3. Just a bunch of perverts #2
Ewan fumbles with the ExorSquad handbook. “There’s a chapter about the different kinds of entities. There are five levels. I think... I think he’s a level four. These spirits can manifest and interact with the physical world. They draw energy from what killed them...”
“Great,” I deadpan. “So he draws energy from the entire river crossing Edinburgh?”
“I think so...”
“Marvellous. Do they say how we’re supposed to banish the ghosts?”
I wait patiently as Ewan checks the other chapters of the handbook.
“We can set fire to the remains to weaken their connection to the material world,” he says.
I sigh. “He drowned in the river, so I doubt his remains are just lying around here. Anything else?”
“We can help resolve whatever is the cause of him staying after death. The handbook says that sometimes investigating the murder satisfies them. Or we can also help them get in touch with loved ones...” he trails off when he sees my face.
“The kid died in the eighteenth century, I strongly doubt his murderers are still around. If we can find where they’re buried, maybe we can piss on their graves.”
Ewan looks horrified. “Wouldn’t that just anger more ghosts?”
I chuckle. “I was joking. We’re not pissing on anyone’s grave.” I pause, then add, “Yet,” just to tease him.
Ewan paces our small room for a moment. He placed his air mattress along the wall. “We could always ask him?”
“Ask him,” I repeat.
“A—aye. Maybe he’ll tell us why he’s still here, and what we can do to help him move on.” He flops on the ground in front of me.
I hum. “Sure. Let’s ask the monster under the bed why he’s grabbing ankles.” I snort. “Let’s see what we have at our disposal.”
I grab my ExorSquad-issued bag and empty it on the floor at our feet.
There is, of course, the PolterPulse we used last night, the EMF meter, and the S-TRK monitor to read the temperature map of the room.
I discard these, they were pretty useless.
There is also a small device labelled ECH000, but it looks like it’s only a small speaker box to amplify voices from the dead.
I sigh. “I guess we’ll use the guns again. We just have to remember that they’re unreliable at best. We’ll improvise. Does the handbook talk about the actual risks of facing a poltergeist? I want to know what we’re up against.”
Ewan looks reticent to find the answer, so I grab the book from his hands and find the chapter about the different levels of entities.
“It says here that level three and above can touch and interact with the material world, thus can cause some extent of physical damage. Bruises, mostly, but it can be deadly if they interact with objects and cause an accident. Beware of being pushed from great heights,” I read.
“The Urchin touched me last night,” Ewan says.
“Touch you... where?”
He flushes. “My leg!”
“Hey, the kid is hanging around communal showers. He could be a pervert.”
Ewan groans. “Please, let’s not imagine ghosts can be perverts. I’ll never be able to shower again without picturing them lurking in the walls, watching me.”
I snort. “Ignorance is bliss.” I keep on reading.
“The most powerful spirits can also manipulate the emotions of the living, and sometimes even possess their bodies. Peachy. Well then, we’ll need to stay together and have each other’s back with the guns.
We can’t let the little shit get his hands on us. ” I drop the handbook on the bed.
We spend the rest of the afternoon wandering the hostel, talking with the staff and witnessing the guests' interest for the ghosts. With October approaching, Lana has her employees setting up the Halloween decorations all over the house. They ask for Ewan’s help a few times, his height being quite the advantage to hang garlands on the walls and lanterns above doors.
We all ogle him as he stretches his body, muscular arms bulging.
I’m right, we’re all perverts.
I make good use of the coffee machine in the staff kitchen and drink four mugs before the sun has set. Excessively caffeinated and lacking sleep, by the time midnight comes, I’m ready to throw down with some ghosts.
The staff members bid us good night, and they all enforce curfew before disappearing into their dorms. Ewan and I put on our ExorSquad uniforms, strap the guns to our belts, and find our way to the communal showers where the Urchin does most of his haunting.
This particular ghost is a trickster and he likes to make himself known, so we don't think we’ll need puns this time.
Ewan stops in the hallway, right at the boundary where the wooden floors give way to the green tiles of the communal showers. His shoulders are tense and his hands are gripping the PolterPulse.
“Hey, we’ve got this,” I say to him. "Relax."
I’m not sure why but I find his fear endearing. He really doesn’t want to be here, and yet he is. This is the purest form of bravery: doing something while being scared shitless.
He nods, eyes set on our destination.
“I won’t let the little pervert touch you this time, I promise." I wink.
This wins me a blush and a smile. Fuck, I want to taste his lips.
I clear my throat and step in the communal showers, and my shoes land in water. “What?” I turn on the lights and look down. There is water all over the floor, reflecting the glow from the sconces on the walls. “Motherfucker.” Immediately, my socks are soaked, and I make a face.
“Do you think it’s his doing?” Ewan whispers.
“Of course it’s him. He knows we’re coming after him.”
A giggle echoes deeper in the room, and hair rises on my arms.
Fuck, this is creepy. And it’s already pissing me off.
I make sure the safety is off on my gun. “Come now, little shit, we’re here to play.”
“James...” Ewan warns. “Maybe don’t piss off the poltergeist?”
I chuckle. “I thought that was why we were here.”
I kick open one of the shower stalls. Then another.
“Did you hear that?” Ewan suddenly says.
I stop walking—my shoes are splashing in the water—and listen attentively. There’s a whisper in the dark.
“...the Burning Crone?” the ghost says.
“What?”
And suddenly, the voice is right by my ear. “Are you the ones who released the Burning Crone?”
I curse and turn on my heels, looking for the Urchin, but he’s nowhere to be found. The room feels suddenly cold and the air I exhale turns into steam.
“Yes, that’s us,” I say, eyes searching the dark corners of the communal showers.
Behind me, Ewan is gripping my shirt and I can feel his hand shaking.
Another laugh echoes all around us. “The house is pleased and displeased all at once.”
The house? I think, confused.
But then my brain catches up, and a word he said comes into sharp focus: released.
“Do you want to be released from the house?” I ask. “Are you a prisoner of this place?”
The little ghost sighs. “Yes...” And I can feel a cold breath on my cheek, but when I turn my face, no one’s there.
I remember, the Crone stopped her advancement when Ewan told her to go away. She sighed and disappeared, as if suddenly free of her chains. She didn’t make a reappearance, no matter how many puns we threw around.
“Then I release you of the house,” I say. “Go away, please.”
Silence.
Did it work?
Ewan whispers my name, and his hand pulls at my shirt.
I turn around, and he’s as pale as a sheet, eyes on the floor.
I look down and find the child in the water, watching us from the other side like an evil reflection in a mirror.
His face his gaunt, and his eyes are darker than night. A smile is pulling at his blue lips.
“Not you, him,” the Urchin says. His hands emerge from the water and grab Ewan’s ankles.