I rose early Sunday morning to catch up with Christian before Kate got up, but he was nowhere to be found. There was a strong possibility he was avoiding me and that hurt all of my insides.

Kate came staggering in through the front door with Elliot at about 8am, giggling and clearly still very drunk. Her lipstick was all over her face, and Elliot's, and her shirt was buttoned up wrong.

'Good night?' I asked, hands on hips like the parental figure.

'Yes thank you,' Kate giggled, trying to stand up straight; but Elliot still had his hands around her waist and was pulling her closer so that she was in more of an awkward C shape.

'What time's your flight?'

'4pm. We've got time for breakfast don't we?' Elliot chipped in, looking Kate in the eye rather than looking at me as he answered.

'Absolutely,' Kate practically purred. 'Want to join us?' she added in my direction, as an afterthought.

'I already ate,' I lied.

Out of nowhere, I felt something, or someone pinch my bum.

'Ow!' I cried more in shock than in pain. No one was behind me, and I suddenly flushed red as I realised what had happened.

'You okay?' Kate said, looking confused.

'Yeah. Electric shock or something. Doesn't matter,' I lied again. I received another pinch on the bum, but was able to hold my cool this time. 'Do you need a lift to the airport?'

'Nah it's cool, I'll take her,' Elliot answered for her again and Kate responded by kissing him with a disgusting volume.

'If I don't see you before I shoot off, thanks for a wicked weekend!' Kate called as she shot upstairs, Elliot following in tow.

'You're welcome...' I grumbled. I double checked they were out of earshot, and once I heard Kate's door slam, I turned into the living room.

'Okay Casper the Pervy Ghost. Come on out,' I called, arms folded and looking around. Nothing seemed to stir. 'I'm serious. You can't pinch my bum and not expect me to react!'

'Actually... your reaction was perfect...' came a whisper, as if brought in by the wind. It sent a chill up my spin like a cool breeze too, and I held my arms around myself a little tighter.

'Well, you're not playing fair. You can see me, but I can't see you.'

There was silence for a moment.

'I know, I know. You want time. Well keep your mitts off until you're... you know...' I'd run out of steam and we both knew it. As if on cue I heard Kate's patented 'keep doing what you're doing' noises from upstairs. My cheeks went so red, they may as well have been on fire. My hands were clammy and the cool breeze now felt thick in the air.

'I'm going out,' I practically yelled, grabbed my keys from the little table by the door and pegged it out of the house.

I'd barely made it into my car when I got a text.

Now who's being unfair? I'm stuck listening to this. CG

I burst into hysterical laughter at the idea of Christian being stranded in his own home whilst his brother and my friend got it on. Serves him right for introducing them really... This was his plan after all.

I didn't reply. Instead, I drove into town for somewhere to hide. The only places open on a sunday were either big chain stores or coffee shops and I'd left my purse and bag behind in my haste to escape the love shack. Besides, I don't think my bank balance could have coped with the splurge.

Either way, it left me stuck. So you can imagine my relief when I discovered a small community library, tucked down the side of some back road to nowhere, that was open and empty.

Behind the front desk was a rather shrewd, shriveled and sharp looking woman with a serious expression poking through her wired spectacles. She was potentially in her late 70's with thinning hair that curled haphazardly and was a bizarre 'dirty-cream' colour. Plus she was eyeing me as thoroughly as I stared at her.

'Can I help you?'

'I'm just looking,' I replied in a whisper.

'Well there's a directory on the end table. If you need anything else, I'll be right here.'

I smiled a thank you and moved towards the directory as the librarian continued to watch me with hawk-like intensity. As I made a show of opening the unnecessarily large folder, she finally returned her gaze to her computer. I, of course, skipped large chunks of the dusty folder, unable to find a topic to peak my interest.

Acrobatics... Computers...Dystopian Fiction... Horror... More books on Management than anyone could possibly ever need ever. Pathology... Psychology... Psychics...

Psychics!

I skimmed the page. Most of the books were memoires of psychics and ghost whisperers. Sylvia Browne, Uri Gellar, Miss Cleo and the like. A few books specified into the sociology of psychics, tarot reading, Romanian history and references to magic but that didn't seem to have much more except the same spiritual drivel you'd expect to find at the local 'boogady boogady' store.

Who are you to judge? You're living with a ghost who touches you in naughty places... Maybe you're the mad one...

'Are you interested in the paranormal?' came the small sharp voice of the librarian, tugging me out of my reverie and making me jump.

'Oh! Erm... yes... well... sort of. This is going to be a strange request but... do you have any practical guides to... dealing with the undead?'

I expected the librarian to scowl at me, as if I was making some kind of ludicrous joke, or at least give me a quizzical expression because let's be honest; who asks for something like that unless their life is directed by Joss Whedon?

Instead, she answered my question with another question.

'Do you speak Latin?'

'Erm... no.'

'Then no.'

I felt my whole body deflate with disappointment.

'What would you have said if I'd said yes?' my internal voice said allowed.

'Follow me.'

So I did. She led me behind the main desk, through a door, up some stairs into a back office. Leather bound books covered each wall and the only light came through a disgusting window and a split computer screen that showed CCTV footage of the library downstairs. There was nowhere to sit with all the papers everywhere, and the only table space available had more books, paper and the computer on it.

The librarian pulled a chair out from under a pile of paper and precariously balanced it on top of another. She climbed up the chair, and whilst my heart beat a thousand times a second fearing that she'd fall, die and I'd have another ghost on my hands, she handed me a wooden cased volume from a high shelf.

I blew the dust off of it and saw the words 'Grimoire De Hecate Seides'

'Is that French?' I asked.

'Yes. It's The Grimiore of the 'minions' of Hecate. Greek Goddess of Witchcraft.'

I peered inside. The title may have been french, and the Goddess may have been Greek, but the contents was most definitely Latin. And I couldn't understand a word of it.

'So this is like a what? Spell book?'

'It's a history, a spell book, a 'practical guide to undead'; so I'm told.'

'You can't read it?'

'Do I look like I speak Latin?' the woman asked, narrowing her eyes.

I shook my head and broke eye contact by staring at the old book again. The pages were thicker than in a normal book, softer and the edges were frayed. The ink was greyed with age and the pages were brown and yellow stained in places.

'Is there any way...'

'You can't take it out of this room,' the Librarian told me and I nodded understanding.

'Would it be totally out of the realms of possibility if I brought a scanner in here instead? I promise to be incredibly careful. I can come over tomorrow about six, after work?'

'I don't see why not. We close at seven.'

'Thank you, that should be plenty of time,' I replied, carefully handing the book back to the librarian.

'Which college is it for?' the librarian asked, placing the wooden case on a lower shelf.

'Excuse me?'

'Well I'm assuming you're a history student, and this is for an essay,' the librarian prompted.

'Yes... yep! you guessed it. Well, it's a personal essay. I'm a writer.'

'Oh how lovely,' said the librarian, though her expression didn't change.

'Anyway... I'll be back tomorrow...' I said, running out the second building in as many hours.