Give Up the Ghost

by Jenn Burke

  “Evan was a university student a year ago. When was the last time you were a student?”

  Goddamn, another point. Good thing we weren’t keeping score. “He’s still not gonna want to go with me.”

  “Avoiding each other isn’t going to help either of you.” Iskander’s voice faded with each word, and I knew he’d about used it up for the time being. I could be an asshole and keep arguing...or I could admit he was right. Again.

  “Okay. I’ll text and get the info.”

  “Evan’ll meet you at your place,” he whispered.

  I considered that for a moment and shook my head. “No, at Hudson’s. We should try to get the not-lamp out of his garage. Someone might recognize it, or know who made it.”

  “Good idea.”

  “This’ll be fun,” I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.

  By the roll of his eyes, I could tell my effort was less than successful.

  * * *

  After texting the number on the flier and getting the time and location of the meeting—and hoping this would be a lead that would pan out and help us track down the kid who’d hurt Lexi—I had a quick dinner and slipped into the otherplane to make my way over to the remains of Hudson’s house. I could have driven, but then I would have had to find a parking spot and hope that no one recognized my car and...walking was just easier.

  The otherplane did nothing to hide the horrible state of Hudson’s home.

  There was rubble everywhere. Broken bricks, shattered wood, torn and charred roof shingles, and bits and pieces I couldn’t even identify. The steel fence that surrounded Hudson’s property was no longer quite straight—it had bowed outward from the force of the blast. A piece of metal was wrapped horizontally across the fence and it took me a few minutes to determine it used to be the curtain rod on the picture window at the front of the house. Yellow police tape fluttered around it, and warning signs had been posted by the city to inform people of the danger of the scene. Huge icicles hung from the remnants of the structure, no doubt from the firefighters’ hoses as they tried to put out the flames. It was a good thing no one had been injured in the blast—not only because it would have been one of my family hurt, but because investigators would probably still be on scene.

  I couldn’t see every detail of the damage in the wan illumination of the streetlights, but I could see enough to know that there was no repairing the house. Once the city and utilities inspectors were done investigating the explosion and its cause, it would be torn down. Hudson’s sanctuary—the one he’d customized exactly how he wanted and needed it—would be no more.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, slipping back into the living plane and placing a hand on one of the fence posts. The cold metal burned my hand, reminding me I hadn’t grabbed gloves before I left my apartment.

  “I didn’t think it could look worse than it did right after,” Evan said from beside me.

  I managed not to start at the sound of his voice, even though I hadn’t heard him approach. “I’m not sure if I want to cry or throw up.”

  I cast a glance at Evan in time to see him shrug. His mouth was turned down and his gray-blue eyes were dull, with dark bags underneath. He wore no toque and his jacket was open, despite the below-zero temperature. Only the reddened tip of his nose showed he felt the cold at all.

  “It sucks” was all he said.

  “Can you see if the garage is intact?” I’d probably still try to find the device even if it wasn’t, but if the garage was at least partially standing, it would be easier.

  Evan craned his neck. “I think so.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  I stepped back into the otherplane and walked through the fence. Behind me, I heard a grunt of effort, then the sound of feet landing in the snow. When I turned, all I could see was the spiky, horrible shadow figure of a vampire in vamp-mode—something I still wasn’t used to. I shook off the discomfort.

  When we reached the garage, I reentered the living plane and shuddered as the cold seeped into my bones again. The wall closest to the house was caved in, as though something large had crashed through the roof and taken out a chunk of the wall with it. Including the door. Of course this couldn’t be easy.

  Evan peered into the hole and groaned mournfully. “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “The fridge took out Hud’s car.”

  “The fridge did? Like from the house? Are you serious?”

  I poked my head around Evan to get a look, but it was tough to see in the dark. Pulling out my phone, I engaged the flashlight, and let out my own groan as I surveyed the damage. Hudson’s red beast of a car was all but crushed under the stainless steel fridge, which must have flown through the air like a missile.

  Goddamn it, he loved that car.

  The force had slammed the muscle car into the workbench on the other side of the garage, and the trunk was shoved up against the car-sized door. The only way in was through the hole left by the fridge. Getting through would be easy enough for me, but not for Evan.

  “Wait here.”

  He bristled. “Like hell.”

  “Don’t be stubborn just because you’re pissed at me.”

  “Pissed at you?” Evan glared. “I think what I’m feeling is a little more than pissed.”

  I flicked off the flashlight on my phone and turned to face him. Without the light, I could barely make out the expression on his face, but the slight glimmer of his eyes turning gold told me his emotions were high.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Evan didn’t say anything.

  “I should never have demanded you keep my secret for me. I plead temporary insanity.” When he still didn’t say anything, I continued in a more somber voice, “I mean it, Evan. I’m sorry.”

  “I heard you the first time.”

  “Okay.” I hunched down as the wind whipped by us and shoved my hands in my pockets. “So...this is where we have a conversation about...stuff.”

  “I’m still waiting for you to say anything worthwhile.”

