"Morning!" Trevor greeted, settling down next to me for our second-period US History Course, "How was your weekend?"
"Eventful! I went fishing one day then went on a date with Mason the next. What about you?"
"Mainly just worked at my family's store," he said with a scrunched-face, "Catch any fish?"
I grinned, pulling out my phone to show him the picture of my Coho.
He laughed, "First time out on the Homer rivers and you're already a pro. Hey, stop by the shop tomorrow afternoon; I can hook you up with the friends and family discount on supplies."
"Sure. I'll ask Chief Murphy if he needs anything."
"The Chief of Police?" Trevor asked, alarmed.
"Yes," I showed him the group photo, "He was the one to invite me out with some of his friends from Valley Point. That man there, his name's Ray, he's got a son who's cleaning the fish for us. He's going to stop by Chief Murphy's house this evening to drop it off and I'm going to try my hand at a salmon bake."
"How'd you get in friendly with the police?"
"By staying out of trouble," I said, wrinkling my nose smugly as I smirked. Trevor rolled his eyes. "Anyway, did you hear some of the seniors' project ideas? I'm trying to get inspired for mine..."
"Phew, don't remind me," he huffed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, "But I guess we should be paying attention. I heard Bonnie McMurray's project is going to be starting up a beekeeping club - "
"Really?!".
"Y-yeah," he stammered in surprise, before pushing on excitedly, "You like bees?"
"I don't know much about bees, but I love honey!"
"You do seem the type to have a secret sweet tooth."
"Hey, Trevor, Sara," Tim Garrison joined us, sitting across the table, "Did I hear you say 'honey'? Talking about Bonnie's senior project?"
"Yep!"
"I'm not really where to start with mine," Tim sighed, putting his book-bag down and setting his chin in his hand, "Two seniors in my programming club are doing a coding basics course this year."
"Actually, I have an idea for you," I proposed; Tim leaned in over the table a little too quickly, nearly toppling his chair over.
"Please, anything, seriously - I've got nothing!"
"The police station website is really out of date. Not only could it use an overhaul, it would be helpful to have an easy way for the officers to update the board without needing to know how to code. Especially since some of them tend to be a little older and not as tech savvy."
Tim dived for his backpack, his sleek-black hair went askew. He pulled out a well-worn notebook and scribbled down the idea.
"Man, if you have an idea for me, let me know."
Trevor watched Tim enviously. Anthony joined us last, completing our table's quartet and chattering about his daily-calisthenics idea for a senior project. When our exams passed back, I wasn't surprised by my low C-grade. Prior to the nineteen-hundreds, my knowledge of United States history was a tad fuzzy. I'd only known it vaguely with relation to supernatural events.
Mr. Wagner began to lecture about colonies and settler-native relations; a familiar point of contention even among my kind. There had been endemic supernaturals in the Americas: some predatory, some benign. Both had been affected by colonization, like the humans, but we hadn't stepped in to do anything about that. Perhaps we should've stuck up for the non-threatening species. Maybe, in our time of need, someone might've stood up for us...
History and chemistry passed me by in a blur as I lost myself in unhelpful thoughts. After anatomy, my brain felt downright stormy. Mason placed a cautious, slow hand on my hip as I set down my belongings. I leaned into the touch and he set more firmly.
"Are you alright?" he murmured.
"Distracted," I answered, moving to the lunch line.
Kira and Leo had gravitated to the other half of my human friends' lunch table, draping themselves over the seats as if they'd sat there from the start of the year. Kira glanced over curiously as Mason rubbed my back.
"Today's the day we all start thinking about the Winter Formal!" Allie enthused, joining the line with Trevor, Will, and Anthony, "We narrowed down the themes to a top five. You have to look over all the inspiration boards we put up for each theme. Just so you all know, Enchanted Woodhaven was Sara's idea, so we know which one to vote for, right? Right. But we're still going to look at the image boards because I worked hard to find all of those pictures."
"You all can choose what you want," I assured our little group, "It's okay."
"What happened to Casino Night?" Trevor whined.
"Nixed for promoting gambling," Allie shrugged, "And Masquerade got vetoed since wearing masks, apparently, is a security risk."
