Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Arthur's phone rang in the middle of a eulogy- tearfully given, before it was paused abruptly.

And though usually he was usually very quick to react to these sorts of things- and very good at remembering to keep his phone turned off when he needed it to- it still rang. And it still took him a few seconds before he realized the noise was coming from him, and that he would have to be the one to reach his fumbling hands into his pocket, and turn it off without seeing who it was.

Even after it was quiet again, he still got a few looks from a few people, sticking onto him until the woman in the front continued her speech, and they had something else to focus on. Despite getting much more attention than he wanted, and despite having the urge to leave, his body language didn't betray a single thing. He stayed glued to his spot, and waited for everything to settle again.

Grief was a funny thing. 

This wasn't the first time he's lost someone that was so close to him, and he knew that it wasn’t going to be the last. Even with his family gone, and the remainder of his friends distant, it would always be a matter of when they would die before him, instead of if. (And, because of his job, it was something he had to come to terms with on a near-daily basis.

Maybe that's why he wasn't so emotional during the funeral, internally or externally. He didn't cry, nor was he angry- this was someone he loved- and yet, as he sat there, his brain settled into a comfortable familiarity instead. It felt foggy. He could sit there for hours, staring at the stained glass windows, the cold, bland walls, or even the body laying in the open casket, and he could remain just as calm and collected as he normally was.

Her name was Mary Davis, and she would be sorely missed- by her friends, family, and whatever he was to her- but for now, she was peacefully resting, and he was waiting.)

People came and went, all having something to say, and yet, he didn't really hear a single thing. Eventually, he was able to snap out of his stupor just long enough to realize that it'd be a while before it was over. He showed up out of respect, and now, he had to deal with what came after. (Like tearing off the bandaid, driving over there and seeing her in a casket would be worse than the drive home, or the week after.)

So, just as another eulogy finished, Arthur did what he always did best.

He waited until it was quiet before he stepped outside, staying under an overhang to avoid getting hit by the light patter of rain that was enhancing a perfectly moody morning, but straying as far away from the entrance as he could, as if he was afraid of someone overhearing him. He turned his phone on again, and called the same person that tried reaching out to him just an hour or so ago.

It was a client, someone who would pay handsomely for him to come over to their address as soon as possible. There was a sense of urgency in the client's voice, immediately washed out with relief by the confirmation of an appointment.

And so, without anyone noticing that he was even gone, he decided to fare the rainy weather, and walk back to his car.

-

Arthur's client led him to an apartment complex sitting just on the outskirts of the city. 

And, from the outside, it didn't look like it was anything special. It looked like it was older, and that it was cheap to live in. And even though Arthur remembered that the client said he'd pay him well for this job- much more than his usual pricings- he didn't think twice about it as he entered the building.

It was raining outside, the building wasn't blasting any heat. If anything, it was colder on the inside than it was on the outside. And then, as if to further add salt into the wound, there was an elevator at the end of the lobby that was out of order. And, based on a sign- a sheet of paper taped to the door, the warning being crudely in sharpie, and hanging at an awkward angle- Arthur guessed that it'd been out of order for some time now.

So instead, he had to take the stairs. Walking up a long, dark staircase until he reached the third floor of that building, and further navigating the building until he finally reached apartment 305. It was 15 minutes before their agreed time, and even though Arthur liked being right on time instead of being too early or late, he still rang the doorbell, and still waited patiently on the other side of the door.

The person inside the apartment wasn't what he pictured.

He thought he'd find a client dressed in their normal, day-to-day wear. It was rare that he'd find clients so dressed up, but it seemed like this one was the exception. His client wore a pristine white button-down shirt, with an emerald green vest on top of that, and with pants that matched the color. 

He had blond hair, slicked back aside from a few rebellious strands that seemed to want to cover his forehead. His brown eyes were piercing, and borderline judgemental. His posture was perfectly straight. And if Arthur were feeling any better that day, maybe he would've had the sense to try and fix up his own posture. But instead, he just stood there.

When the man in the apartment spoke, it was the same voice he heard through the voice- accented, and clearly recognizable.

“You're the one that can help me with my brother, right?” His client looked him up and down, before he gingerly asked. “You are… Arthur Bennet?”

Arthur nodded slowly. “May I come in?”

The client eyed him warily, but he didn't seem to be too worried about him. After a second, though his expression and body language was still very tense, he gestured for him to come inside, murmuring pleasantries under his breath like he had to get it out of the way.

Arthur’s seen his type before, in this line of work.

The kind of grief that, possibly, got put off for just a little too long, and was instead vented and shown through his actions rather than his emotions. The clients that were angry, viscerally so, and didn’t want him poking around in their private lives. (And yet, knowing that he was the only way that they could contact their loved ones, they let him poke and prod anyway.)

Usually, they were the same ones that'd show up to his office, and leave the visits there- cold, clinical, and quick. Though it wasn't entirely uncommon for those clients to invite him over instead, whether it was inconvenient for them to come to him, or impossible for them to do so… it was still something to take note of.

It was also worth noting that his client didn't seem like he'd be the type to live in an apartment like this, where the elevator was constantly out of order, or where there weren't any working lights in the stairwell leading up to it. There was a damp smell in the entire apartment- something that reeked like a musty, old basement- and just adding onto the dreary atmosphere of it all…

Meanwhile, his client seemed… Strangely regal. His posture was perfect, his clothes were ironed, without so much as an unsuspecting wrinkle… and as the two of them stepped further into the apartment, he noticed his client's hesitance to really touch anything in the apartment. His hands were kept to himself, mostly messing with the collar of his sleeve, like he was perusing the items in a shop, instead of moving around in the comfort of his own home.

“Do you want some tea?” His client asked, and his words were still clipped, and cold.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Arthur looked around the apartment yet again, “I just need something personal of the deceased.”

Something twitched in his client's expression. His nose flared, his head raised, and he glared at Arthur with a sort of suspicion that he's also seen before, with the more skeptical clients.

“I have been very close to getting scammed, Arthur. Many times.”

Arthur nodded along, “This is a very profitable business.”

After all, hiring someone that considered themselves to be a psychic was always a shot in the dark, thanks to the casual frauds that'd regularly sully the name.

His usual clients were those that were desperate to see their loved ones one final time- spirits, and humans alike- taking any measure they could in order to see them… even risking too much of their money for a fraud that could spin a convincing story, and leave them satisfied without any sort of truth- or any sort of closure, on the spirit’s side.

Arthur worked with spirits, among other things, and he knew that a popular reason for spirits haunting the living was because of moments like those, where frauds helped the living move on, but the spirit of their loved one was still so desperate to get in contact with them. The fear of getting left behind, or forgotten by the same living that was previously grieving them so heavily… it must've been terrifying. 

It was hardly their fault, whenever spirits became malevolent. Suddenly, they went from being very complex and thoughtful beings, to bundles of whatever fear or anger they felt in their final moments, mixed with whatever fear or dissatisfaction they felt in being unable to move on… and it was nearly impossible for them to feel anything but that. If Arthur could somehow put every single fraud out of business, he'd do so in an instant.

But being a medium wasn't something that was taken all that seriously yet. And all the charismatic frauds could parade around in whatever wealth they got from impressionable folk, while people like Arthur were stuck with cleaning up their messes. (And, apparently, also stuck with having to prove himself to get a decent pay in.)

“Then if you don't mind… I want to test you, to see if you are what you say you are.”

Because of his client's hesitance, and the mention of a fraud medium trying his hands at what he wanted from him, Arthur looked around a little further, to see if he could spot any stray spirits-

And it was then that Arthur noticed that there was something else in the room.

For a moment, he thought it might’ve found a spirit. This stranger stood in the background- in the dark, namely, seen only through the crack of a doorway- curiously staring him down with an expression that he couldn't quite see from that distance. Some spirits were like that- curious, and peeking around corners- but it only took a moment for Arthur to see that he was completely human. Just lingering.

The stranger was silent, and still, up until he realized that Arthur could see him. Then, the door opened a little further, and he stepped out of a room without another word. The client didn't even seem to flinch.

“You need a personal item, so here is my brother's phone.” His client quickly dug a hand in his pocket before he handed Arthur a flip phone. After he took it, his client crossed his arms over his chest, “What can you get from that?”

He turned it over in his hands. His brother, it seemed, needed to get a new one. “What do you want me to get from it?”

“A name, for starters. Maybe even what he looks like- I want to know what you can glean from that, to see if you're fit for the job.” 

“Alright.”

Arthur’s thumb swiped over the front of it, and eventually, he felt a familiar thrumming in his head.

All at once, his senses around him started to dull, until it left him entirely. First, it was his hearing- faintly, he could hear that his client was saying something else, like being a little too quiet for a little too long was stifling for him- but then it faded, along with every other small noise that’d just been ambient to him seconds ago. Then, like the start of a migraine, his vision fuzzed, until it blacked out entirely.

Touch was the last one to go, fading around his hand, and the phone sitting in it. And then, the focus on the phone was the only thing that stayed- until the scenes around it blurred, and changed to show exactly what Arthur needed to know.

This particular phone has sat in the back pocket of its owner for the majority of its life. 

It's been dropped more times than it could count, and it was on its last threads of its life- but still, it's held on this long, and unless its owner was being too reckless with it, it wouldn't fully break anytime soon.

It was reliable, like its owner. And even though its owner was prone to recklessness, there was still a care that was shown for it. This phone was loved enough for Arthur to pick up on it- whether that be because it was a sentimental item, or just something that was needed, and something that the owner couldn't afford to lose, or replace.

When Arthur saw the owner- however vague, and smudged it was- he saw calloused hands, and bright, red hair that was so vivid in its color that it couldn't have been natural. He saw the phone being passed from its owner to Arthur's current client, catching the emerald green of his suit, before it was then passed into many strangers’ hands. He couldn't make out anything from the people it passed onto, just that it was.

His client had done this many times before, it seemed, giving mediums the phone, and asking them for a name. All before it’d get passed back to its owner, and placed right back into his pocket. He focused in, further, and tried for a name.

Instead, Arthur saw a word. Then he saw the man standing in the hallway, glaring at him without saying another word. 

And when he opened his eyes, he noticed the same man standing in the same position. Though, upon having his attention suddenly placed onto him instead of his client, the man in the hallway seemed surprised, rather than upset.

“I got the word… soda.” Arthur placed the phone back into his client's hand, “And… The owner of that phone is standing right behind you.”

The client seemed just as dumbfounded, looking back at the man with twinned expressions of shock. Then, his client seemed like he was trying to pull himself together, all while sporting an expression that was much more easygoing, and friendly. Still tense, but less so, notably. 

It was just a test, and he passed. 

“Okay. That is good.” His client tossed the phone back, and the person standing behind him rushed to catch it, and immediately shot his client a glare when it almost slipped through his fingers instead. “I've had mediums just perfectly guess my brother's name before, whenever I give them Soda's phone.” His hands shot up, “As if I'm dumb enough to believe them!”

The person behind him stepped closer, curiously, all while thoughtlessly putting that phone into the same pocket that's made its home there for the past few years. A motion he's done just enough times to tell Arthur what kind of person he was, all without realizing it.

“Did your brother die in a notable way..?” He asked cautiously, just to get a sense for why they were taking precautions. “Or is he just well known?”

“My brother is not dead.” His client corrected him, “He's missing.”

So, then, he was likely plastered all over missing posters. Showing his name, and his looks, and anything else that could help spot him from a crowd… And because his client specified that he was his brother, it wouldn't be all that hard for the average fraud to put two and two together.

“You want to know if he's dead.” Arthur said solemnly, before he noticed both of their faces twist up. First in grief, before they both seemed strangely determined.

“I don’t want you to… summon him, or whatever. I want you to find leads on where he could be.”

“As a medium.”

“Every single time we let an investigator in here, they say it's impossible to find him. Every time we've let some… self-proclaimed psychic in here, they tell me my brother's name, and they say that he passed peacefully- and that I should move on.” 

“...”

His client took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, “And every single time, I've been left feeling disappointed. This… this is my final shot. You're a real medium. If you can tell me anything about my brother, I will reward you handsomely.”

“All I need is a personal item of his.”

“You're in his apartment.” His client said, coolly, “Feel free to look around as much as you’d like.”

-

The brother's name was Emizel. 

And, as far as he was concerned, Emizel was a completely normal person. 

When Arthur got ahold of his actual phone- left behind, with the rest of his personal items- he didn't get much from it. If it wasn't in the front pocket of his ripped jeans, it was in the pocket of his favorite jacket. Whenever somebody called, a loud distorted ringtone would play… And, unless the person calling was his roommate, he'd usually ignore it.

Arthur saw a pair of scarred, calloused hands, along with jagged fingernails that'd likely been chewed on a few too many times. But, for now, that was all he was getting.

After going through some of Emizel's other possessions- knick knacks, sat neatly on his shelves- he saw his client.

Arthur saw him visiting Emizel's apartment, giving him small gifts, and talking about how he needed to do a better job at cleaning it. He also noticed the way he’d speak to him- picking up on inflictions of a voice, along with a tense feeling in his chest, instead of actual words being said- and he knew, however faintly, that their relationship seemed incredibly strained… 

But it wasn’t Arthur’s business to pry into anything unless it had something to do with his disappearance, so he just made a note of it. (He doubted that it was the client’s direct fault, but that didn’t mean that it had nothing to do with him. Through visions, the name of his client also came up a lot. Shilo Bathroy.)

Arthur wiped the dust off of his fingers. When he turned around, he noticed that Shilo and the stranger were lingering around the doorway, and watching him work. And so, since they clearly weren't busy, he asked them for something that Emizel might’ve used recently.

“The more attached he is to it, the more I can see from it.”

“You didn’t get anything from..?” Shilo prompted, looking over at the things on the shelf that were just being used to collect dust at that point. Then, as if quickly realizing what that could've meant, he cleared his throat, and started over, “Try the closet.”

More often than not, his visions would show him Soda. The red-haired roommate that'd taken it up as his nickname, and the same stranger that was constantly lingering around Shilo in the present day. (Though he wasn’t usually keen on talking unless he felt he needed to, in the visions, Soda was usually a lot more… colorful. And bright. It was grief, Arthur knew, even if he thought that his friend was still alive.)

When he brushed his hand against the shirts hanging in the closet, he could see them being worn, and even being passed between him and his roommate in a common mix-up with the laundry. It wasn’t his shirt. At that point, it seemed, whoever got to the shirt first could stuff it away in their closet, and wear it later. (He knew he trusted Soda- or Theo, as was his actual name, even if it was rarely used- and that he was far more attached to him than he was with Shilo.)

He didn’t glean anything else from it because of that, unfortunately, and let them both know with a shake of his head.

“Try that.” Soda piped up, pointing at his dresser again. There was a coat, with a hood hanging over a drawer that’d been propped open. It seemed to be well-made, gray and worn, with a fur lining on the inside. “He wears it all the time. I was surprised he didn’t take it with him.”

“Right.”

Then he did so.

The jacket was similarly passed between them- Soda had another one that was just like it, and it was so identical that it could easily get mixed up- but this one was more concrete. It was more his jacket, kept in his room, and he did wear it often.

Whether it’d be cold, rainy weather- mornings like these, bleeding into even gloomier afternoons- or just chilly mornings, leading to warm days, and the jacket just being tied around his waist by the end of it- it was worn often. Even as a reflex, if he didn’t need to wear it, he still took it with him.

And it showed him a few things.

Paranoia, first and foremost, and though Arthur couldn’t completely parse what was causing it, it still overwhelmed him. It pooled in his gut, and constricted his chest until the feeling became unbearable… and yet, Emizel always seemed to be on the move.

Arthur saw dark alleyways, twisting and turning into odd directions. And, instead of seeing him going in a specific direction- maybe headed towards a shortcut that he knew fairly well- he saw him going in circles, constantly looking behind him as he was wandering around, as if he was trying to follow someone that was trailing behind him. 

