Chapter Text
It had been a few months since they had returned from Port Townsend, a few months since they had dealt with any witch or warlock alike.
But that meant life or death was going pretty swell for them.
The living, as Edwin would say, are messy. And the living with magic were even more so.
But despite that, the agency had expanded a bit more, giving them much more business with the living, well with Crystal being their resident Psychic, of course, and Niko being around to help with research from time to time. (After her near death at the hands of Esther, they understood her hesitance to go out into the field. Hell, they’d rather she stay safe than see her die.) The Living Girl detectives, he’d call them, or that’s what it appeared to the living that couldn’t see Edwin and him.
This was much to Edwin’s horror, and Charles would think it was pretty brills, too if many of the cases they brought were actually cases. Most of the time, it tended to be dead ends and misconceptions as the Supernatural wasn’t involved at all. The first few times, it happened okay, it is what it is.
But a dog possessed by a demon, come on mates.
So, yes, Charles was itching for an actual case or at least something a bit adventurous. He felt the itch to swing his cricket bat or to run and protect. The adrenaline of it all, despite Edwin’s insistence that the dead don’t have adrenaline .
But instead, they were enjoying a day off here. It was something rare if Charles was being honest.
It's also probably long overdue since they came back.
Crystal and Niko had acquired a flat near the office, roommates, as they both tried to make up for the classes they’d missed, with Crystal being “missing” and Niko not going, being a shut-in, and all. Their other ventures meant that despite the usual busyness of the office on most days, there were those days that it was just the two of them—just Charles and Edwin. Edwin and Charles.
Don’t get Charles wrong, he adored the girls. It was nice to have a change; change was good.
But it doesn’t beat the comfort that had been there for the last three decades.
So now he was content to put in his headphones and listen to his Walkman. His hands tapped the sofa arm softly along to the beat as he made sure not to be too loud as to disturb Edwin’s reading. Charles had pondered going to one of those live bands he enjoyed, though given the amount of running around they’ve been doing, a lovely evening listening to music on his headphones isn’t too bad either. As his finger hit the sofa, he couldn’t help but draw his eyes over to Edwin’s form, his back set against the other end, legs on Charles’s lap.
Niko had begged Edwin to read some of her favourite mangas, to Edwin’s quick reply that not so many images should even constitute a book . Before he gave in and allowed himself to get a graphic novel with two boys on the cover, Edwin seemed to be engrossed in it, with a small smile on his lips.
He looked charming, with his lips curved and a slight light in his eyes whenever he found himself intrigued by something.
Charles could be frozen for all eternity if he meant he could see that look on Edwin’s face.
Maybe he was staring too long because Edwin’s eyes met his, and mouthed something. Panic set in. Shit, he hadn’t meant to stare.
Hastily, he removed his headphones just as his music rose to a crescendo.
“Yea, mate?” Why was his heart racing?
“Are you alright, Charles? You’ve been staring at me for quite some time,” Edwin asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. “Did I bother your listening time?”
Charles felt his face heat up, and if ghosts could blush, he was sure he’d be bright red. “Oh, no, not at all! I’m brills! Just, uh, zoned out a bit,” he stammered, flashing a nervous smile. “You know, lost in thought and all that.” Because that’s all it was—lost in thoughts, totally not admiring the lips and eyes of your best mate in the world. Yup, exactly.
Edwin’s brow furrowed slightly as if he knew Charles was spewing bullshit. He didn’t blame him . But then he smiled. “Alright, just checking. You looked like you were deep in thought.”
“Charles, I’m in love with you.”
“We have forever to figure out what the rest means…”
“Yeah, just... deep thoughts,” Charles mumbled, mentally kicking himself. “You know how it is.”
Edwin nodded, still smiling, and returned to his book, but not before giving Charles a reassuring glance.
Thank lord.
Charles sighed inwardly, relieved but feeling that same strange warmth in his chest. He put his headphones back on, trying to focus on the music, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Edwin and that smile.
Maybe a case wouldn’t be too bad right now.
✩✩✩
Ever since hell, Charles has been acting strange.
Edwin wanted to chalk it up to everything that had happened in Port Townsend because it was a lot: the whole Cat King Fiasco, Esther, the Devlin House, the Night Nurse, Hell, and once again—Esther.
Ever since he met Charles, he swore to ensure two things: 1) They would never separate, and 2) Charles would never step foot in Hell. Two things that utterly blew up in his face back in the States.
Then, he figured out some… things about himself. He found he fancied Charles, no, loved him, more than just mates, more than simply best friends who had spent the last three decades together. He properly loved the boy who had always protected him to the best of his abilities because he was the best—the boy who broke into hell and blew up his personal demon just to save Edwin.
