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At least not until the day one paid him a visit.
Clarence yelled out loud when he saw Mikey standing in his bedroom. Fortunately, random shouts were more the norm than the exception here, so no one thought much of it.
“Why are you back?” Clarence asked. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“We need to talk,” Mikey said, “but I can’t stay here, this floor is too thin.”
Clarence could see Mikey struggling to keep from sinking through it. It made Clarence laugh, but Mikey ignored him.
“Meet me on solid ground,” Mikey said. “Out in the garden.” And then he walked through a wall and was gone. Clarence had half a mind to make him wait an hour or two, but he was too curious about what this troublesome spirit had to say.
Tracking down Clarence in the living world had not been easy for Mikey. He had gotten so accustomed to traveling with Allie, he had forgotten how disconnected Everlost was from that world. Without her, the living world, as close as it was, was a universe away. Mikey could turn himself into any monster he could imagine, but he couldn’t change the path of a single speck of drifting dust in the living world. He could walk through walls, but he couldn’t lean on one. He could raise his Everlost voice, sounding like the voice of God or the devil, but couldn’t ask a single question to the living. He felt powerless, and it was a feeling he despised.
In all his years in Everlost, his inability to interact with the living world hadn’t mattered. Although both worlds coexisted, it was easy for him to ignore that other place, and tune it out the way the living tuned out the tick of a clock, or the flicker of a lightbulb. To Mikey the living world had been little more than an annoyance.
But things were changing.
For as long as anyone could remember the two worlds had coexisted, and aside from the occasional haunting, or random skinjacking, the living were not troubled by the world they could not see.
Mary had changed that, however. She used skinjackers to blow up a bridge, and that bold act set in motion a clockwork too intricate for anyone to see. Anyone, that is, but Clarence, who could see both worlds at once. It was that connection to the living world that Mikey needed . . . but Mikey had other things in mind for Clarence as well.
“I need your help.”
“Oh, really?” said Clarence. “And why should I help you?”
They were out in the garden now, a spot that even in December was frequented by patients. The staff had hung some ornaments from the bare-limbed cherry trees, but all it did was draw attention to how bare the branches were. There was an attendant on duty in the garden to make sure that none of the patients did anything problematic. Apparently talking to oneself did not count as a problem.
“You should help me, because I can prove to people that you’re not crazy,” Mikey said. “I can’t prove it to everyone. But maybe to a few people. The people who really matter to you.”
“Nobody matters to me anymore.” But Clarence was not convincing. So Mikey waited until Clarence said, “My son, maybe. But he doesn’t even know I’m alive, so maybe it’s better if—”
“I know someone who can make your son believe from the inside out—but I need your help to find her.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a ‘psychiatric facility.’ I might be here voluntarily, but if I leave, those charges they dropped will come right back.”
To which Mikey said, “Only if they find you.”
Clarence thought about it. “You know, I’m beginning to like you. And that scares me.” A breeze blew in the living world, knocking loose one of the sparsely spaced ornaments. It fell to the ground and shattered with a dainty tinkle. The attendant went to clean it up.
“So this friend of yours—is she an incubus, or a succubus, or a poltergeist, or a ghoul?”
“None of those things. She’s just a girl.”
“And you’re in love with her.”
That caught Mikey by surprise. “How did you know that?”
“We talked about it, remember? And besides, that glow you’ve got—when you talk about her, it turns a little bit purple.”
“Right. So the first thing I need you to do is read me some newspapers. Living-world things are too blurry to read in Everlost.”
“What are we supposed to be looking for?”
“Accidents,” Mikey said. “Accidents in Texas.”
Clarence took a long time to consider it, scratching his beard stubble. Then he held out his Everlost hand to Mikey. “It’s a deal. Let’s shake on it.”
Mikey instantly backed away. This was a scar wraith. He had to remember that. If the legend was true, he could be extinguished by a single touch.
