The ghost whooshed into the living room, and she paced in front of the wall, where a faint outline of a bookshelf stained the chipped paint. "Phew, that was intense."

Arielle kept her distance, lingering near the doorway, half tempted to spin and watch Benny and Kylie again. Their stubbornness intrigued her, and she worried for their safety—this ghost had some serious issues.

And yet some eerie, unsettling hunch warned her not to turn her back on the ghost. "Okay, who the fuck are you?"

The spirit-girl snorted. "I told you, I'm a ghost." She didn't look at Arielle as she whipped to and fro, her greasy locks grazing her mid-spine and swooshing every time she changed directions.

"But was that necessary? Tossing the device like that?" Arielle grimaced. "I mean... it was impressive, don't get me wrong, but... why?"

"Because I needed them to go, and I'm pretty certain that convinced them to." The ghost slowed her pace, but still kept her gaze averted. She was restless, her timbre impatient. "I've been doing this for a long time, so trust me, okay?"

Unconvinced, Arielle flipped to the entryway. Benny was hugging Kylie, who trembled in his arms, clearly struggling to recover from what she'd witnessed. "Okay, but... it seems... over-the-top. I still think ignoring them would have been more efficient."

"Well, your opinion doesn't count, missy," said the ghost, halting her floating to spin towards Arielle. "I mean..." she frowned, "not to sound condescending, but I am the senior spirit here. I have much more experience in these matters. We don't get many visitors here and have you ever wondered why? Because I ensure they don't stick around. I protect us."

Arielle wanted to say their lack of guests was because of the other spirit that seemed to loom in the area and terrify passersby and haunt people until she found a way to kill them. But she sensed the ghost would scold her for it, reminding her such a thing wasn't possible.

She said I wasn't murdered... and I have little choice but to believe her. I have nothing or no one else to rely on...

"I don't enjoy employing such means, but it wasn't over-the-top. This is what ghosts do, according to the outside, living world, isn't it? It'll work, you'll see." The ghost waved at Arielle. "Come on, get away from the threshold. The farther from them you are, the less the guy can detect your presence. He appears to be too in tune with our realm, and I don't like that at all."

Arielle obeyed, but kept to the side of the space, near the windows looking out into the forest. Thick curtains draped over most of the glass, but she caught a slither of light pouring in and yearned to bask in it, to sense the rays rushing under skin, the warmth worming around her bones.

Would she ever see the sun again?

She reached for the curtain, to tug it aside, but her hand sliced through it, instead. "Fuck." She mimicked what she'd seen the ghost do earlier, hoping to absorb the energy surrounding her and be able to touch the cloth. She closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and thought hard about glowing and sucking up the dreary, foul-smelling air... but again, she failed to grab the fabric. "Come on, I want to open these damn things!"

The ghost popped up beside her, a sympathetic smile swiping over her lips. "Don't force it."

"But how do I do it? Channel my energy or strength or whatever?" Arielle groaned after attempting and failing once more to take hold of the curtain. "Teach me. Teach me."

Shaking her head, the ghost slithered in front of Arielle and nudged her away from the window. "You're not ready yet, but I will instruct you soon, I promise." Her eyes rounded, and Arielle could have sworn she saw a flicker of red igniting in and around them. She noticed dark smears beneath them, too, as if the spirit hadn't slept in centuries.

Do ghosts sleep?

"Fine." Arielle motioned at the window. "Can you open them, then? I want to see the sun. Feel the sun."

Though she cringed, the ghost extended her arm, lazily grasped the cotton-like material, and pulled it aside a few inches. "You won't feel it ever again, but you can try to see it." She moved away and set her hands on her hips. "Being a spirit takes practice, Arielle. Have patience."

"Yeah, yeah." Arielle skidded to the window and glimpsed outside—and stilled.

The outdoors had the same depressing, faded hue as inside the house. Leaves on the ground were tinted various shades of brown. The pathway to the door was an off-beige color. And the beams of sunlight trimming through the overhead trees were gray.

"None of the shows Jade made me watch prepared me for this," she said, pivoting from the drab sight. She'd hoped the sun would cheer her up, or that sighting it might remind her how it felt to lie outside, in the grass, and bathe in the rays. But she'd only worsened her bleak mood by being unable to recall what oxygen tasted like.

