Page 93 of Hot Ghost Summer

Reluctantly, I withdraw my hand, and tread over to the ExorSquad workbag. When I had him check the inventory the other day, he commented on the need for a small, compact mirror, and I made him stow it in the inside pocket. Rummaging for it now, I’m relieved to find it intact.

Mirrors are helpful for all kinds of reasons, and right now, this one will help me keep Theo alive.

I slide it under his nose and mouth, and each exhale fogs the surface. With a visual way of monitoring his breathing, I count the rhythmic pattern: every two seconds, just one shallow breath.

Standing, I remove my broken glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose.

Revenants are always taken out fast and hard with no questions asked. In all my research, I couldn’t find a single case where a human survived a possession. What if Theo doesn’t recover from this?

What if I never get to tell him I know it wasn’t his fault the LPA Synchrotron activated?

What if I never get to teach him how to brew a proper cup of tea?

What if… it’s too late?

Setting my glasses back in place, I pace the small room. I’ve learned so much about myself from Theo. About my values and what it truly means to live. Yet it was I who was supposed to teach him. I’m his senior, the expert, his… partner. And I’ve failed him.

I’m not religious—don’t believe in deities of any kind—and I’ve never prayed to a higher power, but right now, standing in this tiny flat in north London with Theo’s body on the floor by my feet, that’s exactly what I do. Closing my eyes, I plead my case to whoever might be listening.

Theo has to survive this, because I’ve got so much I want to share with him. He’s a natural hunter, and has already helped uncover information my database lacked. We make a great team, and if I could have more time with him, then I’d take him all around Britain to explore and adventure some more. We could complete my database and build my app together—it would be perfect. But Theo has to wake up.

When I open my eyes, the room blurs into a million shifting pixels.

A glitch.

The plug sockets buzz loudly with the hum of static electricity, and the charged electrons that give me shape destabilise and waver.

This isn’t like the other times. This isn’t an action done of my own volition, or inflicted upon me like when the energy spike from Bowen’s shotgun tore me apart. This is different.

Fatal. A terminal error.

My gaze snaps to Theo, and my horror at what this means for us lowers the temperature in the room.

I’m a poltergeist, and I willingly severed my link with my target. Without him…

Squatting, I draw on the electrical supply to Theo’s flat to boost my presence and take his hand in mine. “Please, Theo, wake up so I can at least say goodbye.”

No answer.

Gently, I push his cap up to stroke the dark hair from his forehead. I brush the backs of my knuckles over the healing skin around his eye, across his stubbly but well-defined jaw, and down onto his neck. My fingertips settle into place over the bruises that flank the tattoo stamped just under his Adam’s apple. “Say something, Baby. Anything. Even a stupid thing. But don’t let it end like this.”

The mirror under Theo’s cheek ripples as if it’s made of liquid and then turns black.

Reflexively, I yank it away, sending it skittering across the floor and crashing into a table leg. The black ripples remain, surging like the waves of an ocean in a growing storm. Burgeoning evermore, they spill out and onto the floor.

A constant thick stream, the black solidifies and takes the shape of a tendril. The sentient limb taps along the floor, searching—feeling—radiating an immense power. This is no ordinary entity. Not a ghost, nor a wraith, nor a revenant. It’s like nothing I’ve ever encountered before.

In my semi-corporeal and glitching state, I position myself between it and Theo, ready to defend as I draw his electricity into me. It crackles loudly, and small blue arcs weave between my fingers.

More black shadows snake from the mirror. Faster and faster they seep, easily filling Theo’s flat and plunging it into a paranormal darkness. Only the polar-white glow from the bolts of charged electrons that web across my form like skin provides any light to see by.

From beyond this realm, something takes shape within the blackness. Taller it grows, more solid. Human. Then, “Hollis, I finally found you! Hej.”

Emerging from the menacing shadow is a young man with a mop of wavy, honeyed hair and rich chestnut eyes. Freckles litter the bridge of his nose, just like Theo’s do, and the demonic stranger shoots me a wide and genuine smile that lights up his face. He waves, a little awkwardly, then holds out his hand. “Guten Abend, I’m—”

“Des Schattens,” I whisper in reverence.

“The one and only, but as we’re family, you can call me Herz.” He looks exactly like he does in the large painting of him that hangs proudly in my family’s estate. Maddie Nachtmann’s famous younger brother, the Heart of the notorious Shadow Geist, and the man who started our dynasty.