Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is hard to pinpoint exactly where the trouble began. Edwin furtively stuffing a piece of mail into the back of his notebook feels right, but happens too late to be logical. Crystal straightening up her mindscape is too helpful to be trouble, and yet look where it gets them. Charles picking fights with their new supervisor is too frequent, and honestly too expected, to be the source. 

And so the thread goes, looping around the supernatural and the arcane, cutting a jagged line across time, until we arrive back in an attic awash in blue light. It seems the trouble always happens at St. Hilarions, but really, it seems a bit unfair to call the aligning of fates that happened there, decades ago, trouble. 

So, let’s try here. It was another busy day at the office.

WE’RE SO BACK (LONDON, ENGLAND)

“Charles Rowland, I told you to dispense of that jar of bees two weeks ago!” The Night Nurse’s mouth pinched tighter as Charles slid the offending jar closer to her desk. Her “desk” was a kind way of putting it. She was perched on an old wooden chair behind an incredibly small plastic table that Charles had found on the side of the road and stuffed into his backpack. Crystal had been ready to launch a full scale investigation into how he managed such a thing, but all Edwin had done was roll his eyes fondly. 

“Dispensed of it into my backpack, didn’t I?” Charles continued to pull objects out from the bag, placing them in wider and wider circles around him. Edwin hardly paid any attention to their customary back and forth. The only indication he gave of listening to them was the barest quirk of his eyebrow as he reviewed case notes at his desk. 

“Those insects are a liability. Really, you cannot expect me to keep issuing citations without consequence.” 

“Edwin, mate,” Charles said from the floor, finally pausing his work. He turned a book over in his hands idly. “How long have I had the jar of bees in my bag?”

“We received it as payment for the Case of the Possessed Pillow Fort in 2007.” 

“Ever felt them to be a liability?”

Edwin sighed, finally looking up from his work. “Charles, please win your own arguments if you already possess the necessary information to do so. No, they have never posed a liability. They were, in fact, of great assistance during the Great Mirror Chase of ‘13.” Charles grinned at him before leaning back to meet the Night Nurse’s eye. 

“Hear that? Wouldn’t want to be mucking up our work with those citations.” His grin grew wider as her pencil ground down on her paper, leaving a thick jagged mark.

“If you would just acquiesce to a search, I could–”

“No way you’re rummaging around in my backpack. It’s a liability to have you mucking about in a complicated pocket dimension. Best left to the professionals, yeah?” 

“Oh, Charles, is that Outdated Spells and Practices, Vol. 2 in your hands?”  Edwin was quick to cut into the rhythm of their argument. There were only so many spats he could sit through, and besides, he was quite impatient to get his hands on that book. 

“Cheers, mate.” Charles tossed the book and Edwin caught it, immediately thumbing through the pages. Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as he watched. His smile lost its sharp glint. He knew what the wrinkle in his partner’s forehead meant before the other detective even said anything. Edwin snapped the book shut with a satisfied hum, scribbling something in his notes. 

“Find something?” Charles couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. The Night Nurse deflated, ignored in her corner. This, too, had become customary. 

“I knew there was something familiar about the work that young apothecary did to spell himself sideways like that. It would seem he was attempting an ancient version of a planting spell, only it is remarkably similar to a color-changing ritual. It would only take a minor error for them to get crossed, hence the rapid change to his place of business. Once you are finished, I can collect the necessary spell components to return his house to a regular number of colors.” 

“Knew you’d figure it out with your big brain.” Charles went back to his task.

Edwin scoffed. “It is only my job , Charles. 

“A job you could complete much quicker if there was not a minefield to navigate in your work space,” The Night Nurse admirably contributed. 

“I’d get it done a lot quicker if someone wasn’t interrupting every–”

The door to the office swung open with a loud bang. Edwin immediately scowled at Crystal as she stood in the doorway. He missed the way Charles quickly clenched and unclenched his jaw at the noise. With one hand, Crystal pulled her earbuds out, synth music blaring from them. The other held a large plastic cup of some unhealthily caffeinated beverage, which she took a large sip from while surveying the office. Crystal’s straw made loud suctioning noises. Charles had to suppress a laugh as Edwin looked increasingly likely to spelling the door back shut in her face. He sobered once he saw the Night Nurse unknowingly make the same expression. 

Crystal finally deigned to speak. “Who set off a bomb in here?” 

This was not the right thing to say.

Charles tipped his head back and groaned as the Night Nurse’s eyes gleamed.

“I am relieved to hear that someone in this establishment has any sort of sense and agrees with me on the matter. Truly, how are clients meant to navigate a space like this?

“Did you really have to set her off again?”

“She did, Charles, as you very well might cause harm to a client if…” Crystal gave the ensuing argument a look and then met Edwin’s eye after he did the same. She began picking her way across the room, hopping from one foot to another on empty patches of floor to the desk. 

Edwin spoke under the Night Nurse. “Charles is taking inventory of his backpack. He will be finished shortly.” 

“I thought he did that last week at that warehouse? No way inventory can fit in here without burying all of us. Or at least all of us with solid bodies.”

Edwin’s eye twitched. “I believe this is another one of his, what did you call them? ‘Intricate rituals’ to scare off the Night Nurse.” 

Crystal looked back out at the piles of items. “He’s just fucking with her.”

Edwin nodded. “He is just taking items out of his bag and putting them on the floor.” 

“Wait, are my spare hair ties from the stakeout in there?” Crystal hopped back out into the fraying, wobbling next to Charles. She windmilled wildly before finally placing a hand down on his head. He reached up to steady her.

“I put them aside for you. On the bookshelf.” Charles let her go and she picked her way over. 

“Is anyone even listening to what I just said?” The Night Nurse’s tone was tinged with despair. It was unclear if an Infinite Transdimensional Being was capable of resigning out of sheer desperation, but if there was anyone capable of causing such a feat, this was the agency to accomplish it. 

Charles smiled brightly. “No.” 

“Of course we were. Sanctimonious moaning, reputations, never in all my years–” Crystal paused as she leaned against the shelf, picking up her ball of hair ties. She planted a kiss on them before they disappeared into one of her jacket’s many pockets. “Ma’am, we work with ghosts. They can just phase through this stuff.” 

“But you–”

“Already signed your mortality waiver.” Crystal bugged her eyes. “Three times.” 

Edwin steepled his hands. He had hoped to minimize the chaos present in the office before Crystal arrived, thus returning the agency to its unfortunately now customary level of disorder. Charles, in all his cunning, had been poking the rattlesnake nest that was their minder ever since their return. Some of those were subtle attempts at gathering evidence. Edwin knew it was necessary, it was something he very well should have been doing himself. The play was one that Edwin had appreciated over the years as it was used a number of antagonizing forces during cases. With the Night Nurse, however… Charles would never endanger him, he knew, but even after a month back home, their existence still felt tenuous. 

“With how busy we have been, we have not yet been able to adjust our practices to accommodate how… crowded the agency has become.” Edwin cast a pointed look at the Night Nurse. Charles decided to punctuate this by working a guitar out from the bag and leaning it against her desk. She let out an undignified hiss of air. Edwin’s knuckles ground together. No matter what divine intervention sanctioned his and Charles’ business and therefore continued joint afterlife, the tension between all parties threatened to send him spiraling. 

Crystal looked around, got the hint that this could go on for all time given the drama queens she worked with, and clicked her tongue. 

“Soooo, anything good in that case log?” 

Charles shook out his bag. Blessedly, nothing more came out. It seems he had picked up on the tension and was granting them a reprieve. “Nothing new since you left.” 

“Hence the everything. Noted.”

“Oh, Crystal, meant to ask, when’s Jenny coming to visit?” 

“The 25th, so this?” She gestured to the, well, everything. “Cannot be happening. She still hasn’t gotten over a 16 year old boy carrying a meat cleaver in his backpack.”

“Oi, I was returning it to her! It wasn’t even made out of iron. She’s the one who gave it to someone who could get stabbed.”

The Night Nurse’s head snapped up. “What is this about–”

“Charles, you know she forgets you and Edwin are dead and, like, kind of older than her. Just, try not to give her a heart attack or anything.” 

“Yes, well, if that business is taken care of, can we get to the work that must be done today?” Edwin pulled out a file from the stack beside him. “Crystal, I wanted you to review the Henderson file. Your skills may be of particular value with–”

The door slammed open so hard the tinted glass rattled. The Night Nurse yelped and reached for the guitar, wielding it like a club. Really, was the amount of interruptions necessary? Edwin rose from the desk, but Charles was on his feet first, shifting in front of Edwin without even thinking.

A middle-aged woman marched through the doorway. Her hair was piled on her head, her make-up was perfect, and her pearls seemed to glow from how polished they were. Charles lowered his hands, but there was a sharpness radiating off the woman that felt dangerous. 

“My daughter is in grave danger and you must deal with it!” 

MOMMY ISSUES

Charles had far too much fun cleaning up. Crystal whistled as he closed his bag, muttering something about a “speedrun.” He shot her a wink.

“This isn’t even my record.”

Crystal gave him a deeply unimpressed look, but he didn’t miss the way she leaned in close to his side to drop her armful of objects into the bag. She was almost warm, he could imagine feeling the way some of her hair brushed against his back, and even though she really was all of those things, he didn’t feel a thing. 

Edwin cleared his throat. “Apologies. Inventory of the office is a standard procedure– and we were not expecting such urgency. Please, take a seat…”

“Mrs. Diane Bedlam.” The woman marched into the office. Her appearance was spotless, her clothes firmly pressed. Their new client could control her form down to the minute detail, but given all the door banging early, she was probably  newly dead. Powerful, then, or at least controlling. She glided into her seat elegantly, her back ramrod straight and legs crossed at the ankle. Charles wondered if he had forgotten any members of the British royal family, but he wasn’t exactly their biggest fan. He and Crystal wordlessly took up their positions, Charles perched on the end of the desk and Crystal leaning up against the window. 

“Mrs. Bedlam, before we begin, is your daughter in immediate danger?”

Their prospective client hardly batted an eye. “No, no, she’ll be quite fine for the moment. Time is running short, however.” 

“Then tell us what brings you in today.” Edwin flipped to a new page in his notebook. 

“I died earlier this year. It was quick, unexpected. Terribly inconvenient, the whole mess.” Mrs. Bedlam waved a hand as if she was discussing getting a nasty stain on a shirt. There was no small chance she would have reacted with more emotion had that been what she was discussing. Crystal shot Charles a look. He just shrugged. He had seen all sorts of reactions to deaths. The nonchalance was one he could never understand, but it wasn’t unheard of. 

“I decided to stay and see that my daughter handle the next few months with poise. She will be graduating soon. I just needed to know that she continued to excel, even after everything that happened. Surely you can understand that.” 

Not a one of them had graduated, but Charles could understand. He stuck around to check on full grown adults after he died. If his ma had died when he was a kid… he didn’t really like that thought. But it might have been nice, to think that she might still be around. Maybe not as a ghost, though, but reincarnated. 

