Chapter Text
They stopped right in front of his door.
It was familiar, now- the run-down apartment, his friend and brother who promised to be waiting for him on the other side of it.
He knew what he was dealing with. And he knew how they'd react if they just waltzed in there, and told them the truth about what happened to him.
So, right before they could go in, they stopped, and Emizel turned to look back at Arthur.
“We should get our stories straight.”
He had sunglasses on, so as usual, it was hard to get a good read on him, and what he might've been thinking- but he did see one of Arthur's eyebrows raise very slowly, like the very concept of lying was such a foreign thing to him.
“What… are you going to tell them?”
Emizel rolled his eyes, and huffed a little. “I'll think of something- I'll improvise- just… play along. I don't need you ratting me out.”
If he did tell them that he got possessed, and then almost died multiple times from that possession… Realistically, if he had to guess, Emizel thought that he'd get a worried lecture from his brother, and then something more lenient and understanding from his best friend- just as he did every time he got involved in something dangerous.
But he didn't know.
In those normal scenarios, he was doing something a little sketchy, and they wouldn't press on the topic much- but this was different. He's been gone for a while. And apparently, on top of the media being in somewhat of an uproar, seeing that the brother of a very high-profile man had gone missing- the only family he had left were stressed out of their minds with trying to find him.
It didn't help that he looked just about as fucked up as he felt. His face was bruised, and bandaged. And there was nothing he could do about his arm- that thing wouldn't heal for weeks. With him being gone, and with Shilo already being on edge… Emizel was bracing himself.
He didn't know what to expect- and he did not scare easily. But he was still hesitant. And, maybe, he was hoping that Arthur would stall a little longer with him, to further brace himself.
But Emizel wasn't always so lucky.
“...it's none of my business.” Arthur eventually said, “Tell them whatever you want.”
Emizel took a deep breath. Then, he twisted his doorknob, and stepped inside.
And despite living there for so long, Emizel felt the same sort of trepidation he’d feel from walking into a stranger's home. Looking around nervously, and trying to pick up on where everyone might be- quickly spotting them on the couch, and watching them immediately stand up once Emizel entered the room again.
He was glad to see Soda again. And Shilo, even if the reunion was a little awkward, and the hug he agreed to lasted a bit longer than he expected it to- arms firmly locked around him, and not keen on letting go any sooner than he needed to- but eventually, Emizel managed to pry him off.
As he did so, he saw that Shilo was very close to crying- eyes welling up with tears and everything. Which was a bit of a surprise to him. He knew his brother was a lot more aloof than most people thought him to be, and maybe a little more sensitive- but seeing him crying outright was just… Strange.
Then Shilo's gaze trailed downward, and his eyes widened.
“Emizel, your arm!” Shilo grabbed it immediately, and the jostle made Emizel wince.
“Ow, ow- okay-”
“What happened- what did you do!?” Then, he let go, “Both of you look…”
Tired. Injured. Majorly fucked up. The list was endless, but they were both disheveled, and neither of them bothered to hide it.
Arthur had a bandage covering his face, but Emizel already knew what the injury looked like underneath it. He saw it very briefly when he was being hauled into the ambulance. He also knew how bad Arthur’s arm looked- claw marks running down the side of his right arm, bleeding so profusely that it had to get stitches- but that injury was cleverly hidden. And thus, the only thing that stuck out was Emizel's giant cast.
(Emizel tried asking Arthur about it, trusting him to be blunt- seeing if it had to do with the possession, or if he somehow did all of this- and Arthur just told him there was nothing to worry about. He didn't make eye contact- not nervous about meeting his eye, but just refusing to- and so, Emizel got his answer.)
“Car accident.” Emizel said with a toothy grin, “I wasn't wearing a seatbelt.”
Shilo immediately turned to Arthur, “You got into a car accident?”
“I was driving.” Emizel said. Then, he held up a hand, and made a weird gesture, “I- uh- got… Cut off. On the highway. And had to swerve… And we fell into a ditch… but we're fine!”
Shilo's eyebrows pinched. He looked conflicted, still staring at Emizel’s arm and holding it up like he wasn't done getting a good look at it. It was clear he didn't believe him- neither him or Soda did, and it was plain as day on their faces- but Emizel didn't care if they knew that he was lying or not. And he knew that they knew that. Any further prodding would be annoying, but unanswered.
So Shilo sighed.
“What were you doing all the way in Washington?”
Emizel quickly looked back, then looked away from Arthur. He didn't say anything right away- nothing but a quiet, drawn out, “Uhhhh….”
Arthur sighed.
“Emizel was just… following a spirit.” Emizel looked back at Arthur, just to make sure that he knew what he was doing. “He was trying to help it pass on. He just… Got a little carried away with it.”
Emizel was no hero.