Edwin loved Charles. That was a fact, and it had taken him a long time to figure out.
Another fact was that Charles wasn’t in love with him back. And that’s okay because he never asked him to be; he just needed to tell him. He didn’t want more secrets, not more things they don’t find out till their ghostly forms are on the line.
This was because, as Crystal has clearly shown, communication is important, and he would like to think that the past few months, they’ve been pretty good about it.
Though, like he said, Charles has been acting off. He supposed it was the whole confession he made. but Charles had told him it changed nothing between him on the rooftop. And he made sure to show that as he still was touchy with Edwin, still joked around and protected him. Now, Edwin understood why his non-existent heart would beat rapidly at those actions, but he knew it was okay, that he was okay.
They’re still Charles and Edwin. Edwin and Charles. The Dead Boy Detectives.
And he’ll say this graphic novel Niko had recommended to him was getting pretty good all things considered. It was charming to see a British boy like him get something good.
Though the part he had just turned to wasn’t so good, as the other boy seemed to run out to the party after his kiss with the other boy—then, he felt eyes on him.
Edwin has always been hypervigilant, even before Hell. But Hell simply intensified it. In the aftermath of his escape and such, he had gotten better at toning it down, allowing himself to be comfortable in Charles's presence and now, slowly, Niko’s and Crystal’s.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware when he was being stared at. Looking up from his book, he saw Charles' eyes in his direction, those beautiful browns looking at him. He knew that he was listening to his music; perhaps he was shifting too much, reacting to the novel a little more than usual. Anyway, he assumed he disturbed Charles' peace.
Yet, when he went to ask, which took a few seconds since Charles seemed completely preoccupied mentally, he just said he was zoning out. This was his usual response because this was a usual phenomenon recently: Charles staring at him, lost in thought.
Evidently, that was odd. His eyes sparkled in those moments, softened even as if what he was thinking was the most interesting thing ever. At first, he thought it was flashbacks, maybe to his past life. Out of the two of them, Charles was still able to find some good in his youth before his death, even despite the more unsavoury aspects. Though the look was much softer than one of reminiscing, it was almost puppy-like if he were being truthful.
He’s been wanting to ask, to prod more, Crystal would do such a thing. But, he wasn’t Crystal and he wondered if he himself was even prepared to bring up the topic. Talking about such things was still new to them, despite their years in each other's company, and he couldn’t approach it without some caution. And—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door.
✩✩✩
*Case of the Missing Spell Book* (Name pending)
If he was being honest, the name was pretty lacklustre, but that’s what they’ll call it for the time being. He wished he could come up with something more clever, but that could be done later. He could only imagine Edwin’s chagrin at spending so much more time on the name than on the case itself.
As soon as they heard the knock on the door, the pair scrambled off the couch. Charles had been only in his vest with his overalls off his shoulders and Edwin had foregone his blazer, his sleeves rolled up and tie untied, so they looked less than professional, to say the least. They had to keep up their brand, after all.
Once they were decent , they went to their normal placements; Edwin in his chair, and Charles seated on the desk, positioned to face both Edwin and their client. Sure, one could say his placement was odd and seemed uncomfortable, but Charles saw it as a protective measure. They had once had a client try to launch themselves at Edwin, and Charles had found that where he was at was the best for preventing them from even touching Edwin. He always kept his cricket bat in arms reach, even if not in view of the client’s eyes—it was always there. In this business, they couldn’t be too careful. Edwin hadn’t ever objected to Charles' placement, so he never opted to change it.
They called for their guest, and a short, young lady walked in. From what Charles could put together so far, she wasn’t a ghost, nor was she their living age, but likely early twenties. She had dark skin, long, wavy hair, and an outfit that screamed modern bookworm. Already, Charles assumed Edwin would get along with her.
After Edwin and Charles went through their formal introduction of themselves, it was their client’s turn.
Her voice was soft as she spoke. “I’m Rowan Wardwell, in charge of a bookstore not too far from here. My father, who passed away a few years ago, left it to me, and we specialize in selling books on magic and the supernatural.”
Charles already had a feeling where this was going.
“A few days ago, one of the store's spell books was stolen. I have an idea of who stole it; however, I haven’t had the means to get it back.”
He could see Edwin raise an eyebrow at that. “Why couldn’t you? From what I gather, you’re familiar with the supernatural and magic as well, I assume.”
“While I know of the supernatural and can see ghosts, I’m not very good with magic. That was my father’s forte,” she added nervously, as if she herself wished it wasn’t the case.
They’ve met few people like her since most of the living who saw ghosts opted to simply pretend their lives were normal. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz. All except those whose families were connected to the Supernatural or were Psychic, like Crystal.
Now, though, he also gives Niko and Jenny props for not just ignoring them and going back to their normal lives.