That whole thing was kind of grim, but if it had been his dad sticking around… 

He shot a glance at Crystal. She wasn’t looking at anyone. She really was psychic, because she could feel his gaze and looked up to glare at him. Conversation for later, then. 

“Our business is not to judge the reasons someone may remain. We merely help with unfinished business that keeps spirits here. Please, what is happening to your daughter?” 

Mrs. Bedlam squared her shoulders. “My daughter is competing to be Miss Greater London.” 

Edwin’s face did not change, an expression that betrayed how much their clients words had thrown him. Charles leaned slightly closer to Edwin and cast a furtive glance down at his notes. In his impeccable handwriting, he had written I wasn’t aware Greater London was so eligible a bachelor. So the brains of their operation was momentarily offline.

“You think there might be something bad happening, yeah?” Charles cast desperately for a line. 

“I know there is something wrong. Elsbeth has been preparing for this moment for years. After my passing, she considered dropping out, but she has worked too hard to quit. I’ve watched over her final steps to the competition, but all this week, when I attempt to enter the theatre where rehearsals are held, I am repelled . I feel so terrible, as if I am being surveilled. There is something malevolent in that theatre, I am telling you. I have no way of knowing what is happening to my daughter in there, what might be preying upon her or what she might be doing. I need to see her on that stage.” 

“Something malevolent? Edwin and I have handled loads of haunted theatre cases, isn’t that right?”

“Such a phenomenon could have greater effects with so many people present for it. You were right to bring to this our attention, Mrs. Bedlam.” 

“That’s his stuck up way of saying we’ll take your case.” Crystal kicked off of the wall and leaned her hands on the desk. Mrs. Bedlam looked over to her, as if noticing her for the first time. Her eyes narrowed a bit. Crystal noticed and just raised a brow. 

“You seem a tad out of place, given your branding.” 

“Crystal Palace, living girl psychic.”

“She’s new.” 

Charles was so happy she had stuck around. “And already a valuable part of the team, right?” 

“Crystal assists us with all of our cases, and her skillset will be of use with yours.”

Mrs. Bedlam nodded. “I must say, I am relieved she will be present. I was worried about the impropriety of allowing two young men such as yourselves to be around my daughter without supervision.” 

Edwin was not physiologically capable of blushing, but he came very close. Charles tipped his head back and laughed. 

Crystal nodded sagely. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Bedlam, I keep these two on a tight leash.”

“If we could discuss payment,” Edwin hissed, fighting a losing battle for control of the situation. “We are a professional practice.” 

“Invoice me a quote for getting your door sign updated to reflect your recent hiring.” 

“If that invoice can include travel for our living associate, you have a deal.”

Mrs. Bedlam coolly held out a hand to shake. 

***

The door clicked shut behind Mrs. Bedlam. Charles was up and moving, bouncing around the office.

“This is brills. We haven’t had a case like this since we got back to London!” 

“She didn’t exactly give us a lot of time, or details.” Crystal crossed her arms, leaning over to read Edwin’s case notes. She got to the same line Charles had and snorted. “Remind me to show you Next Top Model .” 

To Edwin’s credit, he only glared at her for a moment before scratching in a note to himself. Charles had been advocating for movie night for weeks. They hadn’t had one since Port Townsend, when Niko had corralled them all into her room to watch some animated movie with mice. He’d been a little too in his head at the time to really focus on it. She said she was taking notes to be a proper detective, and Edwin had started chiming in anytime there was a Sherlock Holmes reference. Crystal had only made a few jabs towards him, content to watch their easy chatter with her head on Charles’ shoulder.

The memory hit him with a pang. Maybe that’s why there hadn’t been an agency movie night again. He could think of a lot of reasons why there hadn’t been another. Edwin’s voice brought him back to the case at hand.

“You raise a salient point. The Lycaon Theatre is not a site Charles and I have investigated before. We do not know how old or pervasive this phenomenon is. What we do know is that it could be very, very dangerous and get much worse without intervention.” Edwin shuffled folders around, setting aside their lowest priorities. “That is not the part that worries me, however. Our client was repelled from the site of the haunting. It stands to reason that Charles and I may similarly be unable to enter the theatre.” 

Charles stopped, looking back at Edwin. “You’re not serious? We have the disguises, those’ll work.” 

“Until we know what we’re dealing with, we cannot be sure. I doubt the experience in the theatre will be pleasant.” He looked up at Crystal. “For any of us.” 

“Do you often only debate the risks of an assignment after taking it?” The Night Nurse stood from her desk, collecting her files into an overstuffed briefcase. Charles could have sworn she’d not been sitting there the whole time. He was a bloody detective, he’d have noticed. 

“Oi, people need our help. It’s not our place to say no. If we can help them, we will.” 

“Your superior recognized it herself. The work we do is exemplary, and our results are consistent.”

“Your operation is dangerous and wildly unprofessional! You are under my responsibility. I cannot question my superior’s reasoning, but I must put my foot down–”

Charles would pick a stupid fight with her anyday of the week like it was his job (she had to mind something , right, and their agency certainly didn’t need it), but when it came down to the actual case-solving, he refused to let her gum up the works. “You won’t be doing anything if you want to keep your numbers up. That’s all you corporate gits care about, right? Who cares that we’re the ones helping people. If you had your way, we’d be filling out the ‘proper’ forms and waiting for permissions for the rest of our entire bloody afterlives, the lot of good that would do for anyone.” 

The Night Nurse tugged down on her blazer and strode forward. Charles stiffened as she stared him down. Crystal and Edwin were ready to jump in, but all she did was lean forward. Her eyes were so dark they swallowed light. 

“You would do well to remember that the only reason your agency still exists is because I choose to forgo the proper forms and permissions. Do not make me regret it.” 

Before anyone could say anything else, she ripped open their closet door and disappeared, presumably off their plane of existence. 

Charles deflated, immediately looking back at Edwin to survey the damage. Any sharp-creased delight from taking a new case had drained out of him, replaced with a ball of tension. He could kick himself, little effect it would actually have. With everything that had happened in Port Townsend, he knew Edwin would be far from okay for a while. He had told himself he would be good for him. Edwin was allowed to fall apart. Charles would be here for him like he always was.

But here he was, mouthing off and making things worse. What reason did he have to be upset? Everything was as it should be. All he had to do was tone it down with the Night Nurse. Should’ve been doing so for weeks. Or even pick fights when Edwin wasn’t running to hear them. The office was Edwin’s home as much as his, so what right did he have to make him feel unsafe in it? The only problem seemed to be he couldn’t stop, and he really hoped it hadn’t become so apparent to everyone else. 

“I’m sorry, mate. I shouldn’t have been riling her up. It’s just, I can’t let her say that about us, all right?” Charles looked at Edwin pleadingly. By the way Edwin looked away, he knew his best friend wasn’t mad at him. He would have preferred that. That closed off look of Edwin’s could have meant anything. Charles would have said he knew all of Edwin’s little expressions. He had honed his detective skills by practicing on Edwin’s deliberate stoicism, and more often than not, his guesses were correct. This new look was a post-America phenomenon, and Charles was increasingly worried his case was going cold. 

“Charles, you must… I need you to–” Edwin abruptly stood, snapping his notebook shut. “No matter. I will go to the library to do the necessary research on the theatre for any possible causes. Crystal, if you could make use of your Internet to learn more about Mrs. Bedlam’s daughter. We will meet back here tomorrow morning to discuss our plan.” He was barely finished speaking before he slid through the mirror. Charles suppressed the inane desire to grab the back of his coat as it flashed away, pull Edwin back into the office with him, hold him by the shoulders, and wait for him to admit what was wrong. 

Charles didn’t, though, and the office groaned softly on its foundations. He put the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment, as if he could somehow pull the last five minutes of mistakes out of him and break them over his knee. 

“Yikes.” He lowered his hands to see Crystal examining her nails.

“Don’t say anything, okay?” Charles leaned back against the desk.

Crystal shrugged. “I didn’t.”

“You just said ‘yikes.’” 

“Weird how you thought I was talking about you.” 

Charles pushed a harsh breath of air he didn’t need out of his nostrils and looked up at the ceiling. Crystal sighed. “Sorry, you probably didn’t need that. You, uh, wanna talk about how you can’t go five seconds without picking a fight with our supernatural corporate oversight?” 

“No, Crystal, I don’t, because it’s not a problem to stick up for our good work. ‘Sides, we’re on the clock. Let’s look into this Elsbeth Bedlam bird, okay?” 

Charles could tell Crystal was considering probing the issue further. He smiled and drummed a rhythm on the desk next to him when he saw her decide to drop it. She slid into Edwin’s customary chair and acquiesced by sliding open her computer. Charles’ shoulder brushed against hers, and even if he was feeling a bit shit, the routine gave him comfort. And even if she knew he was miserable under that mask, she took comfort in the routine, too. 

He knew she was still adding his latest failure to her ever-growing list of conversations he’d rather not have once they finished their cases. 

[You can see the problem with such a list, can’t you?]

***

The Tube doors chimed sweetly before the carriage lurched into motion. Crystal stood leaning against one of the poles in the middle of the car. There were relatively few people around her, but she was still stuck in with the morning commuters. Most of yesterday was spent hunched over her laptop in the office looking at high maintenance teenage girls carefully moderated profiles and then tracking down whatever dirt she could find. Edwin and Charles might not get it, but all she’d needed to hear was “beauty pageant” to see how this could be dangerous. She’d exhausted all avenues before midnight, and Edwin still hadn’t gotten back. Charles had tried to hide his sad look when she insisted on walking back alone, saying she needed to turn her brain off, and then she’d left him in the office alone. 

Looking at the boys now, it wasn’t as if she could read exhaustion on them like she could when she tried to make herself presentable each day. She didn’t have their weird married-besties-totally-platonic-heterosexual telepathy, either. But Charles still looked worn out, trying to hide it. Edwin had been frustrated all morning. Clearly, none of them were feeling especially cheery. 

Honestly, it was a good thing she was rich, because this job certainly did not pay her enough to keep up with her caffeine. She’d have to ask at the next staff meeting. Oh wait! One of her coworkers was a brat and their over-qualified substitute teacher probably would try to tell her it would kill her.

Be nice, be nice, be nice …

“Crystal, tell us what you learned about our client’s daughter.” Edwin stood with his notebook ready, unperturbed by the motion of the car.

“Elsbeth is a serious pageant girl, so her socials are all squeaky clean. Lots of photo-ops from volunteering in nice clothes, pictures with other pageant princesses, nothing that could get her in trouble.” The old lady in the seat beside her glared at the “phonecall.” Crystal ignored her. “There’s a post about overcoming adversity and proving yourself to people who doubt you, which is probably about her mom. Other than that, nothing you wouldn’t expect. On paper, she’s boring .” 

Charles wandered back over from where he had been people-watching other passengers. “Well, what do you reckon, then?”

