Alastair couldn’t leave me alone for long. I expected the interruption, resigned to his pursuit, like the devil my mother used to blame for my misdeeds. Though I’d half-hoped that leaving a bassist on his doorstep would appease him.
He spirited into the apartment right after I’d just finished brewing some evening coffee. By now, I’d learned not to jump when I heard his voice. “I cannot believe you.”
Ren had just gotten into the shower. Hopefully he wouldn’t hear anything over the water. Or he’d hear everything, so I had to watch my words.
Alastair did his best to pace with the little room he had, circling the kitchen. “You’ve sent me your ex—who’s in the band now, by the way—and you’ve steered over a pair of foundlings you met at the morgue, but you yourself are still too good for us?”
Not too good. More like the opposite. But I kept that to myself. He’d already gone ahead and said a whole lot I didn’t really care to explain to Ren.
“What on earth are you doing here?” asked Alastair.
I shrugged. “It’s quiet.”
“You’re no better than how I found you.”
That wasn’t quite true. I just couldn’t tell him why.
We both turned at the sound of the bathroom door swinging open. Ren stepped out in just a towel, but he didn’t rush to the closet, heading toward us instead.
Alastair’s eyes widened ever so slightly. I’d almost forgotten. It made me flush, remembering why our kiss hadn’t gone farther, who he’d seen in my head. I should’ve spirited us out of here when I had the chance.
“Is this guy bothering you?” asked Ren. I might’ve smiled if I weren’t mortified.
Alastair ignored him, instead leaning right in and extending a finger.
“Watch it,” said Ren. Not that he could do anything about the digit reaching for him from another plane. The finger poked through his bare chest.
“So, you found a medium after all,” said Alastair. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you. But I didn’t think you’d be rubbing elbows—or more.”
That did it. I grabbed him by the collar and spirited to the Haunt. I would’ve spirited right back, but then he’d follow me back and forth, so we might as well just have it out.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He went back to business-like. “Your foundling is bothering everybody with theological speculation.”
Danny and Carlos must’ve been surveying all the ghosts. Good to know they’d kept at it.
“I’d say it’s more like metaphysics,” I said.
“Whatever it is, it’s asking for trouble.”
I rolled my eyes and made some traditional ghost sounds at him. “God forbid they get all these souls to question the nature of their existence.”
“You’re getting ahead of me. That’s exactly right.”
“God forbid?” I asked, squinting at him. “Are you saying they’ll be smited?”
“You mean ‘smote.’ ”
I threw up my hands. “You can’t expect them to believe that.”
“They should. Why else do you think no one’s let out the big secret?”
He had a point. I tried not to let it show on my face.
“It’s not like they’re going to publish it,” I said, mirroring his usual head tilt. “Besides, aren’t you curious?”
“What about?” he asked, indignant. As if it hadn’t taken decades of observation and reasoning for him to act like he knew everything.
“Wouldn’t you like to see if they uncover any patterns, reach some reliable conclusions?”
His eyes glimmered, briefly, before he turned it into a glower. I had him, and he knew it.
“I’ve been around long enough to come up with my own,” he said. “If you don’t caution her out of her fool’s errand, I will.”
I dropped my shoulders, letting my head loll from the blow of defeat. At least he’d given me the chance to talk to them, gentler than he would himself.
“I’ll chat with them.”
“Just the young lady,” he said. “I’ve got the boy in hand.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. But I might be reading into it too much, my mind wandering where it shouldn’t. It felt like way too long since my last lay at the funeral. I wondered how much time it had been since I’d come to stay at Ren’s apartment.
Alastair’s voice lowered, like he wasn’t just trying to get a rise out of me. “Whatever you’re doing with the medium, it can’t be good for him.”
He left me at that, with my hands fisted, nearly shaking.
Danny had really made herself at home, taking a corner of one of the parlors and turning it into an office. There had already been a desk with a boxy antique computer, the kind found in underfunded school labs. She’d set up there, pulling up an old coffee table for more surface area. She’d even cleaned, dusting and sweeping, though she hadn’t tidied, leaving the clutter and making chaos of her own, papers scattered and books splayed open.
