Chapter 1: Somethin' Strange in the Neighborhood
Notes:
A collaboration between friends that started as a joke and turned into a really fun project, we vowed to post by the 31st, and here we are - if you like dumb ghost hunting shenanigans and fics about anti-JojaMart sentiments and political corruption, we hope you enjoy.
This fic is a spiritual sequel to an earlier Shane/Abigail fic (linked in the summary). You do not have to have read that to read this.
Happy Halloween!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The text came through at nine in the morning.
Abigail blew out a long sigh as she squinted at the screen. No way he was serious, right? She glanced out her bedroom window, where sunlight had started to stream in, then looked at her phone again.
The story went like this: Vincent was playing in their backyard after dark when—
—he heard a rustle in the bushes. Vincent called for Sam and Jodi, but no one heard him. After a few moments, the rustling stopped, and he went back to playing with his toy soldiers. Then suddenly, a white, transparent figure appeared underneath the willow tree in their yard and told Vincent his name was Ralph.
Sam didn’t see the ghost. Vincent screamed again, and Sam claimed he dropped everything and ran outside. Abigail thought it was more likely that he’d been dicking around on his handheld and waited too long to go help his brother. But by the time he got to the yard, the ghost was already gone. Vincent swore he’d seen something, but couldn’t tell Sam anything except that the ghost was named Ralph, and he was “a really old guy."
Abigail chewed her lip, thinking. It was possible that the ghost was just a figment of Vincent’s imagination, and even if they tried to find him, he’d never turn up again. But the alternative was that the ghost was very much real, and then they might get to meet an actual ghost, which was pretty high on her personal bucket list.
She fired off the text, and without waiting for a response, yanked her favorite purple sweater over her head. It mussed her hair big time, but she didn’t stop to fix the frizziness; she had bedhead from the night before anyway, and it was only Sam and Sebastian. Then she slung her backpack over her shoulders and left her room, pushing open the double doors to her dad’s store before stepping outside.
As she walked across town, she breathed in the crisp autumn air, feeling a little thrill at the fact that it was both her favorite season and possibly the start of her first real ghost hunt. Sure, she’d searched for ghosts around the valley plenty of times before–even though her dad hated the fact that she hung around the graveyard so much–but she’d never seen one herself.
When she made it to Sebastian’s house, Robin ushered her inside. “Sam and Seb are down in the basement.”
Abigail grinned. “Thanks, Robin.”
She trudged down the stairs to Seb’s cave-like room, careful to dodge the dirty, smelly sock sitting on the bottom step.
“’Sup, nerds,” she said.
Sam was sitting next to Seb on his bed, but scrambled to his feet as soon as she walked in. A flush crept up his neck “Oh, hey, Abi. Didn’t think you’d be here for a bit.”
Sebastian didn’t say anything, looking pointedly at a cobweb on the ceiling.
Abigail narrowed her eyes. “I don’t even want to know what you idiots were doing in here.” She dropped her backpack to the floor, then plopped down on the carpet, pulling out her trusty notebook and flipping it to an open page. “Besides,” she said, clicking her pen. “We’ve got a motherfuckin’ ghost to catch.”
Sam grinned and sat across from her, legs crossed underneath him. “Guess my story doesn’t sound so fake now, huh?”
She glared at him. “Shut it, Sam.”
Seb slid off the bed and onto the floor to join them. “I mean, we could sit here and tell you how completely stupid and made up your story sounds,” he said casually, leaning back against the frame. “But that’s boring, and nothing exciting ever fucking happens in this town, so we might as well just go along with it.” He punctuated his statement with a shrug.
“Exactly, Seb, you get it. Man, a real live ghost hunt!” she said, grinning. “Yoba, I’ve wanted to go on one for like, ever.”
She shifted so she was lying on her stomach and started writing a list of supplies they’d need to catch a ghost. Hunting spirits was tricky business, but she’d picked up enough from the occult books her mother had slipped her for Christmas that one year to know what kinds of things they might need. Idly, she wondered where her mom had even gotten those books to begin with.
“Ghost hunting supplies?” Sam read aloud, a crease forming between his brows.
“Glad you finally learned how to read, Sammy.”
In lieu of a response, he socked her in the shoulder.
“I mean, I’m in for the ghost hunt, but where are we going to get all this stuff?” Sebastian asked. For the last few minutes, he’d been rolling a joint that, knowing Seb, he probably planned to smoke as soon as he went outside again. Robin had a nose sharper than a bloodhound, so he never risked doing it indoors.
“I haven’t gotten to that part of the plan yet,” Abigail huffed. Once she’d finished writing, she pushed herself off the floor and tapped her chin with her pen. In theory, they could get the supplies they needed from her dad’s store, since she was pretty sure they sold sleeping bags and flashlights. But he was so anal about his stock, he would immediately notice the missing items when he did his morning inventory, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to give discounts to anyone, even his own daughter.
On the other side of town, though, there was a JojaMart. And in that same JojaMart was a certain employee who stocked shelves and wore a beat up hoodie and baggy shorts, sometimes even in the middle of winter. Someone who cursed the owner Morris’s existence, sometimes even while they were in the middle of making out, which was such a mood killer (as Abigail had to remind him multiple times, to which he would blush and apologize profusely before proceeding to make her very, very happy).
Someone like that could certainly be persuaded to “borrow” a few items from the aforementioned JojaMart.
Abigail snapped her notebook shut, grinning like a maniac. Sam and Seb looked at her, startled, as she jumped to her feet.
“Are you leaving? I thought we were going to get supplies,” Sam said.
“Oh, we are,” she said, her smile widening. “I think I know someone who can help us.”
“You want me to what?”
“Sleeping bags, flashlights, and batteries,” Abigail listed off, rifling through her notebook. “Plus one of those big plastic carrying cases, if you can get it. We could also use a better camcorder, but I think Morris might notice if one of those went missing.” The cover snapped shut decisively. “Everything else, I’ll take care of, but we need it soon. Tonight, preferably.”
“Uh,” Shane said, and glanced over his shoulder, making sure his boss hadn’t suddenly materialized on the porch. “When you said you wanted to come over to talk, I kinda thought you meant… you know.”
“Shane.” Abigail gave him a look that was both stern and weirdly hot, hands on her hips. “This is no time for making out. There’s a ghost afoot.”
“A ghost that only Vincent saw, allegedly, in his backyard, at nine PM.” He matched her unimpressed look with one of his own, crossing his arms. “A ghost named Ralph.”
“I feel like you’re really hung up on the name and not the fact that he saw an actual ghost.”
“And you still haven’t explained why this is worth me risking my job.”
“You hate your job.” Abigail held up her fingers, ticking each one off as she went down the list. “It’s a good chance to stick it to Morris, fuck capitalism, did I mention you hate your job, and by far the most important reason… we’re going on a real-life ghost hunt for Spirit’s Eve and it would mean a lot to me.” The breeze tugged her hair in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear, cheeks flushed. “Good enough?”
Shane groaned, because she definitely wasn’t playing fair, but he didn’t have it in him to protest, especially not when she was looking at him like that. “Fine.” He scuffed his foot across the porch, his ears burning. “Since I really do hate that fucking job.” It wasn’t like they’d miss a couple sleeping bags and a pack of batteries--he’d been working there for over a year and he still sometimes got lost between Grocery and Housewares. “I can do it when I go in to get my paycheck.”
Abigail grinned, and Shane was pretty sure he’d torch Joja-Mart to the ground if it meant seeing her eyes light up like that for the rest of his life. “You are,” she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his check, “without a doubt, the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“I know, but you’re setting the bar really high right now with all this theft and anti-capitalism talk.”
Shane kissed her forehead. “The second Morris sees me, you’re on your own.”
“If Morris sees you. Try to be optimistic for once in your life.”
“Why do you need me to get all this stuff, anyway? None of you have sleeping bags or flashlights?”
“My dad’s such a cheapskate.” Abigail rolled her eyes. “Sebastian’s the only one of us who has a sleeping bag, but Robin and Demetrius won’t let him have any of the spare batteries or flashlights, in case Maru blows the circuit on the house again.”
“What about Sam?”
“He lost his sleeping bag the last time he went camping. And his flashlight. And his second-favorite pair of pants.”
“He... you know what? I don’t need to know. It’s fine.” Shane rested his chin on top of her head, staring out at the gray drizzle just outside the confines of the porch. “I’ll get what I can. No promises.”
Abigail squirmed happily in his arms. “This is going to be awesome,” she said.
“Fucking Ralph,” Shane muttered.
He waited until late afternoon, when Morris usually took his evening smoke break. He liked to pretend he didn’t smoke, claiming it was a disgusting habit, but Shane could always smell it drifting through the vents and the gap beneath the office door. One time, he’d gone around back to empty the outdoor trash cans and saw the office window open, a familiar arm propped on the sill with a lit cigarette in hand. Why he couldn’t just smoke out in the open was anyone’s guess, but Shane had stopped trying to divine why his boss did anything. The less time he spent thinking about Morris, the better.
Thankfully, said boss was nowhere to be seen when the bell chimed and the double doors whooshed open. Shane ducked his head and scurried down the canned goods aisle, heading for Electronics. It was easy enough to bump into the display and stuff a couple packs of batteries in the pocket of his hoodie while he put the extras back on the shelf, and a flashlight went in each pocket of his baggiest jeans, hidden by his bulky outer coat. At least it was cold enough that two jackets didn’t seem suspicious. The sleeping bags were the hardest part--he ended up stashing them at the end of the kitchen aisle in Housewares, so he could double back and grab them after picking up his check.
Grabbing the check without running into Morris required careful timing. He always went to the bathroom directly after his smoke break to wash his hands and drench himself in cologne, which gave Shane around five minutes to get in and get out. He waited at the end of the hall near the water fountains, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans every few seconds. Why was he always so sweaty? Abigail never said anything, but she had to have noticed. Was that why she didn’t seem to like holding his hand? Not that he even really liked holding hands himself--he never knew what to do with his fingers, and it was always awkward trying to figure out the right time to let go--but what if she did like it and just didn’t want to do it with him because his palms were always sweaty? He chewed on his lower lip and wiped them on his hoodie this time.
Down the hall, a door opened, and Shane froze. A familiar, tuneless whistle grated on his eardrums, echoing off the linoleum, and he peeked around the corner just in time to see the tail end of Morris’s coat float by. Another door opened, and the whistling faded out as it closed. Shane took a deep breath.
Go time.
The battery packs jostled in his hoodie as he bolted for the office, the flashlights banging against his hips. The door was closed but thankfully not locked, and he slipped inside, clutching the handle so it shut noiselessly behind him. The filing bin on the corner of Morris’s huge wooden desk was mostly empty, and it only took a few seconds to find his paycheck and tuck it in his back pocket, where it would stay until he cashed it out on his way home. He took a second to breathe, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Then, the closet door caught his eye.