The lot bickered about dress-codes all the way until we're seated again and then some. All the while, I remained on the fringe. Mason's fingers continued to brush my arms and hands, increasing their ministrations the longer I remained quiet.
"Tell me," Mason demanded.
I raised my eyebrows at him and he bit his lower lip, glancing away. It would likely make me feel better to confide in him... maybe.
"Sorry..."
"I've just been thinking about the past," I said softly, lower than the others could hear, "About what could've been done better, how I might've prevented what happened to my family. That line of thought."
My fingers curled into fists in my lap and I caught Catalina looking over worriedly. Immediately, I unclenched my jaw and leaned into my conversation with Mason. He obliged me, looping an arm around my waist and sliding me across the bench toward him.
"What's done is done," he whispered, his voice hushed against my hair, "You did the best you could. If you ever want to talk about it, just let me know."
A stormcloud of emotion and grief sat on the horizon of my mind. Each time I'd pushed it back, it'd grown taller, darker, and more tempestuous. Going through the motions of human-hood... seemed a distraction.
Why am I wasting my time in a high school? I wondered frantically, heart beating ever faster, I should be out investigating those murders in the woods! I should be trying to contact other safe-houses in case others of my kind had escaped like I had! I should be -
Catalina surreptitiously forked a little jello-y square of flan onto my lunch-tray. She gave a small, secretive smile before returning to the conversation.
This is important.
It had been a long while since I'd interacted with humans like this. And I'd been 'out' before, but being 'out' was solely for finding a romantic partner. There was no expectation from these interactions. These were my friends.
Inhaling deeply, I pushed back the stormcloud once again. It'd calmed a bit, but wasn't gone. With a vigorous scoop, I took up the flan and nibbled eagerly.
~
Mason met me at the end of sixth period as I exited the biology classroom, easily slipping my backpack from my shoulders.
"Feeling better?" he wondered, examining my expression with a little tilt of his head.
"A bit," I sighed, "I think I really got through to some of the students during peer-tutoring today. I also graded some of the exams - "
"I thought that wasn't allowed."
"Mrs. Soros doesn't seem to really care."
He ran a hand through his copper hair, grinning a crooked smile, "She doesn't care where it involves you."
"What? Why?"
"She's difficult on a good day. But she likes the way you're able to break things down in your explanations. She's also heard that you're in with the chief of police, so that earns you points."
"That's running through the grapevine, is it?"
"She heard it through the grapevine, yes," he corrected with a suppressed smirk, "You really can't have lived in the United States your whole life."
I stayed pointedly quiet.
"That's fine. How about I pick you up from school tomorrow morning..."
He trailed off, brow furrowing a bit. I raised my eyebrows and waited as his expression morphed into confusion. Catalina came running up instead, eyes wide behind her glasses and her face white.
"Cat?" I met her halfway and held her shoulders steady as she panted, "What's wrong?"
"Lita, she's..." Cat's eyes filled with tears.
"Your grandmother?" I asked and she nodded, "Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened."
"She fell down the stairs. She's in the hospital."
"Do you need a ride?"
"Mom and Dad are already there, so, I... I don't -"
"I'll give you a ride," I decided firmly, "We'll grab Sofia on the way."
I snatched Mason's hand, then my backpack, and gave an apologetic squeeze.
"I'll text you later," he murmured, his eyes distant.
~
Dr. Warde stood aside as the three of us cascaded into the little room.
"She's stable," he assured the two girls, catching my eye meaningfully as he did so.
"I'll give you guys some privacy."
I glanced at Abuelita on the bed. She looked frazzled and wide-eyed despite the black eye that was beginning to blossom on her face. Beneath the hollow of her purpling eye was an unusual texture; a burn?
"Lita, you know you can't go down the stairs alone," Catalina kept whispering, oblivious to my exit as she gathered close with her family, "¿Por qué?"
Paul pulled the door mostly shut then led across to the bank of windows opposite the patient rooms.
