Chapter Text
“This one’s going to be much, much easier than the last one,” Elise promises as the four of you stand on the front porch of this little house, waiting for the client to answer the door. You were surprised that the van had made it down the dirt and gravel driveway that wound through the woods and down a fairly steep hill to get here, but Tucker pulled it off well enough. Getting back out might be tricky, but that was a problem for the future.
“So, we shouldn’t expect to get attacked by a possessed kid again?” Specs asks, tapping his fingers on the edge of the binder he carries. A nervous habit.
“No, I should think not,” Elise says, with a gentle smile. You hope she was right. You don't get any overly weird feelings from this place, at least not yet, but the woods themselves were another story. Who knew what all lived and died in there? The door opens and a little boy, about ten years old, stands there, looking up at them with narrowed eyes.
“Who’re you?” he demands, looking mostly at Tucker.
“Hank you can’t just go answering the door for strangers!” A voice hisses, and a young woman snatches the kid back into the house, planting herself in the doorway between them and the house. “What do you want? We’re not buying any of what you’re selling.” You laugh, making Specs flinch.
“Your mother called us,” Elise says, in her patient way. The girl isn’t convinced. “About something strange going on around your house at night?”
“The lights!” Hank calls, poking his head out from under the girl’s left arm. She shoves him back behind her again and crosses her arms.
“Well, she’s not home right now. Come back later.” Tucker gives her some kind of retort you’re sure he thinks is witty, and she bristles, firing back with one of her own. She’s putting on a brave face, but you can tell she’s scared. And who could blame her? Three strange people at your door, mom not home, and way out in the boonies like this? Coupled with whatever was haunting- hold on. There was movement behind the kids, something that got your attention. Something that didn’t belong. You tap Elise’s shoulder, and she gives you a short nod, then claps her hands together once to get everyone’s attention.
“You’re right, sweetheart,” she says, and you don’t wait to hear what else she says. You walk past the girl into her house, eyes darting here and there, trying to pinpoint what it was that had caught your gaze. Where had it gone? You take in your surroundings while you’re on the hunt, and realize this is less of a ‘house’ proper, and more of a mobile home with some extra additions. There are small piles of garbage in the corners, against the walls, at the side of the weathered couch. If you could smell, you’re sure it wouldn’t be very pleasant. You glance backward over your shoulder to check on the kids- they're still hovering by the door, holding it in preparation for shutting out the weirdo strangers on the porch.
“I know you’re in here somewhere,” you say, quietly, heading towards the kitchen. It’s a wreck. Dishes piled in the sink, a slightly overflowing trash bag, soda cans on the table beside the remnants of whatever meal was eaten here last. Something’s wrong here, something feels off. The light above the worn wooden table starts to flicker, and you hear the younger kid shout from the front door.
“It’s happening again! Look, Rosie, look!” You don’t know if the sister’s paying any attention, but you are. Every time the light flickers off, there’s a Thing standing there in the middle of the small space between the fridge and the sink, a dark shape with bright white eyes. You’re on your guard instantly, taking several steps back and raising your hands with open palms facing the new arrival.
“It’s just faulty wiring,” the sister, Rosie you assume, says, exasperated. “Mom should have called an electrician, not whoever the hell you guys are.”
“I’m telling mom you said a bad word,” Hank says with a huff. Throughout their back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on the figure, which hasn’t moved or spoken yet. You can’t even make out its true shape, the light’s flickering isn’t exactly steady enough for you to get a good look.
“Hey there,” you call, experimentally. “Whatcha’ doin’, buddy?”
Oh. Possibly a bad move. When the light flickers again, it’s suddenly looking directly at you, white pinpoint sized eyes burning in the black of its animalistic posture. It tilts its head to the side, then the light comes back on. And stays on. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you don’t relax. Not yet. Whatever it was may have stopped playing with the lights, but you can’t be sure that it’s gone. Another moment or two goes by, and you figure it’s probably as good a time as any to report back with what you found. That, and the state of the place is starting to really put a damper on your mood. You slip between Rosie and the door, and find that Elise and the boys have retreated off the porch to mill around the parked van.
