Page 50 of After Life
“But if you do, we hope it is the first thing you learned from us: spirits continue, the vessel merely changes.”
“And your vessels? They’re in the shipwrecks off the island?”
“Some of us. But others, no. There’s no application process to be part of us, Oscar. We don’t do background checks.”
I snorted softly. “What do I do now?”
They shifted away, spreading out, elongating, returning to the shadows of my grandfather’s library. “Find your way back.”
I LINGERED IN THE LIBRARY for minutes, hours, days. Time had no meaning where I was.
And I startled myself when I realized I didn’t care. I could stay here, just wandering the library until I grew tired of it. Then maybe see my old flat, scare the new tenants.
See Ezra—Even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt myself pulled, moving frictionless through a nameless space until I saw Ezra, sprawled on a generic hotel bed with a box of chicken wings open beside him. He was naked except for his socks, his feet resting on Harrison’s bare chest.
Harrison, thankfully, still had sleep pants on.
I’d never be able to look him in the eye if I saw his junk, even if I was an almost-ghost when it happened.
Ezra picked one of the wings out of the box and sniffed it. “I think this is the habanero one. You want?”
Harrison made a face. “My indigestion is still trying to murder me after that ghost pepper chip bullshit you had me try. All yours, hon.”
Ezra did a happy wiggle, and I knew it wasn’t because of the chicken wing. I moved closer, drifting almost, not trying to walk but somehow moving all the same. The world outside the hotel window was dark, lit by strands of white faerie lights and wrought-iron streetlamps. Ezra always loved New Orleans, I thought. I hope Harrison shows him a good time. One of us should enjoy their romantic getaway with their boyfriend...
Ezra made a startled, pained noise and I turned to find him staring in my direction, eyes unfocused but definitely aware. “Oz?” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nope, no. No. I won’t allow this, you arsehole! Oscar Michael Fellowes, what the fuck is happening?” As he spoke, he scrambled to his feet, his nudity ignored as he stumbled toward where I stood. He passed through me, the sensation uncomfortable but not painful.
Harrison sat up, frowning. “Ezra, what’s going on? Talk to me, baby. Take a breath!” He scrambled to his feet, tossing his tablet aside and grabbing Ezra by the shoulders. “Breathe with me, baby. In, two, three, four, hold—”
“Stop, stop!” Ezra twisted away, spinning to face me again. “He’s here. I can feel him.” He jabbed his closed fist at his own chest. “I can feel him in the room. Like a... Like when someone is... Fuck! Harrison, I need to call Oscar. Where’s my phone?”
“You might not be able to get through,” he said gently. “The storm—”
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Ezra muttered, phone pressed to his ear, staring at the spot where I stood.
“Ezra,” I said. “Can you hear me?”
He dropped the phone.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. This is good. Good news all around. Ezra! Shit!” I surged toward him as he buckled, eyes rolling up and body bowing. Harrison caught him, lowering him gently to the floor and positioning him so he would be safe while he rode out the seizure. It was an eternity wrapped in a few minutes as Ezra’s body and brain worked against one another and Harrison split his attention between Ezra and keeping an eye on the time, phone clutched and ready to call 911 if the seizure didn’t abate soon. Finally, Ezra’s body relaxed and his eyes fluttered and opened.
“Oscar...”
“I’m not dead,” I said hurriedly. “Just... kind of almost a ghost?”
Ezra let Harrison sit him up, leaning against Harrison’s chest as he finally pinned my location with his gaze. “Do you promise me you’re not dead? Is this like an Enoch thing or something?”
“No, it’s just... A weird story,” I sighed. “Very, very weird.”
Harrison shook his head. “Baby, I don’t know what the fuck is going on but I support you.”
I laughed. “Definitely keep him around.”
“That’s the plan,” Ezra murmured. “Now. Talk.”
TO HIS CREDIT, EZRA had always been excellent at rolling with the punches.
Even when they packed a hell of a wallop.