“I can imagine her keeping her public persona cleaner than her mom’s shirts. I didn’t run in the same circle girls like her do, but I know her type. She’ll have skeletons in her closet behind all those sequins. All of the girls will. No one’s flawless.” Crystal tried to level a look at Charles, but he quickly looked away. He grabbed Edwin’s shoulders from behind to look over at his notes. (Crystal was lost at that one. Were ghosts not material enough to be unbalanced by the train or not? Was that just an Edwin thing? Or was that just a Charles thing?). 

“You finally gonna tell us what kept you at the library all night?” 

Edwin snapped his book shut with one hand. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“What?”

“There is not a single recorded incident in the Lycaon’s 116 year history that could allude to supernatural disturbance. No fire, no murder, no theatrical accident; a single nervous breakdown decades ago that didn’t even result in death. I combed through all the available public records of owners and trustees. No newspaper or periodical reported any trouble in the forty seven year history of this competition. Nothing! It’s remarkable.” Crystal waited through Edwin’s little tirade by doing some quick math. She grinned. 

“Oh, no, the psychic’s had a thought.”

“You’re older than the theatre.” Charles laughed as Edwin sighed, looking as if he’d rather phase through the floor and be steamrolled by the train.

“She’s got you there, mate.”

“She can do basic math! Good for her. What she has not done is grasp the gravity of the situation.” 

“She’s right here, assholes.” The old lady looked positively scandalized. The train stopped. Crystal waited as she shuffled off to continue. “So research didn’t get us anywhere. Good thing we only have a shit ton of investigations under our belt.”

Charles proved her point immediately. “You don’t think someone’s recently messed with the theater?” 

“Wait, how recent is recent?” Crystal was no stranger to the supernatural, and even to casework now, but there was still a lot she didn’t know. Recent could mean weeks or centuries when it came to ghosts. 

“It stands to reason that if there is not any unfinished business we could suss out at the Lycaon, then someone has created new business. In Charles and mine’s experience, that kind poses a significantly higher risk.” 

Crystal looked between her friends. Edwin was deep in thought. Charles was considering him, undetected. He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow. She thunked her forehead against the pole. Their silent exchange went a bit like this:

He thinks it’s a witch.

Of course he’s thinking of fucking Esther. 

She could feel the vibrations of the train against her skull. The metal was cool on her skin. Crystal had not gotten much sleep the night before. She wasn’t sleeping much at all, to be honest. Filing a work place safety violation with the Night Nurse probably had some merit. Working herself to the bone, however, was better than laying in the dark with only her newly returned memories to haunt her. 

She preferred repressed ghosts of teenage boys anyday.

Crystal looked at the floor of the tube, and she couldn’t help but remember waking up on one similar to it not even two months ago. Charles and Edwin looking down at her, complete strangers, and even if they didn’t know her, they still cared enough to be concerned. Somehow, that still carried over once they did get to know her, or who they thought she was. She had been so confused and scared, loneliness eating at her even before she had a glimmer as to why . Crystal would have followed the boys anywhere then, if it meant someone looked at her again, not through her. Now she didn’t know what to do with all the genuine kindness she had received.

Her throat started to feel a little thick. She wasn’t used to people sticking with her, and the people she stuck with to care . And now they were going to have a front row seat to just how terrible a decision that was.

A hand settled on top of hers on the rail. She glanced back up, and there was Charles. His thumb swept side to side along her knuckles, there but not quite. Crystal swallowed. She had appearances to keep up. 

“ Oh no , so the theatre’s weird. If only there were people we could hire to figure out why.” Crystal rolled her neck. “We have two more stops and then we’re up. What’s the plan?”

PRESS DAY

The Lycaon Theatre cut an imposing figure on the London streets. Its marquee sign was old fashioned, nearly as old as the building. In the mid-morning, its bulbs were off. Still, the red lettered “Lycaon” was supported by metal in the shape of a howling wolf. A security guard stood in front of the doors.  

Crystal strode down the sidewalk, past the front doors and into the alley, where a harried looking man stood by the side entrance door. He was drumming a pen loudly against his clipboard whilst snarling into his earpiece. 

“What do you mean the Herald’s late? Their contestant piece is the– well, get them here! The girls are on in twenty.” Crystal stopped. She lifted the lanyard around her neck and shook it until the metal clip rattled. 

Clipboard Man finally looked at her. 

“What do you want?” 

“To do my job?”

“You look like you should be in school.”

“I have a work/study with the Post.”

“You know what? Sure. Your subjects are going to eat you alive.” With that, he looked down at his clipboard, waving a dismissive hand towards the door. Crystal paused, thinking. Then her eyes rolled up into milky white.

“You seriously need a coffee right now. You like the place ten blocks away.” Clipboard Man dazedly repeated the words back to her and hustled out of the alley. 

“What a wanker.” Charles pulled his jacket tighter around him. He and Edwin had been right behind Crystal, watching. 

“I fail to see the purpose of that,” Edwin sniffed.

“If we need to sneak two additional journalists in, then it’s easier to get him out of the way.”

Charles drifted closer to the theatre door. “Won’t come to that, will it?”

Crystal wasn’t so sure. She considered the door. Her mind buzzed, but it wasn’t just nerves from the case. It was as if thousands of insects had made a nest in her head and they were all vibrating at a high frequency. She stepped closer and they grew louder. “This is gonna suck,” Crystal muttered under her breath. She started pulling her hair back. Louder, she said, “Do you feel that?”

“Mrs. Bedlam wasn’t kidding with the malevolence.” Charles rubbed his arms. “It feels like my maths teacher is scribbling on the chalkboard.” 

“Math? Really?”

“Never nearly failed Mr. Allen’s trig class, did you? Proper evil.” Charles glanced at Edwin. His smile was as bright as ever, but she could see a glimmer of concern in his eyes “How about you?” 

“Trigonometry was offered to upper level students. I never quite cared for the subject, so I did not petition to take it early.” Edwin blinked at them owlishly when they stared at him.

“Yeah, so we’re talking about the definitely pissed off noise that just appeared in our heads.” 

“Oh, yes, that. Truly, it is not so bad.” Edwin cocked his head at the theatre, thinking. Charles shifted closer to him in what Crystal sadly thought was his best attempt at subtlety.  

“Mate, you can be honest.”

Edwin narrowed his eyes. “I am . Hell exhibits a similar aura that stems from the suffering of such a large number of people. I have become a bit desensitized to it. That being said, this aura is different. It is almost as if it is concentrated on a single person.” He was writing in his notebook before he had finished speaking. 

“Okay, so as your professional psychic, I call bullshit.”

“Several decades of Hell do not lie, Crystal.”

“Edwin, I will quit if you pull the Hell card every time.”

“Oh, he absolutely will.” Charles’ smile turned fond. Crystal, not for the first time, considered ghost homicide.

“If I had known it would get you out of our hands, I would have done it more.”

“Okay, okay, we’re professionals, right? Mate, this is great!” Charles looked like he was the only one who thought so. “We’ll just have to see which detective has the better theory.” 

“Well, it’s your malevolent aura, too. Take a guess.” 

“Could be it’s multiple people with the same feeling.” Charles shrugged. He rubbed his shoulders again. 

Edwin closed his book. “If we could get on with the case, please. The interviews are scheduled to start soon, and we have yet to determine if Charles and I will be repulsed as Mrs. Bedlam was.” 

“Alright, geez. You’ll fit right in with the rest of us, Edwin.” The boys gave her a blank look. “You speak stone cold bitch.” Crystal grabbed the door and wrenched it open. 

There was no gust of wind, no forking strike of lightning or portent of doom. The ground did not shake. The lights did not flicker. Yet, if Crystal had to describe the sensation of entering the Lycaon Theatre that day, she would have used any of those. The psychic energy inhabiting the theatre was oppressive. Crystal felt as if she had been rolled through fabric and emerged crackling with static electricity. That static went right to her head, distracting her from everything else. 

“–stal? Crystal .” A hand at her elbow brought her back, blinking hard. 

“Woah. The vibes are all over the place.” Crystal gave another shake of her head. She tried to tune out the aura by focusing on what was in front of her. “Wait, you’re here .” 

The boys had entered right behind her. There were no invisible force fields or powers dragging them back out. Edwin had a little crease in his brows as he inspected the doorway. He put a hand through the wall, turned it this way and that, and proceeded to step all the way back out. Charles grabbed him and pulled him back inside. 

“Don’t push our bloody luck, mate! Do you want to have to sit this one out?” Charles took another second before releasing Edwin, as if he wasn’t fully convinced Edwin wouldn’t try to test his hypothesis anyway. 

“It doesn’t make any sense. Why repel only one ghost?”

“Could the aura be changing?”

“Pretty sure something like this only gets worse over time.” Crystal cast a glance around the rest of the room. They were in the employee only access room, where crates of electronic equipment were stored. The lights were dim, but there was only one hallway to go through. If she focused on only hearing what was normal, she could hear the flutter of journalists. 

“It doesn’t matter. The malevolent aura let you both in, so we stick to the plan. You two poke around, I interview the girls about what’s happening.” Crystal waited for any objection, but all she got were nods. Tugging down on her jacket, she stomped down the maintenance hallway. The thrum of noise, both human and supernatural, only got stronger as she went. 

Since returning to London and becoming an official part of the agency, Crystal’s dealt with a lot. There was a haunted telephone line trying to suck people’s souls in through payphones, lots of missing items that could kill people, and even a very confused kelpie. She’s also been avoiding her old life like a pro, turning her phone off for hours on end, and only just finding an apartment two weeks ago. It’s barely furnished and she spends more time sleeping on the office couch then she should, but she also doesn’t have anyone in her life (the dead didn’t count) to judge her. Except for Edwin, but for all his jabs, she gets the feeling that he doesn’t mean it all the time.

Really, it could be worse. It just says a lot that “worse” is possessed by a demon or hurting people bad enough for them to not care she dropped off the face of the planet.

It was easy being in America, away from everyone who ever knew her. She could be better, but now she was back at the scene of the crime waiting for when she inevitably picked up the knife again. There’s a lot more pressure when it comes to staying a good person than there is to stop being a bad one. 

[I’d like to mention that she’s literally a sixteen year old girl, but she’s not feeling particularly kind to herself right now, so that’s the way it’s going].

All of this to say, Crystal was dreading how this case might unfold. In a crescendo of light, Crystal was deposited out of the cramped hallway into the cavernous theatre. There were about a dozen journalists milling about in the front rows, but they were far outnumbered by photographers. Some had press badges, but most of them appeared to be employees of the pageant. People in all black and t-shirts emblazoned with League of Exceptional Pageantry on them hustled around like their lives depended on it, barking orders into phones and headsets. 

The Lycaon Theatre itself was eye-catching. It was as if Crystal had stepped right into the dark maw of a wolf. Thick crimson upholstery lined the seats, matching the curtains and the carpets, effect nearly garish. Gold gleamed, ending in tapered points everywhere it could and in many places it shouldn’t. Even with most of the house lights on, there was a dimness to the theatre, as if the light could not reach certain points. It was a look of the well-funded: shiny, extravagant, and unable to be questioned.