“Alright, and what makes your search for this book so urgent?” Edwin prodded.
“It was one of the books I usually keep locked up in storage. It’s one that my father or I never wanted to sell. It was a spell book that focused on dark forms of mind magic, and my father believed that selling it irresponsibly would lead to it getting into the wrong hands, which is what I believed happened anyway.”
She took a long sigh.
“Look, that book has been kept behind many wards for years, and no one has been successful in taking it. And there’s only one I know who could even manage it, I need your guys' help to retrieve it so there isn’t another crazy witch running around,” she said strongly.
The idea of a witch with access to crazy mind magic wasn’t something Charles himself particularly wanted to deal with, and he could assume neither did Edwin. Yet, they still needed to ask…
“If we secure the book for you, what would be our payment?”
Yes, they like to help people, but that doesn't mean they don’t sometimes need money or things in return. Usually, he’d tell Edwin to be steady and not so forceful with the ask, but if they were going to have to deal with another witch, some compensation would be nice, please.
“I have special editions of many spell books that, based on the editions you have, could be greatly expanded upon. I’ll give you a few for free, and in the future, you can come to me for business. I’ll give you guys an indefinite discount.”
New books to read, let alone new new spell books. Edwin is going to love this.
“We’ll take the case,” Edwin said earnestly, his eyes filled with anticipation. It was the same look he had before they went into a bookstore or a magic shop or when he had a breakthrough in a case.
Charles could see that look millions of times and it would never be enough. He imagined those eyes looking at him as he placed a hand on his hip, pulling him closer slightly, eyes looking into his and then going to his lips. He wondered if their kiss would be warm—something felt on their lips and in their hearts and souls.
Would Edwin even want that still?
He looked up and saw Edwin walk Rowan to the door, the two talking amongst themselves. That’s right, they had a case to solve now. No time to have a proper crisis over his mate.
Charles was looking forward to possibly kicking another witch's ass.
✩✩✩
Edwin and Charles emerged from the mirror and entered the girls’ flat. Edwin supposed they should have notified them, as Crystal almost dropped her laptop device on the floor, to her surprise, cursing under her breath. Niko, who’d been lounging on the couch, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Honestly, you two need to give us a heads-up when you’re going to mirror-hop in like that,” Crystal scolded, trying to regain her composure. “What if I had been changing?” she asked matter-of-factly.
Edwin personally didn’t want to imagine that scenario. And Charles seemed to smirk at that, amused. He tried not to linger too long on what Charles met with that smirk, though. He knew that Charles and Crystal had decided to be friends moving forward, despite their brief fling in the States (And of course Edwin still stands by the fact that Charles would fall for someone living of all people even though he supposed Crystal isn’t bad company). Still, something inside him hates it—well, that something being jealousy. For so long, he’s always wanted to be able to label the things he’s been feeling for the past few decades, but now that he can, it’s still difficult to admit.
“Noted, we’ll work on our etiquette,” Edwin said.
Without meaning to, his eyes wandered around the flat, noticing Niko's small trinkets on shelves and the music that Crystal kept piling up. Then there were the photos both had together, them holding up peace signs or hugging, simply, melting into each other. It was sweet and cute. And there’s another thing, why is he being jealous when Crystal and Niko have been dating for a few months? There’s no way Charles would ever think of coming between them two, they were some of their closest friends. Charles was kind, the best person he knew, he would never do something like that. Edwin felt warmth in his chest again (At this point it was a common occurrence).
He almost forgot for a second why they had come till Crystal’s voice brought him back to the present. “So, why did you guys come by? Don’t get me wrong, I adore you two, but Niko and I were kind of in the middle of some schoolwork,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
Since Edwin seemed to be at a loss for words, which was rare if he was being honest, Charles took the lead. “Well, we wanted to let you two know we got ourselves another case!” Charles said happily. “A bookstore owner looking for a missing spell book and such.”
“And? Do you guys need us to go with you two?” Crystal prodded.
Edwin added, “We were merely hoping you could use your internet to get us an address for the suspect. Our client gave us a name, but given the importance of time, going to the library isn’t in our best interest.”
“Once again, guys, it isn’t my internet. Though I appreciate the assumption,” Crystal mused.
“Yeah, the internet is for everyone. It has great readings, too. I found this great fanfiction last night,” Niko added.
“Fanfiction?” Charles and Edwin questioned, voices overlapping.
“I’ll show you two after the case. There’s so many that remind me of you two.”
Edwin doesn’t precisely know how to take that. And by Charles's face, he didn’t either, though he did look pretty red. Odd.
Crystal cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m going to interrupt whatever this is,” she said, referring to Charles's flushed face. “But you got a name?”