“How goes the research?” I asked.
She must’ve been really focused, her fingers flying on the keys, because she gave a slightly delayed yelp.
“It’s you,” she said, not entirely displeased, even taking her eyes off the screen a few times to peek at me. “Long time no see. I’ve got all my previous research written in longhand as well as typed, and I’ve conducted several new surveys as well. Now I’m trying to reference my current findings with any existing research.”
I came up and pretended to lean on her chair, looking over her shoulder. “How are you powering the computer? Let alone getting Wi-Fi?”
“They showed me how to do it. You know how in horror movies, the poltergeist makes the radio turn on to a spooky old-timey song, or talks to the kid through the TV? I actually never watched that kind of stuff, it made me too anxious, even if it’s not real—or, well, I didn’t think so at the time. Anyway, it’s like that, but instead of terrorizing mortals, I’m psychically accessing the internet. I hardly even have to think about it, I just have to act like I have electricity and Wi-Fi and corporeal fingers for typing. My only real challenge is finding reputable sources for some approximation of peer review.”
Listening to her made me feel out of breath. I exhaled, then dived in. “Do they have to be reputable? Given your state of being and all. I mean, you believe in… yourself, right?”
Her shoulders drooped. “Fair point. Scholarly journals won’t touch the subject of anything paranormal, naturally. General searches are all clickbait and ads for Halloween décor. There are some interesting archived sites from the old web that might be useful, but… well, just look.”
She leaned back to show me one of the relics of the bygone internet, which managed to hurt my incorporeal eyes with a bloody red font over a black background. The flashing animations of dancing sheet ghosts made me laugh.
“Cute.” Speaking of which. “Where’s your assistant?”
Her face darkened. “I, uh, haven’t seen him, for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“It may have been a week or so,” she said, in a tone that implied she’d definitely been keeping track of time, and it had been at least a week since he’d come around, maybe more.
I groaned. “Let me guess, he’s been partying?”
She took her old phantom pen out from where she’d tucked it behind her ear, no longer for writing, just for gnawing the cap nervously.
“He’s just on a bender,” I said. “Probably too embarrassed to show his face. I’ve been there.”
Her voice slowed down, going quiet. “Or he doesn’t care about me anymore.”
“No way,” I said, because I meant it. I’d been there. He couldn’t really mean to hurt her. I never had, even if I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll go pull him out of whatever gutter he’s in.”
She peered up at me with tentative hope. “Are you sure?”
“You want me to leave him there?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check,” she admitted. “I owe you one, or, well, another one.”
“Don’t mention it.”
* * *
Carlos had made himself just as at home as Danny, in his own way—at Clementine’s. I only recognized him by his punk threads; he had his back to me, draped across another man’s lap with his head bent down for one hell of a kiss. They literally didn’t need to come up for air, so it could be a while. I nearly thought to nip downstairs for a quick sip.
When they parted at last, my eyebrows shot up. He’d been making out with Alastair.
“I told you I had him in hand,” he said, all rosy-lipped and self-satisfied.
Carlos gave me a dazed smile. “Oh, hey, long time no see!”
I didn’t particularly want to carry on this conversation. I finger-gunned in goodbye, as if it were usual for me to be here, making the rounds. Only by then, I’d been noticed.
“Welcome back, foundling,” said the flapper. “We all thought you’d gone geist, for sure!”
“I guess you didn’t part those covered knees of yours,” said the corseted lady, like she was making a much coyer observation. “He already passed you up for lower-hanging fruit.”
Carlos stumbled slightly as he got on his feet. “What did you call me?”
“Don’t pay her any mind,” said Alastair, though he rose himself.
“If you weren’t a lady ”—Carlos bunched his hands into fists—“I’d tell you to step outside.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked, blinking cluelessly. Not sarcastic, just ignorant.
By now, a bunch of other ghosts had quieted in their clusters, watching, but not with as much interest as I would’ve thought.
Alastair took the lady by the arm somewhat roughly; judging by the glint in her eye, that had been exactly what she wanted. They disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall, but the walls gave them no privacy.