"Jade?" The ghost tapped a finger to her chin, squinting at Arielle. "You mentioned her before, didn't you? Do you mean Jade... McNeely?"

"Whoa." Arielle blinked, taken aback. "Yeah? You... you've heard of her?"

The specter sped up her finger-tapping. "You know her?"

"She was my best friend," said Arielle, inching closer. "Wait—you know her?"

"Uh, every ghost knows her. I don't know why I didn't react to this earlier, but with the commotion lessening... I can think straight." The ghost whirled around and rushed to the beaten-up couch that lounged in the middle of the room. She sat, and didn't sink through the cushions, which fascinated Arielle. "There's a rumor she was a specter up north somewhere, but figured out her unfinished business in record time, resolved it, and moved on. She's a sort of role model for those lost in the Void."

Limbs becoming stiff and mind filling with questions, Arielle shimmied over to the sofa and attempted to sit, but ended up floating through it. "Ugh, I hate this."

The ghost laughed at her, but Arielle wouldn't let her mocking halt her from getting the truth. She'd searched for Jade for too long to allow her new status—deceased—to impede her investigation. And hadn't that damned bully specter said dying was the best option to obtain her answers? Would she finally be able to confront other spirits and beg them to tell her where her best friend was?

"Where is she now? Where did she... move on to?"

The ghost crossed one leg over the other and leaned into the back cushions, reminding Arielle how powerful she was, how experienced, how wise. Such a simple gesture showed how comfortable she was with her own demise, and how much she had to teach Arielle. "She's in a place where souls rest and wait for their next... mission."

"Souls rest?" Arielle shot up from the sofa. "Next mission?" She planted herself in front of the ghost and slanted forward, towering over her, hoping to intimidate her into answering. "What are you talking about? How do I go there? How do I see her?"

"Whoa, sweetie." The ghost lurched up, far from frightened by Arielle's straightened posture. Her legs were longer, her presence stronger, her demeanor loaded with confidence, which prompted Arielle to slouch. "Don't skip steps, okay? We have plenty of time to go over all this. You'll learn more as you awaken." She swerved away from Arielle and meandered towards the doorway, peeking through it to check on Benny and Kylie. "You only recently came to, and a lot of this is... blurry, to you. Not much of it will make sense yet."

"Recently?" Arielle remembered her awakening; the vivid visions that swarmed her, the rapid recollections that surged into her mind, and that horrid migraine that, until this moment, she'd almost forgotten about. As she thought of it, pain flared to life again in her temples, and she massaged them as her chin sank and she stared at her feet.

She couldn't have died long ago. Such agony in her cranium and such barely scabbed over wounds all over her stomach and torso had to mean maybe a week or two, right? When had someone found her, hauled her body off? Where was she buried? Or had her dad cremated her?

I never got a chance to tell him that's what I would have preferred.

"Honey, you okay?" The ghost reappeared at her side. "Your energy is fizzling. You're freaking out again, aren't you?"

"How can I not?" Arielle hugged herself and an icy chill spiraled up and down her spine. "I'm dead. And I can't feel anything." She sniffled, squinted, gritted her teeth—but no tears welled in her eyes, and the usual glob that clogged her throat when she was about to cry wasn't there. "And apparently, I can't cry, either. I can't react." She hadn't processed it all yet, but she had too many inquiries, too many concerns; those must have been what kept her from weeping. "All I wanted was to speak to my best friend one last time, to do the ghost-hunting trip she'd planned for us... and instead, I'm here." She peeked at the ghost, whose expression had softened to one of sincere apology, her lips down-turned, her gaze almost shimmering. "How long have I been dead? Did I miss my own funeral? I thought I'd... I would have expected to... be there, I guess."

The specter's sympathy departed her face as if melting off. She winced as she fluttered backwards and did all she could to avert her gaze. "You... don't know?"

"No. How would I? I just woke up, remember?" The migraine throbbed, harder and harder, as more waves of questions charged into Arielle's brain. The more she let her worries invade her, the worse the suffering became. "And ow, this fucking headache... it's impossible."

"Relax, or it'll intensify," said the ghost, hovering on the other side of the couch. Her entire attitude morphed; she wasn't angry, like earlier, nor did she show a single sympathetic sentiment. She'd turned neutral, robotic. And something about her distant manner, her cautious voice, showed secrecy. "Honey... you've been dead for months."