Edwin pulled out the name from his coat, handing it over to Crystal, who immediately scoured her internet on the couch, followed by Charles, who sat next to her and looked over her shoulder. Sure, the internet as a concept had been around when Charles was a teenager, but according to him, it wasn’t like it was now. And it hadn’t quite taken off till after he had passed, so he was just as lost as Edwin was usually. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it less, though as he loved to see Crystal or Niko scroll, though he had less wide eyes than Edwin did when Niko had shown him an online book collection.
“So, what’s so important about the book?” Niko asked.
“Supposedly, it's filled with dangerous mind magic, though our client didn’t tell us much about the exact details of its content besides that.”
“Mind magic? Are you guys sure you don’t need Niko or me going with you? This is your guys' first witch since, y’know, Esther ,” Crystal asked, looking up from her laptop, the aforementioned witch's name spoken like a curse.
Charles interrupted, “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll be straightforward. Find the house, break-in, and then find the book.”
“And what if this supposed dangerous witch finds you two and decides to do some witchy mind shit?”
“We had been informed that she’s gone during the day, out running errands.”
“That makes everything so much better,” Crystal said, rolling her eyes.
Charles popped up off the couch, moved towards Edwin, and put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders. Edwin felt his non-existent heart skip a beat. “C’mon, Crystal. We’re the Dead Boy Detectives, remember! We could handle some old witch. We’ve handled lots before.”
“Yes, but–”
“And yes, Port Townsend was a different situation, yeah? So you two could stay here, you said you guys had school work.”
“What Charles means is that we appreciate all that you two do, but it’s perhaps better for two living people not to come into contact with this witch.”
Crystal sighed. “If you guys say so.” She wrote down the address on a piece of paper. “Here, it seems to be in a more rural area, but the house looks pretty gigantic from Google Maps.”
“How did you find it so fast?” Edwin asked, impressed, though he didn’t try to show it.
“She has a weirdly large following on Instagram. I think she does live streams or something. I’m going to be honest; I didn’t want to really look much into that.”
“I’m going to pretend I understood that,” Charles said, shaking his head.
“Me as well.”
In other words, Edwin supposed he had to add to his growing vocabulary of the modern day. It seemed to grow even more since he met Crystal and Niko. Sure, Charles had managed to catch up on stuff through the years, like movies, music, and some news, but even he was limited once the twenty-first century came around.
“Just be careful, you two. Please? If there's any danger, Niko and I will come running,” Crystal urged.
“Yes! I’ll even bring the crowbar!” Niko agreed enthusiastically.
Charles smiled a beautiful, charming smile that tightened Edwin’s chest. “Of course, but I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”
“Exactly, like Charles has said, acquiring a book shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Edwin hoped that was the case at least.
The pair waved goodbye, leaving the girls to their schoolwork and heading back to the office to get some last-minute supplies before heading to the witches’s house.
Edwin couldn't shake the growing nervousness in his body. He had been looking forward to wrapping up this case and possibly getting his hands on some rare magical tomes and books. But he couldn't shake this feeling.
He’s tied down and no matter how much he struggled the binds didn’t move. He was trapped, trapped in this makeshift contraption and it fucking hurt. He screamed the other boy’s name but he couldn’t see him through the tears in his eyes, where was he? Please let this stop, please, not again—
He needed to clear his head. He hoped Charles was right and that this case would be straightforward.
Damn witches.
✩✩✩
Charles nearly fell on his face when Edwin and he exited the mirror at the bus stop. It was less than charming, to say the least, and he could tell it caused Edwin to smile a bit. He could swear his face was burning at the sight. But Edwin didn’t say anything more and looked down at the note Crystal had given them as Charles dusted himself off, though it was more a force of habit than anything.
Looking around, the place was desolate. No one seemed to be walking along the single road, which stretched along the ground lined by houses kilometres apart.
The houses themselves were huge, not unlike some of the country houses people from school had had when he was alive, something they seemed always to be bragging about and mentioning. Country home this and country house that, the place was creeping Charles out, if he was being especially honest. It was late afternoon, so there was still light out, so there was enough time for them to search.
“Which house is it, Edwin?” he asked because while each house was the same size, it differed in look and style, some modern and others older—very mismatched.
Edwin seems to look closer at the note before looking at the house's address numbers. “I believe the one at the end of the road,” he guessed, eyes looking down to where the street ended.
From what Charles could see, the house looked rather creepy and old. He squinted slightly, but nothing much changed. “Well, let’s get on then,” he mused, tightening his bag’s strap and starting to walk.
When he didn’t feel Edwin’s presence at his side, Charles looked back at him. “You alright, mate?”
“Yes, I just need a tick.”
Ah. And there it was. The witch problem.