The place seemed fit for some kind of ancient emperor– were there ghosts that old?– to sit and watch bloodsport, meaning a pageant was perfect. 

Crystal was just getting to the aisle when someone clapped their hands behind her. 

“Alright, alright, we have a tight schedule!” A harried looking stagehand called out. He carried a clipboard loaded with papers, inches thick. 

“Our office is goin’ to look like that if we keep the Night Nurse around.” Charles’ voice was low beside her despite the fact that no one could probably hear him. 

The threat in Edwin’s response was thinly veiled. “Over my evaporated dead body.” 

“Thank you all for coming to this year’s press day! We’re all very excited for you to meet the most beautiful, brightest young women Greater London has to offer. The contestants will be ready for individual interviews in five minutes. You’ll have an hour to meet with them in their dressing rooms. After, you will have the chance to watch tonight’s rehearsal.” There was a sudden bang from off stage. The stagehand let out a desperate groan, waving incomprehensibly at the crowd before scurrying away, a few papers fluttering off the clipboard.

“Let us go over the plan once more. Crystal, you will interview the contestants. Focus on information pertaining to any suspicious interference or supernatural trouble.” She gave him a little two fingered salute that she quickly turned into fixing her hair. “I will explore the theatre looking for a physical cause of the miasma. Charles, will you–”

“Oh, forgot to mention, but he’s coming with me.” Both of their eyes snapped towards Crystal. “Don’t look at me like that.” They were actually giving her different expressions, but she couldn’t stand either of them. Edwin was looking at her with such open concern that she had no idea what to do with his sudden sincerity. Charles was no better because, for once, he was totally unreadable. He could have been crestfallen, panicked, or anything. The role reversal made Crystal waver for just a second, but only because she couldn’t piece together why it was happening. They both quickly looked away from her.

“I think having someone with me when I’m interviewing the girls will be helpful, that’s all. Both of you are better equipped to poke around their dressing rooms for anything amiss. Besides, I know we were joking, but I’m not letting Charles wander around on his own here.” That finally resettled the earth beneath her feet, watching Charles smirk a bit. Edwin opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. “Edwin, you would probably combust before doing something improper.” And Crystal Palace is a damn good detective herself, so she doesn’t miss the look that passes between Charles and Edwin, and how their gazes bounce off of each other like magnets repelled. 

Interesting, but still not getting paid enough for this . “You two can team up like old times on the next case.” 

“Yes, yes, well reasoned, Crystal. We shall reconvene before the rehearsal begins. And, should there be any trouble, I am here.” 

“Likewise, mate.” Charles reached out and gave Edwin’s shoulder a little shake. Edwin gave an exasperated little huff before spinning on his heel, all but strutting up the aisle. Charles watched him go.

Crystal sighed. “He’d probably tear up one of these things.” Charles gave her a bewildered look, but then his eyes began to glaze over. She couldn’t believe she was hoping it was from concern still and not the image she just put in his head. 

She dug through her pockets. “Please, I saw him use that fireball spell last week. He’ll be fine. We’re the ones actually going into the trenches.” 

***

Assorted notes and detritus pertaining to the case found in the pockets of Crystal Palace (Surname-von Hoverkraft)’s well-pocketed purple coat: 

• 4 empty wrappers of gum, each of a different brand, chewed in rapid succession

• 7 pencils (3 have snapped graphite, one is snapped in half, and each have slightly chewed erasers)

• Lipstick. It’s a nice color!

• Pocket spiral notebook with case notes. Half of these are notes to Charles for him to read over her shoulder as she “interviews” the young women. Scattered throughout are recurring themes from their questioning. 

• A very crumbled program with the faces and bios of each contestant. The borders of the pages all have a spiral mass of graphite, doodles with sharp points Crystal doesn’t even realize she was drawing.

***

Morgan Tatterly gave a little wave as Crystal closed her changing room door. Charles phased out of it behind her. 

“Checked the make-up box. Nothing.”

Crystal rubbed her eyes. “It was a long shot anyway.” She dug around in her pockets before dragging the program out. She crossed out yet another contestant. 

“Crazy, innit, what she said about all her heels snapping. Hardly supernatural, but still. Kinda always thought that would happen more often.” Charles leaned up against the wall next to Crystal. She looked up and down the tight corridor. 

“She would think she’s being sabotaged.”

“Yeah, but by Katie? She was too distracted trying to rewrite her sheet music to even talk to us. You think it’s always this hectic before the show?” 

“Behind closed doors? Absolutely. They all just want you to believe they’re little queens and goddesses deigning you worthy of their time.” Crystal grimaced. She couldn’t mirror travel like the boys, but each dressing room she entered felt like it was transporting her to another life. One where she preened for attention, stomped and cheated and laughed like a wielded knife, did anything she could to put the pain in her chest onto someone else. Unlike these girls, she didn’t care about shining so bright she dazzled. She’d preferred to be a black hole, snuffing out all the light foolish enough to shine too close. Crystal only cared about chasing out her hurt with someone, anyone, else’s. She saw that same ambition, that same hurt, in all of these girls, no matter what mask they put up, even the most well-adjusted. 

Charles thought for a minute. “There used to be one of these, not anything posh like this, but for some of the local girls. Think my mum wanted to go see, maybe, but well, definitely couldn’t. But everyone in town always seemed excited. All anyone could talk about in school, too. Just thought it seemed like everyone was having fun.” He shrugged and looked away. Always with the flitting attention. Crystal had a theory it’s what made him a good detective. He took in so much with an unsuspecting face. Now, as he drummed a beat on two of his lapel pins, Crystal knew she should have theorized about what he was always running from.

It was just like him to be honest for once at the worst time. The door to their next interview remained closed, and the hallway empty, so she listed a little closer and began. “I told you my parents are artists.” Charles looked down at Crystal, letting her lean on his shoulder as he nodded.

“When I was little, they were always introducing me to different things. I don’t know if I wanted to do what they did, or if it was an accident, but my favorite of all of them was art. I saw a lot of weird stuff as a kid before I realized I was psychic. Painting was the easiest way to make it… real. I didn’t need any other way to describe my own world. My parents would say that they loved it. When they were traveling I’d send them stuff, have the nanny of the week send pictures. It was mine, and I gave it to them. I was eleven? Twelve? When I found out they were posting it online to generate ‘discourse.’ Like, discourse on fucking what? Child art? Parenthood? It was just a bunch of snobs and creeps tearing it apart. I couldn’t stand looking at a canvas or brush. They took it from me.” Crystal was trying to be quiet, but she could taste the bitterness of her words. When she’d first remembered her parents, it was a flood of warmth, of extravagant parties, the sound of her mother’s laugh, the way her father would sing when it rained. She did what anyone would do and dug deeper, chasing that feeling. Only, she ended up unearthing skeleton after skeleton, each disappointment as fresh as the day it happened, multiplied into one truth. 

Charles nudged her lightly, bringing her back to the present. “Your parents sound like right shitheads, Crystal.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not as if–” She didn’t get to finish that sentence. All of a sudden, it was like something reached out and yanked on her brain stem. The world blurred. Her heart beat faster, and the ground was suddenly less solid beneath her. 

Crystal had been able to tune out of the psychic energy after a while, minimizing it to the dull beginnings of a headache. Now it blossomed with a force that slammed into her. She straightened involuntarily, gasping. Rhythmically, it pounded into her skull, static clearing.

That’s when the screaming started. 

One voice cut through, joined by another, and another, all of them high and scared. They wouldn’t stop, but she couldn’t cut through them, either. She kept reaching, trying to connect with one, to do anything, but she couldn’t stop them. The pounding just got more insistent, no, closer, pointed and staccato. 

Please, please stop . I’ll help you, I promise, I just can’t– please, please, please STOP–

Crystal’s ears popped as the screaming cut off. The change was so abrupt she wobbled. Her hands were threaded in her hair, nails digging into skin. She blinked quickly, trying to hold on to what she remembered. She felt as if she had just left a concert, her skin buzzing from too much close contact and a murkiness in her hearing that came from too many decibels. 

“I think… I think there’s something here.” She couldn’t have backed that theory up with evidence. It was just something in her gut, landing sick and heavy. Crystal said it to the floor, but it was for Charles, who she knew was hovering at her side. 

The problem was, there was still that staccato pounding, getting closer, the weight of the miasma expanding and contracting in time. There was a tug on her jacket. Crystal looked up, but Charles was already looking down the hall. The only clue he’d been hit with anything like her was the tight fist he made at his side. Safe to say he hadn’t been walloped, then. Expecting whatever could cause that , Crystal whirled. 

It was just another girl. 

Her blond hair was bobbed perfectly beneath her chin. She was all sharp angles. Crystal knew she was a teenager, but it felt like there was an ocean between the two of them in that department. When she smiled, it was with her blinding white teeth sharp against dark lips. 

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” She didn’t stop smiling, though. With elegant steps that Crystal was sure she plotted out to be perfect, the girl strode over. Her heels clacked, clacked, clacked against the floor. Her stomach dropped. She knew that sound, Crystal had been hearing it–

She blinked, hard, determined not to lose it yet. Her head pounded all the same until the new girl stopped in front of her. 

Charles’ voice was in her ear. “It’s Victoria Hyatt. You know, the one all of the girls–” 

“Oh, you’re press? You look far too young for that.” A well-manicured hand rested on Crystal’s shoulder as she laughed at her own joke. Her bright yellow nails dug in, just a little. Crystal watched her, and something passed over her– Victoria’s– face, too quick for her to figure out. 

“Internship. And thanks, for checking on me. Just a busy day, right?” Crystal shrugged, trying to shake off that hand. “You’re Victoria Hyatt?”

She didn’t get the hint. “The one and only, baby.” She twirled a finger around. 

“Give me the signal, Crystal, and I’ll haunt this place enough to distract her.” Charles’ glower was audible. As if unbidden, the lights flickered above them. She appreciated the sentiment, but she could handle this.

“Can I ask you some questions? To start, you’re the only contestant wearing yellow. Quite a bold choice. Were you ever concerned it might clash with your hair?” It was hardly Crystal’s best, but she was just going for shock value. 

Victoria just gave her a wolfish grin, tipped her perfectly bobbed head back, and laughed. It sounded like tinkling glass. Crystal grit her teeth at the somehow not unpleasant sight. 

“No, you cannot stick your nose in my business.” Victoria leaned in, lips next to Crystal’s ear.

“Crys–”

“Your pretty lie is see through. What are you really doing here, little girl?” 

Crystal shifted away. “Uh, we’re the same age? And what are you doing? I’m just trying to ask you about the pageant.” 

“Sure you are, babe, but I’m just concerned you might have me confused with something else. So pale, even your eyes, as if you’re seeing ghosts.” Crystal looked back up at Victoria. She did an exaggerated version of Crystal’s shrug from earlier. 

“Oh, you know what–” Crystal focused on the spot where Victoria still touched her and slipped into her mind. 