Then he saw the hood of the coat- previously left alone, for the most part- being pulled over Emizel’s head, pressed close to his ears, and obscuring his vision. (Which was an odd thing to do, if he was so worried about someone following him.)

He also felt anger. Overwhelming amounts of it, hitting him like a ton of bricks once the anxiety started to swell-

And when Arthur was suddenly back in the present, it took a second for him to realize it. His grip on the coat had tightened, and he hadn't let go of it until he could properly feel it again. There was so much emotion packed into one item, that he could practically taste it. (Or maybe- he realized, as he felt something running under his nose- that was just the nosebleed that'd come from that overwhelming vision.)

When he turned back around, hand hovering under his nose, his client winced at the sight, and clicked his tongue.

“Your nose is bleeding...” Shilo muttered, while swiftly pulling a pristine, white handkerchief.

Knowing how hard it was to get a bloodstain out of something (and learning from the last time he wore a white shirt while doing a job like this) Arthur waved his hand, and instead elected to press his dark sleeve against it instead. He could wash it out later.

And though he was sure that he couldn't look that serious, talking while trying to stave off a stubborn nose bleeding, his tone was still grim as he asked, “Did Emizel have a stalker?”

They both looked alert. Shilo’s hand twitched, and instead of putting the handkerchief into his pocket again, he instead chose to play with it. It seemed like a nervous tick- but instead of being guilty, it seemed more like he was just nervous at the prospect of it.

“Not as far as I'm aware.” Shilo said, and so his attention latched onto Soda instead, and Arthur watched his eyebrows furrow, “Any of your friends?”

And Soda looked… tense.

“No, he’d tell me if it- you know. Had anything to do with that.” Soda muttered, vaguely. “I don’t think it’s a stalker. Not any real ones, anyway.”

And then, suddenly, it seemed that Shilo understood. A grim expression settled over his face, his eyebrows twisting upward for the first time since he’s seen him. He almost looked like a kicked puppy as he turned back to look at Arthur.

“Right, I probably should’ve mentioned that Emizel is… like you.”

It took him a second for him to realize what Shilo was trying to say. “Emizel was a medium?”

Shilo rubbed his hands together, nervous and guilty.

“It’s all a bit… difficult to understand. Completely. I thought that ghosts didn't exist, and I knew he was seeing something, but I didn't know what, and then he…” He cut himself off, for a moment.

“He doesn't talk about it.” Soda added on for him. “Unless there's something hanging around.”

“Which doesn't usually happen.” Shilo added. “They don’t follow him around, they’re just there…”

“Spirits are usually curious. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were around often.”

Shilo's expression soured, “If we were talking like this in front of an investigator, we wouldn't be taken seriously.” He looked back to Arthur, “If anyone understands where he might go, or what he might do with his abilities… it's going to be someone like you.”

He nodded. Arthur just needed to find something that led him to his thought processes, and maybe something that could give him a clue about where he was going.

His attention was soon turned over to the bed. 

Usually, it was a place that slipped his mind, since most clients would have an item close at hand… but this was a different situation. And, unless they were the type to swap pillows as often as they swapped shirts, Emizel would've spent all of his nights on that bed, laying his head on that pillow- and if he was seeing spirits before he went to sleep, or if he was spending a little too much time in bed, Arthur could get a clear view of his character from it.

He put his hand on his pillow, and waited for a visual.

He saw the bed being made by Shilo, slowly and carefully setting up pillows, before smoothing out the blankets, like he was trying to make it as neat as possible. It must've been recent, since he was seeing it so clearly- making the bed after his brother went missing, before solemnly sitting down on it. Arthur felt overwhelming sadness.

Then he delved further, and pushed until he finally saw Emizel.

More accurately, from the way the vision was being presented, it looked like he was Emizel- laying down in his bed at an odd hour of the night, and staring up at the ceiling. He could feel the stress in his chest, like something was slowly squeezing his throat, and trying to asphyxiate him. 

It was horribly familiar, and the thought of him being in a very similar position did not help with grounding himself.

Emizel was stuck there, throwing thick blankets off of him, and breathing so harshly that he took note of it. 

He sounded angry, but he felt… frustrated? Like a mantra playing in his head, over and over again, Emizel had the overwhelming urge to walk out the door. He couldn't tell if he wanted to go outside for a breath of fresh air, or if he planned on going somewhere for a while… but the need to leave was so intense that it'd imprinted into the pillow, and stayed there.

Arthur tried. He stayed until his brain felt like it was going to pop in his skull, and swirl around in there like a deflated balloon- until he felt his nose was bleeding again, but pushing through the mere distraction with his hand hovering under his nose- but no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't getting what he needed.

Instead, all he got was Emizel, laying there every single night with his eyes trained on the ceiling. Angry and resentful, and brimming with so many emotions that he needed to step outside for- something. A quick, split-second decision that was so much for him that he left his favorite jacket behind. Arthur saw him get up, and go…

And then… nothing.

“Your brother was stressed, last time he was here.” He said simply, “His movements were erratic. He wanted to leave really badly, and it's not telling me why…” Arthur stood up straight, wiped his hands (though the gesture was pretty much useless at that point) and looked back at the door, “I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything more…”

But it was just Soda standing at the door, and Soda wasn't even looking at him anymore. Instead, Arthur followed his gaze over to Shilo, who was standing by the dresser, with his hands holding onto Emizel's jacket. After a pause, he turned around with a fierce look in his eye.

“If you can track him down, or if you can look for him, somehow…” He said, slowly, “I'll double the pay- I'll triple it. Whatever it takes to bring him back.”

That wasn't Arthur's usual job description. And yet, Shilo dropped his brother's jacket into Arthur’s unsuspecting hand anyway.

His brow furrowed, but Shilo remained stubborn, head tilted upward.

“I'm not a bloodhound.” 

“I'll pay you whatever you want.” Shilo settled for instead.

“The money is not the issue.” He held it back out, but Shilo didn't take it. “If he's missing, you need to go to the police, and let them handle it. I've told you everything I know.”

“But we can't tell if this is a normal thing or if it has to do with him being… psychic.”

“Neither can I.” Arthur insisted.

But Shilo just gave him a look.

“This is the most information we’ve ever gotten about him. Every trail has led to a dead-end.” Shilo said gravely, words so thick that they were dripping with resentment. “Every other medium was a fake, trying to get my money, and every detective we could call about this won't help. If we say that he is a psychic, or that him being a psychic could play a role in this, then they won't even consider taking us seriously!”

“...”

“And you are like him, aren't you?” Shilo pressed, but now, he just sounded sadder. “If you went missing, and it was because of something like this… you'd want someone to help you out, right?”

Arthur could remember the earlier years of his life painfully well. 

His own abilities manifested when he was young, right around the time where it was weird- but not unacceptable- to have imaginary friends. He was seeing spirits around every corner, in his school, and in his own home… regrettably, he lost a lot of good friends, and connections because of his insistence on keeping to himself, and trying to keep himself sane. 

As he grew older, it just got worse. He got himself wrapped up in some… situations that he couldn’t immediately find his way out of, and it led to a gradual decline that almost had him marked for death. He moved out of the country without so much of a word once he was old enough- something quick, impulsive, and completely dumb…

But that was a long time ago.

In the earlier years of his life, there was no guide to help him navigate the world, and nobody to tell him what to do. (And when he did get help, eventually- it was from someone just like him, who similarly knew the pain of being in his position, and who wanted to help him. Without her- his dear friend, Mary Davis- Arthur probably would've ended up in a ditch.)

It was no surprise that Emizel did something drastic without his loved ones knowing about it, especially if they weren’t entirely involved with that part of his life to begin with… and even though it probably wasn't the same situation Arthur had been it, it was still trouble, and still likely that Emizel needed help.

So, even though it wasn't part of his job description, and he'd have to go out of his way to do it… Arthur's heartstrings were tugged, and he found himself considering it. He didn't just get into the business for the money. He did it to help people, as some have helped him.

And Shilo was a person that needed that help badly.

“What if I find him, and he doesn't want to come back?”

Shilo looked pained, like he hadn't even considered that Emizel wouldn't want to come back.

“He’s an adult, he can make his own choices…”

“We just want to know if he's alive. And well.” Soda said. “And if he has trouble getting back, or if he just doesn't want to.”

“And to make sure he has his things. Like his coat.” Shilo added sheepishly. “I don't know why he left them behind…”

Arthur held his hand up, and the room immediately became tense, and silent.

“I will try my best.” He said, to their immediate, simultaneous relief, “But I cannot guarantee anything. Try not to get your hopes up.”

“Of course not!” Shilo agreed, but it was much too late for that now, it seemed, “Now, on the subject of payment…”

-

When Arthur left, he was greeted with the sound of a curious purr.

Usually, he thought it'd be his own cat, Void- the dark, stray spirit that'd stayed attached to him for as long as he could remember. She would come in while he was working, and follow him around… and since he couldn't possibly fathom why she was staying around, or how he could help her move on, she would just appear sometimes, and Arthur would let her spend as much time with him as she'd like.

And, since Arthur enjoyed her company, he was actually looking forward to seeing her after the long day he's had, and after coming to terms with what he'd have to do next… But as Arthur walked around to the other side of his car, he saw another cat laying on the hood.

This cat was a spirit as well, and she seemed to be very well put-together, just like Void was… but she was a completely different cat. Void was a big cat, with long fur and an even longer tail, and with a very noticeable pinched face… whereas this strange cat was small, and gray (he could tell, but only from the undertones). She had short fur, and no tail at all-

And yet, she stared at Arthur with a wide, distressing look that only a cat could ever manage to give him. The same look that Void would give him before she'd shoot up, and stretch, and wait for him to start petting her. Arthur reached his hand out for a moment- letting the strange cat lean forward, curious as any spirit could possibly be, and try to sniff his fingers- but he quickly found out that she had no interest in him.

He drove home, and the cat followed him. 

When he threw Emizel's coat to the passenger's seat, the cat sat on it, and curled up comfortably. In his office, when he meditated, and tried to glean anything else from the coat, she alternated between staying near the coat, and just watching him from a distance. When he got home later that same day, and when he put the coat on the table for convenience, he walked back out to see the cat stretching, and already making her way towards it.

Clearly, she couldn't care less about him. And even though he didn't see him wandering around Emizel's apartment, she hadn't left his side, and trailed after his coat in every opportunity he got.

As he was cooking dinner, he called Shilo.

“Did your brother have a cat, by chance?”

“Arthur?” He asked, in lieu of an immediate answer. “Um… he didn't have one recently. Why? What did you find?”

“...I found a cat.”

And then, after describing what she looked like, it only took a moment for him to realize.

“Ohh! No, I remember now! He told me about this… He called her Pepper, and she is very nice- I think… I only met her a couple times when she was still alive, but that’s when we were kids… and I obviously couldn't see her after death, but she appears to him sometimes. Apparently.”

“If Pepper's here, then he might be nearby. I'll take a look tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Keep me updated if you find anything else, please.”

-

The next morning, Arthur woke up bright and early, and to a cat staring at him from his end table.

Now, it seemed, Pepper had changed her tactics. Instead of showing her obvious interest in Emizel and the jacket, she suddenly started following Arthur around. She would dart in front of his legs wherever he walked, and stare at him whenever she found a spot to stay in… and if he looked back at her for a little too long, she’d let out a low, raspy meow. 

Follow me- she seemed to be saying to him- follow me!

It was also then, he realized, that she must’ve passed away from old age. He could see it in the way that she sounded and moved. (If, on top of that, she could somehow help him find his client’s brother, it’d be a miracle. The fact that she already managed to retain so much from her old life was a shock in and of itself.)

Arthur went through the process of getting ready- showering, changing, and eating breakfast- all while Pepper would incessantly circle around his feet, and let him know that she wanted him to follow her.

“Alright.” When he felt like he was ready to leave, he held up Emizel’s jacket, and Pepper immediately perked up, “Tell me where I can find him.”

-

The first hour or so was a bust.

They walked all around town. And, even though they weren’t walking in a circle, it still felt like they weren’t going anywhere specific. They walked in and out of shops. There were complications, sometimes, as Pepper would cross roads with no problem or care in the world, while Arthur was left struggling to catch up to her.

And in the end, as a breather, they stopped in a park, and Arthur sat down on a bench. Emizel’s jacket was in his lap, and Pepper was sitting at his side, staring at him and waiting for him to continue their little journey…

Then, curiously, instead of staring at him and meowing her head off for the entirety of their break, Pepper seemed to settle down a little as well. She blinked slowly, and stared out at the park. In that moment, as she was seemingly distracted, Arthur slowly raised his hand to see if she would let him pet her-

When he touched Pepper, his mind delved.

The background blurred, and bled into something similar. Immediately, he was staring at the same park they were currently in- but instead of being gloomy and overcast, it was sunny, and bright. The trees and the grass were all in vivid shades of green, and for some reason, the vision was clear enough for Arthur to hear the sounds of cicadas and birds chirping.

When he looked down at himself, he was shorter, and he was wearing Emizel’s jacket- and it took a second for him to realize that the vision was so strong because Emizel sat here, once, and he was seeing that time. He was sitting down, petting Pepper (who was, notably, much more excited to see him, than she was to see Arthur.)

Arthur sensed discomfort, melting to something a lot mushier when Pepper headbutted Emizel’s waiting hand. Scarred and callous, just as Arthur noticed earlier, but it wasn’t telling him anything.

He took a deep breath, relaxed, and let the visage tell him what it wanted to tell him. 

“This is boring.” A low, gravelly voice suddenly said. It took Arthur a moment to realize that the voice was coming from the Emizel, who was looking around to see if somebody was near, instead of looking around for the source. He took precaution, before he spoke again. “Is this where you’ve been hiding out this whole time?”

“Mrrp.” Pepper said happily.

“Chasing around any ghost mice…? Or birds?” He prompted weakly, before he sighed. Frustration immediately settled in. “You gotta follow me home, alright? I can’t keep looking for you, out here.”

The vision started to fade.

As Arthur tried to hold on, he saw something more useful. Suddenly, he wasn’t Emizel anymore- but instead, he seemed to be looking in through another perspective. Pepper’s, if he had to guess… because he saw what must’ve been Emizel’s face. 

Emizel didn’t like having his picture taken. Shilo warned him when he took on the job.

The clearest pictures he had were either those taken while he was off guard and trying to hide from the camera, or the ones they had to take in school, when he was younger and looked different. Shilo rambled about how it was so difficult to find a picture of him, and how the ones sitting on missing posters were completely outdated, and probably hindering the investigation, instead of helping… but it was all he had.

Arthur did get an accurate description. Emizel and Shilo weren’t just brothers, but they were twins, so they were going to have a similar face… but because of their differences in style, it wasn’t going to do much for him.

Since highschool, Emizel’s gotten piercings- one botched, Shilo pressed, making it so one earlobe was cut, and couldn’t hold that piercing anymore- while the rest of them were seemingly done professionally. And, because Shilo didn’t know the name of the piercings, he instead told him where they were- one was one his eyebrow, matching Soda’s eyebrow piercing. One was in his nose, as a septum piercing, and the last one showed as two bulbs below his bottom lip.

In the vision, he saw the piercings clear as day, and then some. He saw a crooked nose, like it’d been broken and healed at an odd angle. He saw blond hair, very close to Shilo’s in length, but a little lighter in color, and with an undercut that hadn’t been cut for a while…

But, besides that, they did look somewhat similar. They were brothers, without a shadow of a doubt, and they had the same piercing, judgmental stare… and while Shilo’s was understandable, seeing that he was stressed out of his mind, Arthur guessed that Emizel’s face was just like that. Pulled into a constant frown, and furrow of his brow.

When everything went back to normal, Arthur’s nose was bleeding, and a headache was starting to form… but he wasn’t going to complain. He got a clear look at Emizel’s face- thanks to Pepper, and the bench, and the jacket- and it was a key piece of information that he could use.