The storage closet behind Morris’s desk was always locked. The entire time Shane had been working at Joja-Mart, he’d never so much as seen Morris glance in its direction, but boredom was fertile soil for rumors, and he’d heard the break room gossip. It’s haunted, it leads to a secret tunnel, Morris keeps the skulls of ex-employees on the shelf in there... He knew it was all bullshit, and there was nothing sinister about a storage space, but this time…
This time, the closet was open. Not much more than a sliver or so, but enough to catch his eye. Morris must not have closed it properly, which led Shane to a much more interesting question--was he keeping something in there after all? He risked a glance over his shoulder. The door was still shut, and no footsteps came down the hall. He’d just take a quick look, he told himself. One quick, innocent look, to see for himself, and then he’d be gone. Checking over his shoulder one more time, he skirted the desk and pushed Morris’s chair in, opening the door.
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” he mumbled.
“Shane!”
Shane whirled around, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Morris stood in the doorway, red-faced and furious–until he saw the open closet door, and the color drained from his face in an instant. It was somehow scarier than the yelling. They stared at one another across the room, the whirring of the heater struggling to fill the silence.
“You left it open,” Shane said at last, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Morris’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenching.
“Get out.”
“I was just getting my paych-”
“Out!” Morris roared, and Shane scuttled around the desk and past his outstretched arm as fast as he could. Before he could finish escaping, Morris reached out and snagged the arm of his jacket, yanking him to a standstill just outside the doorway. “Forget what you saw,” he hissed. “This never happened. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Shane snapped, yanking his arm free, but his words were drowned out by the door slamming in his face. He threw up his middle finger and turned tail, hauling ass back to Housewares to retrieve the sleeping bags. The side door they used to empty the trash was a blind spot to the security cameras--something nearly everyone at JojaMart took advantage of to snag a quick, unsanctioned smoke--and he smuggled them out without a fuss, relieved to see that the alleyway was empty. Must have been short-staffed that day, he decided, but there wasn’t time to dwell. He only had time to be grateful to have made it out alive, as he carried the gear across the bridge, huffing and puffing all the way.
As soon as he reached the benches that lined the flowering walkway to the town square, he sank onto the nearest one, panting, and wrestled his phone out of his pocket. Once his breathing slowed enough that he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out, he clicked the screen on and thumbed out a message to Abigail, shaking his head.
Shane read it three times, then stuffed his phone back in his pocket, trying to keep the grin off his face.
It was official—Abigail had the best boyfriend ever. Who else would risk getting fired and endure the trauma of discovering Morris’s weirdo shrine just so she could go on her first real ghost hunt? When he presented the goods to her outside Evelyn and George’s house, she practically tackled him as soon as he set the sleeping bags down.
Shane stumbled backwards, wrapping his arms around her after he’d regained his balance. “Yoba,” he said, laughing. “Guess I should steal stuff from Joja more often.”
She could almost see his blush as she trailed a hand down to his butt and squeezed once before letting go. “You’re damn right,” she said, pulling back to scan his face, which was now bright red with a dopey grin on it.
“I thought you said we couldn’t make out because quote, ‘there’s a ghost afoot.’” Shane looked her up and down. “Did you change your…?”
“Absolutely not. Not while the ghost is still at large.” In one swift movement, she bent over and scooped up the sleeping bags, leaving Shane to carry the battery packs and flashlights. “Come on, we need to make preparations.”
Shane frowned. “Preparations to… roll out a sleeping bag and stay still for a while?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Details, Shane. It’s all in the details.”
They walked along the cobblestone paths and snuck inside Pierre’s shop. It was a Wednesday, which meant the store was closed. Abigail pulled her spare key out. “So, about this Joja shrine…” she said as she fiddled with the lock.
“I’m telling you, it was real.” Shane shuddered. “I could never forget something so horrifying.”
“Do you think he’s ever sacrificed an employee to the Joja gods or something?”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The lock clicked open, and she pushed the door in. Then they crept through the dark store to Abigail’s room and dumped all the supplies onto her bed. As she admired their illicit haul, a little shiver of excitement ran up her spine, her body humming with anticipation. This was real—they were going to find a goddamned, honest-to-goodness ghost, whether that ghost wanted to be found or not.
“Damn, I didn’t think it would be this cold outside.”
Abigail nudged Shane with her elbow. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t wear shorts all the time, dumbass.”
Shane glanced down at his legs, which were covered in goosebumps, and sighed. As the sun went down, the chill in the air only intensified. Abigail pulled a blanket from her backpack and wrapped it around Shane’s shoulders.
“Wow, she really does like you,” Sam’s cheerful voice piped up. He was currently kneeling on the ground and rolling out his sleeping bag, not noticing the lump in the middle where he’d accidentally placed it over a rock. “She’s already calling you dumbass and loaning you her things.”
Seb, who was casually smoking a cigarette in the corner and lifting exactly zero fingers to help them set up camp, stiffened as his gaze flicked over the sleeping bags. “There’s only two?”
“Sorry,” Shane said, shrugging. “I couldn’t carry any more than that.”
“Hm.” Seb flicked his cigarette, ashes spilling onto the ground. “So I guess Sam and I are sharing, since it doesn’t make much sense for one of us to sleep with Abi.”
“Duh, Seb.” Abigail rolled her eyes, grateful she hadn’t ended up dating one of them, even if the dating choices in Pelican Town were pretty limited. Shane was an unexpected surprise in her love life, but a pleasant one nonetheless. He was a fantastic boyfriend, even though he was always putting himself down for some reason. She smiled to herself, still thinking about how cool Shane was as she flipped open her notebook and looked over the list of supplies. “Alright Seb, you’ve got the camcorder, right?”
He held up the camcorder and nodded, saluting with his free hand.
“Sam, you’ve got one of the flashlights?”
Sam tossed his flashlight into the air, watched it spin, and tried to catch it in his hand. The flashlight landed on the ground with a thud.
“Try to hold onto it, please,” Abigail sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she exhaled. “For my sake.”
He flashed her his signature sunny smile. “No guarantees, Abi.”
Shane touched her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of mine,” he murmured, clicking on the flashlight in his other hand. She smiled gratefully at him.
The stakeout began an hour after the sun went down, around seven. They arranged the schedule so one person was on “ghost watch” at all times, equipped with a flashlight and ready to apprehend any paranormal creatures (or at least yell when they saw anything suspicious). For the first few hours, everyone stayed awake together, playing card games and debating things like whether or not Lewis actually had a heart or if he was a robot pretending to be human.
“I think he does have one. Although, I guess a robot could still sleep with my aunt,” Shane mused, rubbing a hand over his scruff.
“Wait, what? Marnie and Lewis are sleeping together?!” Sam said.
“Yeah. I try to forget.” Shane squeezed his eyes shut. “One time he left his ‘purple shorts’ in our living room and wrote me a letter asking me to return them.”
“Grooooooooss,” Abigail said.
“Do you think I could get out of my community service if I blackmailed him with that?” Sam said.
Shane shrugged.
Around midnight, Sam started yawning and Sebastian got progressively quieter, indicating he was done being social for the night. As the self-appointed paranormal investigation leader, Abigail took the first ghost watch shift, leaving Shane, Seb, and Sam to crawl into their sleeping bags and drift off to sleep. The first hour passed quietly. A strong wind rustled the trees every so often, causing Abigail to freak a bit, but otherwise not much happened. Except sometimes Sam would wake everybody up to ask some weird question like, “do otters have belly buttons?” or tell a strange story.
The third time he did this around one in the morning, Shane tensed under the sleeping bag, and Abigail rubbed his back. After a few minutes of rambling, Sam mercifully fell back asleep, leaving the rest of the group—except for Shane, who was now on ghost watch for the next hour—to rest some more.
But sometime in the middle of his shift, Shane said, “Guys, wake up.”
“Sam, if you’re going to tell us about another one of your weird fucking dreams involving the Wizard, I’d highly suggest you reconsider,” Sebastian grumbled. There was rustling in their sleeping bag, followed by a yelp.
“Ow, dude! That wasn’t even me this time.”
“Sorry,” Sebastian mumbled. “I just kind of figured it was.”
“Seriously, guys.” Shane was now shaking Abigail awake. He flicked the flashlight on. “Wake up. I heard something.”
Abigail bit her lip to keep from grinning. Heart thumping, she shuffled out of the sleeping bag and sat next to Shane, knees tucked underneath her. He moved the flashlight back and forth across the cemetery, illuminating the headstones in an eerie glow. His shoulders were tense, almost up to his ears, and his jaw was set in a hard line. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “Ralph the goddamn Baby Boomer ghost is gonna kill us all.”
“What exactly did you hear?” Sebastian asked quietly. He was sitting up now, too, and so was Sam. As always, Seb’s face didn’t reveal much about his emotional state, but Abigail could tell he was nervous because he kept tugging at his sleeves. Sam, meanwhile, was an open book—his eyes widened like a scared rabbit’s as he pulled his knees to his chest.
“It came from over by the trees. There was like… a rustling, and then a thump, followed by… moaning? I don’t know.” Shane scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, it was probably more like a yelp.”
Sebastian turned the camcorder on and directed it to where Shane was shining the flashlight. They waited, tense seconds passing into tense minutes.
Then Sam shifted backwards slightly, crinkling the candy wrappers he’d tossed behind him a few hours earlier, and all hell broke loose.
A shadowy figure darted out from behind the trees and dove into the bushes surrounding the cemetery. Abigail gasped and clutched at Shane’s shoulders so savagely she almost tore another hole in his Joja hoodie. Sam flung his arms around Sebastian, who made a strangled noise, then pushed Sam off so he could keep his hold on the camcorder. Shane swung the flashlight around, trying to see where the figure had gone, but it was of no use—Ralph was nowhere to be found.
“Did we lose him?” Sam said.
“No. I feel like something’s still out there,” Abigail said.
As if on cue, the figure reappeared, popping up from behind the bushes and raising an arm. Shane fumbled with the flashlight, dropping it in his panic. In desperation, Sam tried to click his on, but discovered it didn’t have batteries in it.
“Sam, you didn’t put batteries in?!” Abigail screeched.
“I thought Shane was gonna do it!”
As the shadowy figure advanced, Abigail could just make out what was in his hands. It was a hammer, and he had it raised, and he was coming right at them.
Ralph was going to murder them.
“We gotta go, now!” she shouted.
The camping supplies were abandoned as the group scrambled to their feet, nearly tripping over one another in their rush to get out of the cemetery. Abigail led the charge, sprinting down the road towards Sam’s house, figuring that if any of their parents were likely to put up with their bullshit, it would be Jodi. The others followed, Shane’s panting audible from the back of the group. She turned around and grabbed his hoodie, tugging him forward. “Come on. I’m not letting you die now that I’ve actually got a boyfriend.”
Shane stumbled forward as she yanked on his sleeve, swearing loudly as he caught his balance. Once they made it under the streetlamps lining the street to Sam’s house, Abigail glanced over her shoulder to see if the ghost was still following them. No one was there. She came to a stop, exhaled, and bent over, placing her hands on her knees while she tried to catch her breath. “I think we’re safe,” she said. “He’s gone.”
Sam clutched his stomach and bemoaned the cramp he’d gotten while they were running, while Shane wiped the sweat off his forehead. Sebastian seemed pretty much unaffected, but Abigail knew he sometimes liked to go for late night runs when no one else was out. On shaky legs, she led everyone to Sam’s front door, stepping aside so he could retrieve the spare key from under the welcome mat and shove it into the lock. The door opened with a click, and they all tiptoed inside, careful not to wake Jodi and Vincent. Kent was also asleep, passed out in front of the television.