“When’s your mom gonna get back, anyway?” Tucker asks, unwrapping a fruit pie.
“Soon,” Rosie says, shivering. Huh. Maybe she felt you when you passed by? Kids did seem to be more sensitive to spirits, so it’s not impossible. That or maybe she thinks it’s gross that Tucker just crammed half the cold pie in his mouth at once.
“There’s something in the house,” you say in a hushed tone once you reach Elise and Specs, leaning against the hood. “Only saw it when the lights went off. Some kind of dog shaped thing, maybe? Hard to tell.”
“Oh, sounds like a troublemaker,” Elise says, with a thoughtful hum. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, that house is filthy.” You look around the outside of the house, which isn’t exactly picturesque either. A broken swing set, a chain link fence where a doghouse sits, now empty. There’s more dirt than grass in the yard, and more than one cracked cinderblock dotting the edges of a well-worn path that leads around behind the place. “Like out here but worse. Something feels weird about all this but I couldn’t tell you what.” She nods and turns to Specs, who hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. At least, you assume that’s the case, because he hasn’t responded whatsoever.
“Steven, pop quiz time,” she says, and he looks up, eyes wide behind his glasses. You almost think he looks more afraid of the idea of being quizzed than of facing a ghost, just going by how he swallows hard before adjusting his glasses nervously.
“What, right now?” He looks back to the kids on the porch, who are trading childish insults with Tucker, then straightens up and gives Elise his full attention. “Alright. Quiz me.”
“What kind of spirit has these attributes: causes nightmares, can interact with inanimate objects, and,” she flicks her eyes to you as she adds, “prefers the dark?” Specs puts a finger to his lips and furrows his brow in concentration. You frown, looking back up to the house. You know this, or at least you think you do. Some kind of little bastard, one of the relatively harmless ones, maybe?
“Oh!” Steven snaps his fingers. “An Alp!” Elise points at him with a small smile.
“Bingo. You’ve been paying attention!” She winks at you and you can’t help but grin. Her confidence is infectious, easing your agitation considerably. Specs beams with pride and looks over to see if Tucker heard any of it, grin slipping when he notices that Tucker is still engaged in conversation (if you could call it that) with the kids and hasn’t been paying them any bit of attention. “They’re pests, but nothing too serious. When their mother comes home, we can get started, and with some luck, we’ll be done before midnight.”
“I hope so,” you mutter, about the same time that Specs does. You turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look at you or indicate that he heard you at all. You nudge at a rock on the ground in frustration. It doesn’t move. What are you missing? Why can you only touch things, be heard some of the time? Maybe Elise will have some answers for you later. The front door slams and the three of you jerk your heads up simultaneously- the kids have gone back inside and shut the door. There’s a soft click, which you assume is a lock.
“Now what?” Tucker asks, walking around the side of the van, crumpling his fruit pie wrapper.
“Now we wait,” Elise says, opening the side door and sitting down on the floor. “When I spoke to their mother, she mentioned having a hard time sleeping, and seeing strange shapes in the house in the middle of the night. Her coworker told her to look us up, you see.”
“I’m going to go take another look,” you tell her, looking back up to the house. You can’t say you’ve ever dealt with an Alp before, not after dying, anyway, but from what Elise has told you, they’re not that big of a threat. Something in you hates that these kids are here alone, though, despite the girl probably being old enough to take care of them both for a while.
“If that’s what you want to do,” Elise responds, and Specs and Tucker look at her, puzzled. She gestures to you, and they look in your direction, seeing nothing, before comprehension dawns on their faces and they both mouth ‘oh’. “Our friend is going to be our spy while we wait,” she explains, amused.
“It’s like they already forgot about me,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Wish me luck.” You skip back up to the front door, then phase through it like it doesn’t exist. It’s convenient, sure, but it makes you feel a little less human every time you do it. You know you aren’t human anymore, not really, but sometimes you still feel like one. Better than feeling like nothing at all. The kids are arguing on the couch, snapping back and forth about your crew outside. Rosie wants to call the cops, but Hank wants to wait for Mom. As much as you’d rather they didn’t, calling the cops would be the smart move. Maybe they won’t do the smart thing.