-

“Oh, thank goodness.” Shilo sighed, when Arthur said that a vision brought him an accurate look of his brother’s face. “If only there was some way to get that from your head, and onto a poster… That would be incredible.”

-

That night, Arthur had a dream.

Arthur was used to having strange dreams, since he was having them more often than he wasn’t, but instead of the dreams he was expecting- something about Mary Davis, maybe, considering how soon the call was, or maybe his usual claustrophobic nightmares that left him waking up in a cold sweat…

Instead, in his dream, he was walking along an empty highway, in the middle of nowhere. He was cold, and his hands were rubbing his own arms frantically, but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t seem to get warm.

Because of how vivid it was, and because he figured out that it was a dream and it didn’t immediately wake up, Arthur figured that it wasn’t just a normal dream. And yet, he kept walking, and kept trying to pay attention to his surroundings.

There wasn’t a single car on the road, which was unexpected in the city, so he couldn’t tell if that was because of the dream, or if it was intentional. There were trees alongside the road, tall and imposing, but within minutes, the novelty of it all was lost. 

He wasn’t getting any emotions from it at all. It was just happening. 

And then, after walking around for some time, Arthur came across a sign on the side of the road, illuminated by a few lights right beneath it.

WELCOME TO WASHINGTON
EVERGREEN STATE

-

When Arthur woke up, Pepper was laying on his chest, and staring at him, almost expectantly.

He took it as a sign.

He didn't go back to sleep, instead, seeing that it was just in the early hours of the morning, and probably an acceptable time to call somebody, he immediately went to call Shilo and tell him that he had a feeling he knew (or, at least, Pepper knew) that Emizel was out of state.

“Washington?” Shilo asked, when Arthur prompted it, “Um… no. I don't think Emizel's even left the state before.”

“No friends there?” Arthur tried to confirm. “No family?” 

“I’m- um- the only family he has left. In the immediate family… we have an uncle, but he doesn't live anywhere close by…” Shilo explained awkwardly. “It is really strange… if he was going on a trip, or something, he probably would’ve taken his phone with him, right? Even if he wasn’t going to tell anybody?”

As far as they knew- and, as far as Shilo told him- Emizel’s wallet was missing, and likely still on his person. But aside from that, and his shoes, everything else had been left behind. He left, and if he was in Washington- or headed to it, at the very least- then he either walked there, or he was probably taking a bus. Or hitchhiking.

“Does he have a credit card? Or something else you can track?”

“Just cash… He doesn’t trust banks, so he’d keep his money safe somewhere else.”

“Do you know where?”

“He wouldn’t tell me, but I can go ask Soda…” Shilo sounded like he was getting out of bed, groggily throwing the blankets off, and muttering, “Crap, Emizel… Washington?” It sounded like he was mostly talking to himself, “ I can ask about that too. Thank you, Arthur. Um… Are you following up the lead..?”

Arthur just sighed.

“Probably.” The drive wouldn’t be too far, would it?

Arthur rubbed his forehead. No… he knew that it was going to be a long drive. A couple days at least, with how often he’d have to stop… And all for what? A possible lead?

“I will compensate you for the traveling expenses. Anything. But…” Shilo let out a short, frustrated breath. “Arthur, I’m putting a lot of trust in you, and- I’m glad you’re actually making progress. But…”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed, “But what?”

He spoke quietly, and after a pause that was just concerningly long.

“Can you do me a favor, and keep this… quiet? The Washington lead.” He heard Shilo briefly scratching the back of his neck, “I- I don’t know how much you know about me, but there are a lot of people that know about Emizel’s disappearance, and… there are a lot of people that would pay good money to know what happened to him.”

“What kinds of people?”

“...people that like to cause trouble.” He said, vaguely, “They make articles. It’s nothing too bad, but if they find a way to paint him in a bad light, then it’s on me, since he is my brother…”

“And you’re sure it’s not a stalker situation?” Arthur asked, harsher than he meant to. He was starting to sound more like a celebrity, instead of… whatever he worked as. (Something that paid good money, he thought, since he seemed to throw it at this like it was nothing.)

“He would’ve told Soda! Or he would've complained about it to me… after telling Soda.” He huffed, “He tells him everything… And, anyways, it wouldn’t have been that big of a problem until he went missing. Now it’ll reach headlines… I just- I want to settle this quietly. So if anyone asks, you haven’t even heard of him. Okay?”

“I have client confidentiality.”

“...for the right price?” Shilo tried, weakly.

“For my reputation.” He corrected him, “And now yours.”

A sigh of relief.

“I should’ve said something about it earlier. But… if you’re going to look for him, you should know that. And if you find him, and if he says anything harsh, then he is just saying that to say it. He’s all bark, and- well. There’s some bite. But he won’t bite you!” He paused, for a second, as if to consider it. “You don’t even have to be the one to take him back! I’ll just, um, pick him up, if he wants… or get him a ticket home…” Then, when he realized that Arthur was still on the other end, silently waiting for him to keep talking, he quietly said, “Sorry.”

“We can settle it if I find him.”

“If.” Shilo repeated, with a nervous laugh. “With how much progress you’re making, it’s going to be ‘when’ you find him. Haha.”

-

Shilo had given him some money upfront, and promised to give him even more for travel expenses. 

So, with no new customers and no jobs needing to be canceled, Arthur filled up the gas tank of his car, and he left town. Emizel’s jacket, with Pepper’s spirit sitting right on top of it, was sitting by his side the entire drive up the coast.

In total, just as he thought- with how many stops he needed to make along the way, and how many breaks he wanted to take from driving, it took a couple days to get there. Arthur stopped at restaurants, and rest stops, and every time they weren't driving on the road, Pepper was wandering around, and wondering why he wasn't making any progress.

At some point, they passed the sign welcoming them into Washington. And even though the surroundings weren't completely the same, it was still the exact same sign, so he slowed down, and pulled over.

He tried to get something from the surroundings, but Arthur didn’t find anything after half an hour of searching. When he looked over at his car, Arthur expected to find Pepper wandering around, and helping him-

But Pepper hadn't moved from her spot. And while she was awake and still very alert, she was still sitting patiently on Emizel's jacket. Her tail flicked, and she looked back at him, as if she was annoyed over Arthur stopping so soon.

So, after finding nothing, Arthur took one look over at the sign again before he left. 

The plan was to drive around, and to see if Pepper would react to anything nearby- and if that didn't work out, then he could always retrace his steps, and try again. The sign would still be there when he came back.

-

Arthur only drove around the state for 30 minutes before something happened.

Just as he thought to stop and take a break, Pepper suddenly perked up with interest. Then, she sat up without any sort of casual stretch- as if she'd been startled- before she started to meow incessantly. She stood up- paws planted on the door, while she leaned against the window- just to try and get a good look at something that was outside.

Arthur’s immediate thought was that she spotted something she was interested in. Acting just like Void would, whenever she would see a bird or a bug flying by, and would want to chase it around, despite being unable to interact with it… But then again, Pepper never usually got so distracted like this. (Unless it had to do with Emizel. More specifically, she fell into those mannerisms whenever Arthur had stopped actively looking for him.)

So Arthur slowed down. And even though he was exhausted, and was prepared to get some rest for the evening, he kept an eye out for any more changes, or any obvious hints that Pepper was trying to give him. Every time she turned her head, Arthur would switch lanes, and try to follow her face around like it was the needle of a compass. He kept his vision split between the road and the cat, in reconfiguring directions.

At one point, Pepper lurched over.

Arthur immediately flicked his turn signal on, and only put his eyes on the road again as he intended to turn- but right at that moment, he realized that he probably should’ve been paying more attention. Or alternatively, he mused, maybe some people should’ve been more inclined to use the crosswalks at the ends of the roads, instead of walking across one whenever they felt like it.

Someone was jaywalking, and cutting through the road right in front of him. 

And, since his attention had briefly been on Pepper, he was driving along the road with no intention of stopping, and just barely managed to hit the brakes before his car hit this person.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t caused an accident. Arthur wasn’t one to rage on the road, but he was more than ready to sit up, and send a scathing glare towards whoever couldn’t make it five more feet down the road, and to the crosswalk-

But then, Arthur had to do a double-take.

Because the stranger that he was just seconds away from hitting with his car- the same one that was still standing there in front of him, staring at him with a bewildered expression on his face- was Emizel.

He looked exactly as he did in the vision he got from Pepper. The piercings, the clipped ear, the shaggy hair- only this time, Arthur noticed, there were a few more cuts and scrapes on his face, and arms. 

His eyes were sunken, and blank, and he had noticeable dark circles under them. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and as Arthur’s car stopped right in front of him, it almost looked like it hadn’t registered that he could’ve been hit. They also looked lighter- a little cloudy- but Arthur couldn’t see much, even with his headlights shining on him-

But aside from that, Arthur could tell that something was very wrong about him. He couldn’t tell what it was, specifically, but he knew that it was something supernatural. It was like a thick cloud that plagued him, and congested his face- and Arthur knew that it wasn’t something that could be seen from anyone’s eyes aside from his own.

The shock wore off quite quickly. Pepper started crying, as if she was trying to get Emizel to notice her, and the car behind Arthur was starting to get impatient- laying their hand on the horn, and not letting up until he’d start moving again.

Emizel’s face pulled into an awful glare before he walked towards him, and slammed his fist down onto the hood of Arthur’s car. He shouted something at him, probably angry over almost getting hit, but by the time Arthur rolled down the window to try and catch a few words, he was already walking away.

As soon as Emizel was on the sidewalk, Pepper jumped over Arthur’s lap, went right through the door, and started tailing him.

Arthur pulled over as soon as he could, watching the cars behind him suddenly speeding past, and he grabbed Emizel’s coat before he started following after Pepper.

Pepper led him into an alley. There Emizel was, walking away with his shoulders slumped, and his hands shoved away into his pockets. When he heard Arthur approaching him from behind, he whipped his head around, and glared at him. Suddenly, he was tense. His hands were out of his pockets, and he was backing away like he was preparing to fight.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snapped.

Arthur sighed. Shilo warned him that Emizel liked to bark- and if him puffing his chest out was anything to take into consideration, then he could guess that he was prepared to escalate, further and further, until this whole thing became entirely unmanageable… and all Arthur had to do was ask a few questions, and then hopefully leave.

“Are you Emizel?”

Emizel's demeanor changed in an instant. He was caught off guard- and then (as if he was finally, feeling comfortable enough to stop staring at Arthur's head like he wanted to throw a brick at it) Emizel looked down at the coat he was holding, and seemed to recognize it.

“Who's asking?” Though, notably, his tone had changed as well.

Arthur tossed him the jacket, and Emizel caught it, but he didn't put it on just yet. Instead, he shifted it around, and looked across it, as if he were trying to confirm that it was his. An odd stitch on the hem, and a weird patch on the sleeve seemed to give him solace. Emizel's thumb swiped across it thoughtfully, and though it wasn't by much, Emizel seemed to be just calm enough to talk to.

“I'm working for your brother. He's looking for you.” He said, coolly, and Emizel's head shot back up to look at him. “What should I tell him?”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Do I tell him that you're staying here, or should I say that you're on your way home?” He said, slowly, as if the problem was with what was being said instead of how it was being said.

Emizel's eyes twitched, and without him having to say a single word, Arthur could guess that he didn't appreciate it.

But he didn't snap back just yet. He huffed, and just as Arthur thought he was going to get an earful, he noticed Emizel's eyes suddenly turn to the ground. When Arthur followed his gaze downward, he noticed that Pepper hadn't tried approaching Emizel at all, and was instead sticking by Arthur’s side. Despite everything- the trip, the insistence- she stayed put.

Emizel stared at Pepper for a moment, watching her wind around Arthur's legs, and looking back up at Emizel curiously… But making no move to meet him again. Arthur knew a cat's body language pretty well. He could tell that she was nervous about something, and that if Emizel tried approaching her, she was either going to tentatively meet him, or she was going to run away from it immediately. 

He couldn't tell what Pepper was waiting for, but if it had anything to do with the smothering aura that surrounded Emizel- something he couldn't quite parse, but something that couldn’t be left unchecked without serious repercussions- then Arthur couldn’t blame her for her blatant hesitance.

Emizel didn't approach her. Instead- after looking back up at Arthur, and seeing that he was looking at Pepper as well- Emizel crouched down, laying his hand out as an offer, and that seemed to be the exact cue that she was looking for. Pepper rushed over to him immediately, butting her head up into Emizel’s awaiting hand, and purring so loudly that Arthur could hear it from where he was standing.

Spirits, for the most part, had trouble interacting with the real world the same way something alive could. They could do so- however weakly, unless they were something really troubling- but with the way Emizel's hand was being pushed around by this cat, it almost seemed like Pepper was a force to be reckoned with.

And Emizel, being expressive as ever, relaxed. He didn't smile- Arthur didn't know if such a thing could form on his face- but he looked significantly calmer as he looked back up at Arthur. Aside from the slight, permanent furrow in his brow, he seemed fine.

“What are you still doing here?” His voice was still a little gravely.

“You still haven't answered my question.”

“You got the wrong guy. I don't have a brother.”

Arthur sighed.

“I don't care about any sort of grudges you might be holding, and I'm not here to take you back if you don't want to come back.” Emizel's hand twitched, and Arthur took note of it. “I just want confirmation.”

Emizel looked him over. Then he looked back down at Pepper, who was still trying to keep his attention on her.

“You got any money on you?”

-

Emizel didn't rob him in that alley.

He certainly seemed like the type to- but instead, Arthur and Pepper were led into a diner just down the street.

They slinked away in a booth near a window, giving them a full view of the same street that Arthur was driving down just moments ago. Arthur didn't order anything since he wasn't hungry, but Emizel took it upon himself to order a full meal- a burger, with fries, and a milkshake.

He also noticed the look that the waitress gave Emizel- not even trying to hide a look of disappointment- and the look that he gave her in turn, smiling very widely when he handed the menus back over.

“Do you know her?” Arthur asked, after she left.

Smugly, he sat up a little straighter. He was still leaning into the seat, like getting any closer would burn him.

“I used to work here. Got free food if I washed dishes, for a bit.” He admitted, gesturing to the waitress with his head, “But then she said that I wasn't allowed to come back in here if I wasn't paying for anything.”

“And now I'm here.”

“I'm a paying customer.” Emizel confirmed, lounging like he was prepared for a feast fit for a king, and not waiting for greasy diner food. Then, his position got a little more rigid. “I'm… not really- I don't have any cash right now, though. So.”

“That's fine.” He wasn't going to ask him to pay him back. Something told him that he wasn't going to do it, regardless of how much money he had. “I just have a few questions.”

“If you're paying, I'll answer.”

“Honestly?” Arthur asked, and Emizel's mouth curled into a smile- all teeth, sharp and daring, and nothing pleasant or genuine about it at all.

The food came quickly, slammed down onto the table with an obvious air of attitude, while the milkshake was set down just a little more pleasantly. With his shit-eating grin dropping the minute the waitress left, Emizel started dipping his fries into the milkshake, and eating it.

“Go on.” He prompted, when Arthur remained quiet. “Ask away.”

“I'm here because your brother asked me to look for you.”

“I don't have a brother.” He reiterated, mouth full of fries. “I don't have any immediate family, and I haven't had any for a very long time.”

“How long, would you say?” Arthur entertained him.

“As long as I can remember.” And then, as he continued, Arthur almost regretted giving him a chance. His eyes darted to the window for a second like he was thinking, before he so confidently stated, “I had to make ends meet… So I worked as a mechanic when I was a kid.”

Emizel said it with a straight face, and even though Arthur usually had a good read on people, the same tone being used on a more believable set of words would've made him think that he was telling the truth.

“...” Arthur gave him the most scathing glare he could manage, but Emizel kept eating. And so, he tried once again to get his intentions across. “I want to know whether or not you're coming back home. What should I tell Shilo?”