When they finally reached Sam’s bedroom, he flipped on the lights and flopped on the bed, lying face up. “Fuck, dude,” he moaned. “Why did he have to be real… and murderous?”
“We don’t know that for sure yet,” Abigail said. “We should go back first.”
“Are you nuts, Abi?” Shane said, waving his arms around. “Did you not just see that… thing try to kill us with a hammer?”
“Shane, you’re forgetting the most important part of an investigation. Gathering evidence,” Abigail tutted, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m not suggesting we go back right away. We should wait until the sun comes up. Besides, we have to get our camping gear at some point, too.”
“Fine.” Shane scowled, crossing his arms. “As long as we wait until it’s light out.”
“I’m not a total idiot, Shane,” Abigail huffed. She turned to Sebastian, holding out her hand. “First things first, we should see if Seb got anything on camera.” She waited. Seb didn’t move. “Seb…?”
“I may have, um, dropped it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his feet. “When the ghost appeared and we started running, I… panicked.” He ducked his head to avoid Abigail’s glower.
“You DROPPED THE CAMCORDER?!” she whisper-yelled, still conscious of Kent sleeping in the next room. Shane touched her shoulder, but she shoved him away. “I knew you were a dumbass, but I didn’t think you were this inept.”
“Abi, maybe we can find it when we go look for clues,” Shane said softly.
She sighed, then took several deep breaths in and out through her nose to calm herself. Okay, so her first ghost hunt was turning out to be kind of a disaster. So what? The ghost was still out there, which meant they had more chances to catch him. “Alright. We’ll look for it in the morning, assuming the camcorder isn’t broken.”
The alarm clock on Sam’s bedside table read 4:00, just two hours until sunrise. Everyone except for Sam, who was in his bed, curled up on the carpet to rest before the night was over. Abigail’s eyes popped open the moment sunlight streamed through the window, flopping onto her side and poking Shane in the side.
“Time to wake up,” she announced.
The rest of the group groaned but didn’t argue with her. Bleary-eyed and half-asleep, the four of them left Sam’s house and walked towards the scene of last night’s crime. Fortunately, all of the camping gear was left untouched, still strewn across the graveyard. Sebastian circled the cemetery, searching for the camcorder, but Abigail had her eye on something else, an object glinting in the sunlight, hidden in the corner by one of the gravestones. She bent down to investigate and found a tiny nugget of pure gold, almost blindingly so. She rolled it between her fingers, feeling the metal.
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
Abigail held up the nugget.
“Doesn’t seem like anything important,” Seb said. “Someone probably just got that from the mines and dropped it.”
“But no one in town even goes to the mines, except for the new farmer,” Abigail shot back.
“I dunno, Abi,” Sebastian said. He’d given up on his search for the camcorder, resigned to slouching under the big tree in the corner. “Seems like kind of a dead end.”
She shook her head, convinced that this gold she’d picked up had to be a clue.
“Oh, no. This investigation,” she said, lips curling into a smile, “is only just beginning.”
Notes:
Shane stealing stuff from JojaMart like
Chapter Text
Wellesley Farm was under construction. To be fair, Wellesley Farm was almost always under construction, but this time there was a crew from Zuzu in, building what looked like a pair of metal silos on the back half of the field. The noise was loud enough that Shane could practically hear it all the way down at the ranch, and they were only half-done by the looks of it. Thankfully, by the time Abigail had convinced them that they needed to pay Charlotte a visit, it was lunchtime, and the crew was busy eating in their trucks or at the rickety picnic table next to the flower patch. Nobody paid much attention to Abigail as she marched up to the front porch, Shane trailing in her wake and Sebastian and Sam bringing up the rear, save one or two curious glances from the workers -- the farm didn’t get a lot of visitors. Charlotte Wellesley wasn’t what his aunt would have called a “people person”.
The farmhouse had been fixed up since she’d moved in, but not well. Half of the porch sagged due to a gaping hole in the center that had been hastily boarded over, and the paint was still cracked and peeling in places, bleached out by the sun. The screen door rattled when Abigail knocked. Shane slouched behind her, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, wishing he were somewhere else. Abigail’s obsession with finding the… thing (Shane refused to think of it as a ghost, ghosts weren’t real) that came after them in the cemetery was moving from ‘kinda cute’ to ‘kinda scary’, and there was a very real chance Morris was planning to sacrifice him to the Joja higher-ups now that Shane knew his secret. Inside the farm house, there was a shuffling creak, like boots moving across old floorboards, and the hinges squealed as the door opened.
“I told you, you’ll get your money when you - “
Silence.
Charlotte stared. The four of them stared back. Another beat passed, and then she shook her head and grinned at them, toothy and just a little too wide to be real. “Sorry, thought you were someone else. Abigail, yeah?”
“Um,” Abigail said. “Yeah. And that’s Shane, Sebastian, and Sam. I mean, you probably already knew that, but... hi.”
Clearly unsure of how else to respond, Sam waved, and Sebastian gave her an awkward little nod. Shane grunted.
“Well, isn’t this cozy? I never get visitors.” Charlotte leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “What can I do for you?”
Truth was, nobody in town really knew what to make of their newest resident. Charlotte was from the city, and she looked the part, tall and model-thin with long, wavy brown hair and big blue eyes. But there was something unsettling and vaguely sweaty about her, like she was in constant need of a shower, and while she wasn’t unfriendly, she gave off the impression of sizing you up whenever she was talking to you, as if she was deciding whether or not to mug you and leave you in a ditch somewhere. The velour tracksuits didn’t help matters; today’s was powder-pink, and had clearly been thrown on in a hurry, her hair an unbrushed rat’s nest. Not that Shane was in any position to talk.
“Well,” Abigail said, disrupting his train of thought, “it’s kind of a weird question, but we were in the graveyard earlier - “
“Not doing anything weird,” Sam supplied helpfully.
“Sam,” Sebastian groaned, shrinking further into his hoodie.
“What? I’m just saying, the question is weird, but we’re not weird.” Sam gave them all his best I Am Very Serious face. Abigail’s answering glare could have stripped the paint off a barn. “What? There’s a difference!”
“Anyway,” Abigail said, turning back to Charlotte. Sebastian tugged on his hoodie strings until the hood sealed around his face, leaving only his nose visible. “Something, or someone, chased us off, and when we went back to get our stuff, we found this.” She held up the gold nugget, glittering between her fingers in the weak morning light, and Shane didn’t miss the way Charlotte’s gaze snagged on it. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”
She sounded like she’d been watching Law & Order: Zuzu City with her mom again. Shane managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close call. Charlotte considered them for a moment, eyes sliding between Abigail’s face and the gold.
“Interesting,” she said finally. “Why me?”
Abigail blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”
“Well, to my recollection, we’ve never spoken, so I guess I just wanna know why I’m your number-one suspect.” The toothy grin was back, more unsettling than ever. “Not that I’m not flattered and all.”
Sam opened his mouth. Sebastian put a hand over it.
“I - well,” Abigail faltered, glancing back at Shane. He shrugged helplessly. She scuffed the porch with the toe of her boot. “You’re the only person in town who really goes to the mines, so - “
“Nosy, aren’t you?” Charlotte’s eyes gleamed as she unfolded her arms, and Abigail took a step back, porch creaking as she moved. Sam and Sebastian exchanged uneasy glances. “Didn’t anyone teach you what happens to people who stick their noses in everyone’s business?” She held up her fingers like scissors, made a quick little snipping motion. “Eventually, you risk it getting cut off.”
“Hey,” Shane snapped, stepping in front of Abigail, and was immediately stopped in his tracks as Charlotte burst into laughter.
“Yoba, relax! I’m totally joking! You should see the looks on your faces right now, though. Fuck, I wish I had my camera.” She cackled again, hands up in surrender, and Shane stared at her blankly as Abigail moved further behind him. Five minutes ago, he’d been sure Morris was going to be the one to murder him, but now he wasn’t so sure if it would be him or Charlotte. She dabbed at her eye with her sleeve, still chuckling. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I haven’t been to the mines in days. Too busy supervising these numbskulls.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the picnic table. “And even if I had, I don’t make a habit of walking around with pocketfuls of gold ore. Not really my style.”
“Oh,” Abigail said, deflating.
“That is weird, though, I’ll give you that.” Charlotte pursed her lips, tapping her chin with her forefinger. “I don’t usually see anyone else while I’m down there, but like I said, I haven’t been in a while. Lotta construction going on right now.”
“What is all that, anyway?” Sam piped up again, pointing at the silos.
“Oh, you know. Farm stuff.” Her upper lip gleamed with sweat. “Silos and things.”
“But you don’t even have any animals.”
“You know what?” Charlotte said brightly, the corner of her eye twitching. “I just remembered. Marlon was in town the other day when I swung by the saloon, talking to Gus. Something about ‘unusual activity’ in the mines. Didn’t hear much more than that, but maybe it has something to do with what happened in the graveyard.”
“Really,” Shane said.
She met his gaze, unblinking. “Really.”
“Unusual activity,” Abigail repeated, and as soon as Shane got a look at her face, he knew she was a lost cause - her eyes got that particular sparkle to them, her face alight with stubborn determination. She tucked the gold nugget back into her pocket. “Maybe Marlon’s seen someone?”
“Gee, I dunno. You should go talk to him,” Charlotte said, inching back inside the farmhouse. The door started to close. “Good luck with… whatever it is you’re doing, yeah?”
“Good luck with your weird silos,” Sam chirped. “Does this mean you’re getting animals soon, or - ?”
“Will you look at the time,” Charlotte said around the rapidly-closing door. “Gotta go make a phone call, have fun playing in the mines!”
It shut with a definitive click, and there was the sound of a bolt-lock seconds later. The four of them exchanged glances.
“Welp,” Sam said a moment later, and shrugged. “Guess not.”
They left, because there was nothing left to do but go back the way they’d come, and once they were a safe distance down the road, Abigail tugged on Shane’s arm, slowing him. They came to a stop beneath one of the towering oaks that lined the road behind crooked wooden fences, its leaves fading from brilliant red to burnt orange and pale yellow. They flickered like fire in the crisp autumn breeze, and some swirled around them as they fell, drifting slowly to the ground.
“So,” Sebastian said, poking at a stray pebble with his shoe. “What’s the plan?”
They all looked at Abigail. She dug around in her pocket and pulled out the gold nugget again, rolling it around in her palm like she was trying to divine the answer. It shone in the pale sun, and after a moment she closed her fist and nodded decisively.
“Alright gang,” she said. “I think it’s time to split up.”
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Abigail pinched the coin between her fingers, holding it up. “Heads means Seb comes with me to the mines. Tails, Sam goes.”
Sebastian frowned. “Why don’t Sam and I just go together?”
“Because I don’t trust you. Any more questions before I do the coin toss?”
Sam raised his hand. “Yeah, I’ve got one,” he said. “Abi, why don’t you want to go with your bohoooy-frieeeeend?”