It was like tripping into a metal wall. The recoil nearly spit her back out, but she held on. She didn’t have enough time to force her way through. Instead, she skimmed, trying not to focus too long on any one thing. Flashes of light like old camera bulbs burned her eyes, but with each one she saw the outline of a body, no, it was Victoria, no, it was a shape, an ink blot, stretching into pointed ends and jagged ends, no, it was definitely Victoria, only there was something wrapped around her. A dark hand over where her face should be, moving, slithering, reaching out, grazing Crystal’s chin–

Crystal finally stumbled clean of Victoria’s grip, blinking despite the dim corridor. “What are you–”

“Uh uh uh, I already told you, I won’t be answering any more questions from the press. Although...” Victoria strode forward. She booped Crystal on the nose, pressing a little too hard and pulling away so her nail scratched down. “You might prove more interesting than I thought, babe. But this is my show.” She disappeared down the corridor before Crystal could even think to step on the end of her dress or tear out an earring and demand a duel, or whatever she would have done before meeting a literal Edwardian. 

“What was her bloody deal? You okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Charles bent down to meet her eyes. Crystal’s mind was still spinning. There was too much to unpack there, too much happening at once, too many theories half forming in her mind. And now she had Charles Rowland looking like he was ready to tear something apart with his hands. She was shaking her head before she was even conscious of it. She’d held her own against worse.

Their eyes met. She took a breath. He echoed her. The ridiculousness of trying to get a ghost to take deep calming breaths was enough to almost make Crystal laugh. 

Charles answered some of his questions. “She’s going to be a problem, isn’t she?”

“Worse than that. I think I found our–”

A door swung open a few feet down the hall.

Jesus, could people here stop interrupting her?  

A journalist stepped out, shaking hands with someone inside. “You’re a sweet girl. Terribly sorry for all that you’re going through, but you’re an inspiration to so many. Thank you so much for your time, Miss Bedlam.” A faint voice replied before shutting the door. 

Crystal waited as the journalist hurried past, giving him a quick nod. They could deal with Victoria later, they were running out of time for interviews. Charles stepped in front of her. 

“You okay to do this? I’ll be quick as anything checkin’ her room, you can take a breather.” 

Crystal still felt too flattened to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’m not letting you investigate the client’s daughter’s room alone , Charles.” She didn’t need coddling, didn’t need Charles looking at her with big brown eyes like she was one of the best things in the world. 

“Oi, I’m a professional.” 

“You flirted with me within hours of helping me.” You’ve practically married your other coworker .

“Low blow.” He was still smiling at her as they stopped in front of the door. 

“Try sticking to the plan.” Before Charles could keep chatting, Crystal knocked. A soft Come in rang out after a moment. 

The dressing room was cramped and dimly lit, the bulbs lining the mirror frame leaving copious shadows in the corners. From where Crystal could see, the young woman they had come to see was half illuminated but otherwise drowning in darkness.

Elsbeth Bedlam looked so much like her mother. She had the same pin-straight auburn hair. A familiar string of pearls gleamed at her neck. She favored heavier make-up and more color, but her posture was just as rigid. Elsbeth gave Crystal a smile, and it was a few watts dimmer than what the other contestants mustered. 

“Do you want me to shut the door?” Crystal waited until Elsbeth nodded. She turned to grab the door, and she heard Elsbeth gasp. “Are you okay? I don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Elsbeth was rubbing at her eye. “Just an eyelash. You’d think I would get used to these things.” She gave a weak laugh, but she wasn’t looking at Crystal. Her gaze was jumping all over the room. 

Crystal shot Charles a quick look. He’d picked up on her sudden change in behavior, too. She wondered if he was thinking of other past cases, too. Let me handle this . He nodded and leaned back against the wall. 

“My name’s Crystal, and I’m with the Post. And before you ask, yes, I’m young, I have a work/study.” She flipped to her scribbled case notes. 

Elsbeth smiled, weakly, but it seemed genuine. “That’s actually really cool. I never know when things are happening until after they happen. Wouldn’t make that good of a journalist.” 

“I don’t know if I am, either. I just have a habit of getting into other people’s business.” Crystal smiled as Elsbeth finally looked back at her. 

“Thank you for coming to talk to me. I apologize for earlier.” She held out her hand to shake. Crystal only hesitated a moment before taking it. 

“Let’s just say all of that was off the record. How has the rest of the experience been?” 

Elsbeth folded her hands together. “This has been an amazing experience. All of the other contestants are so talented. It’s been wonderful getting to know them, some more than others, but I’ve definitely met some really… impactful people I’d like to keep up with after, if they’d let me. There’s been so much… kindness, after my mother passed.” She looked down again, fiddling with one of her manicured nails. 

“I think you’re really strong for deciding to keep going like this.” Elsbeth just shrugged. “What… what made you want to keep going?” 

Elsbeth made a sound like she was trying to laugh but it got stuck in her throat. “Everywhere I went, I kept seeing her. I didn’t have a choice. It’s what she wants.” Elsbeth regarded herself in the mirror, something passing over her face. “I don’t want to talk about my mother.”

“Of course. I wanted to ask you about your performance. Everyone seems pretty nervous about theirs.” These girls might not understand the psychic energy hanging over this place, but something was definitely affecting them. Unbidden, the screaming from earlier echoed in her head.. 

“Oh, I sing. I’ve been doing it for so long, I guess I’m not really nervous. My biggest critic won’t be in the audience, anyway. I did want to change my song choice, a sort of,” Elsbeth knocked her head back and forth, thinking, “tribute, I suppose, for my mother. It was too late to get it approved and set up, though.” Crystal nodded, jotting a note.

“‘Biggest critic?’” She echoed. Elsbeth grimaced.

“I don’t even know what I meant by that.” She waved a hand through the air. Crystal discretely tried to underline her note. She was trying not to read too deep into Elsbeth’s actions; she was grieving her mother. And yet, she felt the skin of her neck prickle.

“Still, there are lots of variables to a performance. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this theatre was cursed, there’s so much bad luck going around.” Crystal tried laughing, an echo of forced laughter at cruelty, but she watched Elsbeth closely. Which is how she saw her composure crumble like a sand castle, deflating as if sucker punched. 

Her voice was small. “Bad luck?” The knuckles on her hands went white as she squeezed. “It’s very unfortunate, some of what happened. I wish there was something I could do, but…” 

Charles spoke from behind her. “Ask her about Victoria.” 

“Ask me what about Victoria?” Elsbeth shot back. She was on her feet in a second, glaring over Crystal’s shoulder. For her part, she was looking back and forth between the two of them. 

“You can see me?” “You can see him?” Charles and Crystal spoke at the same time. 

Elsbeth pointed at Charles, eyes wide. “ You can see him?” 

Crystal stood between them, trying to be placating. “Okay, so we can all see each other. But… if you can see him, then, oh my God, Elsbeth–”

“No! I don’t know what’s going on here, but you can leave. I was willing to entertain the idea that you didn’t know there was a random teenage ghost following you, but since you’re in on this together, then you can both go!” Elsbeth grabbed a perfume bottle from her table, cranking her arm back to throw it. Crystal threw her hands up.

“Wait, wait, we’re sorry. We didn’t know you could see him! Are you… are you like me?” Crystal let her hand drift over the arm of her chair. It was a quick read, so short she couldn’t pick up anything, just enough for her eyes to cloud over. When she came back, Elsbeth was staring at her, awe and something harsh fighting on her face.

Elsbeth’s voice was steely when she finally spoke. “For your sake, I hope we’re nothing alike.” 

Charles tried smiling, a bright, kind thing, and stayed in the far corner. “Listen, I think we all got off on the wrong foot. This is Crystal, like she said, and I’m Charles, and we’re part of the Dead Boy Detectives. We’re just trying to help. If you can see me, then you’ve probably been having a rough go of it in this place. And I’m sorry about trying to sneak in here, right, not cool even if you couldn’t see me. But we’re here because your mother–”

“ She sent you? What did she tell you– No, I don’t want to know. Whatever she told you, there is no reason for you to be here,” Elsbeth spat out, shaking. Crystal searched desperately for some way to salvage this. They couldn’t just leave, there was something clearly wrong with this theatre. As it would seem, there was also something seriously wrong about their client. 

“Charles, why don’t you go and find Edwin, see how he’s doing? This was probably going to be our last interview, anyway.” She looked back at where he was standing by the door. He was on high alert. “I’ll meet you two after like we said.” She knew he was loath to leave her if there was any hint of a threat, no matter how much he knew she could handle. She had a feeling that if this conversation could be salvaged, he needed to leave . 

And sometimes she forgot that they trusted her to do the right thing. Most people didn’t now. He looked like he hated it, but all he said was “If you need anything…” and phased back out of the room. 

Crystal sighed, turning back to Elsbeth. “You’re welcome to throw that at me, but at this point, I’m just as confused as you are.” Elsbeth looked at Crystal for a long moment, every line of her body taut. Then she sighed and plunked the bottle back down.

A highly pointed nail was still brandished at Crystal, but Elsbeth did it like she couldn’t decide what to threaten her with. The girl just ended up laughing ruefully. 

Crystal looked down at her hands. “We didn’t think to ask your mom if you could see her.” And yeah, who would have thought? Every indication from the client interview gave that Elsbeth couldn’t see spirits, that she was a perfectly ordinary teenage girl. Mrs. Bedlam had to have noticed something . Elsbeth had done a good job of fooling Crystal that she wasn’t seeing Charles, but Diane had been dead for weeks. Nor was she someone to take kindly to being ignored, by her daughter no less. There was no way Mrs. Bedlam didn’t know, which meant they didn’t know nearly half as much as they thought. They’d nearly run headlong into hurting someone. 

Elsbeth waved a hand. “She would have lied to you. She does that. What I don’t understand is why she went to you in the first place. Bedlam’s are proud people. We don’t ask for help.” There was a bitter note in Elsbeth’s voice. 

“Here’s the Spark Notes. Your mom came in, saying you were in danger. She was worried because there was something keeping her out. However, Charles and Edwin– the other dead boy, because I sure as shit don’t fit the bill– can get in, meaning there’s something keeping your mother out specifically. There’s also something seriously messed up happening here supernaturally, but we haven’t gotten that far yet.” 

Elsbeth clicked her tongue. “She would be worried. My mum probably thinks I’m embarrassing the family line every minute she’s not here to keep me in check.” Elsbeth stopped looking at Crystal, regarding the vanity mirror next to her. 

“When she came in, I couldn’t believe a parent would do that. Stay and watch over their kid even after death. My parents are alive and they don’t even care that much. But she doesn’t care about you , does she?” 

Elsbeth shot her a sharp look, and she looked so much like Diane. Crystal wanted to throw something. The two girls looked at each other. The air in the room was heavy, practically sparking, until finally Elsbeth broke first.

“I never wanted to be a pageant queen. It was fun when I was a little girl, getting to dress up and sing for other people. Mum would always hug me when I got off stage, even if I didn’t win. I was too young to hear her fuming about other contestants and everything I’d messed up the whole ride home.” Crystal’s heart was breaking, but she had to keep asking.

