over his. They wrestled and I got myself to my feet, pulled Ben away from Tate, dropped him to the floor and kneeled over him with my fist poised to hurt him,

"Joining in, or tapping out?" I asked calmly. His face contorted,

"What?" he panted.

"Out." Tate decided for him and kicked me across the face. I spat out some teeth into my hand and looked up at Tate, on the verge of laughing.

"You bastard." I commented and swung my leg over Ben's body, into Tate's knee. He crumbled and I ran for the hall and hid behind a wall. Tate trudged through, wiping his own mouth of blood until I tossed my weight at him and we crashed into the wall.

"Enough!" Mrs Montgomery barked at us from the stairs. Like kids we faced her, side by side, still smiling and panting. I slapped him on the back of the head when she walked away from us and he pushed my face into the wall. The door opened, the realtor walked in and we made ourselves scarce.

"...real Tiffany fixtures..." she practically sang.

We watched them walk through the house, invisible to them.

"Want to scare them?" Tate suggested.

"Shouldn't we wait until they buy the house first?"

He shrugged, "Makes no difference to me. People just keep coming."

"Will we help them buy?"

"Then kill them." He smiled. I wondered if he was joking, "We should find out if we want them to stay first. We might not like them."

I laughed taking my insecurities concerning Tate in stride, "Were you a murderer before or after you died?"

He walked away. I sighed, "Suit yourself." and followed the realtor. It was nice to get a tour. No one had given me that yet. She had a funny way of convincing people to buy the place; she used a lot of insulting compliments and glossed over what I could recognise as tragedies. A lot of ghosts were watching. Vivien was standing, watching me once the realtor and her prospective buyers moved on.

"You've got blood all over your mouth." She said, wholly unimpressed by the sight.

"Sorry." I said, ducking my head and walking towards her, wiping the blood on my sleeve.

"That's better." She smiled, studying me, "You are a beautiful girl. You must have broken a lot of hearts in your time."

I did. In spectacular fashion. "Nah, not me."

"Maybe none you were aware of." She watched me straining to hear the living speak. It's easy for me to hear the dead but I've never managed to connect with the living in the same way. "Do you want to know the history of this house?"

I nodded. "I can feel the oppression and loss here, but I'm not psychic." But I am close.

"The tour will be outside in an hour. Meet me there."

"Tour?"

"In the street out front."

But her voice was a disembodied sound to me and she was off to a distant part of the building.