Both of them knew it, and he didn't think either of them would believe Arthur… But instead of pressing further, Shilo just sighed, and smiled at him, and pulled him in for a much nicer hug. And as Emizel awkwardly returned it, Shilo quietly muttered that he should've just said something before he left.
Soda, however, was giving him a different look. Emizel understood and nodded- they'll skirt around the truth later, when Shilo wasn't here to hear it.
When Shilo then pulled away from Emizel, Soda dapped him up- looking at his cast, and talking about where he should sign it- but for once, Emizel wasn't paying much attention to his best friend. Instead, he was looking back at his brother, who was talking to Arthur.
Shilo was thanking him profusely for getting Emizel home safely. At the end of their talk, Arthur gave him a business card, and told him to call back if he had any more trouble with any particular spirits. Shilo readily agreed before he turned back to him.
Arthur looked at Emizel, and he nodded. Then he left.
And just like that, the only other person in the world that seemed to understand his troubles was gone.
-
After Emizel came back home, everything was… different.
Before he left, Soda and Shilo would nod along to whatever he was saying- seeing ghosts, or feeling something horrible, and uncomfortable, and getting strange urges to do even stranger things- and some part of Emizel knew that they believed him, since he's proven it before… but it was only after he went missing and came back when they took it seriously.
No- that wasn't what he was looking for. They took it seriously beforehand. They believed him, even if it was something crazy, and completely out of their element… but beforehand, it seemed like just another characteristic that Emizel had. Some people were gifted with sports, or with their intellect- and sometimes, Emizel just saw his dead childhood cat laying around.
But after he came back… it seemed like they were walking on eggshells around him. And the thought of it made him a little uneasy. Of course, he knew that there was no world where he could come back, and everything would be normal- but there was a part of him hoping that there'd be an exception.
Like with his best friend, Soda, who's been a much bigger staple in his life than anyone else in his family had been. The same friend that was there for him back when he first started seeing ghosts, nodding along to every weird sighting that he told him about- staying up during every sleepover that Emizel couldn't sleep through…
He seemed to be the same, at first. He agreed to play video games when Emizel asked for some normalcy, before quickly switching over, after Emizel found that he couldn't hold the controller comfortably while one of his hands was in a stiff cast.
So they changed it up. They watched a horror movie- one that had vengeful spirits as the main antagonists- and every time they were brought up, he'd see his friend looking over at him from the corner of his eye. Like he wanted to say something, but for once, he was keeping it to himself.
Until he didn't.
“So…” Soda started, and Emizel's face slowly fell into its natural glare. “That whole story about chasing a spirit, and helping it pass on… that was a complete lie, right?”
Emizel looked over at Soda. Then back at the TV. And it took a long while before he eventually said, “Yeah.”
“Are you ever gonna- talk about it?”
His next answer didn't require much thinking at all. “Nope.”
Emizel almost commended Soda for the quiet, and casual, “Okay.” he replied with- mentally, ready to praise his friend for picking up on something he didn't want to talk about, and leaving it there…
But the nervous energy never really left Soda.
“It's not gonna happen again, though, right?”
“No.” He said- and though he meant it, he also knew that there was no way to guarantee it.
Emizel knew the person that possessed him. Gabriel Montez- he was his age. Emizel met him back in school, and they've been at each other's throats ever since But he didn't even know that he died. Nor could he tell how old he was, when he saw him again.
If Emizel was being honest, he didn't remember much of anything beyond that. He couldn't remember the possessions. Or how he even got possessed in the first place. Nor did he ever really want to think about it again.
And maybe one day, he’d be able to tell Soda what happened, even if his memory was still a little weird. Sitting on their couch, bitching about Little Gabe, and how much of a problem he became after he died… but for now, he just wanted a break from it all.
His answer seemed to ease Soda's mind, nonetheless. He nodded, and then he seemed to get a little less weird.
“Still wanna get your cast signed, man?”
Emizel quietly held out his arm. And after fishing out a marker from the end table next to him, Soda carefully took his hand, and started to draw on his cast.
The only other signature on there was Shilo’s- small, neat cursive that was bound to become illegible- and since Soda knew that they were going to be the only two people signing it, he didn't just stop at the signature. He kept going, drawing weird swirls, and connected lines- as well as writing a little logo in the corner that had the word Demons on it.
A good half of the movie went by, as Soda focused in on his hand. And, despite getting miffed over having to turn his arm over a couple times, he appreciated the end result- a bunch of random, mindless scribbles on an otherwise boring, white cast.
-
Almost three weeks after his return, Emizel was standing in the middle of his apartment, watching a bunch of strangers moving around his apartment, and packing things into tiny boxes.