You take a closer look at them and note the slight darkness under their eyes, the half-hearted way they bicker. You have no way of knowing if this is normal for them, but you’re starting to connect some dots. Rosie gives an exaggerated sigh and slumps down onto the arm of the couch, throwing a hand into the air.
“Fine, we’ll wait for Mom!” Phew, that’s one less problem. With that, you make your way back through the kitchen to investigate the rest of the house. There’s a small laundry room at the end, with over half the space taken up by what looks like a deep freezer, and the other half by the washing machine and dryer. There’s piles of clothes in here, on the floor, on top of the washer, a couple of baskets worth on top of the freezer. Do they just not clean? You look back towards the living room, but from this angle you can’t see the kids. On the other side of the kitchen is an open space that acts as a hallway, and there are three doors. One has a picture of a monster truck taped up on it, and it’s ajar- probably Hank’s room, if you had to guess. It’s a mess, too, but not as bad as the rest of the house. Toys are scattered by a wall, there’s some books laying sideways on a shelf. There’s a nightlight on the floor below a plug, and you wonder if that’s the Alp’s doing, or Hank’s.
The middle door is a bathroom, small and kind of cramped. It’s surprisingly somewhat tidy, at least, compared to the rest of the place. The third door is closed, so you just stick your head in it and find yourself looking at a teenage girl’s room, about as clean as her brother’s room. There’s papers on a desk, a backpack hanging off a bedpost, some band posters on the walls. Another nightlight on the floor under a plug, which strikes you as a little odd. A door opens somewhere else, and you pop back out of the door, just in time to see multiple people filing in through the front door.
“Sorry I’m late, kiddos, I had to finish up some work before they let me clock out,” a woman is saying, and you hear the sound of keys dropping onto a solid surface. When you join the rest, your crew is standing awkwardly by the door while the kids are putting away bags of groceries. “Thank you so much for coming, I’m sorry you had to wait,” the mom adds, walking back into the living room from the other direction you hadn’t gone. “You must be Elise.”
“That’d be me,” Elise says with a warm smile, shaking her hand when she offers it. “And it’s no trouble, these things happen.” Tucker snorts quietly and she shoots him a look that shuts him up. Honestly, you’re surprised he’s not flirting with the mom; you’ve seen him and Specs both tripping over each other for women before. Sometimes you think it might be an act, the way they tend to go over the top with it. Maybe this one’s off limits because she has kids? In any case, you’re grateful. Watching them try to flirt is... painful. Elise is talking again, and you try to pay more attention, but you keep feeling like you’re being watched.
“Right,” the mom says. “I know it sounds crazy, but there’s only so many times I can wake up feeling like there’s a weight on my chest and then see weird moving shadows in my house before I can admit there’s something unnatural going on here.”
“Supernatural,” Specs supplies, helpfully, and she looks at him, making him shrink back down a little. “It’s... usually called supernatural.”
“Well, whatever it’s called, it’s starting to affect my job,” she says, her tone lowering. “I barely sleep. I’m losing track of time. You see my house, right? I can’t even keep up with the housework. I’m too tired.”
“How long has this been going on?” You ask, looking to Elise; she repeats the question for you.
“Six months, maybe? I thought at first it would just go away, then I tried sleeping pills, then I tried changing my diet, meditating, yoga, all that stuff. When Eddie- that's the coworker I mentioned on the phone- told me I should look up an exorcist I didn’t even laugh.” She rubs her eyes and sighs, looking so exhausted in that moment that even Tucker looks concerned, his usual aloof mask slipping for once. “Please tell me you can help me. My kids... they’re doing their best but they’re just kids. I’m supposed to take care of them, not the other way around.”
“Don’t worry Mrs. Taylor,” Elise says, taking one of her hands and holding it gently. “That’s why we’re here. My associates and I will need to set up some equipment and do some monitoring, just to confirm what we’re actually dealing with, but it shouldn’t take long once we know.” Mom’s grateful relief is so palpable it’s almost tangible, and you wish you could offer some comfort, too.
