Chapter 15: Outsiders
The knocking was a fist of reality hammering into his fragile peace.
Elias jolted upright on the settee, his heart jackhammering against his ribs. For a disorienting second, he thought it was another spirit, a new one, demanding an audience. But the sound was all wrong—too solid, too present, too wooden. It came from the front of the house, the main door.
The real world. Shit.
He stumbled to his feet, his body protesting with a chorus of aches from yesterday’s collapse. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to press the sleep-creased confusion from his face. Who the hell was at the door? No one came here. The mailman didn’t even bother anymore, just dumped the bundles of junk mail in the rusted box at the end of the drive.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
"Alright, alright," he muttered, his voice a dry croak. He shuffled out of the sitting room and into the grand entryway. The high ceiling seemed to swallow the sound of his footsteps. Through the frosted glass of the front door, he could make out two blurred figures.
He pulled the heavy door open, the old hinges groaning in protest.
Ashley stood on the top step, a familiar, cheerful smile on her face. She held a insulated delivery bag. Beside her was another woman, taller, with a sharp, curious gaze, holding a cardboard box.
"Hey, you," Ashley said, her voice bright. "Brought you some supplies."
Elias blinked, his brain struggling to catch up. He had forgotten about the order of Icy Hot patches, ibuprofen, et cetera. "Right," he finally said, "Things have been busy, I guess I forgot." His sore back reminded him that it was good the order had arrived. He shifted his weight, the ache a dull echo of yesterday’s exertion.
“This is Sally, by the way,” Ashley said, gesturing to her friend with a warm smile. “She’s helping me today because your order had some weight to it.”
Sally gave a quick, toothy grin, her eyes scanning the grand entryway with open curiosity. “Hey,” she said, her voice bright and assertive. “We can carry these in for you if you want.”
Elias’s mind flashed to the spirits he’d just pacified—Nathaniel’s quiet gratitude, Crifa’s intense scrutiny, the Spring Break girls’ invasive energy. The house felt alive with unseen movement. “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “I’ve got it.”
Ashley shook her head, already stepping forward. “I insist,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You look like you could use a hand.”
She brushed past him into the dim foyer, Sally following close behind with the box. As she moved past, Sally caught Elias’s eye and gave him a playful, knowing look that clearly said he should never argue with Ashley when she wants to help.
As she moved past, Sally caught Elias’s eye and gave him a playful, knowing look that clearly said he should never argue with Ashley when she wants to help. He had no choice but to follow them, his senses on high alert for any flicker of movement or whisper of cold air. The house, for its part, was unnervingly still, the usual creaks and sighs absent as if holding its breath.
They moved through the grand salon, where dust motes danced in the weak light filtering through grimy windows. Elias’s gaze darted into every shadow, half-expecting to see Nathaniel studying a portrait or Crifa standing sentinel in a corner. Nothing. A profound, grateful relief washed over him; the spirits had the good sense to stay hidden.
Ashley and Sally carried the boxes to the kitchen and set them on the counter. Elias followed close behind, his shoulders beginning to relax. He was happy to see that the spirits all had the good sense to stay out of sight.
All of them except Colin, who wandered into the kitchen right as Ashley and Sally were setting the boxes down.
The Irishman was as solid as Elias had ever seen him, his form seeming to draw substance from the very plaster and brick around them. He paused in the doorway, his calm gaze sweeping over the scene as if assessing a new worksite.
Sally immediately started trying to flirt with him. "Well, hello there," she said, her voice dropping into a warmer, more intimate register. "I didn't know you had company, Elias."
Colin’s eyes, a clear, steady blue, shifted to her. He gave her a smile and a nod, a simple, genuine gesture that Elias realized was a massive accomplishment for the typically silent spirit. Then, without a word, he turned and left the room, his form dissolving into the gloom of the hallway.
He could tell from the look on Sally's face that she was going to want to know more about him. Her eyes were wide, her head tilted in open fascination. "Who was that?" she asked, turning to Elias with an intensity that made him nervous.
"Oh, that's just... Colin," Elias said, scrambling for a plausible lie. "He's, uh, a handyman. Helps out around the place sometimes. Very quiet."