He noticed that Edwin had been slightly nervous at the mention of the witch (she gave a name but he honestly wasn’t paying attention) when Rowan and him had been talking (and when Charles totally wasn’t daydreaming about his mates’ lips).
Charles didn’t blame him; he was the one who was strapped up and tortured by that bloody witch. He remembered his name being shouted from the other room, a call for help for safety. Charles had pulled and pulled on the iron collar, but he couldn’t get it to budge and he couldn’t get out of that kitchen and save him no matter how much he knew he was failing at his job. He still couldn’t free himself.
He blamed his inability to forgo the pain, because he’d been hurt before, left bleeding and bruised and always managed to get up but why couldn’t he move ? But, then the girls had shown up, and he killed that damn Snake, and Esther tried to kill Niko and Crystal summoned fucking Lillith, and Esther got taken somewhere.
Charles had seen hell, had seen how horrible and disgusting it was. He had thought no one deserved this, no one, especially not Edwin. Not the boy who had been there with him, with a lantern in his hand and a story on his lips as read to him in that old attic. But he hoped Esther was there, for what she had done to Edwin, for what she had been doing for decades. He hoped she got what she deserved.
He hoped his dad did as well.
“Hey,” Charles placed his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, the latter looking up at him slightly. “If we need to call off the case, we can. I know it hasn’t been long since Port Townsend, and if you need time, we’ll go back to the office right now.”
This seemed to catch Edwin by surprise as his eyes widened slightly. “But, Charles, we already told Rowan we’d take it.”
“We can tell Rowan to take her case elsewhere. If this case is going to make you feel this way, then screw it. We don’t need it.”
“But–”
Charles carefully cupped Edwin’s cheek, cutting the boy off. The choice to do so came to him instantly. “Edwin, what matters is how you’re doing.”
Edwin’s eyes shone in the late afternoon light, his green eyes like jewels. Charles was sure that if he hadn’t had his gloves on, he could feel the other boy’s soft skin, feel its warmth even in death. “I’m the brawn, right? I’ll protect you no matter what, case or no case.”
That’s how it was for a moment: Charles's hand on Edwin’s cheek, their eyes looking into each other. Charles's eyes looked slightly down to Edwin’s lips. He had kissed many girls before, girls from the sister school down the street, they would usually snog in the stairwell or at parties. They were sloppy and filled with teen lust, not truly thought through. But, looking at his mates' lips, not so far from his and real, not a daydream, he wondered if theirs would fit together like puzzle pieces meeting their other half. They had already dedicated themselves to each other, their souls fitting each other nicely in this afterlife. So what if...
The other boy seemed to notice Charles’s eyes roaming, and he moved back quickly, Charles's gloved hand losing contact with his face. It was like coming out of a daze. He hadn’t noticed how long his eyes had been lingering, and immediately, he couldn’t help but mourn their contact, even if it had been just for a moment.
“I appreciate it, Charles, but I’m okay. I can handle the case. We can’t leave such magic in her possession.” Edwin’s voice was slightly higher than usual, clearly flustered, and it brought him a small sort of satisfaction. But he also felt a bit of guilt. Charles knew Edwin loved him, and he had properly said he wasn't, yet here he was making him uncomfortable. He really needed to stop mucking these things up.
“Ye—" Charles cleared his throat because the word didn’t come out quite right. It came out high-pitched and awkward, and god, was that how Edwin had felt when he had just spoken? Edwin looked at him, his attention fully drawn to him. And for the life of him, Charles prayed for his voice to sound a little more confident, merely saying, “Yeah, that sounds brills if that’s what you want.”
Edwin gave a small, hesitant smile. “I do. Thank you, though. I… I feel more certain now.” He paused, looking away for a moment, then back at him with a softness in his eyes that made Charles’ chest fly. “Charles, I know I said I love you, and I meant it. I just… I don’t want to make you feel you must act a certain way towards me now.”
What?
Act a certain way?
A certain way?
What was Edwin talking about?
Charles's brain seemed to stop for a moment, because what the hell was he talking about and…
Oh.
Oh.
Did Edwin think he had done that to make him feel better because he knew he liked him? Did he believe Charles was just trying to give him what he wanted? Did he really think that low of him?
If he was being honest, Charles had no clue what he was doing. It had just been natural. As natural as breathing had once been. As natural as going into hell to save him. As natural as spending his afterlife with him. As natural as the “I love you” that had rolled off his tongue on those steps, even though he didn’t understand the feelings behind them.
It came naturally to him to care for Edwin with his entire being.
So, of course, it was natural to make fleeting touches on him. Of course, it felt natural to longingly stare as he talked about what he read or talked about cases. Of course, it was natural to never want any harm to get to him because he would rather disappear than allow that to continue.
