Brynliegh-a name fit for a perfectly good Southern, Christian girl-was, unfortunately, from the west. Not only that, but she was also a witch. And as our story started, Brynleigh-who we will now, heretofore, call Brynn-was just finishing up her client's seance, late for her shift at Waffle House.

She bounced as her back hit the back of her chair, feeling particularly lightheaded as the spirit left her body, the pressure around her throat loosening as he stood behind her, folding his arms angrily.

"I'm not willing to talk to her anymore until she apologizes for what she did." The young man folded his arms, turning up his nose at the two living women in the room. But he was still there, and that said something.

Brynn gave him an annoyed glare and then glanced back to the other woman, who sat in a ridiculous purple hat that Brynn was sure had belonged to the woman's great-great grandmother. "You know that hat doesn't actually help with the possession, right?"

The woman on the other side of the table squeezed her hand harder, ignoring Brynn's comment. "Where did he go?"

Brynn glanced back at the man. "he's still here. He just doesn't want to talk to you anymore." He spun towards her, opening his mouth in protest, eyebrows knit together in anger. Before he spoke, she said, "What, am I wrong?"

The woman glanced back and forth between Brynn and her ex-boyfriend's ghost she couldn't see. "Well?"

He sulked his head. "Tell her I want an apology."

Brynn took a deep breath and fought back her annoyance. He'd not heard an apology so far, so Brynn doubted he'd hear one now/

"It's not fair for you to be mad I'm in a relationship, John! I didn't even know you still were on earth-and it's not like we can talk anyway!"

"Ghosts and humans have relationships all the time!" he exclaimed, and Brynn repeated it, knowing he wouldn't leave her alone if she didn't say it. "You didn't even wait for me."

"I waited 3 months before dating again."

"Three months isn't enough-that barely even gives me enough time to find Charon!"

She rolled her eyes. "It would have been if you cared enough."

"Apologize!"

"Ugh! I'm leaving. This is pointless. John, have fun with your eternity here on earth. Hope you find someone dead."

As she started leaving the room, he yelled after her, "Yeah? Maybe I'll find someone alive, prettier than you'd ever be, alive or dead!"

Brynn didn't repeat that. Instead, she jumped out of her chair and sprinted out to the main part of the shop, twisting her hand and locking the door before the woman could twist it. She twirled around, looking annoyed at Brynn.

"What?" she asked.

"Payment?" Brynn asked.

The woman looked her up and down. "I didn't get any answers. I'm not paying for that."

Brynn frowned. "You know I could curse you, right?" It didn't hold the energy it should have.

The woman smiled confidently. "You won't! Plus, you don't even know my name." And then left the building, the sounds of

She should be grateful Brynn didn't learn these people's names. Names were heavy, and she wasn't willing-would never be willing-to carry more than she could handle. She glanced back to the

"Shit," she yelled, locking the door back up and twisting the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. "Always late, always late!"

As she sprinted back in the room, John asked, "What did she say?"

Brynn glared at him. "She's not paying. And because of that, you need to leave. Find someone else to help you move on."

"What? That's not fair!"

"Yeah? Neither was your attitude." Then, she closed up communication, wiped her crystal ball, and covered the table with white, making him disappear. She knew he'd be back at some point, but this gave her enough time to get some space.

Brynn made her away across the town, the dry winter air burning her eyes as she exited her car, tripping over the curb. She entered the front doors, smiling sheepishly at Adan, who was supposed to have left over ten minutes ago.

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. "I got caught up with some stuff."

"No skin off my back," he said, pulling off his apron and hanging it up. "It was empty, and you just gave me 10 minutes of pay that I wouldn't have otherwise had."

She smiled as she clocked in. "Thanks."

[she deals with rude customers, a shitty boss, and then a text from her friend, reminding her about their dinner tonight, reminding her to not forget.]

Amanda: Hey! Just a quick reminder

The trash was heavy as she carried it across the back lot, reaching to the dumpster. She grabbed the bag from the top and flung it up-just for it to rip and fly everywhere-and someone's full soda fell on top of her.

"Are you KIDDING ME?" she yelled, glaring up at the sky, knowing that it would do nothing. She raised her middle finger at it.

"Rough night?"

She jumped, turning to the source of the deep voice. A tall man-no, a shadowman-leaned against the wall, smoking an angel cigarette, glowing against his dark form. She frowned.

"Listen, bud, after the day I've had, I really don't have the energy to deal with you, too. Go find another Clairvoyant. I'm sure there's one nearby." Though, she knew, there wasn't.

The shadowman didn't respond, so she figured he got the memo. She started picking back up the trash on the floor, back to her shitty job but less shitty than anything that he would request from her. Finally, she took a deep breath,

Unfortunately, he followed her in and sat at a table in the corner, looking out the window as the day quickly passed. After changing into her spare pants from her locker, she took orders, cleaned tables, carried food around, joked around with the cook, and fought against murdering the general public. Against her better judgement, about an hour before the end of her shift, she brought him a black coffee, ignoring the weird look a teen girl gave her, putting a black coffee at what was-to her-an empty table. He was being polite, waiting for her to gain the energy to focus on him instead of bombarding her with questions. The least she could do was return the favor.