“We’re professionals,” Tucker declares, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and popping it in mouth, crumpling the wrapper and setting it on a pile of trash on the coffee table. Unbelievable.
“Boys, can you please go get the gear and get started setting up? The sooner we begin, the sooner Mrs. Taylor can finally get some peace,” Elise says, shooing them out the door again; they go off without a fuss until they’re actually outside, then you can hear Specs scolding him the second the door closes behind them. “Don’t mind them,” she says, apologetically. “Now, the monitoring shouldn’t take long, but the process for getting rid of what’s taken up residence in your house may take a little longer, and if it’s what I think it is, you may have to do a few things that seem silly.”
“I’ll do anything to make this stop,” she replies, squeezing Elise’s hand. Elise looks at you briefly, and you nod. You’re in.
“This will tell us if there’s something supernatural around,” Tucker boasts, holding up one of his gadgets. You kind of doubt that, since it’s never detected you before, but he’s been doing a lot of tinkering lately. Maybe he wasn’t just talking big this time. Specs seems to agree with you, though, rolling his eyes and giving his partner an unimpressed look. “This one,” Tucker says, holding up his modified tablet, “is what the cameras connect to, and we can see everything right on this screen.” Rosie looks mildly interested, but Hank is already yawning.
“You can both go off to bed,” Elise says, kindly, and their mother gives them a hug before sending them off to sleep. When their doors close, she breathes a heavy sigh and sits back in the armchair. On Tucker’s monitor, you can see both kids plug their nightlights back in, the faint glowing casting strange shadows on their walls.
“Your son mentioned there was something strange going on with the lights?” Specs asks, after a moment of awkward silence.
“Oh, right, yeah,” Mrs. Taylor says, sitting up a little straighter. “Sometimes the lights just start going on and off, by themselves. At first I thought it was bad wiring, but it’s even happened to battery-powered things like flashlights.” She sounds so weary. Six months of almost no sleep, had she said? Good lord. And with two kids? You want to give this woman a medal. “Hank is convinced he saw something in the shadows when it happened once, and at this point? I’m not sure he didn’t.” She gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Monsters in the shadows. Maybe I am going crazy.”
“I can assure you, you’re not crazy,” Elise says. “There are things in our world that sometimes defy explanation, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.” A beeping sound from one of Tucker’s devices cuts her off before she can say anything else, and everyone’s attention is drawn to the tablet, which is showing a flickering light coming from elsewhere in the house. You turn to look through the kitchen and can see the flickering from where you stand. It’s not the kitchen itself, or the little laundry room, so it’s either the bathroom or one of the kids’ rooms. You move away from the wall you’ve been leaning against and carefully make your way through the kitchen, head on a swivel any time you hear the faintest of sounds.
Hank’s door is open. It’s not him. It’s, oh god, it’s Rosie’s. The glow of the nightlight is flickering wildly, flashing at you from the gap underneath the door. You hear hushed voices behind you and see that Elise has sent Specs and Tucker to investigate; they’re currently trying to make each other go first as they stand in the open entrance to the kitchen. Should you wait for them? You bounce on the balls of your feet impatiently and look back and forth between the kid’s door and your timidly approaching fellow ghost hunters. What if they take too long? The horrific image of the possessed Quinn invades your mind, and you clench your jaw. Not again. Not ever again. You march through the door, hands balled into fists, ready for whatever you might find.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t to see something out of a Rennaissance painting. Glaring at you, each time the nightlight flickered back off, was a dark, impish looking figure, hunched over from its perch on Rosie Taylor’s chest, clawed hands reaching out for but not quite touching her face. For the first time you can see this creature’s form clearly, and it looks like something out of a low-budget horror B-movie. It looks almost fake, which is difficult for your brain to wrap its head around, especially when it opens its toothy maw at you in a snarl.
“Hey, little guy,” you caution, holding up your hands, palms out. He’s about the size of a larger-than-average housecat, so maybe you can just. Pick him up by the scruff of his furry neck. You take a half-step forward and it rises up on its haunches, the nightlight’s flickering slowing down. Normally, that would be a good sign, but the longer the light stays on, the more likely it is that the Alp is going to be gone the next time it turns back off. Ghosts and spirits are crafty like that. Crafty and irritating.