For the strangest reason, nothing crossed Emizel's eye at the mention of his brother's name. No look of recognition, or shock- nothing obvious, or subtle- he looked just about the same as he did when Arthur said his goal for the first time. 

Unscathed, uncaring.

“Tell him whatever you want.” He insisted, “Is that your boss, or something?”

“He’s my client. Your brother.”

“I don't know how many times I have to say I don't have one…”

“I'm not in the mood for this.” Arthur said, gravely, but Emizel still didn't care, “It's none of my business… whatever grudges you're holding against him. Or why you left. You can keep all of that to yourself. I just need to let him know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere, and if you're coming back.”

Emizel seemed to consider it.

He wiped off the grease on his pants, and then sat up a little straighter. There was a perpetual slouch in his posture- like he could never fully sit up straight, no matter how hard he tried to straighten his spine- but he still tried, nonetheless.

“This Shilo guy is my brother. Supposedly.” He said, “You got any proof of that?”

Arthur pulled out his phone.

Admittedly, despite having a smartphone for the better part of a couple years now, the only thing Arthur really used it for was a GPS, and to make phone calls. His fingers were awkward as he typed in Shilo's name into the search bar. And then, while trying to find a good image of him, Arthur instead stumbled upon a whole mess of articles…

BATHROY BROTHER STILL MISSING.

It was something to delve into later. He considered showing Emizel the article, but he didn't trust him to hold his phone and not run off with it. So, instead, he searched around until he finally found a good picture of Shilo. Smiling, wearing his signature colors, and not looking as tired as he had when Arthur first met him.

“You're completely identical.” He turned the phone around to show him, and even though he was set on acting aloof about the whole thing, Arthur didn't miss the way Emizel's eyes looked over the image very carefully. “Unless you have a cousin that looks similar to you…”

Emizel shook his head, “No cousins.”

“He's related in some way. I know that for sure.” Arthur put his phone away, and then sat up straighter as well, though his posture was perfect, in comparison to Emizel's. “And Soda? Do I tell him the same?”

Emizel's eyebrows furrowed, “Soda?”

“Soda. Theo?” 

Emizel's expression changed, again. Some sparked recognition. “That sounds familiar.”

“He's your friend, and your roommate.” Then, Emizel went back to looking uncertain, and Arthur pressed, “I know that you two know each other.”

“You do?”

“For certain.” Then, the same fingers that’d been idly tapping the table suddenly tapped the side of Arthur’s head instead. “I saw it…”

“Right. You're a psychic, aren't you?”

“Just as much as you are. Apparently.”

Emizel nodded, though it didn't look like he was entirely paying attention. Or, he just seemed unconvinced, which was frustrating. Arthur knew of his own abilities, and he knew that they were a lot of things- frustrating, and tiring- but he knew for sure that they were never wrong.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you, actually. I don't have a brother. Or a friend named… Soda.” He said the second part a bit more hesitantly, like he was still trying to make sure, but in the end, he settled with it. “But…” He shifted uncomfortably, and looked out at the rest of the diner. As he spoke, he sounded like he was increasingly worried of someone overhearing them. “I’ll be honest. I don't remember much of anything at all. I don't know where I am, for starters-”

“You’re in Washington.” Arthur murmured, “Do you often have problems with your memory?”

Arthur made a mental note to ask Shilo about it later, since there was a chance that he was going to have to call him later anyway, and tell him that his brother wasn’t coming home.

Emizel continued, like Arthur hadn't said anything. 

“But I don't want to leave. And I don't know why.” His hand gripped the sleeve of his coat, “And… this jacket feels really familiar, and I can remember having it, but I don't know where I got it from. And I can't, just-” He cut himself off with a frustrated huff, “It can't just tell me.”

“It can. If you're proficient enough.”

Emizel blinked. “Really?”

“How do you think I found you?”

“I'm connected to this?” At Arthur's nod, he readjusted his position in the seat, making it look like he wasn't so relaxed anymore. Suddenly, it was serious. “What do you know?”

“Enough to know that you're the one they want to find, whether he's actually your brother or not.” Arthur frowned. “Or, whether or not you believe he's your brother, in this case.”

They definitely knew each other.

His eyes narrowed, “What else? Where am I from?”

“Los Angeles.”

“California?” Arthur nodded. Thankfully, he knew that much. “Okay- what else?”

Despite regretting it earlier, Arthur entertained it yet again. 

He told Emizel as much as he got from the jacket, while also saying that he knew he had a connection to his client, and to Soda, and that it was much deeper than just faintly knowing them. He didn't delve too deeply into the specifics, but he knew Emizel well. And he knew that he and Soda were practically attached at the hip, before he disappeared.

As he added the last part, Emizel flinched.

“Doesn’t sound like me.” He muttered. Stubborn, and horribly so. “I want to test something, real quick.”

Without Arthur confirming, Emizel reached into the pocket of his coat- almost as a subconscious habit- before he corrected his hand, and stuck it into the pocket of his jeans instead. Then, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, and slammed it down onto the table. 

He looked up at Arthur expectantly- and when Arthur didn't move, he pushed it towards him.

Arthur’s frown deepened. “...I don't smoke.”

“Neither do I.” Emizel leaned over, elbows on the table, “What can you tell me about it?”

“Are you serious?” 

“You're the one that can tell me that kind of thing, right? It's just a test.” Then, at Emizel’s encouraging nod, Arthur rolled his eyes, and took the packet.

Through his usual routine, the background fell, and suddenly, his focus was entirely on the cigarette packet- until he could see the hand of the person who stocked it on the shelves, and then later, the person who bought it.

Which was Emizel.

Arthur detected his shaky hands, and crumpled up dollar bills being handed over to the cashier, along with meticulously counted coins. He also detected some nervousness- the same paranoia that came from someone that was constantly being watched, and hating it- but for some reason, though he saw it and felt it in memories… 

It didn't come across in Emizel's current demeanor at all.

As he tossed them back, and as Emizel caught him, a dull headache started to form. It didn't wear him out too much- the cigarettes were bought recently, after all- but it was enough to make him rub his temples for some relief.

“You bought them yesterday. Exact change.” He muttered, looking down to see that Emizel’s hands were tapping the cigarette pack, but they weren’t shaking, “You still have some bills in your other pocket, though I'm not sure how much…”

One of Emizel's hands immediately went to his pocket, patting them down to confirm. Then, his face twisted into confusion.

“I didn't buy this.” Emizel said, stubbornly, but right before Arthur could interject, he said, “I didn't- but I have no clue where they came from. That's my point.”

“If it's just some memory problems, then I'm sure your brother can sort all of that out for you…”

“I don't need any help from him.” He assured him, stubbornly, “But there is something wrong with my memory. Obviously. And you’re like me, even though your powers are a lot cooler than mine…”

“My abilities are this advanced because I honed in on my skills, and practiced using them this way. If you practice as well, you might get somewhere.”

Emizel glared at him, “I don’t know much about it, but I know that honing in on it is a bad idea.”

“It's only troublesome if you pretend that it doesn’t exist.”

Pepper’s head popped up from the seat next to Emizel. But no matter how much she pressed her head against him, and purred, Emizel didn’t flinch, or move. He didn’t break the glare he was sending Arthur, like he was trying to prove a point. If he did pet that cat, and anyone else in the diner looked over, they would’ve seen his hand hovering in mid-air.

“You're like me.” Emizel said, stiffly. “And I want to know if it has anything to do with… That.”

“It could, if you're being haunted. But there's no guarantee.”

Arthur squinted, and assessed him yet again.

The dark, smothering aura was still there- surrounding him like an angry rain cloud, or a thick fog- but Arthur couldn't parse anything just from looking at it, and he knew that there was no way he could just… Reach out, and swat it away, despite feeling very tempted to.

It didn't look like a usual haunting. Arthur couldn't find any shape in the spirit, like he could with the others he's found. There was nothing to communicate with, and no matter how often he tried staring at it, there were no eyes that stared back at him. If Arthur didn't know any better, he would've thought that it was just Emizel exuding this horrible energy, somehow, without even realizing it…

It was likely. Emizel wasn't squinting, or trying to look through it like Arthur was. He probably didn't even know that it was there.

“How do I get rid of it?”

“If it was a spirit haunting you, then you could help it pass on. But you'd need to find a way to communicate with it.”

“How do I do that?”

“You just… talk to it.” He scratched the side of his mouth, and then rubbed his jaw, “Or, if you can't talk to it, you'll need to find another medium to do it for you.”

Emizel's expression became flat. “Like you?”

“Sure.”

Emizel glared at the table.

Then, he glared at Arthur.

“If you can promise that you'll find out what's wrong with me, and fix it, I'll come with you. To see my brother.” 

“And if I can't fix you?” Arthur raised a brow, and Emizel's eyes narrowed.

“It beats staying around here.” He admitted, with a strange, calm tone. Resigned to his fate. “Either I go with you, and probably fix this, or I stay here.”

It didn’t sound so bad.

“...I probably have something in my office that can help. I can look, at the very least.”

“In Los Angeles?” At Arthur's nod, he pressed, “How are we getting there, Brood?”

-

When the two of them made it back to Arthur’s car, there was a bright yellow parking ticket tucked under his windshield wiper.

Emizel cackled at the sight of it. “Nice one, man.”

He then tried throwing open the passenger's side door. And when that didn't immediately work, and without waiting for Arthur to unlock it, he started jiggling the handle incessantly. 

For a moment, as he was pocketing the ticket and pulling out his keys, Arthur wondered if bringing him along was such a good idea. Emizel would've been fine with a bus ticket, or Arthur could've just called Shilo to confirm…

But then he remembered the amount he was getting paid, and the fact that it'd be so much faster to just drive him. And, on top of that, he knew that he'd be kicking himself later if Emizel disappeared again, or if he just left him in the middle of nowhere.

So Arthur unlocked the door, took in a deep breath as Emizel hopped into the passenger seat, and finally climbed in himself.

Emizel immediately got too comfortable, and started fiddling with the radio. Every time he changed it to a station- only settling for loud music, being played at loud volumes- Arthur would just as quickly switch it off. Then, with a stubborn look on his face, Emizel would switch it on, and stare at Arthur- as if he was waiting for him, to see if he would turn it off again. Then, Arthur would.

This back and forth lasted longer than Arthur liked to admit. And, in the end- after Emizel switched it on, and waited for Arthur to switch it off- Pepper came out from the backseat, and started poking her head around the front- like it was her first time seeing it, instead of her 20th.

“Hey, Pepper…” Emizel muttered, leaning his head down to get a good look at the cat. She happily crawled into his lap, sat down, and bumped her head up against Emizel's hand.

With Emizel being preoccupied and his hands being away from the radio, Arthur took the opportunity to turn the volume down at the very least. And then, it seemed, a compromise was met- and Arthur could deal with it for another couple of hours, so long as Emizel didn't try to crank up the volume again.

For the most part, the ride was quiet, aside from the songs playing on the radio. Emizel was distracted with Pepper and the surrounding environments flying by outside the window- and Arthur was in the driver's seat, trying to brainstorm over what he should do next.

Admittedly, he felt a little out of his element. He knew the plan he laid out- bring Emizel to his office, pour over his resources to try and figure out what was wrong with him, eventually deal with what was wrong with him, and then bring him home.

But in all of his years working with clients, he's never seen something quite like what Emizel had.

Arthur was tempted to roll down the window, uncomfortable over the energy swirling around Emizel's head, and the prospect of it staying in this enclosed space, and getting any closer to him. It didn't touch him, or try to communicate with him- it just sat there- but just its existence was uncomfortable. 

And if he wanted to do something about it, then he was going to need to establish a connection. Somehow. And then he was going to have to convince it to leave, or force it to leave. He could always save the worst of it for when they actually got there, and he had to confront it.

When Arthur stopped at a red light, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of another cat walking around his seat to get his attention. When he looked down, he saw Void- walking over to the cupholders, with her eyes on Arthur instead of keeping an eye on where she was walking- and he saw both Emizel and Pepper eyeing her with equally wary looks on their faces.

“She yours?”

“I have no idea where she came from.” He said. And despite looking and sounding pretty despondent, Void still pressed up against his elbow, and Arthur still reached his hand out to pet her. “She just follows me around.”

“She likes you.”

“Sure.”

“Hm.” He looked back down at his lap, and seemed plenty occupied for the next couple of seconds. “This- its the only thing this kinda power’s good for, huh?”

He couldn't tell what kind of face Emizel was making, but at his tone, Arthur's frown deepened.

“...It's all very cruel, and unforgiving, but if you're careful, you could live a very normal life.”

Emizel leaned his head against the window. When Arthur finally looked over at him, Emizel was still glaring at him, even if his face was angled weirdly.

“Like you?” He asked, and it was snarky.

“My life is far from normal.”

“It's not every day that you're picking up strangers off the side of the road, and taking them back home?” Emizel’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t remember your name.”

“I never told you. You can call me Arthur. Sir is fine.”

“I’m not calling you that.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“And for your information… I work with spirits in my daily life.”

“You exorcize them?”

The light turned green. Arthur quietly readjusted himself- both hands on the wheel, and staring straight ahead, to avoid any problems.

“I help them move on, if they're stuck here.” He corrected him, “Or I summon them, if I can. Whatever the client wants.”

“Huh.”

“...”

Even without looking at him, he could tell that Emizel was stressed about something. Or, at the very least, thinking about something a little too hard, and keeping it to himself. Arthur didn't care to push, and instead let them sit in his (much preferred) silence until, finally, he cracked.

Emizel sat up straight, and leaned forward like he was trying to meet Arthur’s eyes.

“This- all of this isn't some Sixth Sense shit, right?” He leaned forward even further, to the point where his head was practically laying on the dashboard, and it was then that Arthur realized he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. “You’re not trying to help me move on as a ghost, or something? I’m alive, right?”

“You're alive.”

He still reeked of death, however, and it was something that Arthur couldn't brush off. He wondered if it came across in his tone as well.

He was alive, and breathing, and Arthur could tell from proximity that he wasn't a spirit that was just a little bit too powerful for his own good… but something was off about him, and Arthur hoped that he could just figure out what it was before he'd have to tell Shilo that he found him.

But Emizel blew out a big sigh of relief anyways.

“These past few days have been so fucking crazy, man.” Then he drew his legs up on the seat again, like keeping still was something that was physically impossible for him.

“I understand.” Some spirits didn’t even know they were dead, sometimes.

“I'm not even sure how I ended up here…” Emizel muttered under his breath, but in the silence of the car, it was heard very clearly. “In Washington.”

“Try retracing your steps.”

Emizel huffed, and leaned his head against the window.

“I don't know. My mind's… blank.”

Emizel eventually fell asleep like that, head pressed against the window, and being so silent that Arthur was tempted to check and see if he was still alive. At one point, he turned the music all the way down- and enjoyed as much quiet as he could get.

-

They drove for another few hours- until it was well past the middle of the night, and Arthur found himself getting tired.

He'd get nowhere driving all the way back to LA- except, maybe, tired, and even more irritable. So instead, Arthur drove until he found a vacant motel that was (for the most part) in a more secluded and quiet area. He hesitated, then he stepped out, and slammed the door shut.

Slamming the door seemed to wake up Emizel immediately- Arthur saw him sitting up quickly in the passenger seat, before slowly going to rub his face, and keeping an eye out for where Arthur was- circling around, until he eventually opened the door for him.

“We're stopping here for the night, and leaving early in the morning.”

Emizel blinked. And, like he needed another second to wake up, he got out, and trailed behind Arthur.

When he did say something, it was just a quiet, “As long as you're paying for it…”

Arthur walked over to the front office. He stepped in, and held the door open to let Emizel follow him in even further- but right as he turned around to do so, he saw Emizel shrug, and turn around to walk back into the parking lot. He got distracted by Pepper, it seemed, who was exploring this new area.

Arthur let the door close.

He got two rooms- unfortunately, the ones catering to his specific requirements (cheap) were a little ways away from each other, but since he got the numbers for both, he figured that it'd be easy to find him again in the morning.