But isn’t that how best mates were? So willing to give anything up as long as they were together?
Yet, he hadn’t felt this way with any mate before, even when he had been alive. Sure, he had given such glances here and there to his mates, but in the end, it seemed to be rather one-sided and not as deep as his friendship with Edwin. They were the ones that killed him after all.
But yet, what was this then? What was this feeling that came so naturally when he thought of the other boy?
Was it… love?
He knew he had loved his mum; he still loved her. Yet, this was different besides wanting to keep him safe.
And he hadn’t loved any of the girls he had snogged before, they were temporary flings, though they were nice and pretty. One girl he had thought he loved was his first girlfriend, but that was merely puppy love now that he thought about it, and it lasted only a few months. Then, there was Crystal, he thought he had liked her truly, more than a friend. But, perhaps it was truly him trying to hold onto a life he knew he could have no longer. A life where he would age and not stay the same, not look the same, not feel the same.
So…
Was this love he felt?
Did he love Edwin as more than mates?
“Edwin, I…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, taking his time because he couldn’t mess this up. I love you, Edwin Payne. I love you. I have loved you ever since you brought me a lantern while I was freezing. I loved you as you read to me, and I took my last breaths. I loved you for over the past thirty years I have spent by your side. I will continue to devote this afterlife to you because you’re my one, my only.
I love you, but I can’t hurt you.
I can’t be like him .
He threw his plate at her, the food wasn’t hot. She had told him when dinner was ready, and he didn’t want to leave his place from the living room so his food had gotten cold, and he was seething. Charles tried to get in the way, he tried to push him away from her because he was screaming in her face, but he was thrown to the side, and she was crying —
And back in Port Townsend, Charles, possessing Esther in the first place, had left them to get found by the Night Nurse and then Hell, and he properly kicked himself for that, trying his best to make up for it, trying his best to show Edwin that that wouldn’t happen again, that he would try to think before he leapt.
“I’m still figuring things out,” he finished. Edwin’s expression implied that that was not what he had expected, and he saw his smile waver before he nodded, “I understand. Let's just focus on the case for now.”
Edwin walked past him, and Charles knew he had mucked that up, again. However, he was just being cautious , looking before he leapt.
What if he’s wrong, and he ends up hurting Edwin?
Or he’s right, and he loves him but ends up hurting him anyway.
His dad had loved his mum; they had dated and gotten married. Charles had seen the wedding pictures and had seen how happy they had looked.
That didn’t stop his dad from yelling at her, making her cry. Charles hadn’t seen him put his actual hands on her, only throwing objects that barely missed. He only put his hands on him.
Mum had said his dad loved him, even after each beating.
Was love supposed to hurt that much? Because Edwin’s love didn’t, it was calming warmth and gentleness in a lifetime of pain and anger.
Was it just the love of Rowland men? Would he, too, end up like him?
He’s been angry and violent, but only to those that have hurt them first.
Charles loves Edwin. But he can’t risk hurting him.
Edwin deserved better.
✩✩✩
The walk to the house was short but quiet. They had taken many walks before, taking time to walk by the park near their office after cases, debriefing about their cases, and just basking in the silence, taking in the atmosphere. That quietness was comfortable and reassuring, something built from decades at each other’s side.
Now, Edwin could describe this silence as anything but comfortable or reassuring. Even Charles said nothing as they walked to the last house on the road. It wasn’t too far, yet the silence made time stretch.
Edwin had been nervous about coming here, and he knew Charles had given him an out. Yet what kind of detective would he be if he let such nerves interfere with their work? He appreciated Charles's offer and his… touch… but they had work to do.
So, they made their way to the house, noting it looked rather aged, with weeds seeming to litter the front yard and ivy and moss covering parts of the home. If he hadn’t known a witch was residing here, he would believe they were tackling a haunted estate.
“It seems like the witch hasn’t heard of a gardener,” Charles remarked, breaking the silence. “The place is covered in so much green, it’s making me nauseous.”
“Ghosts, can’t get nauseous,” he replied because Charles seemed to always forget that fact. “I don’t believe she would want others coming onto her property.” Edwin’s eyes roamed the overgrown yard.
“I wouldn’t either with it looking like this. Seriously, mate, if you have money, might as well make it look nice,” disdain in his tone.
Edwin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were so interested in house upkeep, Charles.”
“I’m just saying, is all,” Charles shrugged. Edwin couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a small smile breaking through. He could see a smile shown on Charles's face as well, and he thought perhaps this was how it was. No matter what happened between them, they would return to this.
“So, what are we waiting for? Let's go in.”
Charles started following the path to the decrepit porch with Edwin behind him. They phased through the wall, bracing themselves for what they may find inside.
.
.
.