“She never let you do anything else?” 

“Of course she did. But the minute I came home with a misshapen project from pottery class or didn’t win the talent show, she broke me down. Why be so bad at something when I could win something? She made everything miserable, I couldn’t even be miserable without her reminding me that I was worthless, that everything good I did was because of her, that nothing I did would ever prove that I was enough, I–” She was rambling, her words rushing together. Crystal leaned forward and put a hand on her wrist. Elsbeth’s mouth closed abruptly. She took a barely perceptible breath in through her nose. 

“That’s a load of horseshit,” Crystal ground out, trying not to flip a table.

Elsbeth let out a suspiciously wet laugh. “Not when it’s your mother.” Crystal’s lungs were too big for her body and yet too small to hold any of the air that had been punched out of them. Elsbeth took Crystal’s inability to respond as further confirmation. “So you can understand why I’m here. She’d convinced me I had no other options. Winning pageants was the only chance I had to be her good girl again.”

Crystal nodded, trying to kick her detective senses into action. “And now that she’s dead, there’s nowhere you can go to escape her.” Elsbeth closed her eyes. In the soft light, she looked almost see through, as if she was the dead one. 

“I just want it to be quiet. I am so sick of hearing her voice. It was bad enough when I was just imagining what she would say. Now she’s always there. I can’t even think about– because if I– will I just be stuck with her forever?” Elsbeth wasn’t even crying. That was the worst part. All the emotion left her at that, as if she hadn’t just implied the most horrifying solution to her problem. 

Crystal moved her hold, gripping Elsbeth’s hand. 

“Elsbeth, she’s wrong . I know we don’t know each other, but I already know she’s wrong about so much. I know you think you don’t have any choice, but I’m giving you one right now.” Elsbeth shook her head so hard her perfectly done hair whipped around her shoulders. 

“If I drop out, she’ll never let it go. I don’t know how I’m keeping her out, I’ve never–” And again, she bit down on her train of thought, so hard this time her teeth clacked shut. Crystal looked at her, really looked. She had been sure, almost entirely since Elsbeth saw Charles, that she was the reason why Diane could not enter the theatre. She just had to prove it. 

“It’s okay, I’m a psychic.” There was a note of hope in Crystal’s voice that she couldn’t tamp down. “I know sometimes powers like ours can have some bad consequences, but what you’re doing isn’t bad.”

“I’m not concerned about that. I told you, I’m not like you. It’s what comes later that I’m scared of.” Elsbeth pulled her hand away, looking up at the ceiling. Crystal changed tack.

“Well, I’m not concerned about your shitty, stuck up mother. If she’s haunting you, we can get rid of her. But there’s something else happening here, and it’s going to get worse for all of us.”

“I don’t know! I never know how to stop it! That’s the whole bloody problem!” Elsbeth’s chest heaved. Her eyes went wide. Her hands flew to her mouth. Crystal jumped, thinking the other girl was about to be sick. Elsbeth’s hands pressed against her lips. A low keening sound flitted through the room like a strong breeze, rising and falling in rapid gusts. Just as sudden as it came, it was gone. 

Elsbeth shook like a leaf as she lowered her hands. They were stained red where she’d pressed too hard on her lipstick. Crystal blinked. She pulled herself together quickly. She’d seen a lot worse. Elsbeth did not scare her, and there was no way she was going to let her think she did. 

“I’m going to ask about Victoria Hyatt now,” Crystal ignored how Elsbeth grimaced, hands twitching as if she wanted to cover her mouth again, “because I think she’s more involved in this than you are.” 

For a second, Crystal thought Elsbeth wasn’t going to answer. She simply turned back to her mirror and began readjusting her makeup. Then she met Crystal’s eye in the reflection. 

“Victoria really isn’t so bad, or I didn’t think she was. But then we broke up and she got obsessed with runes.” Crystal would have missed it a month ago, too distracted by gossip or hook ups or a million other things. But she was a detective, and a damn good one, so she knew what to look for. So, she watched the pageant queen absentmindedly draw on the table the same pointed symbol Crystal’d seen all over Victoria’s mind, over and over. 

HEAVY IS THE HEAD

Currently, the only positive to this investigation was that Edwin did not have to talk to anyone. He was not much in a talking mood, nor had he been in the past month. Or ever, truly.

That was what he had thought, anyway, but that did not explain Charles, and the decades of conversation between them, or Crystal, who he really could argue with for hours, or… 

Certainly not in the talking mood. 

Edwin attempted to get his head straight and focus. He had already surveyed most of the theatre, moving from the lobby to the balcony. The most interesting discovery he had made was the effect the theatre had on his magic detection spells. Never in the agency’s history had he seen the detection spell spark like that. It looked more like fireworks than anything, sparking and fizzing so violently he thought surely the living people bustling around would have noticed.

Hardly illuminating, that. The theatre was cursed, spelled, haunted, or otherwise supernaturally affected in an absolutely confounding way. Edwin knew that. Anyone with an ounce of arcane experience could say that with the utmost confidence. 

He carefully made his way back through the aisles. The press would soon be assembled, and while he had no qualms with continuing to investigate, Crystal would be waiting, and hopefully had had a more productive investigation. He had to learn something . Besides, Charles would pout when he learned he missed an explosive spell, and Edwin refused to be persuaded to perform another. He was a professional. 

Why did he have to keep insisting on that? 

Edwin stopped at the end of the rows, in the aisle between the front row and the stage. He had planned to do a quick run through of the backstage corridors, however, between Crystal and Charles, that section should be thoroughly investigated by now. All that was left was the stage. 

Bright lines of tape plastered to the stage marked cues and positions. Edwin watched as two stage hands fiddled with the backdrop, cursing risers that were apparently being kept backstage. All of a sudden, one of them turned back, looking right through Edwin.

“Okay, raise the platform!” She shouted, gesturing to the stage in front of her. “Boss wants the press to see the crown later.” Edwin looked back to see a technician hunched over a machine holding up a thumb. A hiss of a hydraulic system drew his gaze back to the stage. He watched the stage floor–

And it opened in the wrong place. 

Edwin hopped up onto the stage, watching a pedestal rise with a glass case settled atop it. The contents of the case glittered under the blinding stage lights. Even from a distance away, he could make out the fine points of the crown’s elegant metal work. Edwin took a step forward to look closer, then stopped. He did not care about the contents of the case, nor could he afford to get distracted so unprofessionally. There was something far more interesting happening beneath him. 

He had spent hours pouring over all of the records of this building. He knew that in 1946 the Lycaon Theatre was rebuilt after the Blitz had all but leveled it. In 1964, there was an incident– much disputed in the archives; a donated letter from an actor claimed a bad smell, a different memo blamed an injury risk, another a raccoon, and an invoice blamed a costly fight amongst a group of actors– that led to the entire trapdoor getting closed off. Many people believed it had been bricked in. Yet, in 1993, the Lycaon Theatre closed for six months of renovations, in which many of its technical equipment and stage operations were modernized. That trapdoor was still present on the blueprints as the trapdoor. 

Nothing told Edwin he was on the right track faster than an incongruency in paperwork. He circled the current platform once, thinking. In his mind, he tried to line up the two sets of blueprints. Carefully, he stepped across the stage.

He tapped a foot against the floor. Of course that accomplished nothing substantial. There were no spells he could discern, no indents. They had most likely redone the stage flooring. He cocked his head, considering. Given how long the new platform took to rise and the depth of the theatre…

The idea he had was not a great one, per se, but he would most likely be fine. He very well couldn’t leave it alone, and it’s not like it was magic. Crystal was proving herself remarkably as a detective, not that he would openly admit, but he could hardly let a young upstart like her show him up. He had to find something, he was bloody good at this and he to prove himself, to–

Edwin had tuned out the world around him, barely registering any sounds, even a familiar shout. He let go of his body. The floor immediately pulled him in like a black hole.

He dropped for longer than he expected. 

Instead of solid concrete, metal curved around him in a chute. He was reminded of an early New Years Eve spent wandering London with Charles, most likely their third or fourth together. Charles had dragged him into a park with a hand around his wrist, determined to show him the neon yellow plastic atrocity he called a slide. Edwin was pulled from the memory when he finally landed in a dark room. Ghosts could not feel, and yet his mind could not stop remembering the feel of cobwebs. If he had been alive he was sure to be covered in them. As it was, he tried to get his bearings, but the room was too dark. 

Before his mind could tip into the distracting territory of spiders, he got to work. With a muttered incantation, a small ball of light appeared next to his temple. Unfortunately, he had been correct about the cobwebs. He had little idea how anything living could even get in there. The shadows the light cast were dramatic in the cramped room. Edwin stood upon the old startrap platform, an antiquated pulley system collecting dust to the side. Faintly, through the thick walls, he could hear the churning of chains, the modern lift still running. Ahead of him, a door was completely bricked in. One could be forgiven for not realizing that’s what it was, being so covered in concrete. Perplexingly, the door knob remained untouched. 

Edwin was, of course, ignoring the elephant in the room. Or rather–

“Edwin! What are you doing?” Charles’ voice was high above him, as if he had stuck his head directly into the floor. Edwin was proven correct momentarily as the other boy fell through the floor head first, landing on his feet. No physical recoil did have its benefits. 

“Investigating, Charles. What are you doing?”

“Checking in on you! Mate, I said your name a ton, but you were completely checked out. Did you even hear me?”

Edwin had not. He was not going to admit that, however. “Where is Crystal? You should be investigating with her. In a few minutes time we would have checked in regardless.” Truly, did Charles think he was so helpless now that he could not wander a theatre on his own for an hour? 

Charles was practically vibrating. It seems the others had had a fruitful investigation. “She’s finishing the last interview. Edwin, we’ve got this whole case wrong. Crystal’s got a bunch of ideas, she didn’t get the chance to tell me everything, but Elsbeth, she can see ghosts. And I’m pretty sure at least one of the other girls knows magic, too.” 

Edwin stiffened. “Charles, there is nothing worse for a case than when a client deceives us!”

“Know that, mate, but Crystal seemed pretty adamant, and if she thinks she can handle it alone for a tic, she will.” Now that Charles had delivered his message, he seemed able to fully take in his surroundings. “Um… what are we doing down here?” 

“The floor plans and the actuality of the stage did not match. You and Crystal are correct that not is all as it seems with this case. However, I believe I only have more bad news to bear.” Charles just gave Edwin a confused look. They were both standing on the old metal platform, ringed with a soft glow. Neither seemed very willing to venture into the dark, small as the room was.

The metalwork on either side had them pressed together quite close together, actually. The glow caused Charles’ eyelashes to cast thin shadows on his cheeks. Edwin thought… he didn’t know what he thought. He just felt. 

Professional. Professional. Professional, you are a professional, Payne, do your job .

He raised a hand, and stuttered for a moment when he realized its trajectory was Charles’ cheek. He quickly course corrected. Instead of turning Charles head to the side to show him, he tapped the ball of light, sending it further into the room. 

