Air mattresses as it turned out were barely functional as a bed. Fletcher barely slept between the slow leak and Ellis’s blanket hogging nature though he acted like a miniature space heater. As the sun came up, Fletcher finally sat up, officially giving up on sleep. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Roman sleeping in the fetal position face first into the back of the couch while Sam slept on the opposite side with his legs propped on Roman’s hip. Fletcher shifted his gaze towards Ellis who stared up at him with unfocused eyes and a soft smile. It was a peaceful morning until the screeching began again.

The constant screaming became background noise for his day-to-day life but seeing the boy never got easier. His pale skin with sickening dark bruises wrapped around his throat and glazed over eyes were enough to make Fletcher ill but the worst of it came from how small the boy was. Fletcher couldn’t understand why someone would have hurt a child.

“Are you going to do that all day?” Fletcher asked the boy who only replied with another shrill noise. The boy bent down and pinched Ellis’s arm.

“Ow!” Ellis rubbed his arm. Fletcher was beginning to get the impression the boy didn’t like Ellis.

Alden woke up before the other boys and spent most of his morning digging through his collection of books, setting a large pile aside for them to take back to Emmerson. Overall, he was surprisingly helpful but very odd in a slightly unnerving way. Alden watching them like they were animals in a zoo, something to be watched with great curiosity and caution. Slowly, Sam stretched out while Ellis clapped on Roman’s back.

“Get up.” Ellis’s voice was still raspy from waking up. Roman only groaned in reply, driving his face further into the couch. How is that comfortable, Fletcher wondered. “Come on, we have to pack.”

Groggily, they all slowly began to gather up their stuff. Alden shifted his stacks of books into a cardboard box and taped up the top. Once they were packed, Roman pulled the leather journal from his bag and showed Alden the flower design on the front. Tracing his fingers over the book, Alden slowly nodded.

“This is a family marker. Usually, they mark belongings like the journal or pathways meant for the witch's family. There’s actually a lot in Emmerson. A few in Holloway Academy, a few carved into trees, I’m sure there are more but those are the only ones I’ve seen.” Alden explained.

Roman and Sam shared a look of understanding although the topic was lost on Fletcher. Ellis offered Alden his gratitude before Alden started inviting them for another visit to show him exactly how their powers work. No one declined but the tension in the air was enough of a sign that there would be no second visit.

Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief once they got into Ellis’s car. He took the backseat, finally able to rest his eyes and actually sleep.

***

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Fletcher wasn’t certain how long he’d been out but he was certain it wasn’t long enough. The sound of water woke him but he refused to open his eyes, desperate for even just a few more minutes of sleep but the conversation was too loud.

“So, we should check the tunnel.” Ellis announced as if it was a profound idea and not the next logical course of action.

“Yeah, just figure out a time and I’ll show up.” Roman replied. Fletcher could hear the turning of pages. “Anything interesting?”

“Nothing really but there is a lot to go through.”

The dripping got louder and a small unfamiliar groan followed it. A coldness washed over Fletcher as he closed his eyes even tighter than before. He assumed Sam must have rolled down his window but he couldn’t think of a reason for it.

“Where are we?” Fletcher asked.

“The Maybury bridge.” Roman’s voice tightened as if he was saying something he shouldn’t.

Opening his eyes, Fletcher half expected the boy to be there but there was no screeching, just the dripping water. He turned his head towards the noise. Between himself and Roman was a girl with long soaking wet platinum blonde hair. Her shoulder looked like it was pulled out of the socket while her refined features were covered in cuts and bruises. Clearly, she’d been hurt quite badly. Even though her skin was pale it was almost translucent.

It was Prudence Holloway.

“You okay, Fletcher?” Roman questioned hesitantly but Fletcher couldn’t formulate a reply.

Prudence eyed Ellis with an almost remorseful expression. Reaching out, she rested her hand on Ellis; Fletcher wondered if he could feel it or may sense her presence. If he did notice, he didn’t show it. Slowly, Prudence’s chest rose and fell. Her attention was solely focused on Ellis; Fletcher doubted she noticed he could see her. Her eyes were an incoming storm.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” She said, her voice as thin as air.