  Oh. Ouch. “I’m not sure what else there is for me to say. I mean, I can keep talking, but it all sounds like excuses in my head, and I—I don’t want to do that. Try to explain it away.”

  “I don’t think you can. You were going to mess with my memories. How could you even consider that?”

  This time, when I hunched down, it had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with shame. “I don’t know.”

  “Like, what if you fucked up? What if you took all my memories? Fucking Christ, Wes. You could have taken away everything that makes me me.”

  I—I hadn’t even considered that. I’d been so focused on what I thought was the right thing to do that it hadn’t occurred to me that I didn’t really know what I could do, or what my limits were. So much could have gone wrong, and the fact that was only now sinking in—and only because Evan had said it—made me want to throw up.

  Who the fuck was I?

  “You’re right,” I whispered. “I wanted to help but—”

  “I don’t need your help. Got it?”

  “I—”

  “No. I want you in my life, I want you as—as a brother, but I don’t need you to fix me. I don’t need to be fixed, period.”

  “Your depression—”

  He shook his head. “Is a part of who I am. Just like your ability to make the shittiest decisions is a part of you. Is it my favorite part? Hell no. But you can’t wave a wand or a hand or whatever and make it go away. I have to deal with it.”

  “I...” I swallowed and looked away. “I wanted to fix my mistake.”

  It sounded weak, even to my ears, and Evan snorted. “Yeah, well, you can’t.”

  Before I could say anything more, he started climbing through the hole in the wall. With a sigh, I stepped into the otherplane and floated in beh
ind him, trying not to make contact with Evan’s body so he didn’t get chilled by my presence.

  I made it inside before he did, rematerialized, and turned on my phone’s flashlight again. Evan scuffed across brick, and swore, but he eventually made it inside too. We both paused as the wind picked up and the structure groaned, and I cast a worried look at him.

  “If it sounds like it’s going to come down—”

  “Vampire speed. It’s a thing.” He braced his hands on the roof of Hudson’s car and tried to peer over it. “Can you see it?”

  I angled my flashlight to illuminate what was left of the workbench. “No. Wait—yeah. Shit. I think it’s partially crushed.”

  Evan jumped so he could see over the car’s roof. “Still enough there that someone might recognize the handiwork.”

  I stepped into the otherplane again and slipped through the tail end of Hudson’s car so I could get close to the bench. I’d hoped there would be enough room for me to rematerialize and grab the device, but between the weird angle of the car, the fridge-missile, and the remains of the bench itself, there wasn’t. I slid partway back into the living plane and reported my findings to Evan.

  “Seeing you like that freaks me out.” He shivered. “And your voice is—”

  “Can we focus, here?”

  “Right. I can probably move the car a bit.”

  “Uh—really?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I can’t pick it up and throw it, but I’m pretty sure I can slide it sideways.”

  I glanced at the roof as the wind made everything groan again. “Think it’s safe?”

  He snorted. “No. How badly do you want that thing?”

  I eyed what was left of the not-lamp. “Pretty badly. It’s the only real-world evidence we’ve got that something weird is going on.”

  “Then here we go.”

  Evan grabbed the rear bumper and quarter panel of the car on the side facing the ruined wall, and pulled. He gritted his teeth and the veins in his neck stood out. Blood rushed to his face as he put all of his strength into moving the car. His booted feet slipped, but he caught his footing again and continued pulling.

  Just as I thought the metal of the car would give out, the rear end slid sideways a centimeter. Then another. He let out a cry from deep in his gut and yanked harder—and suddenly there was enough room for me to rematerialize fully. I did, and caught the not-lamp as the car moved enough to free it from where it had been trapped between the bench and the vehicle.

  Evan stopped pulling and stood up straight. “Did you get it?” he asked breathlessly.

  The ceiling above us didn’t groan this time—it screamed.

  “Shit—catch!” I tossed the not-lamp at him and dove back into the otherplane just as the garage collapsed. I caught a glimpse of Evan sprinting out the wrecked wall before my vision was obscured by wood and dust falling down all around me.

  I had a moment of panic—because for all that I could become insubstantial and move between the living plane and the otherplane, I was still human. Mostly. So I forgave myself for raising my hands over my head for protection and was thankful no one was around to see a ghost being so foolish.

  Gathering my wits, I walked out of the garage—or what was left of it—and joined Evan on the other side of the fence. Lights had popped on inside the houses next to Hudson’s, and I had no doubt there would be more emergency crews on scene soon.

  But we had a minute. “Did you get it?”

  Evan held up the mangled not-lamp. It was about half the size it had been originally. “Got it.”

  “Holy shit.” Adrenaline and the close call were making me a little giddy. I pulled a cloth shopping bag from the inside pocket of my jacket and shook it out for him to place the device in. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

  “What, retrieved the thingy or broke Hudson’s garage?”

  “Both.” A chuckle escaped me, and one escaped Evan, and pretty soon we were giggling like drunk teenagers as sirens howled into the night.

  “Are you going to tell Hudson we killed his car?” Evan said as we started walking away from the scene.

  “The fridge killed his car.” I held back a laugh, but it came out as a snort. “We just buried it.”