Abigail glared at him until his laughter subsided. The coin went back in her pocket.
“Never mind,” she said. “Seb is coming with me.”
They parted ways. Sam and Shane trudged off to search for clues in the graveyard, while Abigail and Sebastian began the long trek towards the mines. Shane threw her one last desperate look over his shoulder before leaving with Sam, to which Abigail mouthed, “Sorry.”
She wasn’t really that sorry. There was no room for personal grudges in an investigation.
The air cooled the closer they got to the mountains, and it was downright freezing by the time they reached the mines. Abigail shivered at the draft coming in from the cave entrance, hugging her arms to her chest.
“You alright, Abi?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Strapped to her back was a sword made of scrap metal and wood, homemade from parts purchased in Robin’s shop. She’d put together the weapon a couple of years ago, when she first became interested in visiting the mines, and kept it hidden from her father. Now, as they prepared to go inside the mines, she retrieved the sword and twirled it around in her hand. She moved to walk through the cave entrance, but Sebastian pulled her back by the collar of her purple hoodie.
“Wait a minute. I need to talk to you about something first. It’s um…” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Personal.”
Now she was really confused. She’d expected that going with Sebastian would be much quieter than going with Sam. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”
Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. “Yoba, I can’t believe I’m about to confess this.” His voice jumped about three octaves and hit a register that Abigail didn’t even know he was capable of speaking in as he said, “I think I might have feelings for Sam.”
The sword dropped to the ground, and her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my God.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Sebastian, are you… y’know?”
He stared at her. “No, I don’t know.”
“Gay. Like, have you ever liked a guy before?” Abigail’s brow furrowed. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with liking men, but all I can remember was you having the most annoying crush on that one girl in our math class, and I’m just surprised, that’s all—”
His ears were bright red now. “YES, I’M HAVING A GAY CRISIS, OKAY?!”
Stunned silence followed. Sebastian swallowed, kicking at a mound of dirt. The flush had spread to the rest of his face and neck.
Abigail reached out and patted his shoulder. “Are you going to tell him?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No. Yes. I mean… I don’t know.” He groaned. “It’s just so weird.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“I feel obligated to ask you how things are going with Shane now.”
Abigail snorted. “You don’t have to do anything, Seb. But for the record, things are pretty great,” she said. “C’mon, let’s get going.”
She bent down to retrieve her sword, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and marched into the mines, Sebastian following hesitantly behind. The cave was dark, damp, cold. Water dripped onto their heads, and a distant, hollow wind rushed through the tunnels to the left and right. Ahead was a creaky old elevator that looked as though it would collapse as soon as anyone stepped inside, and to the side was a ladder leading down into the mines.
“Well,” she said, taking a deep breath and curling her fingers around the sword’s handle. “Shall we go, then?”
“Hold up,” Sebastian said. “If you think I’m going down into the mines, you’re insane. We’re just here to take a look around and then talk to Marlon.”
She pouted, but knew he had a point. “You’re no fun.”
They examined the perimeter first, then made their way towards the center. Most of what they found was just soft, wet earth, springing beneath their feet. Abigail twirled her sword around, disappointed she hadn’t gotten a chance to use it yet but keeping a sharp eye on the dark corners of the cavern nonetheless.
“Hey, Abigail.”
Sebastian was crouched by the ladder into the mines, looking at something on the ground. “Copper ore,” he said after a moment’s inspection, then searched the area until he’d found something else. “This one’s iron. I think there might be a gold one here, too, I can see it over there.”
He pointed a couple feet away, and Abigail followed the trail, getting on her knees and skimming the dirt with her palms until they ran over something hard, lumpy, and shiny. She snatched it up, holding the ore in the air. “Yep,” she said. “It’s gold alright.”
Seb was on his feet again, circling the ladder. “There’s dozens of these little ores scattered around everywhere.” He glanced at Abigail, who was still kneeling on the ground, worrying her lip between her teeth.
“I think,” she said slowly, “someone has most definitely been mining recently, and I’d bet my life they’re connected to our ghost.”
After being in the dark for so long, the brilliant autumn light seared her eyes as they walked out of the mines. Marlon’s so-called “Adventurer’s Guild” was just next door, and it was quiet, save for the crackle of a warm fire in the hearth and the creaking of Gil’s old rocking chair against the floorboards. The old man was fast asleep (Abigail had heard rumors that he never woke up. Ever), but Marlon was awake and alert, staring at his visitors in surprise. A pair of leather boots and a sword were sitting by the register.
“Hello there,” he greeted. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you two come up this way.”
“First time for everything, Marlon,” Abigail said, sauntering confidently up to him. She placed a hand on the counter, leaning in. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
Since leaving the mines, she’d been using the bottom of her hoodie as a pouch for the ores they’d collected. She turned it over and dumped the contents out onto the counter, the ores rattling and rolling around.
Marlon jumped back. “What is this?”
Abigail arched an eyebrow. “I think you know damn well what these are.”
“No, I really don’t.”
Sebastian nudged her. “Abi, just explain.”
With a sigh, she said, “We found these in the mine and a golden nugget over by the graveyard. Do you know if anyone has been collecting ores recently? We’ve heard rumors of some… suspicious activity in the mines.”
He mulled over her question, stroking his mustache. The eye not covered by his patch twitched. He shot a glance towards Gil, who was still sleeping and rocking away, a line of drool dribbling down his chin. “Well, nobody’s really been to the mines as of late, except for that farmer. What was her name? Charlotte?” Marlon froze, and his face paled. “Oh, goddamnit. I don’t think I was supposed to say anything about that.”
Jackpot. Abigail grinned.
“That’s alright, Marlon. You’ve been most helpful.” She leaned in closer, drumming her fingers on the counter. “How much money would it take to get some more information?”
Marlon chuckled, shaking his head, and busied himself by polishing one of the shields on display. “No need for that. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I might as well let you in on the secret and hope she doesn’t kill me.”
Abigail and Sebastian gulped. She didn’t think he was kidding about that.
“She’s been visiting the mines since last season or so to collect those ores, and has me inspect them before passing them along to a buyer. Don’t know who’s buying them, though. She threatened me when I asked about it.”
“Thank you, Marlon. You’ve been most helpful,” she said, straightening up. “We won’t bother you anymore.”
She scooped up the ores, shoving as many of them as she could into her hoodie pouch, and took off. They had to find Sam and Shane right away to tell them this new information. Sebastian scrambled to catch up, at her side by the time they passed Linus’s campsite.
“For Yoba’s sake, slow down. We’re not running a fucking race.”
“No can do, Seb. An investigation such as this demands urgency.”
He rolled his eyes towards the sky. “Hey, if you’re listening up there? Have pity on me.”
She punched him in the shoulder, prompting a yelp, and continued towards the graveyard.
Ten minutes with Sam, and Shane was starting to wish he’d insisted on the coinflip. At least then the last remaining shreds of his sanity might have stood a chance.
“What kind of name for a ghost is Ralph, anyway?” Sam kicked half-heartedly at a patch of weeds next to one of the gravestones, sending pebbles skittering onto the footpath. “I mean, I know guys named Ralph gotta die sometime, but seriously, would you tell the people you were haunting that that was your name?”
Shane re-checked the area around the sleeping bags, hoping the camcorder had made a miraculous reappearance since the last time he’d looked, but there was nothing. Just candy wrappers and crushed grass.
“I’d just make up something. It’s not like they’d know you were lying. What are they gonna do, call the ghost police and nail you on identity theft?”
Shane’s eye twitched as he turned, making a beeline for the other side of the cemetery. Maybe the camcorder had somehow gotten kicked behind someone’s headstone. Unfortunately, Sam was physically incapable of taking a hint.
“I guess it’s possible Vincent misheard him, but that just means the other options are even worse, right? Like ‘Ron’, or ‘Alf’. Hey, what do you think a ghost is doing with gold nuggets, anyway? Like, is he gathering some kind of secret ghostly treasure stash and hiding it around town? Or maybe it’s some kind of supernatural scavenger hunt--”
“Hey, Sam?”
“What’s up?”
If he yelled, Abigail was going to get mad at him later, so Shane took a deep, soothing breath and shoved his hands in his hoodie, where they weren’t in danger of throttling Sam into unconsciousness. “Less talking, more looking.”
“Oh! Right. Sorry. Gotta find clues.” Sam trotted past him, humming under his breath, and circled one of the silver birch trees that grew wild in the graveyard, its brittle, bare branches looming over them. “Do you think our stuff really got scattered this far?”
“I don’t know,” Shane said, trying to sound patient. “But it wasn’t over by the sleeping bags, so we might as well cover our bases.”
“Betcha Ralph took the camcorder,” Sam said, examining the tree roots.
Shane glared at him. “A ghost didn’t take the fucking camcorder.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know?”
“Because even if the thing we saw last night was a ghost, ghosts can’t touch stuff. That’s their whole deal.”
“Then where did the gold come from?” Sam pointed at him, triumphant. “Since you’re such an expert on ghosts all of a sudden.”
Shane threw his hands up. “I don’t know, okay? But I know it wasn’t from a damn ghost. Fuck.”
Turning on his heel, he stomped off back the way they’d come, swearing under his breath. He had hoped Sam would be deterred by his outburst, but no. He followed Shane, blessedly quiet until they got back to the sleeping bags.
“If you don’t believe in this stuff, why are you going along with it?” He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.
Shane sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because.”
“Because why?”
He sighed again, deeper. “Because it matters to Abigail, alright? Happy?”
He expected Sam to say something stupid in response, like make fun of him for being a sap, but instead there was silence. It was weirdly unsettling. He looked up just in time to see Sam perch on a nearby tree stump, expression determined. The silence took on a meaningful weight. Shane’s heart dropped.
No. Oh no.
“So, about that - “
“Absolutely not.”
“Aw, c’mon! You don’t even know what I was gonna ask yet!”
“I know I’m not giving you relationship advice.”
“Dude, please,” Sam whined, crossing his legs. “If I ask Abi she’ll make fun of me.”
“Then ask Sebastian.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the one I need advice about!”
Shane stared at him, mouth hanging open. Sam’s face was red, and he looked down at his lap, hands braced against his ankles.
“I want him to be happy,” he mumbled. “Like you want Abi to be happy. And I don’t wanna make things weird, but…”
“But you want to ask him out,” Shane said. Sam nodded frantically. “Yoba. Fuck. Okay. Fine. Just… promise me you’ll never ask me for advice again.”
“I promise,” Sam said, wide-eyed, holding up a hand in some kind of Boy Scout salute. He pressed the other one over his heart. “I swear I’ll never ask you for anything again.”
“Fine.” Shane scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to stall as he thought. “If you want to ask him out, then ask him. Be upfront about it, and don’t get weird if he says no.”
“Seriously? That’s your best advice?”
“What else do you want? There’s no magical way to guarantee a yes, dumbass. You tell him you like him, and you hope to hell he feels the same.”
“Yeah, but how? I want it to be like, special and shit.” Sam ran a hand through his gelled hair distractedly, then made a face and wiped it on his jeans. “How did you tell Abi you liked her?”
