Page 51 of Hot Ghost Summer

“See, rude. And mean.”

The newly replaced lightbulb in the ceiling turns on, then off, then on again.

I ignore him and call out once more. “Dear wee ghosties who are not Hollis, what keeps you in the land o’ the living?”

My chair judders underneath me, and I slap my palms flat on the table. “What the…?”

“I want… my murderer… brought to… justice.” The disembodied voice isn’t Austrian, but it does sound like it’s coming through a phone line. A very old, very broken, and very paranormal phone line.

Snapping my neck left and right, I look for who else might be here, but even in a séance, I can’t see a ghost.

My heartbeat echoes in my throat, and my mouth goes dry. “H-Hello?”

“Murderer… Justice…” repeats the slightly unhinged and very demonic-sounding voice.

The overhead light turns off, and both Hollis’s screens go dark.

My palms grow clammy and the air around me chills. Whoever this is, it’s definitely not Hollis—they carry a very different energy than he does. One I don’t care for.

Also, Hollis thinks that I’m his murderer, and I really don’t think I want that brand of justice. My gaze lands on the pointy end of the LPA Synchrotron that pokes out of his box of possessions. Yeah, I really don’t want to encourage any kind of collaboration with whoever this new ghost is.

“Um… thank you for your answer,” I tell them. “It was really… insightful, but not every person who dies is murdered.” I aim a meaningful look at Hollis’s laptop, in case he’s watching. “So, if there’s anyone else ’ere, who maybe had an accidental death, and could weigh in on why you’re a ghost? Maybe also what you might need t’ help you move on?”

A faint metallic taste laces the air, and the pan of discarded holy water on the kitchen counter behind me suddenly clatters to the floor. My heart strikes against my ribcage, and I rock back so far on the chair that I almost fall off.

The display on the broken microwave lights up. “Error,” it reads behind fractured glass. Then, “Stop, Theo.”

I scowl at it. “Why? Because I’m finally on the right track?” Folding my arms defiantly across my chest, I pout. “Maybe if you didn’t gatekeep all your knowledge, I wouldn’t be forced t’ go t’ other ghosts.”

This will not end like you think it will. Close it out.

“No,” I dig in. “I repeat, is there anyone here who can tell me how t’ help ’em move on?”

The temperature in my flat plummets instantly, and my unsteady exhale comes out as a visible white cloud in front of my face. I hold my breath. Goosebumps race over my bare arms and up the back of my neck. “H-Hollis?”

“Let me throuuuugh,” gurgles another disembodied voice, and the sound jars the full length of my spine.

Static electricity crackles loudly from every plug socket that surrounds me.

“I died…” croaks the voice. “Only you can help meee.”

A bright flash precedes a loud bang. I recognise it instantly.

“Did you just blow my fuse?” I snap, the chair scraping loudly over the floor when I push it back to get out from the table. “You’re unbelievable.”

I barely make it two steps before the voice comes again. “He called meee forth, you cannot block me!”

“What?” I ask, searching every nook and cranny for any visual evidence of who’s speaking, but there’s nothing. “Hollis, are you stopping other ghosts from talking t’ me? That’s unhealthily possessive.”

Silence. The heavy metallic taste in the air intensifies.

I take another two steps closer to my fuse box, then stand stock-still. If I flip that switch back on, I’m effectively giving him permission to blow up everything in my flat. Crossing my arms where I stand, I stare up at the bulb in my entranceway and glare.

“Either you let them talk t’ me, or you show yourself and answer my questions truthfully.”

Nothing happens, at least not at first. Then the air thickens; it feels heavier, closer. The only light here is from whatever stretches through from the window in the living room, but it’s late now and the sun is waning, readying to dip below the horizon. The fading rays are only just strong enough to pick out the dust motes that twirl and dance through this small space.

I watch them for a long while before I realise they’re all moving in the same direction. Swirling closer and closer together, they slowly solidify, allowing the pale-yellow light to reflect from them in the shape of a man.