  The sirens got louder. Evan’s eyes glinted. “Race you to the bus stop?”

  “You’re on.”

  * * *

  Once we got to the downtown campus of the University of Toronto, Evan proved he hadn’t been a student too long ago and led me to the building we were looking for, and down to the basement where the Ghost Squad meeting was held. I wondered if they’d chosen the locale based on what was regularly available, or for its ambience. Either way, they’d done a good job of finding one of the creepiest rooms for their meeting, so kudos to them. It looked like an old classroom, and the musty odor suggested it wasn’t used often—either that, or it was a lot older than I thought. There were rows of folding metal chairs set out, with a desk at the front of the room. A whiteboard stretched across the wall behind it and someone had drawn a cartoon ghost and the words “GHOST SQUAD!” beside it.

  There were about fifteen people already present, scattered in the rows of chairs or mingling at the side table where a couple of two-liter bottles of pop had been set out with plastic glasses and various unhealthy snacks. It was more people than I expected, even with the proliferation of ghost-hunting “reality” TV shows these days. I tracked one of the attendees as she walked by with her phone held out in front of her, an antenna extended from a port. It beeped steady and slow—until she happened to turn it in my direction. Then the thing went nuts. She stopped and looked up at me with hope that quickly turned to disappointment.

  “You’re not a ghost.” She pouted.

  “Not currently, no.”

  She removed the antenna and reinserted it, and then moved on.

  “See him?” Evan whispered.

  “Not yet.” I’d always known it was a long shot we’d find the guy who’d attacked Lexi and me, but I’d been hoping. Maybe more people would show up. And there was always the not-lamp—someone might recognize it.

  “Hey, hi! Welcome,” another girl said as she spotted us and bounced in our direction. “Are you Wes and Evan?”

  “Rhett?” I clasped her offered hand. “I’m Wes, and this is Evan.”

  Evan smiled and shook her hand too. “Nice to meet you.”

  “We’re so excited to have new people join us. Have you been hunting long?” She moved deeper into the room toward chairs near the front and we followed her.

  “Actually, we, uh—”

  “We’re supernew,” Evan gushed as we sat down. “But I mean, we binged every episode of Ghost Cops. So that’s got to count for something, right?”

  “That’s such a stupid show.” That pronouncement came from a guy slouched a few chairs away. “Paranormal Extreme is so much better.” He craned his neck to get a look at what was in my bag. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Just something we’d like to talk to the group about,” I said, shifting it so Mr. Nosy couldn’t get a good look.

  “Oh?” Rhett said. “We should have some time before we wrap up. Would that work?”

  “That’d be great,” Evan assured her, his smile wide...

  ...and his teeth slightly sharp.

  I nudged him with my elbow, hard, as Rhett turned to talk to someone else.

  “What?” he demanded in a whisper.

  “Teeth,” I said as quietly as I could.

  He investigated his fangs with his tongue behind closed lips and murmured a curse.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know...” He shrugged. “Worked up, I guess.”

  After the adventure we’d just had at Hudson’s, I didn’t doubt it. Though I thought the subway ride would have been enough to calm him down
. “If you need to step out for a bit—”

  “I’m fine, Wes.”

  I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender and turned my attention to Rhett, who’d stepped up to the front of the room. “Welcome, everyone!” she said cheerfully. “I hope you’ve all had a spooktacular week!”

  A few groans peppered the audience.

  As Rhett launched into her spiel about the group and how they needed to raise money for something, I looked around without being too obvious about it. I cataloged faces and tried to match body shapes to my memory of the kid in the barn. He’d had dark hair and he was white—so that fit about sixty percent of the males in the room. The one truly identifying mark he’d had was the splash of ink on his neck, a tattoo of indeterminate design. But I thought—I hoped—if I saw it again, I’d recognize it. Unfortunately I couldn’t see any visible ink on any of the guys in the room.

  After a few minutes, Rhett invited a girl named Tiffany to the front to present a product review of some ghost-hunting equipment. She turned out to be the girl I’d disappointed with my earthiness earlier, and the product she was reviewing was the antenna thing she’d had stuck in her phone—apparently it was a mobile electromagnetic field reader.

  Tiffany was about to launch into her final conclusions when the door behind us opened. Like everyone else, I turned to see the newcomer—and froze.

  Because it was him.

  The kid was shorter and leaner than I remembered. He wasn’t wearing a dark hoodie this time, but a nicely tailored, very preppy sky-blue cashmere sweater and collared shirt combo. His winter jacket was slung over one arm and he wore a smile, casual as you please, as though he hadn’t put my best friend in the fucking hospital.

  “Wes,” Evan hissed. “Dial it back. You’re making my hair stand on end.”

  “What?” Oh—my magic.

  I continued to watch the kid move into the room, and with each step he took closer to me, I reined in the power that wanted to escape and hoist him up to the ceiling, like I’d done to Scott. He didn’t even notice me as he passed Evan and me—which was good, I supposed. But it still made me want to force his attention and make him regret what he’d done to Lexi.