“I’ve grown weary of having this conversation with you,” he said.
Her voice whined. “It’s only taken us a century to try finishing it.”
“You know I’ve never pledged myself to you, or anyone.”
“But you’ve never been with anyone else as long as me.”
You’d think, given however many decades or centuries or whatever they must’ve been fucking, that she would’ve figured out by now he wanted to see other people. Perhaps she liked having an adversary, an excuse to fight. It’s not as if he could leave the toilet seat up.
Whatever they were doing, after a few moments, it went quiet, like they’d spirited off for more privacy.
“I don’t want to be her fallback, anyway,” said the guitar gentleman.
That made the flapper laugh. “You always say that, but you’ve never passed up the chance. Some of us are still waiting for their shot, you know.”
Carlos didn’t seem so amused. I got up the courage to reach out, putting my walls up. But once I got there, my hand on his shoulder, it felt awkward.
I spirited us straight downstairs. It felt a lot less weird once we’d each picked up some vodka.
“Fuck him,” I said.
He slumped in midair like on a barstool. “That’s what got me mixed up with those weird… young, hot old-timers. They give me the heeb-jeebs.”
It wasn’t just me, then. “It’s like they’ve been dead so long, they’ve forgotten their manners.”
“That’s not all,” he admitted. “You seen how they fight? You’d think they’ve had all the time in the world to sort their shit out. It’s like they snap right back to how they were in the first place, over and over.”
“Maybe they’re just bored.”
“I sure fucking hope so,” he said, shuddering. “I’d hate for that to happen to me, when I get up there in age.”
I held up a play at a toast. “Here’s to being forever young.”
We pretended to clink glasses, before getting up for a real drink.
I hadn’t noticed before that there were plastic jack-o-lanterns sitting on the counter, fake cobwebs on the napkin holder, rubber bats and tissue ghosts hanging above the bar. So we were coming up on Halloween. Nobody looked dressed up, so we hadn’t missed it yet. Not that there was much I could still do on this side. But I hadn’t made any effort to celebrate the last few years. It would be a shame to miss out again, especially as a ghost.
Ren hadn’t mentioned it. He must not have had any plans.
“Where’ve you been?” asked Carlos. “Even if you don’t like the company, they still know how to throw down.”
I made a face. His mouth had already parted in protest, so I rushed to slide my point in first. “Whatever happened to your appreciation for science?”
His eyebrows shot up. He looked away, like he could hide his guilty grimace. “We got all our data down. It’s done. Or my part’s done, the talking bit, not so much the brains. So, party time.”
“It’s been over a week since you’ve talked to her, you know that?”
He turned back to me, searching my face like I could be joking. “For real? You been keeping track?”
“I haven’t,” I said. “But your lab partner has.”
His face brightened, but quickly dimmed again. “I’m always inviting her, but every time, she blows me off, says she’s busy. I’m not sure she even wants me around anymore.”
Something between a laugh and a scoff escaped me. “Seriously?” I gestured around us as drinkers living and dead hooted and caroused. “This really isn’t her scene.”
His mouth curled up in a thoughtful pout. “Right.”
“You’d better find some middle ground if you want to keep her close.”
He pulled himself up from his slouch with a look of determination. But rather than spirit off, he just stepped right into the path of a drinker.
I threw up my hands. “Bruh.”
He gave a sheepish shrug. “I think better when I drink.”
Was this how it felt to deal with me, back in my heyday? I crossed my arms, arching my eyebrows.
Carlos sighed. That must’ve been a blow to his buzz. “I know. I’m not the best friend. But… better than no friends, right?”
I’d never thought of it that way. Usually, once I couldn’t keep up the good behavior, I got gone. Never stuck around to find out if I’d be forgiven.
He clapped my shoulder, meeting my eyes with his best sober face, only slurring a tad. “I will make it up to her.”
I had a feeling the overwhelmingly warm fondness in his chest wasn’t meant for me. Well, not entirely.
He spirited off, leaving me alone and tipsy for no good reason. I probably should’ve waited to sober up before heading back. But I didn’t.