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Of course, Ethan saw right through it, likely picking up on my panic and narrowed his eyes at me. I just gave him a quick shake of my head.
It took about two more times of this ghost stumbling in and out of view when I realized why we couldn’t understand him.
The man was drunk.
He likely stumbled down here after some sort of dinner party and never made his way out. Why he was still drunk as a ghost, I had no clue, but soon, I was having to bite back my laughter.
“Anyoooone know the way to the johnnn?” he asked.
Of course, it didn’t pick up on the spirit box, but I heard him loud and clear now that I was aware of him.
He came to a halt again, looking at each one of us and trying to get our attention. I purposely didn’t look at him. At least not yet.
Maybe I could get the poor guy to pass on, but I wasn’t sure he would understand. He was three sheets to the wind.
Even in his transparent form I could see a darker color to his face, like it was splotched red. His hair was tousled and his clothes all askew.
My heart ached for the soul. It seemed wrong for him to be in this state even in his afterlife.
Maybe this is when he was the happiest or most comfortable, and that’s why he was drunk and stumbling through the dark, but that was even more sad to think about. I had never seen anyone in need of moving on more than this ghost.
The guys kept looking at me strangely as the man stumbled in and out of view. I’d accidentally stopped talking to the Darklings mid sentence more than once.
It got so bad that eventually, I had to give them an excuse to end things early tonight.
“I have a headache. I’m so sorry, guys. Something about this is just making me feel unwell. I’m sorry to cut our night short tonight, but I really just have to go.” I turned off the glasses without further fanfare, and the guys were all turning to me.
“Okay, now tell us what’s actually going on,” Lincoln said.
He glanced around, obviously uneasy, his eyebrows furrowed and his hands fisted at his side. It was always funny to me that Lincoln always looked ready for a fight, even though we were facing the supernatural.
He could punch a ghost all he wanted, but it wouldn’t do any good.
“There’s a ghost down here. Oddly enough, he’s drunk. That’s why we couldn’t understand him. He’s slurring his words.”
“What?” Ethan asked, holding back a laugh.
Just as he said that, the ghost stumbled through the door, landing on his feet right in front of us.
Then, he was standing in Lincoln’s leg.
Poor Lincoln gave a full-body shudder before jumping backward, freeing himself of standing in a ghostly body part.
I bit back my amusement and crouched down so I could look at him. “Can you tell me what your name is?”
The man’s eyes widened as he looked up at me. “Can you see me?” Then he narrowed them. “Were you just playing a trick on me?”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re dead, sir. And it’s not really normal for people to go around talking to someone everyone else can’t see.”
“You mean to tell me they can’t seeeee me?” he questioned as he struggled to his feet. He started dancing around, waving his hands in front of the guys, and that’s when I just lost it.
I couldn’t hold my laughter back. It quickly turned into full belly laughs as he turned circles around Lincoln, waving his hand frantically in front of his face before stumbling right through Ethan, who gave a shudder and shot me a horrified look.
At this point, I could barely see him through my tears.
“Oh my god. Sir, tell me your name,” I said instinctively, reaching out for him. My hands went right through him as he fell again.
“My name is Henry Blackwell, the black sheeeeep. Really, I only get invited to Christmas when it’s jusssst family.”
