The stack of papers slid from Ethan's hands, scattering at his feet once again. He didn't seem to notice. He just stared at me, eyes wide. "W-What?" he stuttered, but the look of horror on his face told me he already had knew exactly what I meant.

"Those girls I saw," I said. "You could draw them."

"N-no, I couldn't," he mumbled, then realized what he had done. He dejectedly surveyed the new mess at his feet, then stooped down—with a sigh—to gather the papers up again.

"Yes, you could!" I pressed, sitting up straighter. "You saw them in my head! That means you can draw them!"

"But all you saw were their warped reflections!" he shot back, holding the tightly papers in his arms. "So the memory isn't clear. It wouldn't turn out well."

"Of course," I mumbled, realizing he was right. Warped faces wouldn't tell me anything. I couldn't exactly show them around to people and ask if they recognized them; no one would know who they were.

Just then, a horrible, familiar image flashed up from my memory. A too-thin girl standing in the middle of a crowd. Her lank hair, her gaping mouth, the hollow shadows on her skin just before it was eaten away...

Ethan groaned, interrupting my thoughts. He had one hand clutching at his head, like he was in pain.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Whatever had taken hold of him suddenly released him. He glanced up, looking dazed, his face was as white as the pages of his sketchbook, and he was shaking slightly. He blinked, and then his fearful eyes found mine.

I realized then; he must've seen that flash of memory. His face darkened just as a new thought passed through my mind.

"You could draw her," I said, even though I was sure he had already figured out my idea before I put it into words.

He shook his head, his eyes frozen wide in terror. "I... I can't!"

"Why not? I saw her clearly." I leaned over the chair's edge and grabbed his arm. "And so did you."

Ethan flinched back but didn't respond, though the fear in his eyes told me that he didn't like what I was proposing.

"Please... Please, I need you to." I begged, my voice warbling, like I might cry. I tightened my grip on his arm. "I need to show Luc. I need him to believe me."

Several emotions flickered across Ethan's face, too fast for me to make sense of them. He closed his eyes for a moment, his brow still knotted... Then his face relaxed, and his grey eyes snapped open, shining like silver, bright with determination.

"I-I can try," Ethan said, his low voice just a quiet rumble. "That's all I can promise."

"That's enough," I replied, a smile breaking free. "I owe you one."

"A big one," he sighed, then surveyed the room. "Are you strong enough to stand?"

"I think so."

He nodded his chin at the mismatched table set against the wall. "Then we should move over there. It'd be easier for me to draw on a flat surface."

"Sure," I said, bracing myself against the chair to pull myself up. My legs shook slightly at first but quickly strengthened.

Ethan hovered nearby, shadowing me as I made my way—slowly—to the table.

"I'm okay, I promise," I said as I slid into seat on the far side, facing the window.

"If you say so," he said and gave me a long look. Then took his place opposite me, dropping the mess of papers between us and starting to sort them into a neat pile. His hair was hanging in his face again, making his expression inscrutable.

Scooting my chair closer to the table, I leaned forward. "So... How does this work?"

"Hm?" Ethan barely looked up; he was still carefully leafing through the papers.

I was starting to think that he might be procrastinating. "The drawing... thing. Is it like in police shows?"

"Sort of," Ethan said, finally. He tucked the completed drawings in the back of his sketchbook, moving the blank pages to the top. Up close, I realized that the book was more of a portfolio, complete with compartments for supplies. Ethan pulled a pencil out of one of the pockets plus a sharpener, and began twisting them together. "Obviously you don't have to describe anything to me. You can if you want, though, usually with my dad it's just a pretense—to keep up appearances, y'know."

"Right." I said. "So all I have to do is... picture her?"

"Yeah." The muscles in Ethan's jaw flexed. "And try to keep the image steady."

I sucked in a breath through my teeth and clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. I already knew facing her again—even just inside my head—wouldn't be easy. In fact, I was terrified.

But I needed to do this.

I needed proof.

"Ready?" Ethan asked. The pencil was in his hand, poised over the paper.

I nodded and shut my eyes. I let my mind settle in the darkness for a moment... before I summoned her.

