Page 54 of After Life
Because I learned all my stealth tricks from old detective movies.
“Sorry,” I muttered, sticking my head in. Jeremiah stared at me from Oscar’s eyes, annoyed and wary. Sandra and Ray-Don just scowled. “I was thinking of making some sandwiches for dinner. Are y’all hungry?”
“No,” Sandra snapped before anyone else could answer. “Get your food and go to bed. You need rest.”
“Oscar,” I said, smiling a hollow smile in Jeremiah’s direction. “Want your usual?”
He nodded, the wariness fading just a little. “Please. I’ll be up shortly.” I nodded and backed out of the room, pulling the door behind me. Heading to the kitchen, I made enough noise to let them know I was in there, then waited. When no one came, I closed my eyes and took a breath. “Look,” I murmured, “I know I’m not really cut out of this but I have had some run ins with a few ghosts this year. If you could, I don’t know, have some pity on me and help me?”
In my pocket, my phone vibrated, startling a yelp out of me. Fishing it out with shaking fingers, an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. Normally, I’d send it straight to voice mail but beggars, choosers, etc. “Hello?” I whispered. “Who is this?”
“Julian!” Lisa sounded far too cheerful for my crisis. “What’s up? Oscar’s not answering. I tried calling earlier and—”
“And,” I hissed, “help! My phone’s had no reception till literally this second. Listen to me, okay? Don’t talk, don’t joke. Just listen.”
Lisa blew a raspberry at me. “Fine,” she said. “You got five minutes. I’m about to go talk to the ghost of Al Capone a-fucking-gain.”
“Oscar’s been body snatched and I need to get his spirit back in his body.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Okay, just a sec. I’m gonna tell them I got cramps.”
I was back in the bedroom with the door locked behind me by the time Lisa came back on the line. “I don’t know how much time I have,” I whispered. “They probably don’t realize I’ve got reception, and I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
“Walk me through this, alright? I got my brother Jesse on messenger right now. He’s good at this sort of shit. Reads a lot and yada, yada, yada. If you weren’t dating Ozzy-bear, I’d totally set you two up. You’d have a huge library and wear matching sweaters and argue about Proust or some shit while living in your happy gay cabin in Kentucky.”
“I... Thank you?”
“No problemo. Now. Talk.”
I hit the highlights, and Lisa listened quietly, tapping at her keyboard as I spoke. “And right now this taking a strong turn for some Bly Manor shit so if you have any ideas,” I trailed off.
“Bly Manor? Wow. Dig into the classics, why don’t you? I would’ve said maybe Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something. I mean, Turn of the Screw is cool and all but nothing like what you’ve got going on there.”
“Lisa,” I rumbled. “Focus.”
“Julian,” she mimicked. “I can multitask.”
“Oh my god.”
“Just a sec. Jesse’s thinking. Okay, he says you need to make a sigil and put it on Oscar. Well, on his body. Seriously, dude? That’s it?” She tapped on the keys some more. “He says Occam’s Razor.”
“Tell him he makes sense.”
She grunted. “Well. I was gonna say the same thing. Cut ‘em with a razor until they reverse the magic.”
“That’s not what Occam’s Razor is.”
“I know, but I like it when your voice does that high pitched disdain thing. Shit, I gotta go but listen, talk to me as soon as he’s back, okay? Tell him I’m kicking his ass for scaring my Julie-boo.”
“What the actual fuck,” I muttered. “Lisa—”
The call ended and I swore again under my breath before switching to the text app to get in touch with Ezra with a quick summation of what Lisa and Jesse had suggested. Ezra’s reply came just a minute later.
Do it. Not like we’re swimming in options here.
And just after that, one more line. He’ll be okay. He’s Oscar. He has to be.
JEREMIAH CAME TO THE bedroom as the trees outside beat against the house, flexible palm trunks making them whip and creak rather than break. It felt like monstrous hands were trying to rip the walls away and for a wild second, I was almost glad Oscar wasn’t hearing this. I rolled onto my back, feigning waking as he slowly approached the bed. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Couldn’t keep my eyes open.”