Finally-thank everything that created the earth-her shift ended, her replacement coming in early. Maybe she'd actually make it on time for girls' night.

In fact, when she jumped into the driver's seat of her old 2001 Toyota Camry, she was greeted by the shadowman lounging in the passenger's seat. Her eye twitched at his presence, but she blasted her music and the non-existent heating anyway, determined to make one godforsaken thing good today.

It was too much to hope for.

He reached out his hand and touched the radio, making it go static. Static had always annoyed Brynn more than others, though she had a feeling it had less to do with the sound itself and instead the memories attached to it. She turned off the radio and when she stopped at a red light, behind 3 cars, she finally snapped, "What?"

The shadow laughed. "Hey now, no need for that. I'm not here to ask you for anything. I'm here to offer you something. The name's Franco."

Brynn glanced at the red light, then at the opposing lights, still green. She sighed. "There's nothing you could offer that I want."

Franco shrugged. "What about taking away your clairvoyance?"

Brynn froze. "What?"

He put his dark elbow on the dashboard, leaning closer to her. She knew he knew that he had her attention. "We know how to help you get what you want, if you help us with what we want."

Brynn watched the couple in the car in front of her. They were clearly in some sort of argument, rigidly swinging their arms around with each word. The driver leaned towards the passenger, bobbing their head in anger. The passenger leaned away behind the seat, but pointed a finger, which the driver quickly grabbed and threw away, mirroring the motion and yelling louder. She had to look away.

"Who's 'we'?" she asked, turning off the air that was only blowing luke-warm air anyway. The lack of music and air amplified her leather jacket's squeaks.

He chuckled. "Me and my benefactor-you've heard of him. Paul. Paul Kushim."

The squeaking stopped. "Paul Kushim?" she asked. "Paul Kushim wants to make a deal with me? Why?"

Pulling out another angel smoke, he lit it with a snap of his fingers, making Brynn jump.

"Please don't light that in my car," she stated.

"It won't hurt anything," he responded, but doused it and put it back into the shadows. "But Paul has heard about your... abilities. He's a bit clairvoyant himself, which you know." She flushed angrily at the comment. "But he wants to help you, and he also wants some help with something that he can't do himself. He's old."

"So I've heard," she mumbled. Understatement of the last 4000 years.

"What does he want?"

"It's best he explains it. Will you meet with him?"

Finally, the light turned green. Brynn glanced at him briefly before she slowly crept forward, taking a left turn into her friend's neighborhood-Churchill Farms. The houses here were all the same design, brown or tan, with fake brick. The HOA required beautiful lawns with small gardens when possible.

About 5 houses down from Amanda's, Brynn pulled over. But she didn't unbuckle her seatbelt. She didn't close her visor or take off her sunglasses. e door stayed closed.

Franco's smile was in his voice, though she couldn't see it. "So? Are you coming?"

Brynn reflected on her day. It was just a normal day, one she'd relived a thousand times. And that was the problem. One more day may veery well have killed her.

"Where do I need to go?"

Now, there's one thing we need to remember: Franco was a shadow. He had no defining characteristics besides the outline of his tall and lanky form. She didn't know what color his eyes were, what shirt he wore, or even what species he'd been in his previous life, though his pointy ears did suggest he was probably a faerie. So when suddenly he smiled and Brynn could see it-a cold, darker-than-black void-she froze in place. And when his smile widened to an open mouth, she felt her blood dance, begging to leave her skin, and she very much regretted saying yes. The hole widened so much that it covered all of Franco's head. And when he spoke, his voice came from inside her mind, not outside her ears.

"Touch it. It's a new portal."

She gulped. "I don't think there's been enough peer-reviewed articles for me to take that risk."

But she slowly picked up her hand and pointed a finger at it, moving slowly across her tiny car, feeling a pressure building up around her. She was rarely scared of magic, or at least the magic that she knew, but this was something new, scary, foreign. This void had a dark energy within it, not just from the color, not just because it was a portal, but because it was dark.

She touched it anyway.

Her feet slammed hard on marble floor, and she twisted her ankle, falling to the ground. Sharp pain rang throughout her leg up to her spine, and Brynn forced herself to hold back a yelp. Instead, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath, face

"Oof, sorry about that darling," a familiar voice said from behind her, as its owner's hands wrapped around her left arm, pulling her to her feet. She twisted and glared at the demon in front of her.

"Quite an entrance," Paul said. "You're just as graceful as I remember."

"Thanks for the warm welcome," she snarled. She took in her surroundings as quickly as she could, just in case he tested her on any of it. She had to be in a bedroom within a castle. The marble floor wasn't the only ridiculous piece of the room. The ceiling was high, and a four-poster bed frame with green curtains hiding the bed sat at the back of the room, halfway between the window and the door. Other than that, the room was fairly empty, besides one black dresser with a single candle lit on it. She assumed that was where the portal led her to.