The memory of that sunny afternoon, almost a month ago, returned slowly. I remembered the heat, the feel of sweat beneath my cardigan, my annoyance with Luc, the crowd swirling around the patio...

From the crowd, she emerged. The thin white dress, loose on her gaunt frame, swayed in the breeze as she turned to face me. Her greasy, mousey-brown hair fell in her face, and her big eyes, encircled by shadows, met mine.

I tried to pause the memory there... But I couldn't. The events tumbled forward, too fast to stop. Her thin arm reached out for me, and her mouth dropped open. The pallid flesh that clung to the bones purpled and then shriveled, rotting away—

"Stop. Stop!"

I opened my eyes.

Ethan's hands were at his head again, like it was threatening to explode. "I can't... I can't draw that!"

"I'm sorry!" I quickly emptied my mind, returning it to the wide winter expanse.

That seemed to settle him. He released his head, leaned back in the chair, and gave a deep exhale. It took him a moment to look at me again; his grey eyes were stormy. "I don't know if I can do this..."

No! "I'll do better, I swear. I won't let that happen again. Please!"

There must've been something truly desperate in my face because Ethan agreed to continue, even though it seemed to cause him physical pain. With a deep breath, he crumpled the page and readied his pencil again. "Maybe... Maybe you should try and describe her. It might help you focus."

Staring at the table, I nodded silently. The girl's face hovered in my mind, just out of sight. I breathed slowly, readying myself to face her again.

"Ok," Ethan said, his pencil hovering over the page. "Let's try this again. What was the first thing you noticed about her?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. The scene on the sidewalk swam up in my mind. "How out of place she was. Everybody else was moving and walking around her, but she was standing completely still."

"What else?"

In my head, the girl's white dress was fluttering in the breeze again. "Her dress. It's white, plain... And too big for her. She's thin, really thin, like she's been sick for a while. The dress hangs off of her."

I could hear the gentle scratching of Ethan's pencil. "Go on."

"Her hair... It's dirty, greasy. Light brown, but the dirt makes it look kind of grey. It's limp, and just reaches her shoulders."

The scratching continued. "What about her face?"

She turned around to face me. Even though it was just a memory, meeting her gaze sent a shiver through me. "She's... she's got really big eyes. They look even bigger because of the shadows around them. A-And because of how she's staring at me." As I said it, the girl's eyes widened again in my memory. "She looks scared, for some reason. So scared." I clutched my hands together so tightly they ached.

The pencil scratching increased.

"And her mouth—" As I said it, I expected her mouth to pop open again in that horrible silent scream. But it didn't, and for the first time I got a good look at her mouth. "—her lips are thin and dry, but only because she looks sickly. They might be fuller if she was healthier..."

Then her thin lips moved, and I could almost feel her breath as she spoke. "Rachel..."

A shock burned through my arm. I gasped—

"What are you doing?"

My eyes flickered open and the girl disappeared from my mind.

Luc was standing in the door, Tory just behind him. They were both staring at us curiously, though something about Luc's expression sent a strange flutter of fear through me. He was looking at me like I might drop dead right then and there.

Tory leaned around Luc, his big eyes even bigger as he stared at his boyfriend. "Ethan? Why are you here?"

"I came looking for you," Ethan grumbled, and then his cheeks flushed pink. "T-Then Rachel asked me to draw something for her—"

Luc ignored them both. He strode across the room, falling to his knees beside me. "Rachel, are you okay?"

"Mostly," I breathed. I realized I was cradling my right arm, my left hand wrapped tightly around the scar. I loosened my trembling fingers one by one. "I saw another... another..." I swallowed hard, steeling myself. "I saw another ghost. Two, actually."

Luc's jaw tightened as his green eyes seemed to flicker.

Tory piped up immediately. "Rachel," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "For the hundredth time, they're not ghosts—"

"I saw them too," Ethan said.

Tory rounded on him. "And just where did you see them?"

Ethan said nothing, but his cheeks blossomed red again.

Tory narrowed his eyes at him. "It doesn't count if you saw it in her head."

"You sure?" Ethan snapped. Taking the page he had been working on, he shoved it across the table at his boyfriend. "She didn't just make this up. You know I've seen delusions before... And this was not that."