When he went back outside, Emizel was gone.

Arthur looked around for a minute, and thankfully, he spotted Emizel- turning the corner, and rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. Walking towards him slowly, since he saw Arthur leaving before Arthur saw him approaching.

“Thought I ran off?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

The cocky look on his face melted into a half-hearted glare. “Where would I go?”

He had a point. Arthur didn't voice it. 

Instead, he gave Emizel the keycard to one of the rooms, and said, “It should say which room you're in. I'll get you in the morning.”

Emizel didn't seem very interested in the card. And when he looked up from it, he didn't look at Arthur- instead, staring at something behind him. When Arthur turned back around, he saw a few signs- one telling them to keep quiet, another announcing a curfew…

“They have a pool here.” Emizel muttered, eyes narrowed in on the sign that clearly stated that it was closed, and would be for their entire visit.

“We're going to be leaving early tomorrow.” Arthur reminded him.

“Alright.” 

Emizel didn't really look like he was paying attention, but they still separated, and Arthur just hoped that he was tired enough to go straight to bed.

-

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Just a couple hours later- when Arthur finally got to sleep- there was an angry knock on his door. And when he opened his eyes, he saw that both Pepper and Void were watching it- Void on the bed, beside Arthur, whilst Pepper was right in front of it, like she was purposefully trying to confirm Arthur’s suspicions.

So he got out of bed. And when he answered the door, there were two people standing outside. One was a security guard of sorts, dressed in a uniform with the words printed on his chest, and glaring at Arthur with a tired look… and the other was Emizel.

Emizel’s hair was wet, and sticking to his face- but, otherwise, he looked fine. Proud of himself, even as security had him by the arm with a bruising grip.

“This yours?”

Arthur let out a long, diminishing sigh.

Then, with his teeth grit, he said, “Yes.”

Emizel's arms raised, and the security let him walk into the hotel room. The look never switched from Emizel's face- if anything, he just seemed to get even more cocky, after he was seemingly let go so easily. Like he was untouchable, and he knew it, and he was trying to rub it in the security guard’s face.

“If he does that again, you two are getting kicked out.” Security said bluntly.

“Have a good night.” Arthur said in turn.

After the door was shut, it was quiet for a second. 

Then Arthur turned to Emizel with a glare of his own. “Was it worth it?”

Emizel nodded. 

Then, he glanced over to Arthur's room, and his eyes went a little wide as he started walking around. Moments later, Pepper started following Emizel in a very similar manner- tail raised, and looking around curiously.

She hopped up on a table. Emizel, without taking his eyes away from the room, started to pet her.

“Your room's bigger than mine.” He weakly kicked the bed frame. “Did you know that?” He asked, but Arthur could tell that he wasn't looking for an answer, and was instead just talking to hear the sound of his own voice.

Emizel then stepped in the bathroom. And, before Arthur could ask what he was doing, the shower turned on- and after a few minutes, it turned off again, and he barely heard Emizel's exclamation over how hot the water was.

“I couldn't get mine to heat up.” He clarified, as he strode angrily out of the bathroom.

Then, as Arthur laid back down in bed, Emizel walked to the other side of the room, near the door, but he didn't leave quite yet.

“You can go back to your room now.” Then, after a pause, he said, “...you could ask for help at the front, if you aren't getting any hot water-”

“The security guard’s still out there.” Emizel sat down in the chair next to the window, and stared. “I'll leave when he does.”

“Lock the door when you do.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He, again, looked like he wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying.

Arthur tucked his keys and wallet into his pocket, turned over so that he slept on that side, and then he dozed off.

-

That night, Arthur had a dream.

Usually, he could tell whether or not he was in a dream. Of course, the whole process was still surreal, but there would always be that thought in the back of his mind. It mostly happened during over-the-top nightmares, where everything was a little too scary, or if he was running a little too slowly from something was chasing him…

But for this one, he was in the motel room. 

He was sleeping on the bed, in the same position- laying on top of his possessions, to keep Emizel from stealing it, just in case- and Emizel was in the same spot he was last night. Sitting at the chair by the window, and waiting for the security guard to leave so that he could sneak back into his own room.

The dream played oddly. The only thing Arthur could do was blink- and every time he did, the scenery would change. More specifically, Emizel would.

In one moment, Emizel was messing with the blinds- peeking outside for a few seconds before he'd let it go, after seemingly being caught. Then, slowly, he would pull down the same blinds again, and repeat the motion. Over and over, on-edge, and anxious.

When Arthur blinked again, he was a lot more casual. His elbow was propped up on the table, and he was leaning his head against his hand. The other one kept the blinds open, but this time, Emizel kept a constant eye out, no longer worried about whether or not he'd get caught staring. The only thing that moved was his head, back-and-forth, and so slowly that it perfectly illustrated his boredom.

The next time Arthur blinked, he felt a familiar fear creep up in his throat. The sort of thing that heavily manifested in his nightmares, and made him feel so stupid upon waking up- the kind of moment where, in a normal setting, his brain would let him know that he was dreaming, and wake him up within the next minute or so… But this time, that didn't happen. For just a moment, the scene was entirely real.

It was daytime- morning, maybe, not quite bright enough for it to be concerning, but still bright enough to see. The blinds were open, like half-way through, Emizel gave up on keeping himself hidden, and just decided to open it all together… but when Arthur saw Emizel, he noticed that he wasn't staring out the window anymore. 

Even with the light coming in behind him, and with his face being completely shadowed, Arthur could tell that Emizel was looking back at him. Deathly still, like he was just caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, and was waiting for Arthur to move.

But Arthur couldn't. His eyes watered and stung from keeping them open too long, and when he eventually blinked, Emizel was closer. Standing by his bed, and staring down at him. It was brighter, and the light coming in from behind shadowed most of him, but his eyes were fully visible, and blankly staring down at him.

If you were to go into your bathroom, and stare at yourself in the mirror- in the dark, for extended periods of time- strange things would happen. After a while, if the only thing you were focused on was your face, it would trick your brain, and distort your face until it became something unfamiliar to you.

That’s how Emizel looked, the longer he stood there. Slowly- so slowly, that Arthur barely realized it was happening before it became too unbearable to look at- Emizel’s features started to twist, and distort horribly.

Arthur blinked, again and again, but Emizel stayed. Eyes growing wider, teeth growing sharper- horrible, unnatural features he never saw, even in the worst of spirits-

And when Arthur finally woke up, it was with a start. But everything was fine.

Emizel was still in the same spot he was in before he fell asleep. Slumped over in the chair, with his head laying in his crossed arms- and, judging by the quiet snores, he was fast asleep. 

He wasn't looking over at him. The blinds weren't open. The dream wasn't real. 

After pulling down the blinds, Arthur realized it was a little later than he'd like for it to be. But since nothing bad happened in their sleep (Emizel was alive, at a safe distance away, and all of Arthur's things were intact) he considered it a success, and wondered if he could stay awake a little longer that day.

Arthur got ready quietly, and saw that all of his things were together- but as he got ready, he noticed something strange. In the quiet of the room, he heard the sound of someone mumbling. Muffled, like someone was talking on the phone outside, and it was just quiet enough for him to hear it… 

But as Arthur strained his ear, he realized that it was coming from Emizel.

For a second, he felt like he was in a dream again. Emizel had his head down and covered, and he was talking in his sleep- nothing that he could pick up on definitively, but still ramblings nonetheless- and as Arthur drew closer, he was almost worried about Emizel’s head snapping up to look at him, and meeting him with the same face he saw in his dream.

But he was awake. Emizel was talking in his sleep, and Arthur was ready to go, so instead of leaving it alone, he put a hand on Emizel's shoulder, and gingerly woke him up.

Curiously- unlike how he woke in the car, and just like how he was worried about it moving- Emizel's head did snap up. But it was normal. He didn't scream, or scare anyone. Arthur's hand was shaking his shoulder, and he jumped like he was trying to get away from it, and glaring at Arthur like he was surprised that he dared to wake him up.

The horrible energy was still swirling around his head. Emizel was looking at him like he couldn't tell that it was there. All was well.

“We're leaving.” Arthur said, simply, and Emizel rubbed his forehead, but otherwise muttered a quiet agreement.

When Arthur left, and turned in the keycards in the front office, Emizel was right on his tail the whole time. He was fidgety, and looking over his shoulder at every turn- just as weird and paranoid as he was in Arthur’s visions. He didn't relax until they finally made it in the car, and even then, it was only after he locked the passenger-side door.

The car ride was quiet. They didn't fight over the radio, and when Pepper strolled over to see him, he didn't even look at her. (Arthur had to look at the road for a second, but when he looked back over, Pepper was no longer trying to get Emizel’s attention. Instead, she was in the back with Void.)

And when they stopped at a diner a few hours later, Emizel was right back to being jumpy and paranoid. He sat in a spot that let him face the door, and as they waited- with Emizel's leg bouncing quickly under the table- he stared at that door the whole time, like he was waiting for someone to walk in.

Arthur didn't say anything about it directly- frankly, the silence was appreciated, and so long as he wasn't doing anything too worrying, he was allowed to be as paranoid as he wanted to- but when the menus were set in front of them, and Emizel pushed his away, Arthur's eyes narrowed.

“I'm not hungry.” Emizel said, even though Arthur was sure that Emizel couldn't see his narrowed eyes through his sunglasses. Emizel’s arms crossed, and his elbows were sat up on the table. Every once in a while, he would start scratching at his chin, or picking at his piercing.

“We're not stopping often. You won’t get a chance to eat for a while.”

“I don't care.” He scratched a little too deeply, and it left a red mark behind. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Broody?” He continued his nervous ramblings, but with how busy the diner was, and with how clear it was that Emizel was just talking to himself again, Arthur didn’t hear any of it.

“...”

Arthur ordered for him anyway. He couldn't possibly know Emizel's preferences for breakfast foods, but once a plate of pancakes was sitting in front of him, it seemed like his stance changed immediately. And even though he ate- just a few bites- he was still staring at the door the whole time.

Arthur asked for a box, and saved the food for later. Then, just like last time, Emizel's demeanor changed when he locked his door, and they started driving… Up to a certain point.

Arthur didn't know how, or when he spotted it- but he did. At some point in their ride, Emizel was intent on keeping his head down, but his eyes wide, and staring at the mirror on the passenger-side door.

Then, even though Arthur preferred the silence, Emizel noticed his stares. So he explained himself.

“The car behind us is following us.”

“...” Behind him, seen clearly in the rearview mirror, was a small, white car. 

Arthur hadn't even noticed it until Emizel pointed it out- and, even then, Arthur wasn't too worried about it.

“It's been following us for the past hour. Since the diner.” Emizel pressed, “Every twist and turn...”

“It's probably just going the same way.”

“Or it's following us.”

“Why would it be following us?” He asked, just to pry. He still switched on his turn signal, and drove into the other lane.

“I'm always being followed. I was in Washington…” Emizel curled further in the seat, and even set his legs up on the dashboard, even though he was asked not to. “They follow me, and think I can't see them... Guess it's just what happens when you go missing. Or when your brother's some fancy CEO.”

There was a pause. 

For a second, Arthur wasn't even sure he heard him correctly.

“...Your brother Shilo?” Arthur pressed as lightly as he could, and Emizel nodded.

“Some bigshot.” He muttered, casually, as if he hadn't also argued with Arthur over the fact that he thought that he didn't even have a brother in the first place. “Lots of people would do anything to get his job. Or to just get it taken from him.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Here it was, the biggest break in their case, and a lead that could get Emizel back to normal again… and all he had to do was press, and hope that his brain could come up with something.

“...really?” He prompted, weakly.

But, thankfully, Emizel seemed to be a little too over his head to really care about how Arthur sounded.

“I bet they’re trying to get something out of me.” Then, he started mumbling to himself, “Fuckers probably want me to get in trouble. Again.”

“Do you have to deal with this often?”

Emizel glared at him, and Arthur only caught a glimpse- holding eye contact for just mere moments before he had to face the road again- but for some reason, he felt like the glare wasn’t actually pointed at him directly. Almost like Emizel was upset over the situation in general, and didn’t know where to point his anger at.

“When you’re someone like me,” He said, voice tense, “And you have a brother that is so much more important than you… it gets thrown back in your face a lot.”

“I can imagine.” Arthur idly tapped the steering wheel. “...how is your brother, by the way?”

“He's… Um…” Emizel stopped, like he was pausing, but he didn't speak anymore about it. Then, after a while, he didn't even seem to realize that he'd been talking.

It didn't seem malicious, or planned. It didn't seem like Emizel was trying to trick Arthur into letting him think that he didn't know his own brother, and this moment didn't feel like a slip in that ‘facade’ he would've kept up… there were just genuinely problems with his memory. 

Thankfully, it wasn't that bad- even if it didn't last long, he still remembered some of his brother. There was some wiggle room for him to work with.

The car switched lanes, and sped past them to make a turn. As it did, Emizel had the present mind to duck, but it didn't matter. 

Within minutes, it was gone- both the car, and the slight doubt that Arthur had the wrong person in his car.

-

On the drive, Emizel fell asleep and woke up a couple times throughout it.

At one point, he complained about being hungry- and when Arthur pointed him towards the food they still had in the backseat, Emizel was ecstatic, and finished it off. Just like he planned for. Then, when he was done, he was out like a light again.

There was a small, half-hearted struggle with the radio- sometimes, when he was awake, Emizel would complain about the silence- but then, right when Arthur knew he was asleep, he'd turn it off. 

The drive was just fine. They took a few breaks to stretch their legs, but for the most part, Emizel was fine with sleeping.

It only started to get frustrating again when Arthur started getting calls.

Based on the phone numbers, he guessed that he was getting calls from a few new clients. On the trip over, whenever he got a call from a new client, he usually scheduled them for a month, or so in the future- checking through a physical planner, just to make sure that he could schedule it on different days-

But he couldn't do it while he was driving. And, more often than not- when he didn't have Emizel in the car with him- it was easy to just pull over, and handle it if he needed to…

But since he couldn't do that, he just let them all go to voicemail, and resigned to having to deal with it later. And when the sky got darker, and he kept getting calls from multiple people, Emizel finally woke up again- voice groggy, as he asked Arthur to turn his alarm off, and muttered something about sleeping for just a few more minutes.

“They're not alarms. They're phone calls.”

Emizel glared at him, “Then- answer them.”

“I'm not going to take business calls while I'm driving.”

There was a pause. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Emizel's head perking up.

“Let me drive for a bit. So you can answer it.”

“Do you have a license?”

“Do you have my wallet?” Emizel asked in turn, with a crooked grin on his face, “I know how to drive.”

Arthur supposed so. They'd already made some progress. (And even though Emizel was having memory troubles… he remembered Shilo, at one point. He was well within his own mind. And Arthur could keep an eye out, just to be sure that he knew what he was doing.)

So Arthur pulled over. And, silently- even though Emizel seemed to be a little too excited over the prospect of driving, and it gave Arthur some quiet second thoughts- they swapped seats.

Emizel shuffled in the driver's seat. “Where are we going?”

“Just drive forward.” Emizel did so, turning back into the right lane, and driving just as smoothly as Arthur had moments ago. “Keep an eye out for another motel.”

“We're stopping?”

“For the night.”

After another minute- watching the road, just to make sure his driving was still passable- Arthur finally made a few calls back. He set up clients for future inspections, and told them what they could do to stave off any nasty spirits in the meantime. He also checked dates in his planner- keeping the front light on as he did so, with his attention waving from it, to the road…

But Emizel was doing just fine. For the most part. Sometimes, Arthur would catch Emizel looking over- forgetting that he was driving, and curiously trying to look in on what Arthur was doing- and every time he noticed it, he would try his best to readjust his focus.

“Isn't that illegal?” Emizel asked, at one point. And after Arthur looked at him, he said, “Keeping that light on?”

Arthur’s forehead hurt from how often he was creasing it. “Why would turning on a light be illegal?”