In the orange glow, two things came into stark relief. The first was the pile of withered bones, collapsed in front of the door. Shadows pooled in the skull, jawbone cracked open as if in a scream. 

The second was a looping pointed symbol scratched into the remnants of the door. 

PUT YOUR PRETTY HEADS TOGETHER, FOLKS

“Thank you all for coming tonight! You lucky people get a sneak peek at our upcoming show.” 

wait so how fucked r we? Crystal scribbled the note and angled it towards the boys. She was sitting in the back of the theatre, far enough away from the other journalists but not enough to be suspicious. Charles and Edwin were behind her, peering over her shoulders to read her notes. 

“If I were to be optimistic about it,” Edwin began. Crystal immediately started writing. “Then I would say we know a lot more about what we are facing. We know there are quite possibly two supernatural phenomena occurring, their potential causes, and have eliminated a host of options.”

if Edwin is optimistic then we r ttly fucked

Then:

k actually that doesn’t sound too bad

“Crystal, you have great instincts, however your tendency to catastrophize is one that still needs work.” Edwin folded his hands as he watched Crystal laugh silently, shaking her head.

ME? catastrophize? She began to draw a quick sketch of a finger pointing back at Edwin.

He didn’t even wait for her finished result. “My habit comes from the tendency of the worst actually occurring, so–”

Charles loved that he had two of the smartest people as friends. With Edwin it was kind of obvious, right, but Crystal constantly went toe-to-toe with him and held her own. You wouldn’t expect it, but she could break out words that could win games of Scrabble like no one’s business when she got worked up enough. He had kind of thought he would hate being around two people constantly arguing, but it was different with them. Sometimes he just sat back and let them go like children running loose on the playground. Watching them spar back and forth made him begin to understand the appeal of tennis.

Except sometimes they chose the stupidest times to play ball. 

“First of all, nothing bad is gonna happen ‘cos I’m here, and it’s my job to keep that from being the case. Next, Edwin’s gonna tell us what that symbol is, because I’m the one who’s supposed to be good at that stuff but I’m totally thrown, yeah? Then you’ll fill us in on what’s going on with Victoria, and then we’re probably going to smash something or do magic. Since this case is actually two now, my money’s on both. Good plan, right?”

None of them had been paying attention to the dress rehearsal, but the journalists clapped politely as the emcee finished their speech. 

Edwin cleared his throat. “The symbol is a rune. Very old, and outdated. Crystal, cease writing at once. At least let me finish explaining. It fell out of popular use before my lifetime. By the time I became a magic practitioner it was relegated to the dustier grimoires and folklore, and that was 1990. Given that the trapdoor room was closed up only twenty six years prior, it is exceedingly odd that it would have been used in any capacity.” 

The sound of Crystal tapping her pen furiously on her notebook drew them back to her. She pointed with the tip to her sketch. Charles was staring right back at the same symbol they’d seen earlier. 

“That’s a dead ringer for what we saw below the stage. But I was with you almost the whole time, when did you…?” Charles knew the answer before he finished, thinking of Victoria leaning in close, smirking. There was something too sharp about her. 

Edwin, diligent as ever, filled in the gaps. “You read someone, did you not?” Crystal nodded and subtly pointed. At some point during their discussion, the contestants had been paraded on stage. Sure enough, she was pointing at Victoria. 

Crystal didn’t wait long for that to sink in, going back to writing, fast. Charles leaned over to read aloud, “‘All… around her.’ Oh, so kind of like Ni- the sprites, where you couldn’t read a person but only the thing hacking their mind?” Crystal flashed him a thumbs up, then turned it into pressing it against her lip in thought. 

Edwin sat back slowly. Charles did not like the direction his thoughts seemed to be going in. 

“That would be in line with the rune, and also very bad.” Edwin’s fists pressed together.

“Time to fill us in on what it does, mate.”

“It’s an obsession rune. It was commonly used for rituals or spells meant to affect desire or ambition, but it was… imprecise. Sorcerers found it impossible to control the target of that obsession, or even the target of the spellwork itself. It amplifies existing thoughts, making it hard to use if one were to try and create a new feeling inside of a person. Eventually practitioners found alternatives that were easier to control or more directly targeted their intended results.” 

fixation . it’s parasitic . Crystal underlined the note repeatedly.

“Exactly. While it can hone the victim’s focus and sharpen it, the rune ensnares them. Their world narrows to one point exactly.”

“So Victoria’s under the rune’s influence, but if what Crystal said about her is true, did she cast it on herself? Seems unlikely, if the thing’s so old. Wouldn’t have the type of books we have, right?” Charles scrubbed his hands over his face, looking back up at the contestants. They seemed to be doing practiced introductions, each one parading up to the front of the stage. Some curtsied, some waved, one even struck a pose. All of them smiled big, practically glowing. As he watched, they seemed to stand there a beat too long, as if waiting for something. They were standing close to where he had watched Edwin drop through the floor. 

Another idea occurred to him. “And if that room was bricked in, there’s no way Victoria could have found that rune.”

“Someone else was casting ancient obsession spells, then.” 

Crystal was busy writing a long scrawl, flipping back and forth between notes. 

“And introducing, Elsbeth Bedlam!” All three of their heads shot up as the name of their (basically) client rang out. Charles could see no trace of the shaken and angry girl from earlier. She glided down from the top row of the riser, her dress floating above the ground at her ankles. He had no idea how she handled the steps down in heels. All the while she smiled, easily, as if she had no care in the world, as if her mother wasn’t outside, trying to get in and break her down again.

If they were sitting closer he would have tried to look for the strain around her eyes, or the way her mouth might have twisted into a grimace, how tight her shoulders were. Any sign of tension that betrayed how scared she was to leave the theatre again. She must have practiced that look, that smile , hundreds of times in the mirror, learning the tells from people around her when she didn’t get it right. Instead, he just had to watch as she walked confidently to her mark, did an elegant spin, and knocked her head back smiling, looking for all the world as if everything delighted her. 

She was dazzling, and so young. Charles hurt to look at her. It wasn’t like looking at Crystal, even if she was pretty. She looked too… familiar.

He couldn’t do with being distracted. Elsbeth straightened, and as she turned, he finally caught the crack in her mask (he had practice with that sort of thing, after all). She looked down at the stage, face paling.

It was hard to say if that was why she rushed off, or if it was Victoria Hyatt’s name getting blasted into the theatre. Where Elsbeth was elegant, Victoria was confident. Charles had faced supernatural threats that had seemed less like a predator. 

Teenagers were more capable than most people gave them credit for, though. He knew that well enough. 

When she arrived at the edge of the stage, she blew a kiss. She was looking right at Crystal. Charles snuck a look at Edwin. His head was cocked, brow furrowed. Any unease Charles was feeling backed off. When Edwin faced a problem with that expression, he knew that a solution was in sight. They weren’t in over their heads yet. His smile came easily as he watched the wheels turn in his mind. 

“Oh, would you two–” Crystal hissed. They turned to look at her. She thrust her notes towards them. 

• dead body?????? WHO!???? 

• V sharp, El doesn’t think she was cruel tho

• V + El dated on down low, V couldn’t take heat and broke it off

• started lashing out, changed not long after

• knows waayyyyy more magic than used to when dating El

• El feels knows something bad is going to happen 

• V on to me 

The emcee had taken centre stage again, voice replacing the bad remixes of walk-on pop songs. “And now, let us see what these talented young women are competing for.” They were so focused on the case that they nearly paid the crown rising no mind, until the moment it very nearly made them lose their minds. 

Charles was used to lingering aches and bruises. He had spent enough time in the theatre now that the psychic energy could be ignored. It had faded to a sick phantom taste in the back of his throat, like every other unpleasant emotion and hurt he swallowed back. Now there was a heavy pressure between his ears, buzzing like radio static. As the crown rose, it was like someone had begun fiddling with the knobs on a stereo.

Instead of tuning into a station, the volume only increased. This was nothing like when Charles would lunge across a room to crank the stereo up for a final chorus, all heady euphoria and wailing noise blocking everything else out. 

This was the hammer smashing it all to pieces.

He couldn’t get a single thought through his head. It was as if everyone in the room had begun screaming while simultaneously running nails down chalkboards. He felt as if he couldn’t move, it crashed down so heavily. Dimly, he was aware of Crystal gasping in front of him. 

His hands were buried in his hair, yanking. Charles ignored the fact that he couldn’t remember doing it and tried to focus, but that only seemed to make it worse. Every thought amplified the noise. This was the cloud of dread that always hung over him, now a roiling stormcloud. It was every memory he kept replaying of Edwin, dragged to Hell; Crystal, staring at him like someone she’d never met and wanted nothing to do with; Niko’s body too still and bleeding out. His head split open in a crushing wave of every thrown object, landed punch, sob from his mother, drowning him. This was every bad thing he had not been smart enough, strong enough, good enough to stop, much less survive. 

As much as it sucked, he gripped that last thought hard . Like a boxer wrapping his knuckles before a fight, over and over, stop this, stop this, stop this , he clung to that simple truth. For as long Charles Rowland would exist, he had to try and stop the bad things from happening.

Gritting his teeth, he raised his head. He grabbed Crystal by the shoulders. Now that he was face-to-face with her, he could see her eyes rapidly clouding and clearing.

“Crystal, hey, Crystal! Listen to my voice and focus on that. I’m right here.” He tried to smile when her eyes focused on him, but even he wasn’t quick enough with one. Her eyes just rolled back again, sucked back into the raging psychic energy. 

With a jolt, Charles reached a hand back to Edwin. He wasn’t even sure why, if it was for help or to check on him or just the sheer bloody panic making him need– something . Only, Edwin was already reaching for him , going straight past his hand and shaking him. 

“The scraper! I need the–” Edwin just rattled the backpack. His face was drawn and he was blinking hard. If Edwin couldn’t get all his words out, then even he was getting hit hard. 

Charles didn’t have enough hands. He set Crystal down as quickly and gently as he could, then jammed his hand into the bag. It took longer than it should have, his thoughts trying to drag him down dimly lit stairs. Finally, his fingers found the thin metal tool and pulled. He slammed it into Edwin’s waiting hand. Their fingers slipped by each other. Charles caught the grim set of Edwin’s mouth before he was up and running. 

And of course he trusted Edwin. If he could hear himself think, he probably would have pieced together what he was doing. Only, it was so rare for Edwin to be running headfirst into the fray, that there was little else he could do but follow him. 

He’d just gotten his new bat out when Edwin lunged through the screen of a dropped phone. Charles’ plan was still to smash something to pieces. He only got halfway down the aisle, which gave him a good look at how everything unfolded. Some of the girls on stage had their hands over their ears, but most of them had gone glassy eyed, completely enthralled. The assembled journalists, too, had gone slack-jawed, completely checked out. He’d meant to look for Elsbeth, for Victoria, but he’d gotten distracted by something more important. 

