Opening the door to an angry mob was never on my to-do list, yet here I am standing in my hallway, plucking up the courage to reach the handle.

I can hear their shouts, their whispers and their chants of my name: ‘Lora’.

Have the villagers found out my secret? I’ve been careful, but last night’s hiccup may have just brought a death sentence to my door.

I’m a ghotamery, which means I can see ghosts. I can touch them, see them and talk to them. For centuries, ghotameries have helped them to move on. Evil spirits were banished by using an incantation, to which they are now immune. They’ve started to cause mischief and I can’t stop them.

My brother, Donald, appears beside me. ‘Be scared. It’s worse than you think.’

I glare...

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