She’d kissed him, but he wasn’t about to tell Sam that. “I don’t - “
“Ask him out on Spirit’s Eve,” a dreamy voice said from behind him, and both Shane and Sam jumped as Emily swanned into view, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. “There’s going to be a full moon. You can’t get much more romantic than that.”
“You can’t just sneak up on people like that in a graveyard,” Shane told her, his heart beating unpleasantly fast. “Almost scared the piss out of me.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Sam said, sounding entirely too smug. Shane glared at him.
“Sorry,” Emily said, patting his arm. “You should think about it though, Sam. The festival would be a perfect time to tell Sebastian how you feel.”
“I’ll, uh… think about it, yeah,” Sam said, turning red again. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be weird.”
“Not at all! Just don’t do it at the community center.” Emily’s expression turned solemn, and she lowered her voice like she was imparting a great secret. “It might be hard to talk with all the noise.”
Sam cocked his head, confusion scrawled across his face. “What are you talking about? Nobody’s used the community center in years.”
“I know. That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Emily looked between them, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. “But every night, I go past it on my walk, and I’ve started hearing things.”
“What kind of things?” Shane asked, when nothing else was forthcoming.
“Scratching, creaking, banging. Sometimes voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying, or see anything through the windows.” The wrinkle deepened. “I don’t think they mean any harm, whatever they are, but it’s probably best not to disturb them. You never know with spirits.”
Shane groaned inwardly. “Whatever it is, it’s not spirits.”
“I wouldn’t say that so close to Spirit’s Eve, Shane,” Emily said, smiling up at him. “You never know who might be listening.”
Shane groaned again, outwardly this time, but with less heat. You could always count on Emily to be weird, regardless of the time of year. Before either of them could say anything else, Sam cut back in.
“Hey, why are you here, anyway?”
It was a fair question, Shane had to admit. “Yeah, why are you here?”
“My horoscope said to try something new today, so I went on a different path for my pre-work walk, and then I saw you two,” Emily said. “Speaking of which, I should probably head over to the saloon.” She pointed at Sam. “Don’t forget, Spirit’s Eve. Full moon. He’ll love it.”
“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat.
Shane rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Emily.”
“See you later,” she chirped, and then she was off, humming an unfamiliar tune as she strolled down the path and out of the cemetery. Shane watched until she was out of sight, then turned back to Sam, who was chewing on his lower lip, looking unusually thoughtful.
“That good enough advice for you?”
“Yeah, Emily’s definitely better at this kinda thing than you are.” Sam stretched his legs out, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “So, what now?”
There was still no sign of the camcorder or the flashlight they’d dropped, and unless Abigail and Sebastian had discovered something up at the mines, they were out of leads. Yoba, leads--he was going to start taking the whole investigation thing seriously at this rate. The only info they had that even resembled a clue was Emily’s insistence that something was going on at the community center (not spirits, he wasn’t that far gone yet). Shane imagined Abigail’s eyes lighting up when he relayed the news, and sighed for the third time in thirty minutes.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Let’s go find Abigail and your boyfriend. We’ve got a new lead to follow.”
Notes:
Shane is really trying, you guys
Chapter Text
Spirit’s Eve was to ghost hunting as Michael Jordan was to basketball, as Journey of the Prairie King was to video games, as John Hughes was to 80s movies–-the perfect time to catch a ghost. Armed with the info provided by Shane and Sam, that the Community Center was rumored to be haunted, Abigail made a compelling argument that they should all attend the Spirit’s Eve festival in the town square. Afterwards, they would camp out in the Community Center and try to nab the ghost themselves. The group met at Sam’s house around ten, since he lived the closest to the center of town.
“Um, Abi,” Seb said, tugging on the bottom of his long-sleeved turtleneck. “I understand why we’re camping out during Spirit’s Eve, but why do we have to wear all black for it?”
Abigail threw back her head and groaned.
She put up a finger. “First, you always wear all black anyway, you creep.” She held up another finger. “And second, it’s so the ghost doesn’t see us, dummy. Remember how we almost got murdered last time?”
“I don’t think wearing all black is gonna stop an ethereal being from seeing us if he so desires.”
“Hey guys, not to interrupt, but.” Shane looked up, where Jas was perched on his shoulders. She tugged at the neck of his black t-shirt. “I have a very impatient eight-year-old who wants to go into the super spooky ghosts and frights maze, or whatever Lewis calls that thing.”
“I think it’s officially called the Sights and Frights Super Spirit’s Eve Maze Extravaganza,” Sam said.
Abigail smiled softly at Shane, heart warming as he set her gently down on the ground and patted her on the back. She knew he had his insecurities about how well he was doing as a father figure, but she really didn’t see why–he should already know how awesome he was at the whole dad thing. She crept up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint purple lipstick stain behind, and sat back on her heels.
She glanced down at Jas. “Very cute that you think you’re going to beat me to the Golden Pumpkin, kiddo.”
“No fair! You’re already grown up!” Jas was pouting, but Abigail could tell it was all in good spirit. She and Jas had really bonded over the few months she’d been dating Shane, aligned in their mutual enjoyment of childish games and teasing Shane.
Jas took Shane’s hand, and the five of them were off to the festival. Lewis, Leah, Emily, and Robin–the town’s unofficial party-planning committee–had really outdone themselves with the decorations. Paper mâché skeletons hung from doorways, purple and orange bat-shaped lights stretched across the town square, and Jack-o-Lanterns in dozens of different designs lined the sidewalks. A compilation of music that included ghoulish shrieks and different variations of Monster Mash played from Lewis’s old speaker set.
But the real star of the festival was the Sights and Frights Super Spirit’s Eve Maze Extravaganza, a terrifying, spook-filled maze rumored to be designed by the Wizard and his magical powers. There were some, like Sebastian and Shane, who believed that the Wizard was just “a crackpot in a purple cowboy hat,” but Abigail knew better. No one devoid of sorcery could’ve made such a badass maze.
When they reached the entrance to the maze, Abigail went to charge inside, ready to win the ultimate prize, but Shane grabbed her sleeve and tugged her back.
“Hey, uh, do you think you can hang back this time? Help me keep an eye on Jas.” He nodded his head to where Jas was talking animatedly with Vincent, who was drawing a crude approximation of the maze in the dirt using a stick. “She doesn’t want me to come with her, but I still want to make sure they’re safe.”
Abigail deflated inside but tried not to let it show. She knew helping Shane take care of his goddaughter was more important than winning a competition, even if it wounded the part of her that adored Spirit’s Eve and pumpkins. “Sure, okay.”
Sam and Sebastian were already gone, having disappeared around the first turn, so Shane and Abigail went in alone after waiting a few minutes to put distance between themselves and Jas. They walked slowly among the hedges, side by side. A cold wind blew, autumn air threatening to transform into winter in the next few days, and Shane shrugged deeper into his hoodie. Abigail smirked, nudging him with her shoulder.
“Couldn’t find your long pants, even for tonight?”
Shane huffed out a laugh, pushing hair out of his face. “Very funny.”
“Did Charlie eat them?”
“No, Ralph took them.”
Abigail cracked a smile. They rounded the corner and discovered a dead end. In the dim light of the lanterns, Abigail could see Jas was upset with Vincent. She pulled Shane into the shadows so that the two kids wouldn’t see them when they doubled back.
“Hey, speaking of Ralph,” she said. “Wanna hear something crazy that Seb and I found out when we investigated the mines?”
Shane hesitated for a moment before agreeing. Something about the pause made Abigail’s stomach twist, but she ignored it. “We went to see Marlon. You know, the guy up in the Adventurer’s Guild? They had so many cool swords on the walls there, it was pretty dope. But anyway, he told us that the farmer is like, straight up crazy.”
Shane quirked an eyebrow. “Well, duh. I could’ve told you that.”
“I know, but—”
He pressed a finger to his lips as Jas and Vincent passed them, and she quieted until the kids were far enough ahead that they could continue their conversation. “Okay, so like I was saying, Marlon said the farmer’s been bringing ores from the mines to be inspected and sold, but he has no idea who’s buying them, and apparently she threatened him if he ever told anyone about it.” She grinned. “Isn’t that totally wild? This ghost hunt is so much more exciting than I anticipated, and I’m loving it.”
Shane didn’t answer at first, and the longer he stayed silent, the more Abigail’s smile slipped. Had she done something wrong? Was he in one of his weird moods again? Sometimes when that happened, she’d just call him “Moody McBroody” to ease the tension, but she got the sense that wouldn’t be a good idea this time.
“Abi, please don’t be mad,” he started.
Okay, so she was about to be mad. Fine. This was totally fine.
“But don’t you think we might be taking this ‘ghost hunt’ thing too far? That sounds pretty serious and I dunno about you, but I don’t particularly want to be murdered by the town psycho.” Shane wouldn’t meet her gaze, hands shoved in his pockets. “This is maybe too much for me.”
“Well, then you don’t have to be here. Just go home after the festival, it’s fine,” she said, jaw clenched. She crossed her arms. “Whatever you want to do, I don’t care.”
“Sounds like you do care.”
“Nope. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
“I mean, think about it, Abigail.” Shane sounded exasperated now. He sighed. “It’s not like ghosts are even real.”
It’s not like ghosts are even real.
The words echoed in her mind, mingled with the things her father had always told her growing up. You’ve got too big of an imagination. Girls shouldn’t be so interested in such scary things–-it’s unladylike. Stop messing around out there with those boys and go help your mother in the kitchen.
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked, desperate to get rid of them.
“Right. Yeah. It’s all stupid, right? Me believing in ghosts?” Her voice wavered. She hated herself for it. “Just like Dad always says. I’ve gotta get serious about life someday, y’know, settle down with a nice man and stop believing in made up things for kids.”
Shane observed her for a moment, sighing again. “Abi, please don’t cry,” he said. “I just wanted to point out that we might get into some serious trouble if we poke around in the farmer’s business too much, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He turned his head to the side and mumbled, “Besides, I’ve just been a burden on the whole investigation anyway. You’re probably better off without me.”
“Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”
The tears were gone. Now she was just angry.
There were probably red splotches on her face because she always got them when she was mad, but it was too dark for her to care. A few hedge rows over, someone screamed, and she found it fitting for what she wanted to do currently.
“Would you stop it with that self-deprecating crap?” She raised her voice a few octaves, imitating him. “‘I’m Shane, and I’m soooo sad. Everything is crap, and I’m a piece of garbage.’”
Shane snapped his head around to look at her. He was scowling. “Come on. I don’t sound like that.”
“Yes, you do, and it’s so annoying.” She knew she should stop. Close her mouth and apologize, maybe. But she couldn’t, and the words came out anyway. “You’re so far in your own head you can’t even see that people like, care about you.”
He’d gone silent. His face was pale, jaw clenched in a tight line.
“And somehow, I’m the crazy one for thinking hey, maybe we could have a little bit of fun in this backwards town where nothing ever fucking happens.” Abigail held her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get angry there. Guess I should just go back to being the cute and quirky girl that no one ever takes seriously.”
“Abigail, I didn’t—”
“Save it.”
