prompt idea from @zillychu, set in the same universe as the rest of the Ghost Speak series (as in, Ryan Finn is here).
“Thanks for coming all the way out here, Ryan. I know it’s a long trip.”
“You kidding? A chance to see my buddy Edward, investigate some ghosts with him, and cap off the day with Eddy treating me to a basket of fries? I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ryan Finn answered, one fry between each finger of his right hand in a sort of Wolverine parody. Edward Lancer would say he looked a bit wired from the 9-hour drive, but Ryan always looked like that.
“Still,” Lancer responded, though he didn’t feel all that bad about calling Ryan out here. He traced the rim of a heady glass of beer with his right index finger. Bass music wubbed from the speakers overhead, and in the dim light of the grill it built a small cocoon around Lancer and Ryan. It kept their conversation private.
Lancer sipped his beer, and he was not usually a drinker, but these things on his mind lately had him on edge. And they were so much more potent now that he’d dragged Ryan along to witness it, now that he had another person who had seen it and made it real.
Ryan jammed his arsenal of french-fries into his mouth. Lancer took another sip.
“Ah, yep, I mean he’s definitely doing that.”
‘That’…was a way to phrase it, Lancer supposed. He’d taken Ryan back to Casper High, room 209, about half an hour after sunset. Lancer had wiled away many a sunset seated at his desk there, grading papers while the sun stole away from the sky. He wasn’t sure if it would happen, this time. If maybe it was a phenomenon only he could witness. But after 10 minutes of standing in silence, darkness cut only by a desk lamp, they’d seen it.
A shimmer. Glowing eyes. A warble cutting air not unlike the bass pumping overhead. It left a shape like an oil stain on space and time, and its eyes found them, and watched, and then shorted away. Gone. It took only another 7 minutes for the thing to reappear, farther back in the classroom, facing the opposite way. A warbling stain, here, eyes, up, staring, gone with a noise that left Lancer’s ears ringing just faintly.
“Oh yeah, definitely. Well you or the room. You say it only happens in the room? Then the room, and you too probably, together.”
The confirmation sat heavy in Lancer’s gut. It left him feeling unsettled in a way that all the ghost activity of Amity hadn’t managed to plant in him.
“…So do you know how to make it stop?”
Ryan blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Well, yeah I do but—” He planted a hand firmly on the table and leaned heavily over it, elbow twisting out at an odd angle as he interrogated Lancer with his eyes, “do you really want it to stop?”
It was Lancer’s turn to falter. “I’m haunted, Ryan. Of course I want it to stop. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Only if you think it is.”
“Well it can be bad. If the ghost haunting you is bad. Which this ghost—”
“So why is it happening?” Lancer pressed.
Ryan laughed. “Because he’s comfortable with you.”
Lancer seemed to miss a beat. His eyes shot a little wider. The silence settled between them. Ryan shoved another fistful of fries into his mouth and spoke through his chewing.
“I mean, he’s gotta feel comfortable around you, if he’s haunting you—your classroom—whatever all the same.”
“But why is he doing it?”
“Oh he probably doesn’t know.”
“So it’s not intentional?”
“And he doesn’t realize he’s doing it?”
“You could ask him, but I’m guessing no.”
“Oh hard question, Edward. I mean, why do cats stare at you all soft and squinty when they’re comfortable? Why do rats do that bobble-bobble thing with their eyes?”
“This feels different, Ryan.”
“Trust me it’s very similar.”
Lancer ruminated on his glass for a moment. “Is this normal?”
“And it’s not dangerous?”
“Usually when you hear about a haunting, it’s dangerous.”
“Usually when you hear about a ghost, that’s dangerous. Do you think Danny’s dangerous?”
“Well there you go. Harmless ghost. Harmless haunting.”
Lancer thought about this. “Okay, okay so just—hypothetically—you said you know how to make it stop? How would that work?”
“Oh, simple,” Ryan said. “Make Danny not feel comfortable around you anymore.” He picked up some more fries in his greasy grip. “You could get mean with him, fail him, stop getting his ghost papers translated, stop giving him leeway with the ghost stuff, and bam! I bet this would stop.”
“You don’t think I’d do that, do you, Ryan?”
“It’d break my heart if you did. I’d never speak to you again. I’d disown you and adopt Danny.”
“And they’re hunting him. He needs someone in his court.” Ryan crammed the rest of the fries in his mouth and swallowed. “Unfortunately I live 9 hours away. I hear you’re much closer.”
Lancer nodded, and he nodded harder, finding the tightness in his chest easing.
5:30pm came sooner than Lancer could have expected. The sun had vanished about an hour ago, sweeping away in a wash of pale pinks and deep reds. Lancer sat alone, halfway through a stack of English tests, desk lamp buzzing faintly at his side.
He heard it before he saw it—the wub of wobbling air. Then the oil stain followed, a shivering shimmering something which spilled into the air, and dropped the temperature a few degrees.
Lancer looked up. The thing’s glowing green spherical eyes looked back at him, mop of pure black hair providing the faintest of silhouettes to the thing’s shape.
Lancer offered it a little wave.