Shilo was there, too. Emizel could see him from his spot in the living room- looking around the inside of his bathroom with a pained, and disgusted look on his face. Parts of his walls were ripped out, and it was unsightly- but he knew that Shilo didn't hate the look of it because it looked unfinished.
When he came back out, he tried to wipe the look from his face- but he didn't do it very well. His smile grew shaky, and his face grew pinched- and Emizel laughed at him.
“There was actually… mold growing in the walls of your bathroom.” He sounded genuinely distraught.
In turn, Emizel was more casual about the news. Soda found it before he went to work, and after telling Shilo the news, he got there with promises to fix it in record time.
Emizel knew that he wasn't going to live there very long, anyways- especially after everything that happened- after a while, it seemed, he was just looking for an excuse, and means to find another place to live.
So he shrugged. “We kept the window open.”
“It was an accident waiting to happen.” Shilo said, sharply. Then, his voice got quieter, like he was speaking to himself- but Emizel knew that it was pointed at him. “Maybe that mold was the real reason why you went to Washington.”
Emizel rolled his eyes, and grinned, intending on doubling down, and agreeing with him... Then, in moving his eyes, he quickly caught sight of those people moving stuff from his bedroom- and being just a little too careless with it.
“Hey-”
A hand grabbed his arm, and gently pulled him back.
“Emizel, let the movers handle it.” Shilo muttered, and Emizel bristled at the contact, and immediately ripped his arm away.
He already had everything he could ever need. His phone, his extra stash of cash, and his jacket- but even so, it was still jarring, seeing people moving stuff out, like they owned the place.
It was not his plan to have a bunch of strangers touching his stuff- but with his broken hand, and Soda at work, and with how quickly he needed to leave, Shilo hired a few people, and assured that everything would arrive safe and sound, into Emizel's new place- which was also being handled by Shilo.
They were moving somewhere much nicer, apparently- and before he could talk about rent, or his commute to work, or anything else- Shilo assured him that he'd have nothing to worry about. He'd be paying some of it, since he had the time and resources to do so. (And when it came to work… Shilo pointed out the obvious. Because of his absence, Emizel had gotten fired. Soda was starting to get sick of his job. So a fresh change of scenery in a different part of town would've been helpful, for them.)
Shilo's hand moved from his arm. And then, with the look of someone seeing something gross- like mold, or a particularly stubborn stain in an otherwise clean shirt- Shilo adjusted the collar of Emizel's nicest shirt, left skewed because of the lack of function in one of his hands. Emizel pushed his hand away.
“It's fine.”
Shilo was always like this. Encroaching, and insistent on stepping in, and doing things he thought that Emizel didn't handle well- whether it be him telling him how to keep up his apartment even though he liked how crowded it was, or fixing his shirt because his arm was broken, and didn’t want to bother with it…
Emizel was doing just fine. But no matter how many times he bluntly told him to back off, Shilo would be ready to step in only minutes later. (Sometimes, he'd say that he was the older brother, and that he was prone to worry- but Emizel didn't get him. They were the same age. Twins, even though they didn't grow up together. It was just how he was, and it was annoying. Plain and simple.)
“How do you alway look like you got hit by a bus?” Shilo then muttered, “It’s a talent, at this point!”
The real answer was that Emizel hadn't been sleeping well.
His hand hurt, and the cast just made it stiff and itchy- and even though Gabriel was gone, he still got nightmares from the whole experience, and found himself waking up in the middle of the night more often than not.
Then with that, and him being fired from his job, and now moving… It was a lot. And Emizel wasn't the kind of person to cling onto a life that wasn't benefiting him, even if it was his norm, but he didn't know if any of the changes coming his way could really be spun positively, despite having a clean house to start with. And a working elevator. It was just a lot of unnecessary stressors, stacked on one another.
“...” Despite all that, Emizel's face was set into a perfectly neutral glare.
He stifled a yawn, watched someone he didn't know go through a space that used to be his, and he wondered how Shilo got Soda to agree with the arrangements as well. He'd have to ask him about it later- even though he knew the answer would be simple. They had to get along after Emizel disappeared, and now, instead of forced niceties from Shilo, and short (sometimes nonexistent) responses from Soda, they actually talked to each other. And agreed on certain things.
It was weird.
“You know you can talk to me. Right?” Shilo nervously held his own hand, and swiped his thumb across his palm. “About anything?”
Emizel didn't even bat an eye. “Of course.”
Shilo frowned.
“I know you didn't just… follow a spirit.” He said, gently, like Emizel was supposed to be shocked over his lie not sticking. “And even though you don't like wearing your seatbelt, I know you probably didn't get into a car accident- I know you were lying to me… and I would now appreciate the truth. Since Arthur isn't around.”
“What do you mean?” He said, as a last-ditch effort.