The interior was a stark contrast to the exterior. They were greeted by an affluent foyer with a grand staircase, intricate chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, and expensive-looking furniture arranged meticulously. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and the floor was covered with plush carpets that he was sure would have been soft on his feet in life. It was as if they had stepped into an entirely different world.
“Bloody hell,” Charles muttered, eyes wide with surprise. “Didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I,” Edwin replied because he had not expected this. He had visited various country homes in his childhood, and his family had one as well, but the outside was always kept tidy, even if they were in the city or off on holiday. It was something expected. When it came to the interior, it was usually nicely decorated with mats on the floor and art on the walls. Never had he been in one that was layered with such maximalism.
Looking at the art, he saw many were pretty old yet appeared in peak condition, their colours as bright as the day they were painted, it seemed. Then he saw the head of a statue on a small table. It looked Greek in origin. This witch was definitely quite the collector. He leaned closer to read the statue’s description, engraved in golden letters: “Orpheus.”
“Oh. I get it. This is like one of those Orpheus and Eurydice moments, yeah?”
Their story ended in tragedy: Orpheus lost Eurdicye completely when he turned around. Edwin believed he would have disappeared as well during those steps. The many, many times he had tried escaping in those seventy years, the farthest he got before escaping fully were those steps before the demon that held his soul at that time would eventually reach him, pulling him back, taking him back to his punishment. It would hurt the most after each failed attempt.
He had believed that it would take another seventy years to find his way back to Earth again. He had memorized the way back, it was ingrained into his head, but he was never fast enough to evade the demon. No matter how much he pushed himself, how much his feet would bruise and bleed from the effort, he wasn’t fast enough. Edwin knew he was out of practice, that he would need to condition himself to get there, to eventually escape again so he could go back to Earth, see Charles, and be free. He knew it would take decades, and that had terrified him, but he was prepared.
Then Charles came lantern in hand, prepared with bombs and a Molotov, slowing down the demon and giving them time to run and run and run. The steps were always the most tiring part, and his lungs had burned and he truly needed a moment because he thought he might collapse if he continued. Though then he had realised the part of the stairs they were at, and he knew that this was where he was always stopped, where the demon would always catch up and drag him, kicking and screaming. He was prepared for it, so he had to tell him, had to tell him the truth.
Saying “I love you” was both the easiest and hardest thing to say. It was a release of something he had been holding in for so long, yet it was also something he knew he could never take back, and it was something that would be in both their minds for the rest of their afterlives.
The demon hadn’t caught on to him after those words had spilled from his lips and Charles turned around and looked at him with so much love and care, despite the fact he couldn’t say he was in love back. Edwin wanted to be sad, wanted to ask, “What will this change?” but Charles answered that for him, assuring him nothing would change, and for the most part it hadn’t.
Not except for the longing stares and the increase in touch that Edwin thought would cause him to die again at any moment.
Except for that.
They were the same. Business as usual. Casual.
Edwin was drawn from his thoughts at Charles's call. “Oi! Come look at this!”
Walking over to Charles, he followed what he was pointing up to. It was a painting that portrayed a youthful woman elegantly enveloped in a flowing white garment, accentuated by delicate gold jewelry cascading down from her neck. Edwin would admit whoever painted it was rather talented; the attention to detail was fascinating. “I reckon that’s our witch,” Charles pointed out. I can already tell how she thinks of herself.”
Edwin agreed. “Her decor makes even more sense now if she puts herself on such a pedestal.”
“Now, perhaps we should look for a library or something similar. I’ll take the second floor, and Charles, you look around here.”
Charles gave him a mock salute, a playful grin on his face. “Aye, aye, captain,” he said, adding a wink for good measure.
Edwin couldn't help but smile back, shaking his head slightly. “Just be careful, alright?”
“You too,” Charles replied, his tone turning serious momentarily. “Any sign of trouble, I’ll run up with my bat.”
With a final nod, they split up, Edwin heading up the staircase and Charles exploring the ground floor. Simple and straightforward, Edwin thought as he walked up the steps. How hard could finding one book be?
✩✩✩
Charles had entered and searched almost every room on the ground floor and found nothing. Since he hadn’t heard Edwin’s call, he supposed he had also turned up empty.
As he left what seemed to be a lounging room, he made his way to the last door of the hallway. It looked like nothing special, the same dark wood as every other door. Yet, as he went to phase through, he found he couldn’t. Odd.
One of the many ghost rules he had learned after his death was that ghosts could phase through practically anything if they wanted to—unless there was magic or iron involved. Since he hadn’t been burned, he assumed it was the former. Okay, then, what now? He wasn’t knowledgeable in magic like Edwin was, so he couldn’t say a quick spell to open it or just block whatever was keeping him out.