Fletcher felt like an intruder despite being the only one to know what was taking place. Telling Ellis would only have caused more pain and questions. He decided not to say anything at all rather than reopen old wounds. It was hard for Fletcher to understand what grief felt like. For him, it was a distant concept, something he’d only heard of in passing, never experiencing it himself.

As suddenly as she appeared, she disappeared, replaced by the boy. He crawled forward, putting himself between Sam and Ellis. Slowly he wrapped his tiny hand around the bottom of the steering wheel, holding it in place while Ellis struggled to turn the wheel.

“Guess I should get the power steering checked.” Ellis mumbled.

“Stop.” Fletcher said to the boy who responded by disappearing.

“Huh?”

“Not you.”

Ghosts as it turned out were far more complicated than Fletcher had been previously let onto. Movies made it seem like it was a bump in the night and a few apparitions. They didn’t show what spirits looked like or if they did it was almost always a normal person but a few shades paler. Beetlejuice had a pretty accurate depiction of ghosts, Fletcher noted. The books Alden gave them could have had useful information for his peculiar problem but something in the pit of his stomach told him he needed something more.

The rest of the drive was ghost and conversation free. Roman and Sam both slept while Ellis spent the remainder of it singing softly to the radio. He had quite a pretty voice. It made Fletcher a little sad when they’d arrived at his house. Ellis so rarely was open enough to sing but Fletcher could have listened to him all night.

“See you at school.” Ellis waved.

The moment Ellis pulled out of the driveway, Fletcher pulled out his wallet and fished for the pink business card Helga had given him. It seemed like that had been a lifetime ago, before things were so complicated. Not to say things weren’t complicated before, they’d still killed someone but it was before his life shifted in a way that he would have said was improbable. He dialed the number and took shallow breaths almost in time with the dial tone.

“Hey, can we talk? Meet me at the mall.”

***

It was his fifth cup of poorly filtered coffee by the time he saw Helga. She walked agonizingly slow. Her hair was tied back and she dressed in a normal t-shirt and jeans. She looked human and less witch-like than usual. Fletcher couldn’t help but notice the water bottle filled with black sludge that she was holding away from herself as it was an explosive. Maybe it was. Beaming ear from ear, she joined Fletcher at the small food court table.

“Figured you’d call me to take the potion” Helga leaned back in her chair.

“Why?” He was genuinely curious.

“Wouldn’t wanna be left out in your little friend group.”

“They don’t know I’m here-”

“I assumed. Sam doesn’t like me; he’s made that clear. Roman is more neutral. Ellis- Well Ellis is a non-issue.”

“You’d be the first person to describe Roman as neutral.” Fletcher paused and placed his elbows on the table. “I’m a very honest person, so I’d appreciate it if you just told me what you want from us. No more cryptic bullshit.”

Helga considered him for a moment. She leaned forward and invaded Fletcher's personal space before snatching the cup of coffee and taking a swig. Holding it out, she offered it back to Fletcher but he shook his head in reply.

“It’s very complicated-”

“Just tell me.”

“Well, it’s a vengeful spirit with the Fae on his side.” Helga said. “With time, he gets stronger and shifts the spirit world closer to the dark side. I’m not a medium so I can’t speak to how bad it is but I’ve spoken with other coven members and it’s getting worse. More spirits are turning vengeful and there are more hauntings. If too much time passes, Emmerson will basically become a ghost fight club where the citizens are the only losers.”

“Okay? Your potion didn’t work. We had another incident.” Fletcher said.

“Back to the drawing board then.” Helga sighed.

“How do you get ghosts to go away? The normal kind.”

“Ask them to leave. If they don’t, avoid the tethering point for a couple weeks. They will get bored of you eventually.”

“What if I have one that follows me everywhere?” Fletcher tapped his fingers against the table nervously. Helga tilted her to the side. With a twitch of her brow, she started to drink more of the coffee.

“Uh huh. And just how did you meet this ghost?” There was a hesitation in her voice.

“We played with a Ouija board in the Wildes house. He showed up that night.”

Helga didn’t say anything at first. Covering her mouth, she stared at him with wide eyes. Fletcher glanced around the mall, suddenly very aware of the groups of people floating around. He regretted choosing the mall.