"Normally, I'd say she's confused," he muttered, his blue eyes uncertain, "That she may have hit her head too hard and that she was hallucinating people that weren't there. But... she has first to second degree burns on her face and on her shoulders. Even if I tried to rationalize carpet burn - which there was no carpet where she landed - these are just too severe."
I sighed, rubbing my forehead, "I'm going to need to address that house today or tomorrow."
Paul's chin tilted upward at my acknowledgment, "So you're aware of what's going on?"
"A ghost. The ghost of someone who'd been killed by whatever's rampaging in the woods."
"Why the Romero house?"
I pursed my lips, ashamed, "Alissa brought a ouija board to a sleepover a while back and I didn't immediately shut the idea down. I've been trying to coordinate a time at which I can cleanse the house, but their grandmother almost never leaves due to her frailty. The ghost has been escalating."
"Haven't the rest of them sensed anything?"
"It's a combination of the dulling of human instinct over centuries and susceptibility of certain groups. Ghosts are attracted to mental vulnerability; those who are still growing or those who are deteriorating."
"The kids and the grandmother," Paul surmised, nodding, "Both groups in the house with the least amount of power over how the household is handled."
"If it's causing injury, it's likely stronger than I can handle on my own," I muttered, narrowing my eyes, "I can help minor spirits on their way, but one that's grown so strong will be difficult. Do you know if that mauling victim, Margret Campbell, was cremated?"
"She was," Paul confirmed, "Her family had it performed prior to her body leaving Homer; budgetary reasons."
I huffed.
"It was worth a shot, but a supernatural death like this one leaves an imprint that can occasionally overcome cremation," I grumbled, "I didn't specialize in cleansing spirits, but I know someone who might have a bit more experience."
"Someone nearby?" he frowned.
"A local witch," I said shortly, then warned him with a glare, "Witches are reclusive and cautious. They're often bullied by humans and supernaturals alike. It's a miracle she even trusted me."
Paul didn't question me on that.
"What about the Romeros?"
"Suggest that the family stays here in the hospital tonight. Say what you need to say-"
I frowned, an idea forming in my head that immediately set my hair on edge.
"I suppose... this would be an acceptable time for you to use vampiric compulsion."
He deflated, "I haven't used compulsion for about a decade."
"You really just blend in with humans on your own merit?"
"I will occasionally ward off humans that instinctively discover what we are. Mason's very quick to catch these people. We're able to curb them before they do anything or say anything reckless. It's the only use of compulsion I condone."
"I imagine that you could change the lives of a lot of smokers, Doctor. But I understand the desire not to intervene in matters of free-will, even if they are self-destructive. Supernaturals are powerful. We can't be careless."
"It's funny you should mention smokers; I do feel that I generally let them down," he murmured, inspecting the ceiling with a distant expression, "Once there was a young father who came begging to me for help. The woman who carried his child was hell-bent on keeping the baby and her smoking habit. That was one case I couldn't just..."
He narrowed his eyes as an uncharacteristic flash of anger glinted in them.
"This is another clear one," I admitted, "They're in danger if they go back to that house. And their mental stability will be shaken if we're honest about what's happening. Re-write the grandmother's recollection of the incident if she has memory of the ghost. Insist that they stay here tonight and that the children don't go to school tomorrow."
Paul nodded in agreement, staring back at the patient-room.
"I need to make a call."
I fished my wallet and phone from my backpack. With two fingers, I flipped out the 'Carmen & Crimson' business card and dialed. The number rang and rang as I walked down the hall and around the corner to the exit. Finally a crackle of static then, a familiar voice popped onto the other end.
"What do you want?"
"It's Sara," I stated, wandering the sidewalk outside the hospital, but staying safely beneath the overhang. Rain plunked thickly against the concrete sidewalk. "I need a favor."
"Oh?"
"The ghost issue's gotten out of hand. Ghosts aren't my specialty in the first place. I need some backup."
"Well no wonder," Carmen said sharply, "It's been more than a week since you saw me and who-knows how long since it first started haunting."
"The grandmother couldn't leave the house."
"Let me guess," Carmen chuckled, "Ghostie went for mee-maw?"
"Yes."
"Grandma dead?"