Storming out of the maze proved harder than she anticipated, mostly because it was super dark and very twisty, and she honestly had no idea where they were in relation to the exit. But she was at least able to find a quiet corner away from Shane. Palms resting on her knees, she took several deep breaths to center herself. If she didn’t, she thought she might vomit.
But she wasn’t alone. Two shadows moved along the hedge to her right. Whoever they belonged to, they were breathing pretty heavily. Inhaling sharply, she whirled around to face whoever was trying to sneak up on her, fists raised high. What she found instead was much more shocking.
Sam and Sebastian were making out, tongues and all. Sam had Seb pressed against the side of the maze, hands pinned on either side of him. If it wasn’t for the distinctive spikes of his hair, Abigail wouldn’t have even realized it was Seb being pinned. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Why did they smack their lips so much?
“Ugh, gross!” she cried out.
They jumped apart. Sam yelped, while Seb tried to flatten his hair, looking at Abigail in horror.
“It’s not—”
“We were just—”
“You two are ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a shit that you’re obviously into each other. Congratulations, about time you did something about it. Also, we’re going camping now. I just decided. So come with me.”
Seb and Sam exchanged looks.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Just follow me.”
They had questions, she knew, but she ignored both of them, making her way back to the exit with determined, swift strides. Once they’d reached the town square, she beelined for the buffet table. The thermos she’d stowed away in her backpack for the night’s camping adventure was currently empty and found a new tenant in the form of Pam’s infamous “pumpkin cider,” which was ninety percent vodka with a hint of cider.
Sam placed a hand on her shoulder as she scooped another ladleful of the cider into her thermos. “Abi, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just think we need to stay focused on the investigation, that’s all.” She turned to face him, plastering a smile on her face. “We’ve gotten too sidetracked.”
“Okay,” Sam agreed, but still seemed hesitant. He backed away as Abigail twisted the cap to her thermos on tight.
“Where’s Shane?” Sebastian asked.
She hadn’t expected him to be the one to broach the subject–normally, it probably would’ve been Sam. But this was just fine, totally fine. Abigail took a deep breath. “He’s not coming with us anymore. Decided ghost hunting wasn’t for him.”
She stuffed the cider in her backpack, zipped it up, and shrugged the pack over her shoulders. As she headed towards the Community Center, she didn’t look behind her, knowing Sam and Seb would still be confused. There would be time for questions later; she had to focus on their goal. Everything would be just fine if she concentrated on catching the ghost—at least, that’s what she told herself.
Fucking Ralph.
It was the third time Shane had thought as much in as many minutes, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t blame his problems on the supernatural. Not this time.
It’s not like ghosts are even real.
He’d been pissed at Abigail for the rest of the maze, but by the time Jas and Vincent made their way to the end and claimed their prize--a curiously heavy golden pumpkin, even though there was no way it was actually solid gold--he’d started to feel guilty instead. She’d been unfair, but she’d also been excited about this whole ghost hunt thing, and he’d shot her down. And yeah, it had been for a good reason and he was still irritated with her for not taking his advice, since Charlotte was nutty as squirrel shit and they needed to stay far, far away from her, but then again, what kind of boyfriend did this make him? To just leave her to camp out in the community center on her own, without anyone to watch her back?
Okay, not completely alone, but the fact that Sam and Sebastian were there didn’t exactly fill him with confidence. He was pretty sure Charlotte could take them both without breaking a sweat.
Shane didn’t believe in ghosts. None of this had changed that. But Abigail did, and she’d wanted him there because it was important to her, and very few people gave enough of a shit about him to want that. He hadn’t been anyone’s boyfriend in years, but he was pretty sure he was already fucking it up, if the night’s events were anything to go by.
By eleven, Jas was insisting she wasn’t tired, even though she was falling asleep on her feet, so he and Marnie said their goodbyes to the stragglers, and headed home. Jas stopped protesting about being carried and fell asleep before they were even halfway there. As soon as he’d tucked her into bed and set the golden pumpkin on her dresser, he went to the kitchen for the spare flashlight, shoved it into his hoodie pocket, and caught Marnie as she was headed into her room.
“I’ll be back later.”
“It’s eleven-thirty,” Marnie said, eyebrows raised. “The saloon’s closed."
“I’m not - “ Shane gritted his teeth. “I know it’s closed, alright? I gotta take care of something.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine. I have to go meet Abigail and her friends for a Spirit’s Eve… thing, I just wanted to put Jas to bed first.”
“Oh, I see,” Marnie said, and Shane wasn’t sure he liked how quickly she relaxed, especially when she gave him a knowing wink. “Well, you and Abigail enjoy yourselves at the ‘thing’. Just be back by morning if you don’t want Jas asking awkward questions.”
“Abigail and her friends,” Shane stressed, his entire face hot.
“Shane, you’re almost thirty,” Marnie said and gave him a little wave as she headed for her room. “Try not to wake me up when you get in.”
Shane grunted, hoping it sounded more like good night than fuck off, and hurled himself out the front door before he could embarrass himself any further.
The night was crisp and chill, and the stars were muted, the sky an inky void. A full harvest moon hung low over the trees. Shane ignored the shiver that ran down his spine and ran until he reached the edge of town, street lights flickering. The festival usually started winding down about this time, people pitching in to pack up leftovers and pick up trash, so he took the long way around, winding past the cemetery and doubling back across the bridge by the JojaMart. The hill leading up to the community center was choked with pines, and there was no light or sound, save the faint glow from the moon and the wind in the branches. It was, Shane decided, a good thing he didn’t believe in ghosts, because things were looking pretty fucking eerie right about then.
The center was just past the playground, boarded-up and dark, tomb-like. Shane slowed down, too winded to keep running--fuck, he really was out of shape--just in time to see a flash of light in one of the windows, followed by the faint sound of distant voices. Relief shot through him, and he stumbled the rest of the way up the path, clutching his side. Thankfully, the doors were unlocked, and he threw one open, hinges shrieking in protest.
Bright light flooded the doorway, blinding him, and someone screamed as three figures jumped off the sunken couch in the middle of the room. Shane threw his arms up, white lights bursting behind his eyelids.
“Calm the fuck down, it’s me!”
“Shane?” The light dimmed , and he dropped his arms, blinking into the darkness. Slivers of Abigail’s pale face swam into view. “Holy shit, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here?”
“I came back to help.” One of his eyes was watering. He scrubbed at it with his sleeve. “Just in case… y’know, something happens.”
“Oh,” Abigail said, biting her lip, but not before he caught the beginnings of a smile. His heart fluttered. She shifted the flashlight, and the beam fell across the couch and onto Sam and Sebastian, who were huddled together for dear life, pale in the gloom. “You guys, it’s just Shane. You can stop freaking out.”
“Right,” Sebastian said, making no move to disentangle himself.
“Close the door,” Sam whined, burying his face against Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’re gonna let the spirits in.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the door is the only thing stopping them,” Shane said, but kicked the door closed anyway, plunging the room back into darkness. Abigail swept her flashlight around, illuminating rickety wooden beams and dusty floorboards. The hallway down to the furnace room yawned wide and black and silent.
“Nothing’s happened yet,” she said. “But you can stay… if you want.”
In response, Shane took the flashlight out of his pocket and clicked it on and off in quick succession. When he crossed the room to join them, Abigail leaned into him for a second, their shoulders bumping.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
He nodded. Then he paused and sniffed the air, something familiar prickling his nose. “Did you get into Pam’s cider?”
“No,” Abigail said, and burped. “Yeah. Kinda.”
“Hope you brought some water too, because there’s enough vodka in that to put down a horse.” Shane sat down on the floor with a grunt, and Abigail flopped down next to him after a second, propped up against the couch. “You haven’t seen Charlotte tonight, have you?”
“Nah, she never comes to town stuff.” Abigail tilted her head back against the cushions. “You guys didn’t see Charlotte, right?”
“Nah.” Springs creaked as Sebastian shifted his weight. “Who do you think is buying all that gold from her, anyway?”
“JojaMart,” Sam said. “Probably Morris trying to build a statue for his shrine.”
“Wait,” Shane said, leaning forward. “What the fuck. You know about the shrine?”
“Yeah dude. I went into his office one time to get my paycheck and he left the door open. Freaky, right?”
“Well, why didn’t you say something? I could have used the heads-up.”
Even in the darkness, he could tell Sam was giving him a look. “Would you have believed me?”
“Fair enough.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Creepy capitalism shrine aside, what exactly are we supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait?”
“I was getting to that,” Abigail said defensively, digging her phone out of her pocket. The screen flashed on, then off again. “It’s just past midnight, so we only have an hour. Here, I brought weapons, just in case.”
“Weapons?” Sam bounced upright from the couch, disentangling himself from Sebastian. “Cool. What’d you bring me?”
“Weapons?” Shane echoed, concerned. “Abigail--”
“Calm down, I didn’t bring swords or anything. Here.” Something smooth and cold was shoved into Shane’s hand. “I brought enough for everyone.”
Shane squinted at the object in his hand. “Is that… a fork?”
“Aw man, Abi, why does he get the fork? You gave me a spoon.”
“You know why, Sam.”
Across from him, Sebastian was staring at the butter knife in his hand. “Why are you giving us silverware?”
“It’s from my grandma’s heirloom set, so be careful.” Abigail brandished a second fork at them in warning. “It was the only real silver we had in the house.”
“Okay,” Sebastian said, slowly. “But, again. Why?”
“Because silver’s the only substance that can harm spirits. Obviously.” Abigail reached back into her bag. “I also brought pepper spray.”
“I thought that was supposed to kill werewolves, not ghosts,” Sam said.
“Silver is poison to all sorts of supernatural beings,” Abigail said, deadly serious, and pulled out a spray can on a keychain and a wooden box. “We have everything we need now, so all we have to do is wait until one.”
Sebastian was looking less impressed by the minute. “Why do we have to wait until one?”
“Because that’s the witching hour, when the veil is thinnest between worlds, and it’s our best chance to summon him. Seriously, Sebastian, keep up.”
“Yeah, Sebastian,” Sam said, and caught an elbow to the ribs in response. “Ow, hey!”
“Shut up, both of you,” Shane said. “You want to summon the ghost now? What happened to just waiting for him to show up?”
“Think about it.” Abigail set the box down, sliding the lid off with a rasp of wood against grain. “Last time we waited, he got the drop on us, right? So this time, we have the element of surprise.”
“Shit,” Sam suddenly blurted out, and Shane looked down to see the board she’d unfolded and spread out in front of her, its surface covered in thick black letters and symbols. “You brought a weggy board?”
“A what?”
“A weegie board or however the hell you say it--I’m serious, stop laughing!” Sam practically crawled on top of Sebastian to get to the other side of the couch, swearing as Sebastian and Abigail both collapsed into howls. “It’s not funny, you guys, this is serious! Those things are cursed!”
“It’s called a ouija board, and it’s not cursed,” Abigail corrected him, pausing to wipe her eyes. “It’s for calling spirits forth from their realm so we can communicate with them.”
“Yeah, so they can eat our souls and possess our corpses and take over the town one by one!”
“That is… weirdly specific,” Sebastian said, smile fading. “He’s kinda right, though. It’s a bad idea to mess around with that stuff.”
“You don’t even believe in ‘that stuff’,” Abigail said.