Tory leaned over the table to inspect the drawing, but before he could get a good look, Luc snatched it away.

His green eyes flickered across the page, dancing over the drawing. Then his gaze crested the paper's edge and focussed on me. I swallowed hard. His stare was probing, like he too had the power to search my mind.

No one spoke. Several heavy seconds passed as we all just watched each other.

Then, finally, Luc broke the silence: "You saw her again?" The page flexed in his hand, and I knew he meant the girl in the drawing.

"No, they were different this time," I replied. "New people."

The knot in his brow tightened. "Did you seem them on the street again?"

"No, I saw them here. Sort of." The memory began to play in my mind again, and I involuntarily squeezed my eyes shut, like that might block it out, before realizing how stupid that was. "I saw them in the mirror while I was trying to hang it."

That made Luc's eyebrows arch wide. He blinked at me, then turned to shoot Tory an unreadable look. Tory just stared back; for once, he had nothing to say.

"Does that mean something?" I interjected when the silence began to drag again.

"I'm not sure," he said with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Well, what are we going to do?"

Luc leveled his green eyes at me. "Nothing."

Heat climbed up my spine and flooded out into my face. "Nothing?" I said, my voice low and shaking, my eyes narrowed. My vision went red. "Did I just hear you right? I'm being stalked by ghosts and you want to sit around and do nothing?"

Fear flashed through his face. "Nothing yet," he quickly corrected. He took my hand, which was shaking with rage, and stilled it. "It doesn't make sense to rush in, guns blazing, when we don't even know what we're dealing with yet. If they are spirits—"

Tory grunted and folded his arms.

Luc ignored him. "—then they're not behaving like any spirits that I've ever encountered. I'm going to need some time to do some research before figuring out our next move."

My shoulders slumped. Deep down I knew he was right—you couldn't fight what you didn't understand—but I hated the idea of waiting around. I felt like a sitting duck. "And what am I supposed to do until then?"

"Trust me," he replied, giving my hand a little squeeze. "I'll take care of you."

"But if I'm in danger—"

"You're not in danger." He released my hand and stood, dropping the drawing on the table in front of me.

I jolted in my seat. It was the first chance I had gotten to see the completed drawing and it was alarming. A true testament to Ethan's skill, it was an exact copy of the memory in my head; and worst of all, she looked alive. I half expected her ragged lips to move and rasp out my name again.

A card fell on the page, breaking my concentration. It was a tarot card and it had landed face up and upside down, making it seem as if the four tall wooden posts, laden with garlands of flowers, were hanging from the sky. I looked up, and found Luc with his favourite, well-worn tarot deck in his hands.

He smiled at me, then flicked another card off the top of the deck. It landed beside the other, face-up. It was also reversed, with a handsome man holding two entwined stars. Then a third was added. This card was the most striking, portraying a beautiful woman shrouded in a gauzy fabric as she sat in an ornate throne overgrown with ivy. She cradled a large scroll in her arms and her expression was thoughtful, serene. The roman numeral for two sat at her feet.

Luc put his deck down, and the let his hand graze over the card spread. "There's struggle, yes, instability. Change is coming," Luc explained. His fingers lingered over the final card, the one of the woman. "And you've neglecting something inside—"

From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ethan's face scrunching up.

"—and you should be easier on yourself. Maybe you just need to make some time for self care. Not the happiest spread, to be fair, but there's been no signs of danger." He gave me a heartening smile.

"Wait, been?" I echoed, confused.

His smile turned sheepish. "I've been watching your cards."

"He has," Tory interjected. "He checks, like, three times a day."

I furrowed my brow. "Why?"

Luc looked at me like he didn't understand. "Because I was worried about you, obviously. You were going through a lot and I wanted to make sure you were okay..."

My simmering anger was suddenly doused. And here, I thought you didn't care at all about my situation... "Why didn't you tell me?"

A shadow passed over his face, darkening his green eyes. "Because, lately, you haven't been very fond of my... my skills."

A laugh burst out of me, startling everyone. Stupid boy. "Your magic is not the part of your job that I dislike," I managed between giggles, before my voice calmed and sharpened. "It's the fact that you're never around."

