Page 96 of Hot Ghost Summer

One final time, I disperse my form, but instead of finding sanctuary in the circuitry of my phone or laptop, I find it in the faint electrical charge just under Theo’s skin.

It’s not a surprise to discover that his natural rhythm is light and playful, and instead of seeking to control that and make it my own, I form a protective and impenetrable layer just beneath it. Grounding it. Ensuring that no matter what Theo does, I’ll always be there for him to fall back on.

Gently, yet firmly, I sink further and further inside Theo until I find the jagged and torn edges of his soul. Neon electric arcs weave through the space inside him that the revenant left behind as I use my essence to knit him back together. As I make him my home.

thirty

Static And Sync

Theo

My mouth feels like something crawled in there to die, but my heart’s racing like I just downed five energy drinks. Maybe also a pre-workout.

I bolt upright.

A sudden snap of static electricity precedes a sharp jolt that races up both arms, then collides at the base of my skull. Its crackle is loud, echoing in my ears like a gunshot, and its bright flash temporarily lights up an otherwise dark and silent room.

A deluge of memories crashes through my mind.

Jim Bowen was inside me.

I slam both palms against my chest.

I was possessed.

Breathing heavily, I pat down my torso, then my stomach, hips, and thighs. Everything feels like me. Wait, my face! Pressing both hands firmly into my cheeks, I poke and prod around my eye sockets, nose, and jaw. It’s all there—nothing is missing.

Except my cap. With both hands cradling the top of my head, I look around.

The wobbly circle of salt Hollis poured around me to contain Bowen is broken. Reflexively, I draw my legs up to my chest and tuck my feet in close, eyes darting between the lightbulb, the gouges in the walls, and the general carnage that exists in my flat.

“H-Hollis?” I whisper, but my voice croaks and breaks.

“Theo, thank god. It worked.”

I press my fingers harder against my head. “Why are you… inside my mind?”

Hollis sighs, and it’s as if I can feel his breath on my skin. Gentle, like the roll of a wave along a stony shore, it ripples over my body. I brush my fingers down my arms, chasing the tingles, but a fizzing numbness makes the movement feel clumsy and foreign. Then there’s a strange rushing, sucking sensation, and I watch—transfixed—as he appears in front of me.

He’s no longer dressed in the blue ExorSquad uniform he died in, but the well-tailored shirt and fine woollen trousers he was wearing when we first met. His blond hair is neatly slicked back from his face, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a single finger before extending his hand out to help me up from the floor.

“Your glasses aren’t broken anymore,” I mumble, eyes glued to the precisely folded sleeves of his burgundy shirt.

He nods, lips drawing a thin line. “We have a lot to discuss. But first, how are you feeling?”

Hollis still hasn’t let go of my hand. It’s cool to the touch. I don’t let go.

“Um… fine,” I tentatively offer. “More than fine, actually. I feel really, really good. Which, given everything, is a surprise.”

I turn Hollis’s hand over, admiring his slender fingers. Silver, wirelike veins run under his skin. He tries to extricate it, and I step out of the broken circle of salt to follow so I can stay connected. Looking down at my feet, I ask, “Take it that means I’m not possessed anymore?”

The vein in Hollis’s forehead throbs. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” I repeat.

“Not by Bowen. Not anymore.” His expression gives nothing away.

Finally relinquishing my grasp on Hollis, I bring the backs of my hands to my cheeks and dip my chin to peer up at him through long lashes. With a measured blink, I exude all my natural charm. “My hero.”