“Emizel…”
Shilo cared about him. Even if it was something difficult to believe. But there was a gnawing at the back of his head that demanded he stayed quiet- or, maybe, just tell Shilo enough of the truth to get him to drop it, so he could get his own space to process it on his own time.
He eventually settled with, “I'm fine now, and it'll never happen again. So… don't worry.”
It was similar to what he told Soda. But for Shilo, it seemed, it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Shilo sighed.
“Look- I know I haven't… I know I don't always understand your… gift… And I know it's not something I'll ever have… but if something like this does happen again, I want to know how to help. Or how to fix it, without calling Soda or Arthur every time you run off in the middle of the night. You know?” His eyebrows upturned, but he somehow looked more determined than sad. “Emizel, I just want to know if you're okay. I want to hear you out.”
Sometimes, Emizel wondered how they would've been like, if they had the chance to grow up together. They saw each other on holidays, and knew that the other existed- but the longest they'd been in the same place together growing up was only for a month or so, and that was a very long time ago.
Emizel’s only friend was Soda. After that, Shilo was in second only because they got closer after their parents died- first their mother with Shilo, then their father with Emizel- but at that point, the two of them were already adults, and it was much more difficult for them to be friends…
But if they had grown up together, and had even the shred of the comradery that Soda and Emizel had, then Shilo probably would've known more about Emizel's troubles than just his ability to see spirits. He'd know, sometimes, he could sense when people were about to die, and other crazy shit like that. He'd know that he was constantly being watched, and that he hated it-
And he probably would've told him about Gabriel, the spirit that possessed him- even if Emizel had trouble remembering it himself. Shilo would've been more used to him, and in turn, it would've been a lot easier to complain about the problems in his life.
But they didn't grow up together. And Shilo was trying to make a connection that Emizel felt like he couldn't breach.
So he said, “I'm fine.”
And despite the tired look of protest on his face, Shilo nodded.
“Alright. I'm always right here if you need me, Emizel.”
-
Emizel’s new apartment- still shared with Soda, as per his request- felt empty.
Even with all their furniture and things packed in, and situated similarly, it was bigger than their last apartment. They had more room to walk around, and they had a nice view of the city from their living room (nicer than the last one, anyway, which just showed off the brick walls of the next building over…)
And yet, Emizel weirdly found himself missing the old one.
He didn't miss the mold that was apparently growing in the walls, or the frequent infestations that left Pepper scrambling around the apartment in the middle of the night- sometimes, somehow, managing to knock over things, and disturb both roommates- but there was a certain… charm to it. It was smaller, more compact. It was the first time in Emizel’s life that he ever felt responsible- getting his own place, paying his own bills, and living with a certain freedom he didn't have while he was with his dad.
He could choose who he could live with (even though the only option was Soda) and he could choose whether or not he wanted a roommate at all (which was impossible, in this economy, but still something that was technically true)... And, despite all of its major flaws, Emizel grew to like it. It was home, and familiar.
He got a bad feeling the minute he entered the new apartment. Right off the bat, he got weirdly sick- thinking of it as a poor imitation of his old home, and wanting to turn tail, and go back.
Then, that night, a couple things happened. There were bumps in the night. Cabinet doors swung open without him touching them. Emizel felt like he was being watched, and that sick feeling never really went away. And on top of all of that, when Pepper came to visit, she wouldn't stop glaring at his door- staying at Emizel’s side at all times.
He knew about the cat's body language well enough to know that she was on edge, ears pinned back, with her back slightly arched, like she was ready to fight- growling, and huffing, as if to show her displeasure. On top of that, Emizel knew Pepper well enough to know that she only got hissy at certain things- and that, even though Emizel couldn't see it, that didn't mean that it wasn't there.
It didn't take long for him to realize that the new apartment was haunted.
It was like a really weird sense of deja vu. Their old one wasn't haunted- not by anything that stayed consistently, like the spirits that would just pass right through, or invited spirits, like Pepper- but they had their occasional ghost stick around for a while.
Gabriel was a recurring spirit, after a certain point. After the incident, nothing in his memory became clear- but while trying to recall it, Emizel could vaguely remember seeing him again for the first time. He could remember being severely caught off guard, seeing him standing in his living room, and walking around like a bumbling, incoherent zombie. Practically unresponsive, despite Emizel calling out to him.
At the memory of it, he shuddered.
Emizel was not a very popular person. He had two friends, but then, what felt like hundreds of people that hated him, or wanted him dead. That meant hundreds of spirits that could be in his home, watching and waiting for their opportunity to strike.
And sure, the spirit in his home was harmless enough, but he couldn't have been sure. There was no form he saw, but he knew it was there, and he knew that it wasn't Pepper. And so, after a few more disturbances- and even a complaint from Soda, who said that Pepper must've been knocking his fizzy drinks off his desk- Emizel finally called Shilo again.