Luc stared at me. "Oh."

Seriously, he could be so clueless... I fought off the urge to roll my eyes; instead, I took his hand. "But it's okay, because that'll resolved soon enough, right?"

"Right," Luc said, a new smile pulling at his lips. He tightened his grip on my hand. "Once the shop is set up, I won't have to go far."

"Speaking of which," Tory interrupted again. "We've still got a bunch of work to do. What should I get started on, boss?"

Luc's gaze shifted to his assistant, then flicked over to his boyfriend beside him; Ethan's face was still taut with annoyance. "Why don't we take the rest of the day off?" Luc suggested, after a moment. "We could use a break."

Ethan's and Tory's eyes went wide in unison.

"But we have so much work—" Tory protested, causing Ethan to shoot him a glare.

Luc held his hand up; Tory immediately went quiet. I wondered if that only worked with Luc did it... I made a mental note to attempt it myself the next time Tory was shooting his mouth off.

"That's for me to worry about. Take Ethan home and enjoy your evening," Luc said. His tone was firm. "We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, boss," Tory said with a shrug. He huffed, then turned to Ethan. "Guess I'm free. Any ideas of what you want to do?"

"I have some," Ethan grumbled. His expression was still stony. He began to gather his things together, stuffing them back into his messenger bag.

Luc watched him carefully. "Ethan."

He paused his packing, looking up at Luc through his thick bangs.

"I just wanted to say—" Luc began, and then a shrill chime ripped through the room. Luc dug his hands into his pockets and retrieved his phone. After glancing at the screen for a moment, he sighed. "Sorry, I have to take this." He wandered over to the corner of the room.

"Who is it?" Tory asked, following after him. "Is it Mrs. James? Tell her that—"

Ethan watched them go, then shook his head out before returned to his packing. "Do you think they're still going to take the evening off?"

"I hope so," I said, glancing at them over my shoulder. Tory was dancing around Luc like an overexcited puppy.

Ethan snorted. "I guess we'll see."

"By the way," I said, turning back to him. "Thanks again for doing that drawing for me. I know it wasn't easy to expose yourself to what was in my head. But, as you saw, it really helped."

A small smile tugged at his lips and his face went pink again. "I won't say it was 'my pleasure', because it was anything but pleasurable..."

I laughed. "Believe me, I know."

"But I'm glad that I could help."

"I owe you one."

"A big one," he reminded me with a chuckle. Then he shot a quick glance at the other two, who were still deep in conversation. He dropped his voice so it's deep tenor was like a roll of thunder. "One more thing."

My eyes tightened. "What is it?"

"My grandma reads tarot too," he whispered quickly. "And while the High Priestess card can mean internal conflict, it also means intuition."

The High Priestess? I didn't know enough about Luc's cards to know them by name, but I assumed he meant the final card in his spread; after all it had been the only card with a woman. "And?"

"Well, I'm not a card reader myself... But whenever it crops up in my spread, my grandma always says that it means I'm not listening to something, something inside." He placed his hand on his chest. "Maybe you should try that. To listen, I mean."

"Listen?" I echoed, still confused. Listen to what?

"Sorry about that," Luc said finally returning to the table. "An evening off requires some rescheduling."

Ethan and I leapt back from each other; I hadn't realized that we were both leaning across the table.

"Anyway, as I was saying before," Luc continued. "Ethan, I wanted to thank you for being here for Rachel."

"I already thanked him," I said, jabbing him with my elbow.

"Well, I still wanted to say it. On my behalf," Luc continued, clasping me tightly to his side, pinning my elbows in place. "So, thank you, Ethan. And that talent of yours... It's impressive. Any interest in freelancing for me sometime?"

Ethan hid beneath his hair. "Maybe..."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen," Tory butted in again, earning another scowl from his partner. "Even though he's psychic, Ethan definitely isn't fond of that magic stuff."

Luc focussed on Ethan. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Ethan just nodded.

"Alright, well... Ready, hon?" Tory asked.

"Ready." Ethan stood up and flashed me one last smile before heading out the door.

+ + +

Finally, Luc and Tory are beginning to believe Rachel...
What do you think of Ethan's advice?