“I was told that… ages ago.” He made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat, moving from a slouched position, to keeping his back straight against the seat, “If we get pulled over, we need to switch seats very quickly… or we'll need to outrun them-”

“We're not getting pulled over.”

“Whatever you say.”

And right as he thought he was done- when he was going to tell Emizel to pull over, so they could switch again- his phone buzzed with another call.

And when he saw who it was, he cursed under his breath.

“What?”

“It's your brother.” He showed the contact, even though Emizel should've been keeping his eyes on the road. 

His eyes darted over for a second to see his brother's name- and when they kept on the phone for a little too long, he pulled it away, and gestured for Emizel to keep his eyes on the road. Emizel's eyebrows furrowed, but he looked more confused than angry. It seemed they were back in the forgetting stage again… but he didn't seem entirely disinterested.

So Arthur picked it up, and put it to his ear.

“Put it on speaker.” Emizel said, voice so quiet that Arthur almost didn't hear it, right as Shilo greeted him.

“What?” Arthur asked, just as quietly.

“Speaker. Make it- I want to hear it too.”

Shilo was saying something to him, much longer than a normal greeting. Maybe even something important. Arthur couldn't hear, since he pulled his phone away from his ear, and was blankly staring at the screen in front of him.

“How do I do that?”

Emizel huffed just a little too loud, reached his hand up, and carefully scanned the screen of Arthur's phone before hitting a button.

But Emizel was keeping his attention on the phone a little too long. 

Arthur snapped, “Eyes on the road.”

“What?” Shilo's voice crackled through the speaker, loud enough for Emizel to hear him now.

And it seemed like Emizel was interested in hearing him out. Even though his eyes were still on the road, they occasionally darted to the phone as Shilo spoke, as if he were expecting something to happen.

“...I have my eyes on the road.” Arthur falsely corrected himself, “I was just… talking to myself. I'm driving.”

“Okay.” He said, slowly, “Alright… just don't get too distracted. If you crash and die, then I'll have no other way to find my brother.” There was a pause, “And- I'll feel bad, if something happened to you, and I was leading you-”

“Did you call me for a reason?” Arthur cut in, before Shilo could ramble on.

“You usually update me very late at night… and I wanted to see if you found something before you called me at four in the morning.”

Arthur looked at Emizel, as one last confirmation. It took Emizel a minute before he noticed Arthur's silence, and stared back at him just as intently. Then, when his eyes turned back to the road, he shook his head.

“I haven't found anything today.”

“But you made it to Washington?”

“I'll do a more thorough search tomorrow.” He said, vaguely.

Shilo sighed deeply.

“Thank you again, Arthur. I hope you find him soon.”

It was hard to discern anything from Emizel.

He looked stressed. Fingers tightly gripping the steering wheel, eyes trained on the road- and yet, even with his full concentration on driving, Arthur knew that he was hanging onto every word that they were saying.

Arthur paused.

“Shilo, is there anything else I should be worried about? If I do see him?”

“What do you mean?” Shilo asked with his words, while Emizel seemed to be asking the same question with his eyes.

“Anything else I should keep in mind?” He elaborated, trying to find the best way to hit the nail on the head without giving anything away, “Anything at all? This is your last chance, before I find him.”

Emizel and Arthur listened with bated breath- and even as Shilo seemed to be taking his sweet time, they both leaned in, and waited.

“...I think I've said everything. Don't take anything he says to heart. Be patient with him… um… make sure he gets his jacket- if he's in Washington, it's going to be cold.”

“I'll keep it in mind. Good night, Shilo.”

“Good luck, Arthur. And thank you.”

And then he hung up. After a second passed, and it could be well-assured that Shilo wouldn't hear him, Emizel immediately spoke up.

“That was him? That's my brother?”

“Yes.”

“He sounds nothing like me!” Emizel's face pinched, “You're sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'm the right guy?”

“I'm sure of it.” Emizel did not push, but it looked like he wanted to. Arthur continued, “And I was surprised as well. He is very distinguished, and proper…” Arthur prepared to let the sentence trail off right then and there.

But a smile creeped up on Emizel's face- one that didn't seem genuine in the slightest. “And I'm not?”

“Your posture could use some work.” Arthur said, after taking a moment to think about it.

“I don't see what's wrong with it.”

“It'll be more comfortable, if you sit up a little straighter.” 

“I am comfortable.”

Arthur sat up straighter to demonstrate, though he usually kept his posture in check. “If you're getting any pain in the back of your neck…”

“I don't get neck pains. I'm not… 80.” Emizel warily glanced at him, like he was trying to gauge his age at just a quick look- but then gave up just as fast, and landed on some outlandish number anyway.

“When you get older, it's another story.”

“If I get older.” Emizel reminded him, as if his life was currently in danger. “I don't know. At this rate, I'll be surprised if I live to see 30.”

Arthur shook his head. “None of us are supposed to.”

Emizel just snickered in response. 

Arthur got a phone call from another client, and answered it. He tried not to think too much about what Emizel said, or what it could mean, and instead figured that it was something they could handle talking about when they got back to his office.

-

At some point, with Emizel driving, Arthur accidentally fell asleep.

With it being so late, and his head leaned against his seatbelt, and with the car moving as slow and steadily as it was, it was a recipe for disaster. But as he drifted off waiting for another call, or waiting for Emizel to stop at a motel, nothing seemed amiss.

When his eyes opened again- sitting up quickly, upon realizing he was now asleep in the backseat- it was another story.

It was hard to gauge how fast they were going, and with no other cars being on the road, but Arthur could tell that they were going faster than they were when he initially dozed off. Faster than they were supposed to, clearly- dangerously speeding through a long, quiet stretch of road.

“Slow down..” He said, though he knew that he didn't sound as stern as he wanted to.

“I can't.” Emizel said in turn, and his tone of voice shot Arthur's nerves.

Emizel’s hands were shaking. Large, unwavering tremors that were too much to ignore. And even though the tremors didn't affect his driving too much, Arthur was still aware of the car going far faster than it should've been, as well as the fact that it was tilting to the side, and getting dangerously close to the wrong side of the road.

“Slow down.” He said, again.

“I can’t see.” Emizel cut him off, suddenly. “I can’t fucking see.”

His voice was far past the usual huffy, snarky tone he usually held when talking with him. He sounded scared.

And when Emizel’s head turned to face him- neck popping from how fast it moved, but showing no other signs of it being painful- Arthur saw that Emizel’s eyes were white. His pupils were rolled to the back of his head, with the red veins of his eyes in full display.

His face looked twisted up, like he was angry, and it was only growing worse by the second. His breaths were leaving him in short, shaky puffs- inhaling slowly, if at all, while he exhaled suddenly, and loudly- and Arthur bet that if he had a hand on his pulse, then he’d feel it racing. 

He faced Arthur, and the car ever so subtly started to speed up.

Then, with a sickening crack, Emizel's jaw unhinged, and he lunged towards him.

Arthur woke up in an instant. 

It was a dream, he dozed off- he was back in the passenger seat, Emizel wasn't actually attacking him, and his face wasn't monstrous-

But the sight he woke up to wasn't much better. 

Emizel wasn't lunging at him, but he wasn't fully attentive in the driver's seat. He was swaying in his seat, like he was having trouble staying awake, and when Arthur tried shaking him, he moved along with it, but didn't snap to attention. And when Arthur’s hand didn't move, Emizel's shoulder shrugged away from it violently- making the car swerve, in turn.

The car was still moving- slowing down, now that Emizel wasn't pushing his foot against the gas pedal- and when Arthur’s hand moved to the steering wheel to pull it over, his hand accidentally touched Emizel's.

And then, he got a vision. His senses dulled, and his eyes rolled back- 

And, suddenly, he was in an alleyway, and being chased. 

He didn't know who was coming after him, or where they were in that alley, but he knew that if he didn't keep going, then he would get caught, and something horrible would happen to him. (There was also screaming, he could faintly hear- something bloodcurdling, and horrifying, and only growing closer despite his attempts to get away.)

The chase lasted for a while. The streets and alleys were winding, and suffocating- and every time he turned a corner, it just seemed to keep going on, and on, and on- alleyways growing narrow, leading to some points where he had to squeeze through just to keep going. All the while, the voice was unrelenting, and getting closer.

There was something familiar about it. Something that Arthur didn't pick up on when he first saw this weird setting- but something that became abundantly clear when it came from Emizel directly. A sinking feeling in his stomach, and a familiar, painful itch in the back of his head that couldn't be scratched. Emizel being unable to stay awake for too long, before falling asleep. The nightmares. Troubles with his memory. Being easily startled, and easily paranoid. It should've been obvious.

And, when Arthur eventually came to again, it was to a weightless feeling- and before either of them could stop it, their car was being driven into a ditch.

Arthur’s hand did shoot out again, and protected Emizel from being ragdolled around the car- since, it seemed, his lack of wanting to use a seatbelt came back to bite him in the ass. And in the end- when the car was tilted, but the two of them were otherwise left unharmed- Emizel finally woke up with a strangled shout.

-

After collecting themselves, and after helping Emizel out through the passenger’s side door, the two of them kept their distance from the car in the ditch.

For a while, they were near it- Emizel sitting down, like he had to catch his breath, and with Arthur pacing, and trying to figure out why his phone wasn't working as well as it usually did. Arthur was scrolling through his contacts, and trying to rack his brain on what to do. All the while, despite himself, and despite keeping a calm mind… his hands were shaking. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. There were no other cars driving over, and there were no buses that could drive them out… And, on top of all of that, Arthur finally knew what was wrong with Emizel. And, from what he could remember, it was a time-sensitive sort of problem.

It was initially difficult because he's never had this sort of problem with a client before. He was never on the outside looking in. His clients always had to deal with spirits sticking onto them like a leech, or hanging around places, or certain objects, and all he'd have to do was help them pass on. It looked different, with that dark energy still swirling around Emizel's head, and felt different- 

And for Emizel, even though the effects took hold quickly, it was still fresh. There was still time to get rid of it before it did substantial damage.

“We need to keep moving.”

Emizel had been sitting on the curb, sorta curled in on himself- but when Arthur spoke, it was right back to being casual. “Right now?” 

“I'm not able to make any calls out here, and no cars are going to be passing around anytime soon. So yes. Now.”

Emizel rolled his eyes, but he otherwise stood up. “Not sleeping out here tonight?”

Before leaving, Arthur carefully walked into the ditch.

The car was tilted, and leaning so much that it was almost completely on its side. Arthur angled himself awkwardly- and when he finally got the trunk pushed open, he looked around for some of his more specific items. Backups, just in case.

He found it- a dark handkerchief, with different symbols painted over it in red paint. He waved Emizel over, and once he was close, he tied that cloth around his wrist- carefully maneuvering his hands around, to ensure that he wouldn't hit Emizel’s wrist, and get sent into yet another vision that left him with a horrible headache.

Emizel checked his wrist out, but made no move to get rid of it.

“What’s this?”

Arthur slammed the trunk door shut, locked the car doors, and then kept moving- motioning for Emizel to follow him. “It'll help with your… possession problem.”

Technically, it was just a normal blessing- something that gave some good luck to whoever was holding onto it. It wouldn’t do anything big, and it wouldn’t block out any possessions, but it was far better for him to be holding onto it. It could help them buy time, if they were smart.

Then, even though he couldn't see him, there was a small pause- and with Arthur suddenly remembering that he hadn't said about Emizel being possessed, he imagined Emizel's eyes getting wide with the new information, and how casually it'd been dropped.

“What?” His tone fit well enough. Emizel started jogging, just to keep up with him. “I was possessed?”

“You are possessed.” He corrected him, and as Emizel finally caught up, he stood right at his side- leaning over a little, like he was trying to meet his eye, and see if he was being serious. “Right here, right now. There is a spirit in your body, and if it stays in there, it's going to get you killed.”

“Can psychics even get possessed?”

It wasn't incredibly common, but it happened often enough. Spirits possessed those that could agree to it- those that could see and hear them, and those that were powerful enough for it to be tempting- so psychics got possessed more often than regular people did.

“Yes. But you have to let them in.”

Emizel scowled at him. “Why would I let them in?”

Arthur glared right back at him, “I don't know. You tell me.”

His arms raised in an exaggerated, frustrated motion- and then they lowered just as quickly. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he did speak, it was just frustrated, incoherent ramblings. He was dumb, but not that dumb- why would he do something like this- how could he let something like this happen? How could he get rid of it? (And get rid of it for good, he then said, like the more important question wasn't “and how can I avoid this happening again?”)

Emizel looked paranoid. 

It was easy to read him as angry- and, maybe, if Arthur hadn't been in his very same position, he would've read clocked him as angry- but the longer he looked past that furrowed brow, and the hands gripping onto the sides of his jacket, the more he saw the truth.

It was like looking in a weird mirror. Arthur saw Emizel, the person he just met a day or so ago, but he also saw himself at that age- young, and angry at the world. At the time- when he was in that very same position, with that very specific problem- he had nobody that was around that could help him out. He had to figure out how to fix it all on his own- problems stacking up, and culminating into some of the absolute worst years of his life…

And he swore, so long as he was hired to do so, he was going to get rid of that spirit, and he was going to bring Emizel home. 

Even if he was a pain.

-

The two of them saw the faint sight of lights just in the distance, so they walked along the side of the road until they reached it

All the while, Emizel looked like he was having trouble standing on two feet, and Arthur was trying to get some kind of signal so he could call… someone.

His first thought was to call Mary. His finger was already hovering over the contact on his phone, like he was prepared to try and call it- but Arthur quickly wised up. Mary was not going to pick up the phone.

So they walked into town, and Arthur waited until he got a signal to call the only other person in his phone contacts. Then he braced himself- though he already had a headache from the crash and the visions, he knew that it was only going to get worse.

The phone rang four times. And, right when Arthur was preparing to pull his phone away, under the assumption that he was asleep, Magnus finally picked up.

There was a pause. Silence on the other line, followed by muted shuffling, before Magnus finally said, “What? Who is this? It’s… so late.”

If Arthur wasn’t out of options and steadily running out of time, he would’ve felt a little bad for calling.

“It’s Arthur.”

“Arthur? What-” He sighed, “No- okay. What do you want?”

“I have an emergency, and I need your help.”

“This late?”

“I wouldn't have called if it wasn't serious. You know that.”

Magnus sounded like he was trying to reorient himself.

“And you can't get that- Mary girl to help you? Doesn’t she live closer to you?”

Arthur pursed his lips. He thought of how to break the news, and in the end, he could only find it in himself to be blunt.

“Mary died a few days ago.” After he said it, he waited for his stomach to drop, or for his eyes to burn- or for some late reaction to occur, to indicate that he'd finally processed it. 

But Arthur got nothing. Not even a breathy shake to his voice- nothing that was different, before or after the reminder. (Not even as he'd stew, and realize that he hadn't even seen her ghost- and that meant that she was either haunting someone in particular, or she was in the slow process of passing on- which meant that she had nothing to stick around for.

Every time he thought about it a little too much, his brain would pivot. No lingering. No reaction. It felt alien, to see one of his best friends in a casket, and to have his brain and body reacting like she was just asleep, and would call him whenever she wasn't busy, and wanted to talk.)

“Shit, man.” Magnus said. Then, awkwardly, he asked, “Am I- helping you out… emotionally…?”

Arthur could practically hear his wince- like he didn't want to help him out with that sort of thing, but if Arthur was doing something so wildly out of his character (calling Magnus, and then talking about his feelings) then a checkup might've been necessary…

But Arthur just frowned. “My car is in a ditch, Magnus.”

“Right. Sure. Shoulda figured.” He sounded much more awake, now. Arthur could faintly hear him shuffling around his room, “You weren't the one driving, right?”

Arthur couldn't help but rub his face, “No.”

“I'm not a cop, Arthur, I'm not gonna-”

“I'm always careful. It was just my… client driving.”