She then glanced back to Paul Kushim. Not this little fucker again. Although she'd gone out of her way to meet him, actually seeing him again made her sick to her stomach. He was still short and thin-shorter than her, now that she was older-with long blonde hair pulled back in a low braided ponytail, his hair reaching his lower back. He wore-god, was he still wearing this? Really?-an empire-style, cream-colored button-up, an orange waistcoat, brown trousers, and shiny black shoes.

All of this, she took in a second.

"Who shines your shoes?" she asked, pointing down. He didn't look. "Franco? Well, anyway. Glad to see you haven't changed even a little bit." She smiled, knowing this would annoy him.

But if he was bothered by her comment, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled back, and said, "Come to my desk. We have so much to discuss."

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back around the near-empty room. Just then, she noticed the sun setting over the horizon, realizing that coming here at night may not have been the smartest choice. "What desk?"

He put his hand to the small of her back and led her to the four-poster bed.

"Whoa there, frisky," she exclaimed, limping away from him. "I'm not--"

He pulled back the green curtain, revealing what was not actually a bed, but rather two chairs sitting on opposite sides of a dark red-wood desk. On the desk sat a map, but as she looked over it, it was empty.

"Sit," he ordered. She glared but took a seat after he did. She kept silent as she stared at him, waiting. He'd speak first. He always did.

"As you know," he started, "I'm looking for the best way to die. So far, all my attempts have failed, from cursed amulets to pissing off the Greek gods. No stake can penetrate me in a way that matters, no poison strong enough to sting my throat. I'm tired, Brynnleigh. I'm old. It's time I've left this earth-it's been time for thousands of years-and I've tried everything that I can get my hands on."

She remembered. It wasn't particularly fun for her whenever he'd fail.

Continuing, he said, "But I've recently learned about the gates of the Shifting Sea. It's an old, old story from antiquity, so old that it was before even my time. It constantly changes its course across the oceans, and it's rare to find. When it lets itself be found, you enter through the gates before you can even swim in its waters. But once you're in, you can find it-the Fountain of Youth."

"The Fountain of Youth?" she laughed. "Like Tuck Everlasting?"

He pursed his lips. "Yes, but no. It's so much more than that. There, you find the balance of life and death. It isn't where death goes but where souls are preserved. And there, I believe, is where I can find the elixir to take away my immortality."

Brynn thoughts about this, feeling a bit uncomfortable with his blissful, hopeful expression as he gazed past her with teary eyes. She decided it was the perfect time to break that look.

"Why don't you just go there yourself?" she asked.

His expression changed in an instant, his face bearing the weight of his incapacity. "Only those that are alive can pass through the gates to the Shifting Sea."

"Aren't you alive?"

"Unfortunately. But I have no soul. And to them, having both a body and a soul in one is what counts as being alive."

Brynn felt a spark of indignation at that sentence. "But, why me, then? Can't you choose another person? Anyone, actually?"

"You're clairvoyant. A medium. You can talk to the spirits at the gate."

"I'm not the only one out there-there's got to be dozens of mediums in the country, right? Way more in the world. I mean, it's not like you particularly like me, so why?"

Paul leaned back, observing her anger. "I don't like or dislike anyone. I may have the time for it, but I don't care enough for those kinds of emotions... I've studied with you," he said. "I've trained you. You have the gift of talking with spirits that have passed through the veil and somehow found their way back. You don't just talk to them, though-you help them. You make them listen. I think you're my only shot at making it through to the other side."

"What would be in it for me?" she asked, already knowing the answer. But she needed to hear it from him, with his voice.

He needed to promise.

He smiled, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember you not enjoying some of our lessons. Summoning, listening, asking, banishing. At least in the time that I knew you, you hated that part of yourself. You have a very special gift, and I would hate to see it go to waste, but you didn't enjoy it very much. Am I wrong?"

Brynn shrugged, looking down at her chewed-up nails. She hated how much he knew her. She nonchalantly stated, "It's not my favorite thing."

"I promise you, Brynnleigh," he winced at the name, "that if you succeed in ending me, I will ensure that you'll never see a ghost again."

She couldn't help it. She looked up at him, made eye contact with his dark black eyes, empathy in his stare. She knew it wasn't real, but looking at him again after all these years, she yearned for it to be real once again. She yearned for his acceptance. But she looked down, hoping he couldn't read that yearning. He did.

Paul let out a genuine chuckle as he leaned forward, lifting his hand, ready to shake. "Want to make a deal, then?"

She finally glanced up at him, brown eyes meeting black. She wanted to say yes immediately, but what would it mean for her to leave? How would she get where she needed to go? Could she do it alone? Could she... could she leave Amanda behind? "Can I think about it?"

He leaned back, observing. Always observing. "Please respond in 3 days, by midnight on Friday."

She frowned. Three days wouldn't give her much time. "And if I don't?"

He smiled coldly. "I have all the time in the world, but I'd like to get over this as soon as possible. I said your name, willingly, and I only do things in threes. If you don't, well, then your end of the deal is up." He looked up at the corner of his eye, as if thinking hard. She knew he did it for the effect. "Magic only lasts so long."

She almost stood from her chair to leave, but the map in front of her caught her eye.

"If I did accept this, how would I get there?"

He smiled widely. "By boat."