If it was ghost-phasing proof, looking at the doorknob, he then wondered if it was lock-picking proof, especially since it was the only door in the hall with an actual keyhole.
He bent down to the floor, throwing his bag over his shoulder to find his lock-picking kit, and sure enough, it was soon in his hands. This witch had to be dumb to prevent anyone from phasing or teleporting through but not lock-picking. Seriously.
“Edwin! I think I found something!” he yelled, knowing the witch hadn’t come back yet, so screw being silent about his find. He assumed Edwin heard him and continued to his focus, picking open this damn door.
He remembered first learning to pick locks when his dad put a lock on his window to keep him from going out in grade 7. Charles had wanted to meet his friends at the local arcade, but Charles had been playing his music downstairs in his room, not looking at the time, and his dad had come home furious. He didn’t approve of him listening to such garbage and left him with some pretty nasty bruises, but nothing he couldn’t hide. However, what was new was that he locked his windows with a shiny padlock.
Charles was already in trouble and bruised, so he thought he at least deserved to have some fun, his first bout of rebellion against his father (He’d be lying if he wasn’t bloody terrified about being caught) as long as he came back before his dad came to check in on him and he put the lock back on. He had seen his friends do it to break into the school’s storage, so how hard could it be? And hard it wasn’t after he got the hang of it at least.
By the time he heard a click, Edwin had come down, his steps quick. “What did you find?”
“I don’t—” Charles started, and as if on cue, the door opened with a loud creak and what he could assume was dust filtered out, crashing into his face. And he had been so unprepared for the onslaught of it that he felt it get sucked into his lungs and perhaps his eyes as well.
Immediately, it burned, which was odd because he didn’t have actual lungs. But his ghost body didn’t seem to care because he immediately started coughing, and then his eyes began to burn. Edwin was at his side immediately; the dust seemed to have just clung onto him, as determined by Edwin’s lack of cough.
“Charles! Charles, are you alright? Can you breathe?” And what a stupid thing to ask someone already dead, but it felt like he was losing air, like he was drowning and icy water was filling his mouth and—
A hand grabbed his own, firm and steady. “I’m here. Okay, you aren’t there.”
The hand squeezed his. “Just nice and slow. Focus on me, Charles.”
Charles tried to follow Edwin’s voice, focusing on the warmth of his hand and the steady pressure of his grip. The panic in his chest began to subside, and the burning in his throat eased slightly.
“That’s it,” Edwin said softly. “You’re okay. Just breathe. Or, well, the ghost equivalent.”
Charles managed a weak laugh between coughs. The burning sensation faded, replaced by a cold numbness that spread through his ghostly form. Edwin continued to murmur reassuring words, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Charles’s hand.
“You alright?” Edwin asked as Charles' coughing fit seemed to dissipate.
Charles nodded, his head feeling full. “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting that,” his head said, ushering to the door. As they both looked, they saw a staircase leading down to what must be a basement. Of course, a witch would keep all her magic books and such down there.
“I suppose you found what we were looking for,” Edwin smiled at him.
“Guess so. I didn’t know dust could hurt that much,” he said, trying to steady himself. Edwin held his shoulder, “Are you sure you don’t want to wait a moment?”
He thinks you’re weak.
Charles took his hand from Edwin’s quicker than he should have given the look of hurt on Edwin’s face. He then cleared his throat and waved away the other boy’s worry with a strained smile. “I'm fine, Edwin,” Charles insisted. It was just a bit of dust.”
Edwin hesitated, clearly concerned, but he nodded. “Alright, only if you are sure. Let’s close this case.”
As Charles and Edwin made their way down the staircase, Charles noted how confined it was, requiring them to go down single file, with Charles leading. With each step, the air grew increasingly chilly and filled with foreboding. As they approached the bottom, they were met by an ancient, creaking wooden door. Summoning his courage, Charles pushed the door open, and what lay beyond took their breath away. Shelves upon shelves of books filled the vast basement, stretching from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was meticulously organised, with leather-bound tomes, dusty grimoires, and delicate scrolls crammed into every available space. The scent of aged paper and old leather permeated the air, mingling with a faint, musty odour. He remembered Edwin saying ghosts couldn’t truly smell, but Charles's brain could fill in the rest.
“Wow,” Charles muttered, his eyes wide with awe. “This witch doesn’t do things by halves, does she?”
Edwin nodded, equally impressed. “No, she does not. We’d better get started. There’s bound to be something useful here.”
And sure, searching books and shelves wasn’t the most exciting thing, but a case is a case. They split up, each taking a section of the basement. Of course, the book wouldn’t stand out to them so easily.
As Charles made his way to the corner of a very packed shelf and began to take one book from its ledge, he could have sworn he could feel the start of a headache.