"Quiet is good," Sally murmured, her gaze still fixed on the empty doorway. "Strong, silent type. I like that."
Ashley, meanwhile, had begun unpacking the groceries with efficient movements, placing the ibuprofen and a box of Icy Hot patches on the counter with a pointed look. "You weren't kidding about the muscle pain," she said, her tone lightly teasing. "Big weekend?"
"You have no idea," Elias sighed.
Once Ashley and her friend finally left, after Sally extracted a promise from Elias to tell Colin she said hello, the front door clicked shut. The silence of the house rushed back in, but it was different now—lively, and full of implication.
Carissa and Suzy appeared next to Elias, one on either side, their forms materializing from the cool kitchen air. "So," Carissa said, her voice a singsong tease. "That delivery girl is totally into you."
Suzy nodded vigorously, her chestnut hair swaying. "Oh my god, yes. She was, like, practically undressing you with her eyes. The way she kept looking at you when she thought you weren't noticing?"
Elias felt a flush creep up his neck. "She was just being nice. Doing her job."
The two ghosts burst into synchronized giggles. "Her job is to drop off packages, not to memorize the way your hair falls over your forehead," Carissa countered, floating a circle around him. "She likes you. It's so obvious."
"You should ask her out," Suzy said, clapping her hands together with ghostly silence. "We could help! We could, like, scope out the situation for you. Be your wingwomen."
A cold dread trickled down Elias's spine. The idea of these two unleashed on the unsuspecting Ashley, with their relentless, spring-break energy and complete lack of modern social boundaries, was a recipe for unmitigated disaster. "No," he said, his voice firm. "Absolutely not. Do not help."
Their pouts were instantaneous and dramatic, a practiced expression perfected over two decades of spectral existence. But their eyes still sparkled with mischievous intent. Elias knew, with a sinking certainty, that this was far from over. The house had new ideas, and it had just found a new way to get under his skin.
Carissa and Suzy exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated scheming, their pouts evaporating into sly grins. “Fine, we won’t help,” Carissa said, her tone dripping with false innocence. “But you can’t stop us from having an opinion.”
“A very detailed, very observant opinion,” Suzy added, stretching her arms over her head with an exaggerated yawn.
They began to drift away from him, not vanishing, but moving with a slow, deliberate sway toward the dark mouth of the hallway. Their movement was a performance, a languid parade meant for an audience of one. As they turned, the subtle shift of their weight made certain things happen.
Carissa’s slender shoulders rolled back, a motion that traveled down her spine in a wave. Suzy tossed her long chestnut hair, the movement echoing through her entire form. They made sure Elias saw every part of them that could jiggle as they wandered off, a synchronized, bouncing, and utterly distracting display of spectral physics that left him staring, mortified and speechless, at the empty space they left behind.
He dragged a hand down his face, the cool touch of his own skin a small anchor in the surreal tide of his life. A hot blush was still creeping up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and something else he refused to name. The empty hallway seemed to mock him, the memory of their retreating forms burned onto his retinas.
“Enjoy the show?”
The voice, soft and laced with wry amusement, came from directly behind him. He froze, shoulders tightening. He knew that voice, the one that had spoken secrets in a sun-drenched dream. He turned slowly, the old floorboards creaking under his weight.
Moonbeam leaned against the kitchen doorframe, her arms crossed over her sundress. Her long blonde hair was a mess of waves around her shoulders, and her wide smile held a knowing edge. Her gaze was fixed on the spot where Carissa and Suzy had vanished.
“I… It’s not what it looked like,” he stammered, the words feeling pathetic even to him.
“Looked like a private performance to me,” she said, pushing off the doorframe and gliding closer. The air around her carried the faint, clean scent of ozone and dried wildflowers. “They’re certainly… enthusiastic. I suppose a little gratitude for your ‘positive energy’ was to be expected.”
Her tone was light, but her eyes, when they finally met his, were complex pools of emotion. He saw the playful tease, yes, but also a flicker of something — despair maybe? He was far from experienced in matters of the heart, especially when they involved a ghost.
"Can we go somewhere and talk?" she asked.
In his experience, that was never good.