“Do you still have that psychic guy's business card?” Emizel asked, bluntly, while Shilo went in for a tentative greeting.
A pause. Then a sigh, and Emizel knew that he didn't appreciate it, but also didn't want to call it out.
“Of course, I kept his business card in my wallet… just in case.” Emizel heard shuffling on the other end, “Why, did you need something?”
Emizel almost lied. It was compulsive, at the tip of his tongue- then, he figured, there was no point to. It didn't really matter if he knew the truth or not, since he wouldn't believe any other thing he said.
“The new apartment is haunted.”
Emizel heard the sound of Shilo's wallet falling, and clattering to the ground.
“What!?”
-
Arthur's office was… creepy.
At first, Emizel wasn't even sure if he was in the right place. It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of building, tucked in between a restaurant and an empty building that was up for lease. The windows were covered, and there wasn't so much as a sign on the door to advertise what he was doing. Just an address on the door, same as the one on his card, as well as a name.
Arthur Bennet
Psychic
Palm and Tarot
A bell at the top of the door jingled as he stepped in, announcing his arrival, and Emizel took a look around before he made it too far inside.
The inside wasn't that bad, compared to how it looked from the outside.
There were curtains on the side of the wall, shelves lining it as well, full of all sorts of crystals, and books, and other knick knacks that Emizel would've considered to be complete bullshit, if it were being sold by anyone else. There were patterned rugs, dark carpets, and the lights in the room were dimmed so much that Emizel had to squint, transition from it being bright outside, to dark in here.
Arthur sat at a wooden desk at the very end of the room- situated in a little nook, with its entrance being indicated by a set of curtains that were tied up at the sides. He was surrounded by bookshelves, and off to his side was a crystal ball- but when Emizel walked in, he was messing around with a deck of cards. Placing a few on his desk, face up and face down, while he shuffled the rest that he still held in his hands.
The scratch on the side of Arthur’s face- caused by Emizel or Gabriel's hand- was starting to heal up quite nicely, but Emizel knew that it was likely going to scar. His arm was still bandaged, and hidden under the sleeve of his shirt, and even though Emizel hadn't gotten the chance to see what was under there, he knew it was another injury caused by him.
(Arthur only explained the fight to him briefly- telling him as much as he needed to know, since Emizel was the one with the broken arm- but every time Emizel asked for specifics, Arthur would just say that it was nothing he needed to know too much about. Which pissed him off- but at the time, he was too exhausted to argue.)
Arthur looked surprised to see him there. Emizel put his broken arm into the pocket of his jacket, and felt a minimal relief from keeping his arm suspended. (In his pocket was a handkerchief- the one that Arthur gave him, after he drove his car into a ditch- and even though it didn't help at the time, Emizel made no move to remove it.)
“Do you take walk-ins?”
Arthur recovered fairly quickly, back to shuffling cards on his desk. “I'm on my lunch break.”
There was no food at his desk to suggest that, and he didn't hear a no, so Emizel sat down in the chair across from him, and grinned when Arthur momentarily glared back at him.
Now that he was up close, Emizel could see that the cards he was shuffling around were tarot cards, just as the plaque at the front promised. But instead of dealing a pack that had normal-looking cards, he'd gotten himself one with cats on it instead- ones in silly positions, being placed with the sort of cold-stone seriousness that he always had.
It was a bizarre sight. Emizel was pushy.
“You believe in that crap?” When Arthur hummed, acknowledging but otherwise brushing off his comment, he leaned forward, “Who's fortune are you telling?”
“...it's more complicated than that.”
One of the cards he placed was positioned upside-down, allowing Emizel to see the picture, and to see which card it was.
The Hermit. The card depicted a black cat sitting in a box, and glaring at the viewer. And even though he had no clue what it could've meant, Arthur's hand hesitated when he set it down, and he looked at it for a half-second longer than he considered the other ones. So he knew it meant something.
When Emizel reached to pick it up, his hand was very quickly smacked away from it.
“Hey.”
His eyes were still on the cards, but he still asked, “Are you having any problems with your possession?”
“No.” Emizel leaned back in his seat. “Is it common to?”
“You may be feeling nauseous, or disoriented, but they should go with time.”
“I'm fine.”
“Why are you here, then?”
As they spoke, Emizel kept his eyes on the cards that Arthur was messing around with. He didn't know why he was moving them around like that- nor did he really care- but it was also just distracting enough for him to focus in on it, and almost completely forget what Arthur said right after he said it.
Almost. “My new apartment is haunted.”
Arthur seemed relieved.
Emizel was similarly relieved- happy that there wasn't a risk of Arthur breaking his other arm, above everything else- but before he could cut in to voice his snide comments, Arthur spoke.
“Can't you handle that yourself?”