“Your client was driving?” He asked, so slowly that it almost sounded condescending. Like Magnus didn't believe him.

“It's a long story- and I'll tell you once you get here.”

“Right. Where'd you run off to, then?”

Arthur listed off their location as best as he could. An empty gas station, in a town in the middle of nowhere- going from Washington to LA- but Magnus only seemed to get it once Arthur listed off a name they saw on a sign, on their way in.

“You're in Redding. That's close by.” Arthur heard the unmistakable sound of keys, and he knew that Magnus was likely flicking it around in his hand, “What were you doing up in Washington?”

“I'm on a job.”

“So soon after..?” He asked in the same weird tone.

“I also have that client with me.” At Magnus’ pause, he said, “It's complicated.”

“Alright. Arthur, I'll be on my way, but until then…”

-

As they waited, Magnus gave him a number to call to get his car out of the ditch- but until then, he'd drive them over to his house, and they'd stay for as long as they needed to.

Magnus came to pick them up shortly after. 

Arthur recognized the car pulling up to then in an instant- scratched to hell and back, with fading paint. He's had it for years, now- long before the two of them even became friends- and he said he'd drive it until it broke down for good. (Which- according to Emizel's quiet mutterings- wouldn't be much longer at all.)

Arthur also saw Magnus once the car got close enough. His hair was longer than it’d been last time, and it was scraggly- and if he squinted, Arthur could see bags under his eyes, fitting in nicely with the death stare that he was trying not to give the two of them.

Arthur snatched up the front seat just as Emizel bolted for it, and Emizel sat behind them with a quiet, resigned complaint. But as soon as they were in, Magnus immediately drove away.

“Put on your seatbelt.” He muttered to Emizel. Emizel’s hand didn't even twitch.

“So- is that your client?” He asked, once they were out on the road again.

Arthur debated whether or not he should tell him- then, he figured that telling Magnus would be harmless. “Technically, it’s my client’s missing brother.”

“Missing? Is he- a ghost?”

“He's human. Otherwise, you wouldn't be seeing him.” He certainly couldn't see the spirit surrounding his head, but he wasn't about to.

“Unless you're a psychic. And you didn't know it until now.” Emizel said, gravely- not helping the situation in the slightest.

Magnus squinted in the rearview mirror. When Arthur turned his head around, he found that Emizel was making the same scowl right back at him- almost like he was challenging him, instead of being thankful that they got a ride, and were about to sleep in a really nice house for the night.

“Which client is this, again..?”

“Bathroy. He's a CEO… I think.”

“I know who that is.” His eyebrows raised at the name drop, but then quickly went back to normal. “Shit, man. What'd you get yourself into?”

“His brother wants to keep everything under the table, until he's back home. They have a… paparazzi problem.”

Magnus’ head turned to him, but he kept his eyes on the road. It was weird, finally having someone so inventive at the wheel. Maybe a car crash was inevitable. “But he knows you've found him?”

“Not yet. I'm hoping to return him in one piece.”

Briefly, Magnus looked in the rearview mirror- and his face seemed to pinch, once he realized that Emizel was still glaring at him.

“Is he not..?”

Arthur lowered his voice, even though he was fully aware that Emizel could hear him, “He's gotten himself possessed.”

Magnus’ face changed. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, and his gaze kept forward just a little too long. He sat up, leaned back, and he didn't say anything for a long while. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Emizel looking at him, as if he was waiting for Arthur to explain it to him.

He didn't.

“Alright.” Mangus said, eventually, “Did you leave any of your psychic crap at my place?”

“I was going to check.”

“Are you doing it when you get there, or…”

“I know you're not a fan, so if I find anything, we'll just go…”

“If it's a possession, you'll want to deal with it right away, right?”

“It'll be fine for another few hours.”

“You sure?” Magnus pressed, “Your friend crashed your car, didn't he? How much worse could it get?”

“So much worse.” Arthur said, at the same time Emizel muttered, “Now it is gonna get worse…”

Magnus waved his hand.

“Whatever- we get to my place, you fix up your client, and… You guys can leave in the morning. Alright?”

“Thank you, Magnus.”

“Sure.”

Arthur looked back at Emizel- expecting the same sort of politeness, for some reason- but when he looked back, Emizel was already starting to doze off.

-

Magnus lived in a very nice house.

It was much nicer than Arthur's. Arthur lived in a small apartment for one person- and even though it was just Magnus and his husband living there, the house was big enough to support a couple more people. A proper family, even though Arthur knew that they were older, and that Magnus didn't want to have any kids.

They both had nice, well-paying jobs- it shouldn't have been so surprising that they wanted a nice place to match- but if Arthur thought about it for a little too long, then he'd get unreasonably jealous. He was only a couple years younger than Magnus, and yet, he was in the same living situation he’d been in since he was 20, with the same horrible pay- one of them was progressing further than the other, it seemed… (Arthur was just glad that he liked his own job- otherwise, his disdain could've been more obvious.)

“I texted Jerome, so he'll know you guys are here. Otherwise… make yourself comfortable, I guess. Eat whatever. Don't make a huge mess.” Mangus turned around to walk up his staircase, and waved them off half-heartedly, “I'm going back to bed…”

Then he was gone.

And just as he was going up the stairs, Emizel and Arthur both caught the sight of a woman standing on top of the stairs.

Magnus walked past her without so much as an acknowledgement, and she watched him as he passed- but then, the minute he was gone, she went right back to silently staring at them. Arthur couldn't tell if she was trying to assess something, but he knew from experience that she wasn't going to be saying her intentions anytime soon.

Then she turned the corner, tailing after Magnus, and disappeared from their sight. 

And when Emizel’s mouth opened, and he pointed towards the stairs- ready to loudly, and bluntly asking about the random woman they saw- Arthur put his hand up to stop him, and sternly shook his head. Not now.

But Emizel frowned, and asked anyway, “Is she a ghost?”

“Yes- a dead relative. And the topic is very sensitive-”

Emizel shrugged him off, like he didn't really care anymore. Then, he got right into snooping around, just as Pepper and Void were doing, walking just a few paces behind him.

“Nice place.” Emizel said, and for a moment, Arthur wondered if he could read minds- and, in turn, if he picked something Arthur thought of recently just to mess with him.

“We're not staying for long.”

“I hope not.” Then, he turned back to him. Sniffed. “So… What are we doing?”

-

Before he did anything relating to the possession, Arthur made himself (and Emizel) some macaroni and cheese.

Then, as they ate, they both sat in front of Magnus’ fireplace. The heater in Arthur’s car wasn't horrible, but there was something refreshing about warming up by an actual fire instead. The scene was comfortable, cozy- and unlike anything he'd ever get from the heater of a car, or the heater in his apartment. He couldn't find it in himself to relax- not when Emizel was like that, despite looking completely normal at the moment- but he got close enough to it.

Emizel seemed to be soaking everything in as well. For once, that constant tension on his face loosened up a bit. He was leaning back and sighing, like he wasn't thinking about how close the two of them were to dying just earlier that night. It was peaceful.

And that peace kept up until Arthur finished eating, and then started going through Magnus’ place.

Arthur has visited his new house many times before- taking clients and dealing with problems that were close to where Magnus lived, and spending the occurring night on his couch- and he knew that he’s left plenty of stuff behind.

Sometimes, it was by accident, and he only remembered once it was too late to turn around. One time, in the case of dealing with the spirit of Magnus’ late sister, Arthur had left something behind on purpose. He gave him a book, and told Magnus the sort of precautions he and his husband should take, just in case something bad happened.

But for now, she was peaceful. Never spoke. Just watched, and wandered around every corner like she was seeing it for the first time. Sometimes, Arthur would find her sitting in a chair by the fire- and maybe, if Emizel weren’t in the room, she might’ve been in there now- but until she tried to do anything dangerous, the book would be left unused. 

The only problem was in finding it. Magnus was already wary of his abilities, but he knew that his husband didn't like it very much either, and that they wouldn't just leave it out in the open, for anyone to walk in and see. So he was left skimming through bookshelves.

Emizel then started looking too. And at first, he thought that he was trying to be helpful- but then he remembered that Emizel didn't know what to look for. Then, he remembered- it was Emizel that he was looking through, and that he was likely just satiating his own curiosity. Or just… Strangely mimicking him. But the first option seemed to be more likely.

“If you find a leather-bound book on one of these shelves with no title on it, please hand it over.”

“Hmg.” Emizel grunted in response. Arthur could tell that he wasn't listening.

Arthur sighed. He expected to keep going through the shelves on his own, quietly- but then, Emizel quietly pulled a book out of the shelf, and haphazardly handed it over to Arthur. Arthur was slightly winded as it hit him in the chest, but he caught it right before Emizel let go of it- and when he looked over, Emizel was already walking away, and towards the fireplace again.

Arthur double checked, but it was the exact book he was looking for. He sat down on a chair near the bookshelf, and started skimming through it as quickly as possible. Looking for remedies, or rituals, or anything that could help Emizel, in this situation.

Arthur has never had to deal with a possessed client. He didn't know what to do.

For now, all he could do was make sure that Emizel wasn't anxious anymore. Negative emotions hyping that certain thing- and Emizel looked fine for now, but he couldn't account for the feelings of someone he just met, and he didn't know how fast that sort of thing could turn on a dime.

“Alright.” He sighed, and looked around, but his eyes ultimately landed on the shadowy energy still swirling around in his head. “Emizel why don't you… try talking to the spirit possessing you?”

Emizel gave him a look. “How would that help?”

“You can meditate. It will clear your mind, and help you focus.”

“I don't meditate.”

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek.

“If you do, it could make this whole problem a lot easier.”

“You've done this with clients before?”

“Not… this problem. With clients.” Emizel looked disinterested. Arthur cut in, “But I have… had to deal with this before.”

Emizel's eyes narrowed. “Have you been possessed before?”

“I have.” He said, a little stiffly, “And the more I meditated, the easier it became to handle.”

Emizel glared at him.

And then, with no warning of if he was going to do it- and after muttering a defeated “Whatever,”- he sat back down near the fireplace. And, even if for a moment, everything was quiet.

Honestly, Arthur took what he could get. Meditation didn't do anything for him- he didn't really do much of anything to stop it- but the longer Emizel was quiet, and calm, the more he could focus.

Unfortunately, Emizel wasn't quiet for very long. After readjusting the positioning of his legs for the nth time, and as Arthur was getting closer to something important, he spoke again.

“So who's Mary?”

Arthur's hand stuttered, but he kept going. Moving pages, and now, pretending to read them. 

“She was… an old friend of mine.”

“And she's dead?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Does she… visit you?”

Emizel was looking behind him. Likely at Magnus’ sister, who wasn't too keen on entering a room with strangers, but still couldn't help but be curious.

“No. She probably just wants to rest.”

Void bumped her head against Arthur’s leg. Arthur lightly brushed his hand against her fur.

“...” When he looked back up, Emizel was pensive, glaring at the ground… and he was not meditating.

“Eyes closed.” He reminded him, and Emizel shut his eyes. “Deep breaths.” He then said, and Emizel did inhale perfectly well, but the exhale drew on for just a few seconds longer than normal.

“Could you summon her?” He asked, after quickly giving up on taking deep breaths. “Or… Any spirit? How would that work?”

“If they've already passed on, there's no point in trying. You won't get much. But if they haven't, you could hold a conversation.” He frowned, “But if they've already passed on, and you keep trying… you could have a corrupted spirit on your hands..”

“Is there any way to tell if they've passed on?”

He shook his head- even though Emizel's eyes were supposed to be closed, he knew that he probably forgot, and had them open again. “There’s only one way to find out. It's not riskless.”

The process of passing on (from what Arthur’s picked up) is long and arduous- and as long as you summon them from a recent death, it should be fine. That was a large part of Arthur’s job- creating a connection for the recently deceased, and translating their final words for the living to hear.

“...” Emizel, then, took a normal deep breath, “But how would you do it? Hypothetically.”

Arthur put down the book for just a moment to glare Emizel's way, silently. When he looked up, he saw that one of Emizel’s eyes was still open, and that he closed it once Arthur noticed. Arthur looked at him until he tried opening his eyes again- eyes narrowed, and trying to peek at him through his eyelashes.

When he saw that Arthur was still looking at him, he closed them again, and kept impatiently repeating the process.

“If you're still in danger of getting possessed, you shouldn't be looking at how to summon spirits.” Arthur finally said.

Emizel frowned, but didn't say anything. Out of everything he's ever told to him, he just hoped that he would pick up on the seriousness of this particular subject. 

Because it was tempting to want to summon someone you once knew, despite the risks. Even if it was something simple, like saying goodbye to them, or something more complicated, like figuring something out that only the deceased would know… and it was so easy to hold onto them, and to never want to let them go-

But Emizel wasn't experienced with that sort of thing. And if Emizel were trying to summon someone- and if they already moved on, or if they were malicious in any sort of light, and set on acquiring a new body- then all he would be doing was putting himself in danger…

And he was already possessed. Who knew what kinds of things he'd do, if a more persuasive spirit came along, and asked to possess him? Or asked to help? Taking the form of someone he once trusted? Was that how he was possessed the first time around, or was he just easily swayed?

Arthur couldn't even begin to know.

Emizel, likely bored out of his mind, slumped his head over, and sighed yet again.

“How'd you deal with your possession?” He asked, and on top of it, he sounded drained.

It was an unfortunate side effect- while psychics were possessed, it didn't seem like much of a problem on the surface, but the mental struggle was difficult. And sometimes- not as intensely in Arthur’s case, but overwhelmingly obvious in Emizel's, in hindsight- it translated into a physical exhaustion as well. 

Looking back on it, Emizel mostly napped throughout their trip, and it should’ve been obvious then… but there were too many factors to consider. Arthur could think back every clue or indication that this was a possession, but he was just glad that he caught it in time, and that he could handle it before Emizel was in any real trouble.

“My friend took care of it for me.”

“Mary?”

“Hm.” Arthur nodded, “I just need to figure out how she did it, and then you'll be free in no time.

Emizel sighed, hands placed on his knees, and leaning forward a little- and Arthur just hoped that he could stay awake until he found something substantial.

“So tedious…” Emizel muttered.

“Whatever gets the job done.”

“Do you even get paid enough for… This?” Emizel's hand waved, “Is this worth the trouble?”

“It is.” Arthur tried to stress but, as always, Emizel seemed to just be asking rhetorical questions.

“I just don't see what the big deal is.” Emizel muttered, “How bad is this possession, really? I just have a bad memory sometimes, and that's it?”

“You crashed a car.”

“If I just… learn to deal with it, I'll be fine, right? Then I can live a normal life? Isn't that what you said?”

Arthur ignored the urge to roll his eyes, “That was referring to your abilities without the possession. You can't live like this.”

“How much worse could it get?”

“You could die. If that spirit wanted to kill you at any point, then it will.” He waved his hand, but Emizel's eyes were closed for the moment. Brow furrowed, like he was thinking. “Or it'll just stay long enough to take over your body, and live like you. Do you want that? No agency for the rest of your life?”

“Well this whole thing just seems like a waste of time.” He muttered under his breath. “I don't care.”

“Are you being stupid on purpose?” Arthur asked, genuinely.

“I dont care.” Emizel just repeated, but it was lacking his usual fire, “I don't care...”

When Arthur looked up that time, he knew that something was wrong.

Aside from the obvious, and the way Emizel's words began to slur, like he was tired… The first thing Arthur noticed were the cats.

Pepper and Void weren’t as casual and calm as they usually were. They were both standing completely still off to the side. And in reading their body language, it was clear that both of them were on edge, and both of them would run if someone made any sudden movements. (They were staring straight at Emizel, and more specifically, waiting for him to do something.)

But Emizel was just looking at Arthur, now. His face was blank, and for once in his life, his gaze was completely focused, and unwavering. Without him even realizing it, that dark energy surrounding his head and clouding his face was almost completely transparent- gone, unless he focused on it in the minimal light of the room.

