Danny and Carlos were still sitting where I’d left them in the library, dictating and writing for old times’ sake, one last time. They didn’t even look up. That gave me a moment to compose myself. It felt like I’d been through way too much to bring back this bounty. I worried they’d be able to tell, my skin still flushed, legs too far apart, trying to cool off. Through the walls, the pulse still called.
“Here you go,” I said.
They weren’t so spooked this time, all but tripping over each other trying to get up. I braced myself for yet more gratitude. Once they were on their feet, they looked at each other, as if I were handing over something much rarer than a pen, even the nice fountain kind, and they had to decide who would get the honor. But they knew their roles by now. He stepped aside, and she steadied herself.
I played along, adding a little ceremony with one hand folded behind me and the other presented with a near bow. She beamed as she accepted her prize.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Carlos said.
His phrasing stung more than I would’ve thought. “Don’t mention it.”
“How’d you find this place?” he asked. Like he was beating himself up for not coming here sooner, wondering what signs he might’ve missed, if he could’ve simply followed the pulse. It still called to me, making me shuffle my feet, rustle my skirt.
“I didn’t. They found me.”
“Wait, who, and like, how?”
“Their band manager follows deaths in the news.”
That had been the wrong answer. He put two and two together, his face lighting up with surprise. “Did you join the band?”
I shut my eyes, wishing the dark behind my lids were the void. If I weren’t still around, I wouldn’t have to keep answering this fucking question.
“Stop asking me!”
Carlos blinked. “I only asked once, but fine, I won’t do it again.”
I nearly apologized. But I didn’t. It felt good to snap. They didn’t make me regret it, moving right on.
Danny set the pen down on some dusty tomes, freeing her hands to flap in excitement. “So did all these ghosts originally gather together as an audience?”
“I guess?”
“How many are there?”
“I dunno, you’ll have to go count them.”
She must’ve finally noticed my restless feet. “Sorry, I know you’re not an expert, I’m just so hyped to start! It looks like a full-fledged community. Do you know what that means?”
“We’ve got some company?” Carlos grinned.
Her hands were fluttering like wings. “I mean, of course, but think of the word of mouth! All these ghosts comparing their experiences and views of what’s happened to them. Once beliefs are shared, they start to become folklore.”
She relished the word, with a reverence I wouldn’t have expected of a scientist. As if it were holy.
“What is your field?” I asked.
“I’m an anthropologist.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’ll bet these weren’t the dead people you imagined studying.”
“True, that,” she said, laughing. “But I’ll take it.”
“What about you?” I asked Carlos.
He gave the slightest wince, welcoming the question as little as I used to. “I just worked here and there, you know, dishes, line cook, barista, scraping by.”
“Same.” I didn’t want to get into my job history, either. It didn’t matter anymore how we used to make a living, if you could call it that.
This had been enough bonding for now. They had work to do.
I gestured toward their new tools. “Are you going to get it all down, or what?”
Danny seized the pen once more, sending dust flying as she slapped the notebook open onto a desk. Carlos got comfortable, sprawling on an armchair as if he could feel the ancient leather. I took the opportunity to bow out before they could ask me where I was headed. I wouldn’t be far.
* * *
As dawn bloomed gold through the leaves on the walls, the pulse began to fade, like the receding of the tide. It would be back, but for now, I was safe. Though I still didn’t trust myself to peek out at the voices in the hallways as the dancers emptied from the ballroom. I wondered what the band did after the show if they didn’t have to pack up their instruments, head to any afterparty, or back on the road.
Whatever they did, Evie clearly didn’t join in. She sang for them, but she still never took her turn to dance. I had to know how the hell she managed that.
Rather than risk spiriting again, I waited for her to come to me in her piano parlor. When she finally showed, she was carrying an old teapot. At first, she beelined right for the potted plant by the window, growing alongside some vines coming in from outside. Then she noticed me and stiffened, like a startled rabbit. Her eyes were strangely cold.
