Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The ballroom looked nothing like it had a week ago. Gary had taken their offer and applied his usual exuberance to making the room his. Most of the ghosts who’d come to Oriskany Falls for the party leapt at the chance to decorate “their private party hall.”
Slate surveyed their efforts so far, and the results were… unique. In the spirit of free love and communal happiness, he let people decorate different sections according to their time period.
Colors shimmered in midair, hues that didn’t technically exist on the human spectrum—violet-gold, electric teal, something that might’ve been audible if you listened hard enough.
Swirls of light traced lazy spirals across the ceiling, pulsing to a rhythm only the dead could hear.
A haze of spectral fog rolled through the room, glittering like dust caught in a sunbeam, except the light source came from inside the mist itself.
Cain drifted near the stage, projecting tie-dyed patterns onto the walls with every gesture. “Dig this, man,” he said, spreading his hands. “Mood lighting without electricity.”
Gary beamed, his beads clacking together as he spun in place. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Peace, love, and perpetual luminescence. This joint’s finally got soul.”
Dash squinted at the swirling wall art. “Is it supposed to look like that?”
“Like what?” Gary asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Like the sixties threw up on a rainbow.”
Slate chuckled. It was accurate, but he’d have been more diplomatic. “You’ve gotta admit, it’s impressive. They’re decorating with emotion, not supplies.”
Across the ballroom, Thomas and Oliver worked on a small section dedicated to Oliver’s time.
The fifties were close enough to the sixties, so they focused on the 1880s.
Slate asked Liv if they even celebrated Halloween back then, and of course that earned him a dissertation on the traditions of that era.
The deep oranges, reds, and browns of their section provided a small island of calm in the psychedelic sea of colors.
They worked alone at first until two other spirits from the late nineteenth century asked if they could help.
The four of them had turned a small panel of the room into their own expression of the holiday.
Thomas and Oliver spent most of the time smiling, laughing, working side by side.
It was hard to watch them dance around each other because both were afraid to make the first move.
“Did you see that?” Dash asked, suddenly appearing at Slate’s side. “Oliver was blushing. Actual spectral blushing.”
He’d seen it with frustration because Thomas hadn’t followed up on whatever caused the color in Oliver’s cheeks. “Any ideas on how to nudge them along?”
“Me?” Dash pointed to himself. “If you hadn’t been the bold one, I’d still be alone in my one-bedroom apartment, afraid of commitment.”
“This is so groovy, right?” Gary said, spreading his arms in pride. “It’s way better than my original idea.”
“Telling everyone to ‘come party in Oriskany Falls’ was not a party idea,” Dash said. “It was an invitation to chaos.”
“Yo, man, every great idea has to start somewhere.” He floated off toward a vibrant rainbow swirling in the far corner of the room.
Meredith’s laughter carried from the hall as she helped Marge and Cliff complete the last-minute fixes to this year’s Haunted House. The sound machine made an odd noise he didn’t recognize, and he wondered what changes his parents had made to his setup.
Slate glanced at the spirits spreading a riot of color around the ballroom with approval. Ghosts drifted and twirled. When they laughed, it sounded like music. Even the chandeliers shimmered with a muted gold light instead of their usual white.
He had to admit, Meredith knew her stuff.
Not only did redecorating the hall keep the spirits too busy to make mischief, but it also gave them a purpose and a sense of ownership.
They didn’t have to use what the living put out, or worry about the living rearranging things when they noticed the changes.
This was theirs, and they embraced it with gusto.
An elderly woman wrapped in an earth-toned shawl glided through the far wall. She glanced around and then made straight for Gary.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Schemanski,” Gary said. “Do you want to make changes to your area?”
“There’s trouble,” she said. Her voice cut through the crowd, ending the cheerful sounds coming from the decorators. “I’ve never seen them before, but they’re dark and have no joy.”
Slate stood rooted in place, and Gary’s perpetual grin faltered as an uneasy silence fell over the room.
“Dark and joyless?” Gary looked at Slate. “They’re not with me, dudes. I wouldn’t invite any bad vibes to my party.”
“Did you see them arrive?” Dash asked.
“They came from the woods,” she answered, wringing her translucent hands. “I was admiring some of the carved pumpkins when I felt something cold and hollow. At the edge of the woods, they were just looking at me and the town. They don’t wish us well.”
Cain floated closer, expression uncharacteristically serious. “Did they say anything to you?”
“No.” Mrs. Schemanski shook her head. “They stared ahead with empty eyes. I asked if I could help them. They didn’t answer. Just kept watching until they turned and left.”
Slate had heard nothing to suggest they were a danger. “Why do you think they’re trouble?”
“It was the eyes,” she said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They were empty. I’ve seen that type before. Nothing good comes from spirits that dark.”
He couldn’t decide whether Mrs. Schemanski was overly dramatic or if this was an actual threat. Probably the former, but with one day until Halloween, he had to assume the latter. “We should go check it out,” he said to Dash. “We don’t need problems.”
“Agreed,” Dash said. “Should we do it now?”
Slate would rather not do it at all, but if there was trouble, better to end it before it got in full swing. “Yes. Let’s check before anyone hears about it and starts talking.”
“Dude, I’m not one to panic,” Gary said, glancing at the other ghosts. “But, uh, if we’re voting, I say maybe don’t go to the creepy woods at night.”
“It’s still daylight,” Dash pointed out.
“Barely,” Gary said.
Slate hadn’t been worried, but Gary’s reaction gave him pause. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just go to check things out and find out why they’re here.”
“I’ll come,” Cain volunteered. “Can’t be scarier than artillery exploding, or people shooting at you.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be scary at all,” Dash said. “We’re not going to fight them, just talk.”
That seemed to settle the ghosts, though Gary still muttered something about bad karma and unfinished playlists.
Mrs. Schemanski hovered near the far wall, her expression softening. “They were still in the woods when I came to find Gary. I doubt they left.”
“Thanks for the information,” Dash said. “You should stay here if you’re worried. We’ll turn on the ballroom’s wards.”
“Thank you, but I’ll be going back to where I normally stay.” She vanished through the plaster as gently as she’d appeared.
The room remained silent for several seconds after she disappeared. For a moment, Slate wondered if the woman had made it up.
“That’s not good,” Gary said, his voice shattering the quiet. “We can’t have those two scaring all my friends away.”
Slate tried to convince himself this was nothing, but Mrs. Schemanski hadn’t left because of ‘nothing.’ “Let me get Dad and Morten and we can go check this out. Cain, you still want to come along?”
“Sure,” Cain said. “You expecting trouble?”
“I’m hoping for nothing,” Slate said. “But hope’s not a plan.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long.” Dash gave him a crooked grin.
“I’ll come too,” Thomas said. “I’ve dealt with unpleasant spirits before. Maybe I can help.”
Slate really hoped Mrs. Schemanski had been wrong, because if not, they just lost their quiet Halloween.