“I've never done that before.” His hand twitched in his pocket, and he wished that his hand was free, and that he could've used it to fidget with something- like a deck of cards, maybe- just to keep himself sane. He sniffed. “I can try, but if I figured I'd come to you before I got possessed, and you'd have to find me again. But if you're sure…”
“As long as you're paying for it.”
“My brother will.” He said, confidently. He said he was paying for any commodities, until he could comfortably live on his own. “I'll just tell him you stopped by, and you guys can talk about price.”
“That's very considerate of him.”
“Sure.”
-
Arthur came over later that same day, giving Emizel a ride back home in the process.
Despite not believing him at first, it didn't take long for the spirit to show up. Then Arthur handled it quite easily, said he wouldn't charge anything since it was an easy job, and he told Emizel to come back if he had any other emergencies.
Emizel took it as an invitation to keep coming back.
He'd visit, even if he didn't have any spiritual inquiries. Sometimes, he'd sit across from Arthur- feet put up on his desk, even though he detested it- and talk about anything under the sun, even if it wasn't relevant in the slightest. And Arthur would sit, and listen- and he wouldn't really respond, but he would complain.
And when Arthur had a client, Emizel would wait outside his shop, since he had nothing better to do.
It got to the point where one time, while he was out, he put out a stool right next to his door, and Emizel happily sat down in it. When Arthur came back- in the middle of a heated game of Snake, where Emizel was just about ready to beat his highscore- Arthur asked if he had anything better to do.
It wasn't meant to be rude, Emizel knew at this point- it was just how his voice sounded. He was genuinely curious.
So, after he lost, Emizel asked if he needed any help running the shop. And when Arthur asked what he meant, he offered his services.
He was a psychic too- or a medium, or however he wanted to call it- and he didn't know how anything worked, nor did he have any experience with it. In exchange for money, and knowledge, Emizel would help him run the shop, and get a couple customers. And maybe, one day, even be able to handle a couple clients at the same time.
And Arthur didn't say no.
He even invited him inside, holding the door open until Emizel walked right in behind him. And then, before Emizel could say anything, a book was placed in his hands, and he was told to look through it. (And he did, even if it was boring, and cursive was a pain to read with the lights being as dim as they were… But when Emizel did pay attention, and his eyes weren't just skimming over sentences, it was surprisingly inciteful.)
Sometimes, Emizel would ask about magical objects, and Arthur would explain how they worked. He even tried to do a tarot reading with him once- but after Emixel found out how it actually went, he very quickly lost interest…
But he still kept coming back. Once a week at least. And Arthur still expected him, even if he'd come by unnoticed. Either sitting on that shitty stool outside, or sitting somewhere in his workshop- sometimes, he wouldn't even talk to him.
It was a strange situation. And, until Emizel got a proper job- somewhere outside of this line of work, if he was unlucky enough- then it was his prime hangout spot.
-
One day, Emizel woke up in the middle of the night, and couldn't go back to sleep.
In his dreams, he was still possessed- but he was completely conscious of it. Through everything- every fight, and disagreement, and every attempt at putting himself at harm's risk- Emizel was there, and unable to do anything about it. A weird, constant state of paralysis, where he was doing things, but couldn't control it-
And the worst part about it was that he couldn't tell if it was real, or not. He couldn't remember anything.
It was around 4 in the morning when he first woke up, and spent a while staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Then, half an hour later, his arm was itchy- but only in the spots that he couldn't scratch. Then it hurt.
And then, at 5, he left his house, and headed straight to Arthur's office.
He intended to stay there until he got bored, or until he wanted to be anywhere else- which was never particularly strong, since the move- but the minute he crossed Arthur's creaky porch, and sat down at his stool, the door opened from the inside.
Arthur was there. He must've heard him approaching, and opened the door, even if it was well before his opening hours.
Instead of greeting him like a normal person would, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”
“Why are you here?” Emizel snapped back, in turn, “You don't open for another few hours- don't you have a life? Something else to do?”
Arthur gave him a look- like it was rich for Emizel, of all people, to be asking him that question.
“Don't you have a home to go back to?”
He held his hands up, like he didn't care to give him an answer.
Arthur let him in, anyway. Gave him a book, sat him in his usual spot- and didn't talk to him for a good couple of hours.
And, in the middle of Emizel trying to read through a particularly annoying passage, Arthur finally approached him with his arm outstretched.
On the tip of his fingers, he held out a credit card. Emizel took it, but before he could say anything- denying that it was his, or pulling the scummy move, and saying that it was his, and going on a shopping spree- Arthur told him what to do with it.
He wanted Emizel to go out, and get them something to eat from the restaurant next door. And if he thought of buying anything else with his card, or running off with it, then he was going to tell Shilo.
And when Emizel came back with food almost 20 minutes later, he saw that Arthur was chatting with somebody.