“It’s coming from in here,” Tucker’s voice is low, hesitant. The door creaks open, and you turn, just for a second, to see if they’ll come in or just hover in place. The light goes out again, startling them, and you whip your head back around and curse- the Alp is gone. You should have known not to take your eyes off of it, why did you do that? “There’s something right in front of us,” Tucker says from behind you, and you freeze in place. Did it slip around you in that short a time frame? The light flicks back on and you curse again, jumping to the side of the girl’s bed, hoping that you can see it when the light goes back off. “Wait, it moved.”
“Can you see what it looks like?” Specs’ anxious voice comes from behind Tucker. The light flicks off. No Alp on the bed. You look around the room, hoping to find some trace of the thing, but you don’t find anything- no beady white eyes, no clawed hands. It must have escaped.
“It looked kind of like a person?” Tucker says, doubtfully, taking another step into the room, sweeping around with his scanner-thing. When he gets closer to you, it beeps quietly, and you could smack yourself on the forehead. Of course it’s picking you up. Of course it would work now.
“It’s me,” you say, out loud, hoping Specs can hear you. He jerks his head in your direction, then looks back on the screen. You wave, but you’re not sure what’s actually showing up on the device.
“False alarm,” Specs announces, grumpily. “It’s just our stalker.”
“Thought we agreed it’s more of a haunting situation,” you retort, kind of taken aback. You only officially met them yesterday, you remind yourself. You can’t expect them to be excited about having an invisible, intangible, (mostly) inaudible force following them around all the time.
“Haunting, stalking, whatever,” he mutters. “Come on, Tucker.” Tucker, who has been staring at the screen, looks up at you, right at you, then back down at the screen. You wave again, and he looks up one more time, and waves back. You almost laugh- he looks both puzzled and nervous. He looks around for Specs, who has already left, and follows after him. You sigh and give the room one more once-over, then trail after them, feeling disappointed. You had it, it was right in front of you! If only you’d acted faster. If only they’d taken a little more time getting to her room. It’s not gone, though, you can still feel it somewhere in the little house. When you reach the living room, Specs is whispering in Elise’s ear, and she looks at you as you come into the room. With a little subtle hand gesture, she beckons you over, and you oblige, feeling oddly like a misbehaved child. But why? It’s not like you did anything wrong.
“It’s an Alp for sure,” you tell her, taking a seat on the arm of her chair. “I saw it. It was sitting on the girl’s chest, but it vanished somewhere when the boys got there.” She doesn’t say anything, but you know she’s listening. Whether or not Specs is, you can’t tell. “I... is there anything I can do without getting in the way?”
“Alps are tricky little things,” she says, gently. “Since it wasn’t in Rosie’s room by the time you got there, it’s likely to strike her mother as soon as it can.” The four of you turn to look at Mrs. Taylor, who shrinks back under so much scrutiny. “It won’t go for you until you fall asleep, so we have some time to prepare.”
“What’s an Alp?” Mrs. Taylor asks, sitting up straight again.
“Sort of a little imp, gives nightmares and sleep paralysis,” Specs recites, adjusting his glasses. “It can shapeshift, and it doesn’t like bright light.” Elise smiles proudly at him, and he tries (and fails) not to look too pleased. Oh, that one’s a Mama’s boy for sure, you think, amused. Tucker rolls his eyes.
“It’s not normally much of a threat,” Elise adds. “But this one seems to be something of an outlier.” She stands up and gestures at a small plastic tub that’s sitting with some of Tucker’s gear. “No matter. We have ways of dealing with it. Do you have a broom?”
“A- yes, of course,” Mrs. Taylor stands as well, and heads for the kitchen. As soonas she’s gone, Elise turns to you and gives you a sympathetic look.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to step outside while we work- some of these charms could possibly affect you, and you do seem to be setting off Tucker’s equipment.” Specs snorts, quietly, apparently still annoyed. You lower your head, then nod. “If this goes right, you might be able to spot the Alp as it flees. If that happens, come back in and let us know, please.”