“Yeah, well.” Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I’m just saying.”
“Don’t be such a wuss. I’ve done this plenty of times and never had anything bad happen.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never successfully summoned anything, either.”
“That’s because I’ve never tried on Spirit’s Eve.” Abigail crossed her arms and shot a challenging look at all of them, her gaze lingering on Shane. “Now are you gonna help me, or not?”
It was now or never. He nodded.
Abigail hadn’t brought any real candles--it would be too easy to knock one over and set the place on fire, Abigail explained, looking pointedly at Sam--so they set up the fake, battery-powered ones she’d packed instead. Then they sat in a loose circle around the ouija board, silverware in one hand and the other on the planchette.
Shane had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but this was definitely towards the top of the list. It was too late to back out now, though. He was there for Abigail–he just had to keep reminding himself of that.
“It’s getting close to one,” Abigail said, eyes sparkling in the simulated candlelight. “You guys ready for this?”
“What are we even supposed to be doing?” Sam asked. “Just sitting here, or…”
“I’ll handle all the important stuff. Just focus your energy on summoning the ghost with me.” Abigail started moving the planchette in aimless loops--warming up, Shane guessed. “And let me do the talking.”
“No problem,” Sebastian said dryly.
Silence fell as Abigail moved, and the three of them moved with her, following some invisible pattern across the board. The fake flickering of the candles seemed almost real, the way the light danced with the shadows, and occasionally wood creaked and wind whispered through the cracks, tree branches scraping against the far windows. It was nothing, and Shane knew it was nothing, but goosebumps still prickled his arms and scalp as the planchette came to rest in the center of the board, all of their fingers tense around the edges.
“Relax,” Abigail said quietly, hair falling around her face as she bent over the board. “Don’t try to move it, don’t think of a direction. Just concentrate.”
Shane closed his eyes and tried to think anything besides ghosts aren’t real.
“Spirits, can you hear me?”
Nothing happened, nothing moved. Just the wind dragging its fingernails across the walls outside. To Shane’s left, Sam fidgeted. Another long moment passed.
Abigail cleared her throat. “Is there anyone there who wants to speak to us?”
The planchette was still. Shane’s hands were sweaty. Could anyone else tell? Probably. That must be why Abigail didn’t like holding hands with him--because they were always so fucking sweaty. He cracked one eye open. Sebastian looked bored. Sam was staring intently at the planchette like he was both waiting for it to move and afraid that it would. Across from him, Abigail chewed her lip, frowning.
“Spirits, are you - “
The planchette trembled between Shane’s fingers and the board. He jumped, and Sam made a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat, his eyes widening. Sebastian sat up straight. Abigail’s mouth hung open, but no sound came out. It trembled again, then lurched to the side, skidding across the letters.
“Stop moving it,” Sebastian hissed.
“I’m not!” Sam hissed back, panic threading his voice.
There was a faint scraping as the planchette righted its course and came drifting back, heading for the top left corner of the board. The goosebumps were back in full force, rippling down Shane’s spine as it came to a halt, hovering over one word. Yes.
“If one of you assholes is doing this,” he croaked.
“It’s not me dude, I swear--”
“Well, it’s definitely not me--”
“Shut up,” Abigail said, and they all fell silent, looking at her. She was breathing hard now, cheeks flushed and eyes huge. “Holy shit. Oh fuck. Okay. Um… spirit, if you’re still listening, can you tell us your name?”
It wasn’t real, Shane reminded himself. None of this was real. This was all a coincidence, or maybe Sam being a dick, but whatever was happening, ghosts weren’t behind it. Even if his pounding heart hadn’t caught up with his brain yet. The planchette trembled, then resettled. No movement.
“Can you tell us who we’re speaking to?” Abigail pressed, leaning over the board. “If you’re still there, please, tell us your name.”
Under Shane’s fingers, the wood had grown warm, and for just a second, he swore it grew warmer still; the planchette slid across the board, inch by excruciating inch. Abigail was practically vibrating, Sam and Sebastian equally pale and sweating; all four of them watched in silence as it came to rest just above the letter R--
The door to the community center banged open.
Someone screamed--could have been Abigail, could have been Sam--and the board and fake candles went flying, crashing and rolling across the floor as all four of them bolted to their feet. Shane didn’t look back, didn’t stop, as he ran away, then yelped as someone grabbed his wrist. It was only Abigail, dragging him down the hall as she surged ahead. At the very end was the boiler room, but he didn’t want to get trapped in there, because what if, what if–
“Old mayor’s office,” he gasped, and they veered off to the left, skidding to a stop in front of the door at the end of the hall. Sam and Sebastian crashed into their backs a half-second later, everyone’s ragged breathing overlapping as Abigail jiggled the handle.
“It’s stuck.” Her voice was shrill. “Or it’s locked or something, it’s fucking stuck--”
“I told you we shouldn’t have messed with the ohji board,” Sam moaned, clinging to Sebastian’s arm. “I told you!”
“Shut UP, Sam, I swear to Yoba--”
Something creaked at the far end of the hall. It could have been footsteps; it could have been the wind. Abigail shrieked, yanking at the door, and in a burst of adrenaline-fueled desperation, Shane muscled up next to her and slammed his shoulder into it, once, twice, three times until it flew open and sent all four of them stumbling into the office. Shane nearly lost his balance, swearing as his knee caught the edge of the huge wooden desk right in front of the door, pain shooting up his leg. Abigail grabbed his shoulder, her nails digging in through his hoodie.
“Shane,” she squeaked.
Shane looked up, eyes watering, and couldn’t understand what he was seeing; his brain refused to piece the puzzle together, because it wasn’t possible, this rippling white shape floating before them, bathed in moonlight. In his panic, he hadn’t heard the noise, but he was hearing it now, the inhuman, sickening drone emanating directly from the floating figure, and surely that couldn’t be real, because if it was, then--
Several things happened at once. Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian all screamed again. Shane scrambled back a couple steps, dread crawling up his spine, and turned around before he could stop himself. A shrouded figure loomed in the doorway, half-lit by the moonlight streaming through the blinds. Shane didn’t yell, exactly, but the strangled noise in his throat was one he hadn’t known he was capable of making. He didn’t have anything to defend himself. Not the flashlight, not even Abigail’s grandmother’s fork. He cast around for something, anything, grabbing blindly at the desk, and then out of the corner of his eye there was a blur of motion, followed by a yelp of pain and a familiar voice.
“Ow! For Yoba’s sake, get off of me!”
“Mayor Lewis?” came Sam’s hesitant reply.
“Samson?”
Searing light suddenly flooded the room. Shane lowered his arms, blinking, and took in everything as his eyes adjusted: Sebastian standing by the light switch on the far wall, Abigail brandishing her silverware, and Sam crouching over a black-clad Mayor Lewis, whose cap had fallen off in the attack, face red beneath his bristling mustache. The choking, musty drone was still coming from somewhere, but it was much less alarming with the lights on, and the white shape had resolved itself into a human-sized lump draped in white sheets just in front of the window. There were no ghouls, no murderers, no ghosts. Shane exhaled, then looked at the man in the doorway.
“Lewis.”
“Shane,” Lewis grunted, and turned his glare on Sam, who still looked ready to jump out of his skin. “Samson, whatever you just tried to stab me with, you can--is that a spoon?”
“Yes,” Sam said mulishly, not lowering it.
“Sam,” Abigail groaned. “Please stop threatening the mayor.”
“Not until he tells us why he’s creeping around here in the middle of the night.”
“I could ask you the same thing, young man,” Lewis started, puffing out his chest as he geared up for what was probably going to be the lecture of the century, and Shane cut him off with a smack of his hand against the wall. Four heads swiveled to look at him.
“Sam makes a good point, actually. Why are you here, Lewis?”
“Well, I…” Lewis’ mustache twitched as he trailed off, gaze darting between them and the back wall. Shane followed it to the sheet-draped lump. Abigail must have done the same, because she took a few steps towards it, and with each one, Lewis’ face drained of color. “Don’t!” He tried to struggle to his feet, but Sam grabbed his shoulders and forced him back into a sitting position, shaking his head firmly.
“Abi,” he said, and there was a gleam in his eye Shane didn’t like. “Pull the sheet off.”
“Abigail,” Lewis said, tone warning.
Abigail looked him dead in the eye as she yanked the sheet off. It fluttered to the floor, and in its wake there was stunned silence.
“What,” Shane said, “the fuck.”
Lewis’ face had gone from white to purple, mouth opening and closing. He made no move to get up even as Sam let him go and stood up, backing away hurriedly. Abigail kept looking back and forth from Lewis to the space where the sheet had been, expression contorted with horrified glee. Sebastian just stared.
“Is that… a statue? Of you?” he asked.
Abigail reached over and rapped her knuckles against the statue’s arm. “A golden statue.”
“I--well, I didn’t--” Lewis stammered. He looked like he might try to get up again, so Shane shifted to stand between Lewis and the doorway, arms crossed. “I don’t think I need to explain--”
“No, you definitely do, because this is some weird-ass shit,” Sam said. “Is that actually solid gold?”
“Guess we know who Charlotte’s mystery buyer is,” Shane muttered.
“That’s not--”
Sebastian sounded like he was trying not to laugh now. “Mayor Lewis? Did you commission a statue of yourself?”
“For Yoba’s sake, will you all be quiet?” Lewis snapped. This time, when he picked up his cap and heaved himself to his feet, no one tried to stop him. He pressed one hand to his lower back with a groan. “I’m entirely too old for this.”
“Yeah, well, if you don’t want us to tell everyone about this, you should probably start explaining some things,” Abigail said, then immediately put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit. The cemetery the other night. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Lewis sighed and nodded. “Sorry to scare you like I did. I didn’t think it would work, to be honest. I just needed you to clear out before I met with Charlotte.”
“Why were you meeting in the cemetery, anyway?”
“Her idea. I tell you, I have no idea what goes through that woman’s mind most days.” Lewis resettled his cap on his head and gave her a pointed look. “I figured it was safe, since most people refrain from camping out in cemeteries in the dead of night.”
“Most people aren’t doing shady business deals in the middle of the night either,” Abigail shot back. “I bet it was you Vincent saw too, in Sam’s yard.”
Sam’s mouth hung open. “You’re Ralph?”
Lewis frowned at him. “Who’s Ralph?”
“Ignore him,” Abigail said. “What were you doing in their yard that late at night?”
Lewis hesitated, then sighed again, shoulders slumping like the air had gone out of him. “The night before, I’d met with Charlotte in that little park just behind your house. It was earlier than usual, since she had somewhere to be, and I thought we were being cautious, but then we heard something crashing around in the bushes, and I… well, I panicked, and she panicked, and the only thing either of us could think to do was to run for the closest place, which was your backyard.” He at least had the grace to look embarrassed at this, tugging on the brim of his cap. “The noise had also woken your father up, so when he came out to investigate, I’m not proud to say I panicked further. I hid the gold in some of the bushes near the fence. Turns out it was just Linus looking for something he lost.” He coughed. “Thought I’d come back to get the gold later, after everything had settled down, but I wasn’t able to until the following night.”