And because Arthur knew that he was being possessed, he knew that he probably wasn't looking at Emizel. It wasn't Emizel asking about how he was going to go about getting rid of the spirit, or if it was really worth all the trouble. It was the spirit in question.

He had contact with it. Arthur shut the book, but stayed sitting.

Emizel's head lolled over to the side, angling his neck weirdly, but he didn't move it to make himself more comfortable. It was like he was trying to look at Arthur from a new angle, or like he was intentionally trying to unnerve him- which wouldn't work. He knew what these spirits were like.

“You must be the spirit.” He said, and the only thing that moved were Emizel's eyebrows- going up, like they didn't expect to be caught so easily. “Why are you possessing him?”

“I have unfinished business.” They would've sounded just like him, if they were trying to. But there was a slight strain to his voice that made it entirely too obvious, and then, Arthur wondered how many times he unknowingly interacted with the spirit instead of Emizel, “We can just go back to Washington. I'll finish my business, and I'll leave him alone.”

Spirits didn't owe him the truth. This one certainly didn't.

“You tried to kill him.”

“I was trying to make him go back.” There was a frustration in his voice- a horrible temperament, and so easily amped up…

“If you made him refuse my offer to take him home, then it wouldn't have happened.”

“If I could've, then I would've.”

“You're not very powerful, then, are you?”

The spirit snarled at him.

Then, Arthur saw his arm reach out- fingers cracking, and veins popping out of his forearms. Despite how tired Emizel must've been, Arthur had the feeling that the spirit was going to run him dry, until he was exhausted… or died of it.

“You're not getting rid of me.”

Then the spirit lunged at him.

Arthur was on the ground still, and didn't have long to react- but when he did, he put his hand on Emizel's forehead, and tried to keep him as far away as possible.

The spirit moved like a rabid animal. They swiped at his face, leaving behind scratches Arthur could barely feel, and Arthur leaned his head back just in time to keep them from gouging his eyes out. Then, he swiped out Emizel's legs, and backed up when he tumbled to the ground.

There was a slight tussle- Arthur tried getting away, and he almost tripped as those same sharp hands gripped his leg, and tore the cuffs of his pants- but then he turned, and kicked Emizel in the face.

The spirit seemed undeterred. They smiled, a horrible, toothy grin that Emizel definitely made before- and honestly, if he kept up the act, and if he was more careful about it, then Arthur wouldn't have noticed the possession so soon. 

“If you hurt me, you’ll hurt Emizel.”

“I'm fine with that.” He said, before he used his free leg to stomp on Emizel's hand, and then used the quick slip-up to run away from him.

The first place Arthur headed towards was the guest bedroom on the first floor. Emizel was hot on his heels, and when he turned to slam the door behind him, Emziel stuck his hand out just in time to keep him from fully closing the door. There was a struggle- he slammed the door on Emizel's hand, but no matter what he did, it didn't seem affected.

The hand reached outward, mildly flailing around, and once it found Arthur's grip on the doorknob, it held on, and started clawing at his arm. Sharp nails digging in, and shredding skin like it was paper- somehow, completely undeterred from how much Arthur was doing to his arm. Even as he heard concerning cracks, and saw the arm bending in a way it shouldn't have, Emizel held on.

For a second, he almost got thrown into another vision- just like he did in the car, running in the alleyway- but the pain was enough to keep him grounded, and in the moment.

So Arthur backed away from the doorknob, ripped his arm out from under the clawed hand, and leaned his weight against the door instead. He said he didn't care about hurting Emizel… but he just meant small injuries, like bruises or scratches. He could excuse something like that. But if he did something drastic instead, like getting his arm cut off, then it would've been a much bigger issue.

The door kept pushing against him, and Emizel kept clawing at the door to try and get to him. He briefly wondered how much he'd have to pay to get it fixed, and how upset Magnus was going to be once he found out that the door was so severely damaged.

Then he took a deep breath. As Emizel slammed on the door, almost rhythmically, he waited for a moment where he'd be leaning against it. Then Arthur backed away from the door, and as Emizel fell inside, he turned over, and finally managed to close it- finally trapping Emizel inside the guest room.

It didn't take long before Emizel was up again, and hitting the door, and twisting the doorknob to try and get it open- and Arthur knew that despite keeping it held, he couldn't hold it forever. He couldn't just wait for Emizel to get tired, and hope to find a way out.

His eyes scanned around the room. Magnus’ sister was nowhere to be seen, and even if she was, he didn't know if she was cognizant enough to help him. Or even if she could, physically…

The bathroom was just a few paces away, and if he could get inside, then he could lock the door, and actually have the space to think… or, at least, text Magnus, and let him know what was going on. Or tend to his wound. Alternatively, the book was still by the fireplace… but it seemed to be miles away, and Arthur couldn't keep the door closed long enough to make it over there, and then make it to a safe place. 

He could've had enough time to grab it and make it to the bathroom, if he thought to lock the door beforehand… but now, he was choosing either or. And, despite his hold, Emizel managed to turn the knob, and was starting to work the door open.

So Arthur locked eyes with the bathroom door. And, as Emizel struggled to creak the door open, he let go of the doorknob, and made a beeline for it. Behind him, he heard Emizel crashing into something, and swearing loudly before he started sprinting after him-

But Arthur made it just in time to close and lock the door. 

Now, he was trapped in the bathroom. 

Emizel was outside, slamming on the door so much that Arthur worried about it breaking off its hinges- or, he figured, he was a little more worried about Magnus coming down the stairs after hearing so much racket, and getting his face torn off… but for now, he was fine. He got some reprieve.

His face still stung, as did his arm. And even though he didn't want to stain anything besides the floor, Arthur took advantage of the door being closed by walking around the bathroom, and quickly wrapping towels around his bleeding arm. It wasn't incredibly bad- he'd be fine to hold out for a little while longer.

Arthur racked his brain. Then, he called Magnus. His phone was about to die, but he knew that if he was somehow sleeping through this, then he could warn him.

Thankfully, Magnus was already awake, and picked up on the first ring.

“What the fuck is going on down there?”

“Stay in your bedroom. Don't come downstairs.” He switched the hand the phone was in, then pressed it between his shoulder and his ear. Then, he pressed down on his bad arm, and inhaled sharply. “I might’ve… pissed off the spirit possessing Emizel. And he may be trying to kill me.”

As if to show his point, there was a slam on the door that was just powerful enough to shake it in the frame. Arthur jumped, but the door stayed closed, and he stayed safe, for the moment.

“What are you doing?”

“I'll figure something out, Magnus. Do not try to confront it…” After a pause, he added, “I'll pay for any damages.”

Magnus was about to say something in response, but Arthur hung up before he could. Then, he took a deep breath, and tried his best to clear his head. He was trapped, a little lightheaded, and there was no discernible way out. He could always try to open the door, and find the book- but then he'd have to find any passages on possession, and while injured… That was nearly impossible.

So Arthur waited. And, after a while Emizel finally lost some of his steam, and the slamming stopped. After a couple minutes of silence, Arthur slowly maneuvered himself to look at the small crack under the door to see if he was still there.

When he did so, he saw that Emizel’s body was doing the same. They cracked a grin, and reached his hand out under the doorway, as far as it could go- but he didn't make it far. As his palm got stuck, Arthur backed away, and slammed his shoe down on Emizel's fingers.

“Ow- fuck! You're cheating!” He then retracted his hand, and slammed on the door with his injured fist, “All this talk- you called me weak, and you can't even look me in the fucking eye! Come and get me!”

“...”

And as the minutes went by, the spirit seemed to get more agitated.

“Emizel and I made a deal.” He could tell his face was still at the bottom of the door from how clear his voice was, and Arthur was tempted to open it, and get a cheap shot, “He wanted to get stronger. He wanted to be outstanding- and I wanted to make him strong, too.”

“You wanted a body.” Arthur put it, plainly. He's been through this song and dance before.

“He doesn't see how strong we can be.” More slamming, though this time, it sounded dull. If Arthur had to guess, he'd say that the spirit was slamming Emizel's head against the door, now. Not because it did anything, but instead to throw a tantrum, “You're getting in our way! And- if you don't stop, I'll kill him! I'll take him down with me! How about that!? Ha!”

“Making a deal with you was his own mistake.” Arthur said, and he hoped his voice was blunt enough to make the spirit believe that he didn't care about him.

Apparently, it did. After another few seconds, the thumping stopped, like they were considering his words. Then the spirit growled- a loud, frustrated scream that only got louder as he walked away from the bathroom door. 

Arthur gave it a couple minutes. When he looked under, Emizel was gone. Then, as heard the sound of distant crashing, he opened the door-

And was immediately greeted with the sight of chaos. Everything that could've been thrown against a wall was being thrown against it, wallpaper shredded, books being pulled out of the shelves, and spilling across the ground. 

And when Arthur finally spotted Emizel, he saw the book in his hand- the only one that could help them- and he saw Emizel toss it right into the fireplace. Then, he saw him turn around- and the state of his client's brother made him freeze up.

Emizel was bleeding from his mouth. And, as he looked over at Arthur, it made him look monstrous- he smiled, and more blood came pouring out. His forehead was bruised, and one of his arms was laying limp at his side. Likely broken, and unusable- but despite it, Emizel didn't look to be in any sort of pain.

Then he started sprinting towards him, and Arthur barely had the reflex to close and lock the door again before Emizel was running into it head-first.

“You can't stay in there forever!” Another slam, “Sooner or later, you'll have to face me!”

It was getting harder to think.

Arthur couldn't keep him there forever. Soon, if the spirit became reckless enough, it could do something drastic- like burning the house down, or breaking even more of Magnus’ property- which Arthur said he'd fully pay the damages for… But he couldn't fight. He couldn't ask Magnus to fight for him. Magnus’ husband Jerome was going to be home soon, and Arthur couldn't warn him before he did so…

And yet, the book was gone, and he had nothing. He could either bleed out in that bathroom, or he could face the music, and let Emizel tear him to shreds.

After another minute, he got an idea. A really, really terrible one- but one that could work if luck was on his side, for once.

Arthur knew how to summon a spirit. It was his job. It was a recent death as well, even if he swore he wouldn't do it, and it was his only option.

He didn't have anything to write with but his own blood, and so, he dipped his hand under the towel, and then smeared his thumb against the glass of the mirror, and the wall surrounding it. He had a harder time standing upright- and as he wrote it, he'd then have to use his good hand to grip the side of the sink, and take a few breaths to will away the lightheadedness- but for the most part, he did fine.

When he swore he was done, he pressed a bloodied thumb against the middle- muttered the words Mary Davis- and then waited.

Arthur knew that it worked when his reflection disappeared. 

He backed up, as his writings began to smear, and collect at the bottom floor- almost like it was melting off, and seeping into the ground. Then the mirror swirled, and stopped reflecting light- and then, suddenly, it was like looking out a murky window on a rainy morning, instead of a mirror.

One hand crept out of the mirror, clawed, just as Emizel’s was. Then another. Holding onto the sides of the mirror, and using them as leverage to slowly pull herself out- Arthur soon saw the face of his dear friend Mary Davis.

With such an unnatural and sudden summoning, he was expecting her to come out of it looking a lot more angry- especially if she was resting, and did not want to be summoned- but instead, her head poked out, and she looked perfectly normal. Her hair was short, and curled to perfection- not a single hair kept out of place. She looked just as calm and beautiful as she did the last time Arthur saw her.

Then, when she realized it was Arthur standing in front of her, she looked confused. Entirely there, which was unnatural for most spirits- but, maybe, not so unnatural for a spirit that used to be a medium as well.

“Arthur?” Her voice sounded weird, as well. Distorted, like she was underwater, but could otherwise be understood.

“Mary. I'm sorry for disturbing your rest.” At the sound of voices, maybe, Arthur heard encroaching footsteps, before he heard a sudden bang on the door. Emizel shouted profanities- garbled, like he was choking on his own spit- but Arthur kept his voice calm, and leveled. “But I need your help.”

“Clearly.” She muttered, as she stared down the door. Emizel then sounded like he was clawing at it, and trying any conceivable way to get in.

“How did you manage to get rid of Anya when she was possessing me?” Mary looked back at him, grabbing her full attention.

Then, she looked a little thoughtful.

“I could tell you.” She said, as she slowly held her gloved hand out to him, “Or… I could do it for you.”

Possessions among mediums were surprisingly common.

You had to let the spirit in formally, but the method used for letting them in was something that happened easily. It wasn't always a verbal confirmation. Sometimes, it was mental, slipping in dreams, and shifting them around until the user mentally agreed to whatever they wanted- not knowing until it was too late to stop it. Sometimes, something as simple as a handshake was enough.

“I'm not letting you possess me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” And when Arthur looked down at her outstretched hand, she elaborated, “Pull me out of the mirror, Arthur.”

He did so, all while repeating a mantra over and over in his head- this was not a possession, and she was not welcome in… 

But when Arthur didn't feel anything being tugged at, strings or otherwise, he figured that Mary wasn't trying to trick him. Instead, he pulled her further out of the mirror- and then, when she was out fully enough, he put a hand under elbow, and gently helped her down onto the ground.

It was all for naught, seeing that her ghost just started to float away anyways- but he could tell from the simple smile on her face that she appreciated the gesture.

Then, she went through the door. The banging stopped, and when Arthur pressed his ear against the door to listen in on what was happening, he heard a scuffle, and Emizel running away- more specifically, running up the stairs.

Arthur immediately opened the door, just enough to catch Emizel dragging himself up the stairs, and away from a steadily approaching Mary.

When Arthur heard the sound of things crashing in the room, as well as shouts from Magnus, his pace quickened- and when he finally slammed open the door, it was just in time to see a sight he wasn't expecting. He was expecting a fight, with him prying Emizel off of Magnus, and then helping Mary get the spirit out-

But instead, by the time he got in there, Magnus already had Emizel pinned down, and Mary was already going through the process of removing the spirit. Emizel was screaming, and his body was moving- thrashing, and trying its best to get a hit on Magnus, or Mary, but hitting nothing. His fingers clawed at the ground, and left divots behind- and even though Arthur knew that Magnus was going to hold the mark over his head for the rest of his life, he also knew that it was better that it was the floor, and not his face.

“Arthur!” Magnus called out the minute he stepped into the room. “Don't just stand there!”

“...” Arthur kept his distance, and watched Mary work her magic.

She stuck her hand inside Emizel's head. And, with a quick turn of her wrist, she pulled something out- the spirit of another being. Someone around Emizel's age and height, with dark hair and cracked skin, and an ugly, twisted expression on his face. An angry spirit- someone that was so furious when he died that it was the only thing that was left of him, afterward. And as Mary then dragged him away from them, the spirit was screaming, and reaching for Emizel, to get back in again-

But it didn't make it. And, like a deadweight, Emizel's head immediately thumped against the ground. After he stopped moving, Magnus sat up.

“You got him?” Magnus asked, still heaving in breaths.

“He's fine now, Magnus.”

Magnus breathed out a long sigh of relief, and got off of him. Arthur held out his hand, and quickly helped him up.

Just out of the corner of the room, Arthur saw Mary- slowly, yet surely dragging the spirit downwards. By the time their head was under the floorboard, and their screams were muffled, she looked back at him.

“Summon me again, sometime.” She said, and despite himself, Arthur felt a strange warmth. Despite everything- this was reassuring. “I'll tell you when I'm ready to move on.”

Then she smiled, and waved at him before she disappeared entirely. If Arthur had to guess, she was probably heading back towards the mirror, and bringing the angry spirit with her. 

Arthur waited in the silence a few seconds later.

“I'm sorry for waking you up, Magnus.” He muttered.

“Yeah. Well. What were you going to do?”

Arthur crouched down, and checked Emizel's wrist for a pulse. No vision appeared when he touched him. He was breathing, and his pulse was steady.

Emizel was going to be fine.

Arthur sat down, and let out a long and heavy sigh. “Please call an ambulance, now.”