“I will,” you promise, and when Mrs. Taylor returns, you take that as your cue to leave. Once outside, you heave a heavy sigh and hop up on top of the van. You can’t keep an eye on every side of the house, but at least from up here you have an unobstructed view to the entire front and part of the right-hand side. It’s quiet out here, except for the crickets; to pass the time, you try to remember what Elise has taught you about Alps.
They’re mostly just pests, causing sleep problems, tying knots in hair. Normally, they’re repelled by light, so the nightlights ought to keep it at bay. This one, however, seems to be able to withstand them, even interfere with them in some way. It’s not like that by itself is really cause for alarm, though. You’ve encountered plenty of ghosts with various different capabilities, why should spirits or demons or whatever be any different? This one can probably be driven off the same way, and if not, then you’re pretty sure Elise will have a backup plan. You already heard her ask about the broom, and that box probably has the iron she needs. The methods sound silly, but what do you know? If they work, they work.
Time passes slowly out here. There’s no sounds of traffic, no honking or trains. The sky is clear, showing more stars than you’ve seen in years, blocked as half the sky is by the treetops. It would be peaceful, if you weren’t so dead set on keeping an eye out for any fleeing spirits. You’re still a little disappointed that you’ve essentially been banished, unable to help. You were doing so well before, keeping malevolent ghosts and unwelcome spirits away. There has to be a way for you to do something useful and keep out of the way of the detectors. If you can’t help, what are you even doing here?
Something moves and you barely catch sight of it as it bolts away from the house and into the treeline. You’re on your feet before you realize it, running and then jumping after it, hoping to get a glimpse of it, confirm its identity, but it’s far too fast. For it to be faster than you and your spatial abilities, it has to have been the Alp. Feeling reasonably confident in your deduction, you head back up to the house, poking your head in through the door to try to avoid setting off any more of Tucker’s gadgets.
The living room is empty, so you head on inside, peeking around to find the group standing by the only room you hadn’t gone into earlier, the mom’s. Elise moves past the boys and spots you, then gives you a questioning look. You give her a thumbs up and she smiles, turning back to the boys, saying something you can’t hear from over here. You head back outside and hop back up on top of the van to wait for them, relieved. It had gone maybe a little less smoothly than you’d hoped, but nowhere near as horribly as the Brenner case. In the future, though, you’re going to need a better way to help, a way that keeps you out of the way of Tucker’s equipment but still lets you pull your weight.
Well, you don’t actually have any weight, now that you think about it. But still, you want to make yourself useful, prove you should be allowed to stay. Prove you’re more than just a stalker, that you can be part of the crew. Surely Elise can help you figure something out, she’s a smart woman. Eventually the boys and Elise come outside, carrying boxes and bags and whatever else they’d brought, practically glowing with pride. You feel a funny little lurch in your stomach at how they seem... closer, somehow. Like they’d had some kind of experience that increased their bond or whatever. An experience you missed out on. Elise spots you and smiles again, which you do your best to return. On the way home- on the way back to Elise’s house, though, you stay on the van roof. They’re sure to be talking about whatever it was that happened, and you... You’re not sure you’re ready to feel even more left out than you already do.
It’s not the first time you’ve felt this way, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way since you died. It sits in your chest, making you feel heavier than usual. The drive is long, and by the time the van pulls into Elise’s driveway, the sun is due to rise in an hour or so. Despite how you’re feeling, you still make sure to do your rounds before everyone goes to sleep. The woman in black is here again, but between you and Warren, she doesn’t stay long. At least, not that you can tell. Elise promises you’ll talk once she wakes up again, but for now the house is silent, all the living fast asleep. You lay down to try to rest, like before, but your head is too busy and your heart too heavy. Is it childish to feel this way? To feel so deeply affected by this? Maybe it’s not the ‘being left out’ thing, maybe it’s something else. You lay on the couch in silence, looking up at the ceiling, wondering If maybe it was better when they didn’t know you existed.