"No, thankfully, not," I said, narrowing my eyes at her tone, "Pushed or thrown down the stairs most likely. Burns on the face and shoulders. It seems like the spirit's trying to talk and is getting fed up with not being heard."
"If you were trying to shove someone down the stairs to kill them, how would you grab 'em? If you were angry, where would you slap someone?"
"Maybe it's turning into anger, but this isn't a poltergeist. It's not being mischievous or purposefully mean."
"I dunno, kid, this thing seems malevolent now. Either way, I'll help you sort it out. Earliest I can make it down to you is tomorrow afternoon. Will that work?"
"I can keep the family out of the house till then. I'll text you the address."
"I'll be seeing you."
She hung up as I stared out into the rain, watching droplets scurry frantically over the line of the canopy and onto the ground.
~
"Hi Scott," I greeted his voice-mail, holding my cell between my thighs as I drove, "I just wanted to let you know: I'm going to be late for dinner this evening. Catalina's grandmother had a fall and I'm getting them essentials from the house to bring to the hospital. The whole family wants to stay with her tonight. I'll be about an hour later than expected. Sorry, bye."
My stomach rumbled as I drove and I chewed on my tongue a bit as a distraction. The inconvenient existential crisis that had curbed my appetite earlier was now coming back to bite me.
Pulling up to Catalina's house, keys in hand, I felt the first pulse of nerves. Through the veneer of rain, the house looked dark and ominous. The lack of even so much as a porch light didn't help.
With a steeling sigh, I emerged and darted to the front door. I nearly fell over myself to get out of the downpour but crossing the threshold was like entering from temperate fall into frigid winter. The entryway was so chilled a foggy cloud gathered at my mouth. When I reached for the switch and flipped it, my heart sank. Nothing illuminated.
"Alright, Margret," I muttered, pushing off my hood and looking up the split level stairs, "I'm just here for everyone's toiletries and a change of clothes."
Kitchen first: I grabbed a salt shaker before moving toward the master bedroom. The thought of heading into the basement made my stomach do flips, but that was a bridge that needed to be crossed.
I hastily threw things into grocery bags I'd gathered from the car: toothbrushes, toothpastes, pajamas. There was no way they'd be alright with me going through their belongings like this, but Paul's compulsion had put them all at ease with the suggestion. I tied up the Mr. & Mrs.'s bag, sliding one of the bunny ears over my wrist and opening up another one as I went across the hall to grandma's room.
"You promised..."
"I did and I'm working on it," I placated the frosty air. A shadow passed in the glass of a picture frame. "If you have any information that could help, let me know."
"A monster!"
A burning sensation wreathed my shoulders and I winced as it clasped hot and hard.
"I'm a monster hunter," I hissed through the pain, trying to pull forward to rummage through abuelita's closet, "But every monster is different. I can't hunt it without knowing what kind it is."
"You promised!"
"I'm sorry, Margret, but I don't have time for this."
The skin on my shoulders beneath my jacket began to bubble and scorch. Pulling the shaker out of my pocket and pouring some into my palm, I readied a lopsided backward throw. The little pile hit the hardwood floor behind me like scattering sand, but not before the burning on my shoulders vanished.
I threw in a pill container and tied up abuelita's bag. Then, I all but ran to the stairs. Looking down, my breath froze. A dark shadow of a human form stood below. She stared up at me with a crooked neck and hair that flowed lank and deadened over her shoulder. I readied another handful of salt.
"You promised!"
"I'm trying, but I need you to focus on the details," I tried to rationalize. Something rattled behind me and I ducked just in time to avoid two picture frames that flew from the wall. They crashed down the steps. "I don't have a ouija board with me right now - but I can get one!"
The room warmed a few degrees.
"You promise?"
"Yes," I said, "I'll come back with a board. You'll tell me about your killer. And then I'll release you from this plane."
"The monster!"
"Yes, you can tell me about the monster. But you can't stay here, Margret. You're hurting people. Good people."
She vanished from the bottom of the steps and I took the opportunity to dart down, passing through the cold cloud of air where she'd materialized. It hadn't really been a solid agreement to my proposition, but I was determined to finish before she thought too hard on it.