It didn't take long for him to realize it was a ghost. She was floating a few inches off the ground, though most of her weight was leaned against Arthur's desk. She was saying something, laughing and smiling, while Arthur looked just as cold as he usually did. And when she noticed Emizel standing at the door, her expression faltered slightly.
“I'll leave you to it.”
She waved at Emizel, indicating to Arthur where he was standing, before she disappeared into the bookshelves.
Emizel waited a second before he asked, “That's Mary?”
Arthur nodded. “She just… wanted to check in.”
Emizel vaguely knew her. He's heard her name- but, at the same time, the first and last time he heard it was when he was hopped up on pain medication, and couldn't tell his left from his right.
“Was she…” One of Arthur's eyebrows twitched upward, like he didn't expect Emizel to talk yet- which was stupid. “She helped. Right? With…”
“Your possession?” Arthur asked, “Yes, she did. She's the reason your spirit friend is gone, right now.”
“...” Emizel sat down, and dropped the takeout onto Arthur's desk- just narrowly missing the cards, and his phone.
“...” Arthur gave him a look. Then, he held his hand out. “My card?”
Emizel grinned. In all honesty, he forgot it even existed, but he easily stuck a hand into his pocket, and tossed it over to him.
Then they started to eat- which wasn't a rare occasion, but usually marked the time where Emizel ought to head back home.
Soda would be home soon. They could watch another together, he thought, and then the next day, Emizel would have to decide whether or not he was leaving the apartment.
As he ate, his thought process jumped around, quickly changing lanes- first, he thought about home. Then getting a job, and how it was difficult to find one. Then he thought of his offer to Arthur, and how making some money by actually working there would've made his visits worth it…
Then he thought of Mary, and he found himself so focused on the thought that he started glaring at his food without actually eating it.
He's heard that name before. Emizel thought of a nice house, and a fireplace- sitting in front of it with his eyes closed, and asking every question he had on his mind. Mary was Arthur's friend. Mary died very recently…
“Mary helped you with your possession.” Emizel then remembered, and he looked over at Arthur to confirm it. “Right?”
Arthur flinched, but he quickly recovered. “I didn't think you remembered that part of the conversation.”
“I remember a lot.” Emizel kept eating. Then, to Arthur's obvious dismay, he spoke with his mouth full, “How'd that happen? You getting possessed?”
For a second, Emizel didn't think he'd be getting a story.
Then, he did.
Back when Arthur was younger- around his age, apparently- he made the mistake of befriending a ghost that haunted his family's wine cellar. (And, even though Emizel didn't want to interrupt, he couldn't help the scowl. Of course Arthur's family was old-money rich- or had something like a wine cellar.)
Her name was Anya, she was a ghost from the 1800s, and he was surprised that Arthur could see her. They built a friendship, of sorts- and one time, she offered to possess him temporarily, and show him what he could do with his underlying power.
Arthur didn't have anyone to prevent him from making stupid mistakes. And so- even though, Arthur noted, he couldn't remember what convinced him in the end- Anya still ended up getting through, and convincing him.
“...I don't remember how I got possessed, either.” Emizel relented at this part of the story. “I hated him.”
But it was still up in the air- and that aspect bothered him greatly. He hated him, more than anything- spawning an argument, once Gabriel was cognizant enough to hold one- and Emizel vividly remembered trying to get him to leave at multiple points…
But other than that, it was all fuzzy. And it pissed him off.
“It doesn't matter.” Arthur promised him, “If a spirit wants to possess you, then they're not telling you the whole truth, anyway. They're… conniving.”
“Even Mary?”
“Mary is different.”
While he was possessed, Arthur went through many life changes.
He had a falling out, and lost connection with his family. He moved out of the country. He partied, often…
“When Anya possessed me, it… lasted a lot longer than your possession did. She was stuck in there for years. Laying dormant.” He put a hand up to his temple, and rubbed his forehead, “I lost weeks of my life, every time she got bored. I couldn't make any friends, since she wasn't keen on doing so… And if it kept up like this, I probably would've died. Or succumbed to her. Which could've been a fate worse than death.”
Emizel's eyebrows furrowed, “How?”
“If a spirit possesses you, fully, you won't be able to kick them out. In some cases, you won't be conscious of it until you die, and your spirit starts roaming. In others… you could lose your soul entirely. Either way, you're just… gone.”
“You can't fight it?”
“You can.” Arthur murmured, “But unless you can remove them, or have someone else do it… It'll just be something you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your life. It's draining, and painful, and if you're inexperienced like I was…” Arthur was looking at him as he said it, and Emizel knew that it was clearly targeted, “You'll die of it.”
He continued his story, though the ending was short. He met Mary. She was a psychic, and so were her friends, and she could sense that there was something going on with him. Bizarre mood changes, going from being overtly careful to being horribly reckless- and when she finally saved his life, and rid him of his possession, it was because of an incident that almost took his life.