“I thought you were with Ally,” she said.
Her voice sounded so little like itself, now that I knew her range. It curled up in the vocal equivalent of a hunch.
It took me too long to realize what she was implying. She must’ve seen us on the dance floor together. I guessed, if I’d gone further with him, we wouldn’t be done yet.
“As if,” I said, like I hadn’t tried to make it happen.
That helped her unfold somewhat. I had to go and ruin it. “Wait, have you and him ever…?”
Her blush answered for her, well before she got her mouth to work. “No!”
She nearly dropped her teapot. As she bent to set it down, the handle slipped through her fingers. It clattered, spilling, but settling upright.
I rushed right in, too impatient to try warming her up, getting her comfortable. Maybe I didn’t want her comfortable. “All this time, you’ve been in the band?”
She went still, as if hoping to blend into the wall, like furniture or one of her plants.
“I thought you didn’t partake.”
Her curls fluttered as she shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“There’s no need to play coy. I mean, you can’t exactly hide how you feel, with your voice in our veins.”
That made her gulp, struggling to maintain eye contact. We both knew who I sounded like.
“Why haven’t you joined us?” I asked. “I mean, them.”
She braved a glance. “You really think I’d be welcome?”
“Why not? As long as you loosened up. I’m shocked nobody’s offered to help you out with that.”
Her eyes dropped again as she crossed her arms, rocking a bit. “You remember how old I am.”
I’d totally forgotten. No wonder her voice drove all the dancers closer together, her prolonged teenage yearning wracking us with pangs like hunger. Only, unlike her, the rest of us could have our fill.
I couldn’t imagine any of the other ghosts would take issue with her inexperience, especially coming from different times. They’d eat her right up. If I’d died that young, I would’ve joined the party in a pretend heartbeat.
Then again, I’d gone and sped through all my firsts. It hadn’t gone particularly well, or particularly badly, because I’d been with other kids. I had to consider if I’d died younger than her—back when I still kept my abstinence pledge and only drank during communion—whether or not I would’ve succumbed to any of these old souls, given the gulf of experience between us, young and terrified meeting old and bored. I already found them intimidating enough, even in my seasoned years.
Still, I doubted I would’ve waited long enough to consider myself legal. There weren’t any laws on this side, anyway. I should’ve known she wouldn’t have any advice for me about self-control, how to abstain. That wasn’t what held her back.
“You’re mature for your age,” I said.
She sighed, like she’d heard that before. I kept going, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “I mean, mature enough to know you’re not nearly mature enough, compared to everyone here.”
That got her to smile in relief, through the melancholy. She’d been on Earth longer than eighteen years, now, but she had good reason not to count age by years.
Alastair must’ve respected that. It was why he didn’t pressure her. I couldn’t help but think better of him for it.
“What about you?” she asked. “Why haven’t you joined the band?”
I’d already snapped, earlier, so it felt like I’d gotten it out of my system. Besides, she’d been right there, in my head. “Didn’t you see it all?”
“But it’s been long enough, hasn’t it?” she asked. “You weren’t hurt by the music. Just people. It might heal instead of hurt, if you tried playing again.”
For once, I didn’t look away, shaking my head slowly. I didn’t quite expect my voice to curl up so small. “It didn’t save me from myself.”
She pressed her lips together. “You can’t expect that from just one thing. It takes lots of ropes to make a net.”
I laughed. “And just one to hang yourself.”
She didn’t share my mirth, eyes wide and wistful. “Well, if you need a lifeline, you know where to find me.”
She put her arms up, leaving it up to me whether I wanted to go in for the hug. I’d already exceeded my usual quota of “none” today, not being the touchy-feely type. But we didn’t have much else to touch on this side, and I didn’t know how often she got to be held. I tried to ease my usual instinctive stiffness and leaned in. Aside from having to keep my walls up, it didn’t feel so bad; my limbs melted into her softness. I missed her warmth as soon as we parted.