“And seeing Vincent made you panic again,” Abigail guessed, hands folded behind her back. Her Law & Order: Zuzu City voice was out in full effect again. “You knew if he saw you, you couldn’t explain yourself two nights in a row.”
“I wouldn’t quite phrase it that way,” Lewis said, unamused. “But yes, I did the first thing I could think of, which was to grab the sheet hanging on the line. Vincent’s always been imaginative -- I figured that would be the end of it.”
“But then he told us,” Abigail said, sounding utterly satisfied.
“Yes,” Lewis grunted. “Then he told you.”
"What's Charlotte doing selling you gold, anyway?" Sam asked suddenly. "And what's all that construction on her farm for, anyway?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know," Lewis said, shaking his head. "She brought me the gold, I gave her the construction permits. Anything beyond that is her business."
“Okay, well, putting that horrifying information aside,” Sebastian cut in, "you still haven’t explained the statue."
Lewis looked like he was thinking about making a break for it. Shane caught his eye and shook his head. Lewis deflated all over again.
“Do you know how long I’ve been mayor of this town?”
“Over twenty years,” everyone chorused.
“Over twenty years,” Lewis went on, like they hadn’t spoken at all. “I love this town, Yoba knows I do, but sometimes a person wants to be appreciated for their contributions and leadership, and not constantly saddled with budget cuts and unruly skateboarders and folks who refuse to clean up after themselves without so much as a thank you--and back in my day, people knew how to express gratitude properly, let me tell you, but now? Oh, nowadays it’s thankless work to be sure, trying to keep this place afloat. Not an ounce of respect from any of you, even though I’ve spent the last three years keeping JojaMart from turning this place into a warehouse and sucking the last bit of life from our town. Being Mayor… it doesn’t mean as much as it used to. It’s not a crime to want some acknowledgement of your life’s work, is it? Tell me you won’t begrudge an old man for that.”
Oh my god, Abigail mouthed at Shane from across the room.
“Who built that thing for you, anyway?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed. “You’re not a blacksmith.”
“Clint,” Lewis said, looking put out. “I asked him to do it here, where no one would see. He’s been working on it in the basement for the last few weeks.”
“Where were you going to put it?” Sebastian asked. “That thing’s not exactly small.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Lewis drew himself up, staring down his nose at them. “And I think I’ve answered enough of your questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me--”
“Nope,” Shane said.
“‘Nope’?” The glare shifted to him. “I hope you’re not implying you’d try to hold me against my will, Mr. Andrews.”
“Nah, nothing like that. You can leave.” Shane schooled his expression to look as bored as he possibly could. “But I think people might get upset if it comes out that you were misappropriating funds for… you know. This.”
Lewis’ face drained of color for the second time that night. Abigail’s lit up.
“Fine,” he hissed, and now he was starting to sweat, “fine, then. What do you want?”
“Melt that thing down, sell the gold, and use it to start fixing this place up,” Shane said. It was the first thing he could think of, but it sounded good. Way better than letting it languish until JojaMart turned it into a warehouse. “People miss having an actual community center.”
Lewis nodded stiffly.
“And you have to take my aunt on a date. A real one. Out in public.”
“That’s not--”
“She deserves it,” Shane said, staring him down, and Lewis’s mouth snapped shut. After a moment, he looked away, clearing his throat.
“I’ll arrange it this week.”
“Good.”
“And,” Sam chimed in, looking smug, “we don’t have to do community service for the rest of the year.”
“Fine,” Lewis said, glaring at him. “It’s just as well. I’ve had quite enough of all of you for the foreseeable future.”
“You can go,” Shane said, moving out of the doorway.
“Happy Spirit’s Eve, Mayor Lewis,” Abigail said sweetly.
Lewis muttered something unintelligible under his breath and shoved past Shane, their shoulders knocking together on his way out the door, and then it was just the four of them and the statue, staring vacantly at the wall with its unseeing golden eyes. Sebastian picked the sheet up and tossed it back over the statue, tugging until everything but the arms were covered.
“It was creeping me out,” he said.
“Me too,” Sam said. “I can’t believe Lewis was Ralph.”
“Me either.” Abigail stepped around the desk and tucked herself into Shane’s side, one arm sliding around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders. “That sucks, though. I wanted there to be a real ghost.”
“I know,” Shane said, and nobody spoke for a moment, until Sam shrugged and stuck out his arm for her to take her grandmother’s spoon back.
“Yeah, but that oojee stuff had me going for a minute. It was actually kinda fun.”
“Ouija,” Abigail said. “And seriously? You were screaming your head off.”
“You can’t prove that,” Sam said. “But yeah, seriously. This was the most exciting Spirit’s Eve we’ve had in a long time. Really weird and sometimes terrifying, but… fun.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s got a point,” Sebastian said, and dodged as Sam swiped at him. “Whatever tonight was, it definitely wasn’t boring.”
“Huh,” Abigail said, and Shane could hear her smiling as she leaned into him, tilting her head back. “What about you? Not too shabby for our first ghost hunt, right?”
“What do you mean, ‘first’?”
“I’m just saying! Be open to the possibilities. Like, a few weeks ago, I heard the women at my mom’s aerobic class complaining about noises coming from the sewers at night...”
“This town is so fucking weird,” Shane said.
One of the fake candles had broken when Sam kicked it over, but the rest still worked. They flickered on either side of the ouija board as Abigail knelt between them, the faint light catching in her hair and making it shine like amethyst.
“Sorry for making you stay longer,” she said apologetically. “I know it’s late.”
Shane shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m working nights this weekend.”
“Okay. I thought…” She trailed off, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear, twisting it around her finger before letting go. “I wanted to say sorry, for earlier. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It kind of is, though.”
“Yeah, well. I was being a buzzkill.” He shrugged again. “Just… please don’t compare me to your dad again, okay? That was weird.”
Abigail made a noise that could have been a laugh, but it quickly petered out. “I’m sorry, Shane. Really. You were only looking out for me, and I got shitty with you, and I didn’t mean to. It just sucks when you put yourself down for no reason.”
“I know,” Shane muttered, ducking his head. “I know. It’s… hard.”
Abigail held out her hands from across the board, and after a second, he took them. She put his fingers on the edge of the planchette, then settled her own, brushing his where they overlapped. “I wanna show you something.”
“You’re not going to try to summon Lewis again, are you?”
Her laugh was real this time. “Definitely not. Just trust me.”
Shane nodded. Abigail closed her eyes, a smile still lingering at the edge of her mouth. Gently, the planchette began to move, and Shane let it--it was definitely Abigail this time, pushing it across the board to hover over the letter ‘I’. A heartbeat later, it moved again, and with each new letter, Shane’s heart began to pound, faster and faster until he thought it might burst right out of his chest.
I... L... O... V… E… Y…
“BOO!”
A sheet-draped figure leapt out from around the corner, waving its arms wildly in the gloom, and now it was Shane’s turn to knock over one of the candles as he had his second near-heart attack of the night. Abigail snatched up the planchette, red-faced, and hurled it at them as the figure doubled over, howling.
“Oh my g--Sam! I know that’s you, asshole!”
The sheet rustled and crinkled, then fell in a heap to the floor to reveal Sam, one hand braced against his knees as he pointed and laughed. “Your faces,” he wheezed gleefully, and both Shane and Abigail gave him the finger. “C’mon, Abi, I thought you wanted to see a ghost tonight!”
“You’re going to be a ghost in a second,” Abigail said, getting to her feet, and Shane dragged himself upright, catching his breath as Sam bolted, still laughing.
The hiss of a lighter split the air, followed by the acrid scent of burning tobacco, and Sebastian came around the corner with a cigarette in hand, looking amused. He offered one to Shane, who declined, then tucked the pack back in the pocket of his hoodie and jerked his chin towards Abigail, who was brandishing one of her grandmother’s forks as she cornered Sam against the far wall.
“Should we stop them?”
“Give her a minute,” Shane said. “I thought you already went home.”
“Well, we were going to, but honestly we’re both pretty wired.”
They stood quietly for a moment, watching Sam try to run, laughing, right before Abigail tripped him and he fell face-first into the couch.
"Hey," Shane said. Sebastian glanced at him. "That was you earlier, right? With the oujia board?"
Sebastian shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and reached into his hoodie again. This time, it was a ziplock baggie, which he unfurled with a quick shake. “You guys wanna smoke a joint or something?”
Shane considered. It was already late.
“Hey,” he called over, and Abigail stopped wrestling Sam into a headlock long enough to look up. “You want to?”
“Might as well.” She gave Sam a shake before dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. “You assholes owe me a smoke after that.”
“Cool,” Sebastian said and took another drag off his cigarette. “Meet you outside.”
“Dude,” Sam complained, scrambling to his feet. “Were you just watching the whole time? She almost killed me!”
“I told you not to put the sheet on.”
They went outside, still bickering, and Abigail went to pack up the ouija board and the rest of her supplies, grumbling all the while. Shane hesitated, then came to crouch down next to her, his heart starting to beat funny again as he reached out and put his hand over hers.
“Hey.”
She glanced at him.
“Me too.”
It was all he could bring himself to say in the moment, half-afraid he’d imagined it, but understanding dawned on her face, and her answering smile was the sun.
“Best Spirit’s Eve ever.”
“Yeah,” Shane said, and Yoba, when was the last time he felt this light? This blissfully free? She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back before letting go. “It was pretty alright.”
“Are you kidding? The only way we’ll top this one is if we actually see a ghost next year.”
Shane groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re already thinking about next year.”
“You bet your ass I am,” Abigail said, grinning wide, and bounced to her feet, shouldering her bag. “We only have three hundred and sixty-five days to plan for it.” She held out her hand again. “C’mon, let’s go before they ditch us. If we go out the back, we can sneak around the side and scare the shit out of Sam.”
Next year, Shane thought. She still wanted to be with him next year.
Maybe ghost-hunting wasn’t such a bad hobby to have, after all. He took her hand, grinning back, and let her pull him to his feet.
Notes:
Alternate title: Mayor Lewis and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Spirit's Eve
If you've made it this far, thanks so much! We had a blast working on this and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it.
coolCoolGlasses on Chapter 1 Sun 31 Oct 2021 07:32AM UTC
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mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions) on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Nov 2021 11:06PM UTC
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MakingSweetLoveWith_aGhost on Chapter 1 Sun 04 Jun 2023 11:44PM UTC
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MakingSweetLoveWith_aGhost on Chapter 2 Mon 05 Jun 2023 12:07AM UTC
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FloopTheCooper on Chapter 3 Sun 31 Oct 2021 01:55AM UTC
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mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions) on Chapter 3 Thu 04 Nov 2021 11:05PM UTC
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mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions) on Chapter 3 Thu 04 Nov 2021 11:05PM UTC
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jjgremlinson on Chapter 3 Fri 05 Nov 2021 04:16AM UTC
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coolCoolGlasses on Chapter 3 Sun 31 Oct 2021 08:37AM UTC
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cosmikaze on Chapter 3 Tue 02 Nov 2021 03:35AM UTC
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ThatOneMythicBitch (Guest) on Chapter 3 Tue 21 Mar 2023 11:05PM UTC
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