Since then, she's helped him as much as she could, with figuring everything out. If it weren't for her involvement, he would've been dead.
Emizel could've died.
It refused to sink in, despite the story. Emizel has almost died plenty of times, and even though none of them hit quite as close as him getting possessed, it was just a factor of his life that he was used to, now. Nothing to be so bothered by. And so, his face remained unchanging, and Arthur's remained pensive.
“Go home, Emizel.” Arthur said, as the mood dropped, and as he was running out of things to say to him. “Call your brother, and your friend. Try to keep in touch. Don't make the same mistakes I did.”
He scowled- he wasn't that affected by his warning. Or by the memories of being possessed, or the nightmares that have been waning in and out of his mind- coming and going as they pleased.
“I'm fine.” He said.
Arthur didn't look impressed, or swayed.
“That's what I thought too. And now, after Magnus and Mary are gone, I'll have nobody.” He looked up again, eyebrows furrowed, and completely disappearing under his sunglasses. “And if you were on your own just a month ago, your body would have been found on the side of a highway.”
“...” Emizel glared at the ground.
“You have people that care about you. Don't take that for granted.” He waved his hand, and motioned for him to leave.
Emizel paced towards the exit, and he was almost out the door before he realized that he still didn't have an answer to his question.
So he turned back around. “Am I getting that job?”
Sunglasses were covering his eyes, but Arthur shook his head, and Emizel guessed that he rolled his eyes as well.
“Come in tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it.”
-
As soon as he was outside, and the door was shut behind him, Emizel pulled his phone out.
“Emizel?” Shilo's voice came through the phone, ready for Emizel to bluntly drop news onto him, just as he's always done.
“Hey, man.”
“...hey.” Shilo said, tentatively, “Do you need something?”
“Do I need an excuse to call?”
“You don't call me unless something is wrong… or, unless you've done something wrong...”
“No, I'm just…” He rolled his eyes, even though it was true. Every call from him must've induced some kind of panic response, by now. “I thought I'd let you know that I'm probably gonna be working with Arthur. Be his associate.”
“Assistant…?”
“Associate.” He repeated, “We’re working together. And I'm not getting paid a lot…”
“But he's helping you with your… Psychic things?”
“Yeah. And I'm getting a job.”
Shilo sighed in relief, “ That's good to hear, Emizel. I'm glad you found a job that… suits your needs.”
It was quiet.
Emizel thought about what Arthur said, and then he thought about how close he was to dying- and how Shilo was the reason why he had a fellow psychic to confide in. And, possibly, the same reason why he wasn't on the side of a highway, wandering around, and unable to tell where he was, or what to do…
But saying what was on his mind was like pulling teeth. Or, more accurately, it was the anticipation of it- the string tied around his loose tooth, one hand on the doorknob it was tied to, knowing that it'd be the quickest option to go for… but still not wanting to do it, and still hesitating.
He could end the call now- or he could untie that string- and maybe, eventually, that tooth will fall on its own, and Emizel would tell Shilo what actually happened to him. It wasn't a guarantee, but-
Emizel's sigh sounded angry, quickly exhaled through his nose. His teeth were gritted, and he forced his face to relax. It didn't matter. He was so worked up over something that didn’t even matter.
“I wasn’t in a good place when I left.” He finally said, and no matter how much he tried to fix it, he couldn't keep his tone from sounding like a scorned child, being forced to give an apology that he didn't want to. He meant it. But he hated saying it. “And you could've… left me be, or ignored me leaving- or you could've hired some shitty detective to come find me- but you got Arthur instead, and…”
“It's okay, Emizel.”
Emizel's teeth grit again.
“You hired Arthur. And Soda told me that you had trouble tracking him down, since you wanted a real medium- and it's a lot of effort that nobody's really invested in me before.” Certainly not his family, or most of his friends- besides Soda. “So. Thanks. I guess. For doing that for me. You're the reason I'm still alive right now.”
“...” Shilo didn't say anything for a long while. Emizel almost thought that the call got dropped, for a second.
“Shilo?”
When he did speak again, his voice was slow, and careful.
“You weren't going to…”
It only took Emizel half a second to realize that he hadn't told Shilo the reason why he left, and that his
With his eyebrows suddenly raised, he reiterated, “No- no- I got possessed by a spirit, Shilo. That's why I was in Washington!”
“Oh!” A loud sigh of relief, “Don't- scare me like that, Emizel. Holy crap. Okay… You got possessed? Really? What was that like?”
Emizel spent the rest of his evening recounting what he could remember from the trip. He excluded some of the more concerning stuff… But Shilo was attentive, and listening all the same.
And a weird weight lifted off his chest all the same.