“You played in a graveyard.” She said barely audible. “There are bodies buried in the basement.”

Fletcher tried to process what she said. Part of him knew the boy must have met a less than compassionate end but considering his age it seemed hard to believe. It occurred to Fletcher that if the boy died there, he was probably a student.

“So, what does that mean?”

“You’ve got a ghost with no tethering point and no boundaries. Basically, he has similar abilities to the living now where he will be able to pick things up, break things...Could cause some real damage. He’s only going to get stronger.” Helga explained with an unusual kindness in her voice.

“Yay, two ghosts that can kill me.” Fletcher let out a sigh. “How did you know about the bodies?”

“Prue told me, years ago now. That’s beside the point, would you mind drinking the potion still? Just in case it works for your other ghost friend.” Helga pushed the bottle toward him.

Slowly, Fletcher nodded. If the potion would give him any control over his life again, he was willing to take it. Unscrewing the lid, Fletcher noticed the foul aroma coming from the liquid, like wet dog food and ripe piss. Every instinct in his body told him to put the bottle back but he still brought the tip of the bottle to his lips. With shaking hands, he gulped down the drink. It tasted like a mixture of gasoline and bubble gum cough syrup; painful with burning after taste.

“How do you feel? Have any urges?” Helga was on the edge of her seat.

“Urge to vomit.” Fletcher held his hand to his mouth.

“That’s normal.”

Fletcher let out a long sign and murmured a thanks as he stood. Helga mirrored him. She pulled a small necklace with a wooden charm in the shape of a star from her pocket. Without so much as a word, she reached over and fiddled with the clasp as she tried to put the necklace on him. He held his breath and bent his neck down to make it easier for her.

“This is a spirit charm. Might keep the spirits out of your head.” Helga smiled at him. “Keep me in the loop with-”

Screech! Fletcher flinched from the sheer volume of the screaming. He thought finally gotten used to the constant screaming yet it seemed to be getting louder. He glanced over to Helga and noticed her cupping her ears.

“You hear that?” Fletcher asked. She nodded and looked away from him. Following her eyes, he saw Beck. “Well, shit.”

Beck was practically jogging towards them, her blonde curls bouncing in time with her steps. The clicking of her heels echoed through the mall. Fletcher couldn’t get past how red her face was and the horrible shape her lips were twisted into. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her angry in such an aggressive way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Beck shouted.

“Talking to a friend-” Fletcher started

“I should go,” Helga said slowly, backing away.

“Yeah, you should. Stay the hell away from my boyfriend.” Beck spat at Helga, looking almost like she was going to start a fight. “Why are you talking to her?”

“She’s a friend-”

“You didn’t tell me.” Beck yelled again.

“Aren’t we in an-”

“Not the point.”

Fletcher could feel people's eyes on them, watching to see whatever drama unfolded. He balled up his hands and shoved them into his pocket as the heat of rage ran through him. With each breath he took, he tried to calculate exactly what to say to deescalate the situation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be angry, or show anything other than his calm demeanor.

“I don’t want to fight, Beck.” He kept his voice even. “I will tell you the next time I talk to a girl if that’s what it takes to end this conversation.”

“I’m sorry.” Beck stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his chest. “I’ve just been having a hard time lately with you not being around and the way Roman’s been treating me.”

“Huh?” Fletcher wrapped his arms around her waist while she rested her head on his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Roman pretty much glares at me for the entirety of culinary and refused to help in any way. My grades are suffering from it. I don’t even care about his manner. I just wish he would ease up. Maybe help a little- It doesn’t matter. He won’t listen to me.”

“I can talk to him for you.” Fletcher said, defeated.

“Thank you!” She planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Most of their relationship was give and take. Fletcher gave and Beck took. It was the fear of being alone that fueled Fletcher to stay with her. He knew what people thought of him and Beck. He’d heard mumbles of what an idiot he was for choosing someone like Beck, someone who was casually cruel with a manipulative steak to match. He knew she was cruel. He knew she manipulated him. Hell, it was well understood that she didn’t love him, just his success but he came to accept that. All of her shortcomings he could deal with as long as he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, Fletcher would wonder if he even deserved love at all.

Fletcher wasn’t stupid. He just knew that Beck was as good as it gets for someone like him.