Edwin stumbled out of the glass case around the crown. He shook his head hard, as if clearing it. Even as he spun back, he looked unsteady on his feet. A fresh spike of panic cleaved through Charles. He was running again before he even realized it. He may have shouted, but what difference would it have even made, because Victoria’s mouth was already cracking with a cruel smile, hand cutting a vicious arc in the air. 

Charles had never doubted Crystal’s detective skills, but she really may have been on to something when she’d said they were fucked. 

His mind emptied, nearly peaceful with the pounding agony in his head, as he watched Edwin’s body fold like he’d caught a hit in the stomach. And actually, there was nothing peaceful about it, because the emotion that ripped through him was so big and loud that the only thing that scared him more in that moment was Edwin, in danger. Edwin, thrown across the stage. Edwin, landing in the aisle and sliding back.

Charles got to him a second later. He grabbed him by the arms, pulling him up and pulling him away. There was a tangle of words in his throat, and the only reason he didn’t storm the stage was because he couldn’t protect Edwin, he really was useless, Crystal was suffering, and Edwin wouldn’t talk to him and he really was just all rage and nothing else–

He got Edwin up and tried to get him away, but he wouldn’t move. He pointed at the stage, hissed a sharp word, and clenched his fist. 

The resulting clang shook the theatre. It nearly covered the snap that followed it. The pedestal dropped out of sight. Chains rattled fast below stage, like an elevator on a downward rampage. 

He didn’t know how to describe it. There was a lurching, sinking feeling in the stomach he didn’t have. The miasma flooded out of him with all of the force of a rapidly depressurized room. There and then gone, leaving a vacuum in its wake. 

BANG . Charles swayed as it suddenly backed off completely, his grip on Edwin just barely keeping him upright. His ears rang. Not his ears, at least he didn’t think so. Mic feedback.

Edwin had kept his wits enough to cut the cable system keeping the pedestal up. 

“Bloody fuck .” Charles breathed. 

“Quite.”

Crystal groaned behind them. 

They quickly phased through the seats to her side. 

“Crystal, you with us?” 

“Think someone Nutribulleted my brain, then plugged a fork in the socket, and fried my eyeballs like eggs.” She blinked heavily, rubbing her eyes. 

“Please speak plainly. I cannot tell if that was your usual babble of nonsense or sign of physical injury.” 

Crystal kept her eyes screwed shut, massaging her temples and taking ragged breaths. “I’m okay. Thanks for shutting up the world’s shittiest alarm clock.” Edwin huffed, but Charles could tell he was relieved. If only Crystal was looking at him to witness it. 

Charles couldn’t collapse to the floor in relief yet. He finally took a look at Edwin. His partner’s face was still creased with concern, but his eyes were as calculating as ever. Of course he was fine. Why should something like that hurt a ghost? And yet–

“Mate.” Charles was quiet. Edwin’s gaze snapped to him as if he’d shouted. Without even thinking, his hand was moving. His thumb swiped across Edwin’s cheek, wiping away the tear that was slowly falling. For the first time since the case began, Edwin looked… scared. Eyes wide, panic clear on his face. 

Charles would’ve lost his mind trying to figure out who pulled away first. He only registered that they both moved quick. 

“You hurt?” 

“No, I– You are, too.” Charles quickly raised a hand to his face, surprised to find tears of his own. Edwin rushed to keep talking. “Most likely a side of the psychic field. I am perfectly fine.”

“I don’t think we’re the only ones feeling the effects.” Crystal pointed at the stage. The girls looked totally wrecked. Most of them were in some range of distressed. Make-up ran down the cheeks of many. A few looked ill. Charles looked for Elsbeth. He sucked in a breath when he saw her. Blood dripped from her nose, stark, even rows back, due to how pale her face was. He’d staggered around with enough injuries to know what came next. Luckily, two of the girls caught her as she passed out. 

Victoria covered her mouth in shock, but as she locked eyes with the agency, it was clear she was smiling. 

“That’s it! This stupid theatre is haunted!” The stage manager spiked their clipboard to the ground. 

Crystal picked up her stuff, groaning. “Well, that’s our cue. Boys, I need a drink.”

IT’S ALL PART OF THE PROCESS, REALLY

“So, I think we need to consider a new policy for when the living can see you two.” Crystal nursed her glass of water. She’d given up trying to gauge how badly her makeup had run. She didn’t want to know. At this rate, the only make-up in the theatre that wasn’t ruined was Charles’. 

Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough that he could probably feel it. “This is, quite frankly, a disaster. The only relief I feel is that our client most likely would not have found our final result to her liking regardless of performance.” 

The agency was assembled in the empty theatre lobby. Crystal sat on a stool behind the cramped bar while Edwin furiously updated his notes across from her. Charles was stacking cups in towers. 

“Yeah, well, this is how all the big cases go, innit? It going sideways basically means we’re on the right track.” 

“In this case, it is an increasingly dangerous track. Not just for us, but for the numerous captive, unaware witnesses in the audience,” Edwin shot back. 

“We could leave and come back. The real thing isn’t for a few days. That way at least there aren’t a ton of journalists around.”

“Given the amount of recontextualizing that’s been done today, I would be inclined to agree, Crystal. Only, with the way things are progressing, I doubt any of us will be able to return to the theatre if we leave today before resolving this.” 

Charles nodded along. “That Victoria’s probably plannin’ ways to boot us out and keep us out. That’s not even counting what Elsbeth might do.” 

“God, this would be so much easier if one of you could just sneak back in tonight and deal with this.” Crystal winced. “Based off of what I read earlier, that rune would probably make Victoria sleep here if it would help.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m not getting. Normally, it’s someone like Victoria drawin’ runes and getting into trouble. But there’s no way she managed to get down below and draw the one Edwin found, right? So who set up this bleeding nightmare?” 

“I may have to admit… oversight , on my part.” Crystal looked back at Edwin. His fists were pressed hard together as he stared at his notes. Charles had clearly also taken note of the strained quality of his voice and was at his side quickly. Nothing made Charles narrow his focus faster than the sound of Edwin Payne’s voice. 

His hand still wavered for a moment before coming to rest on his shoulder. “Mate, what is it?” 

Edwin still wasn’t looking at either of them. “I checked as many avenues as I could for evidence of the supernatural, but none of the usual signs were there. I–”

“ Edwin . Just tell us, and we can all kick ourselves later.” Crystal was not interested in his flair for the dramatic at the moment. 

He said the words as if pulling them forth pained him. “There was one notable incident at the Lycaon Theatre. A young actress named Helen Barnassus suddenly quit a production of Romeo and Juliet the night before opening to live a life of solitude abroad. There were rumours of strife with multiple of her castmates, but many appeared to express genuine remorse for her departure. They continued to discuss with the press details of her life they learned through exchanged correspondence. This continued for three years until she reportedly passed. By then, her star was thoroughly extinguished, and her passing warranted little fanfare.” 

Crystal tried to meet Charles’ eye to process this, but he was looking at Edwin with an expression that furrowed his brow. “So, that’s suspicious as fuck.”

“Trust me, I am aware! I shared the same sentiment, and yet nothing pointed to foul play. With the limited time, I had to move on. But what is important to note is that much of Ms. Barnassus’ estate was left to her old castmates, including a diadem. Her understudy was seen wearing it once at a charity ball before she suffered a mental breakdown on stage a week later. She bequeathed it to the League of Exceptional Pageantry before dying.” 

Crystal pointed at him. “Oh shit, those are the same people who run this. You’re telling me that’s the same crown, aren’t you?” 

“Unfortunately, it is. And yes, it did bear all the hallmarks of a cursed item, I am not a novice. Yet, there’s a clear line of ownership for decades without any apparent effects.”

Charles looked like he was revving up. “Then that means if we take a close look at that crown, we’ll see the same rune. If the rune we found is the original, then that would anchor the rune’s effect to the theatre. Wards go on walls, demon traps go on blankets. Portable like that. So if the crown’s runes are connected, they’re meant to be strongest here. Doublin’ and all that. Where’d that understudy lose it?” 

“This theatre. Hamlet , that time around.” 

Crystal found herself catching on, snorting, “Well, that’s ironic. So if you’re saying the crown’s power is strongest here, then there could have been effects that went unnoticed.” 

“Or noticed. You know how the press is. Just another catfight between girls,” Charles added. 

“Yeah, that’s probably it. But now you have decades of curse energy adding to Elsbeth’s influence, Victoria’s work, and whatever lesbian misery they’ve got going on, making the situation ten times worse.

“Exactly. I do not believe Victoria had anything to do with the runes. While we do not know her exact motives for entering this competition, the crown has most likely latched onto her primarily.”

“Wait, hold on a tic. None of this answered my first question, did it? Who drew the original?” Charles leaned over further, trying to read Edwin’s elaborate cursive. Edwin jerked quickly to flip it closed, the motion causing Charles’ hand to slip from his shoulder. 

Crystal suddenly had the feeling she should take a walk. Then she crammed it down. A month of solving cases together and it all still felt a little off. Things had settled, yes, and the agency was thriving. But she had a feeling that ever since she arrived, it had never really been “on.” Her presence, as always, was a portent of something worse to come. 

She wanted this to work, needed this to work, but she had the feeling they were all playing chicken with the actually scary bits to keep up appearances. She’d never wanted to break something so badly while also never letting it go. 

Besides, they were on a case and this was agency business. If her friends’ pining, panic, or otherwise perplexing behavior was going to bleed into that (and since their work was basically their marriage, it would), she had a right to stay right there. It affected her, too. 

“Edwin, whose body did we find down there?” Charles didn’t yell, but he wasn’t quiet, either.

“I know, after admitting such serious oversight, I can’t be trusted to say this right now, but the body’s identity is unlikely to help the cases. Besides, that is a whole separate mystery requiring much more evidence to be sure of anything to–” 

“But you have a theory. Mate, you always have a theory. Please.” 

Edwin finally looked at Charles then. That’s how Crystal knew he’d fold. Even if it wasn’t Charles-and-Edwin, when Charles looked like this, he could just about get anything he asked for. His eyes were wide and wet, and he looked so concerned that even she wanted to wrap a blanket around his shoulders, and she was just unlucky enough to be in the periphery. 

She doubted it was concern for the case. He’d apologized to Edwin no less than four times as they walked to the lobby for “not protecting him.” He’d been hesitant to touch Edwin, especially around Crystal. There was something neither of them were telling her, and Edwin was cagier than ever. If she had someone to bet with, she’d place a non-insubstantial amount of money on their communication skills not improving a lick since Port Townsend. 

“I thought I told you to stop asking me to reason your arguments.” But Edwin’s voice was soft, none of its usual bite. He was just a sad teenage boy with a terrible truth to share. “I believe we found the remains of Helen Barnassus, who was murdered by her former friends and castmates. Those individuals then elaborately covered up her death in a plot to gain prestige and her estate.” 

The air had been punched out of the room. Crystal was getting really sick of hearing versions of the same story.

“Oh. They would, wouldn’t they.” Charles’s voice was small, no trace of his previous steamrolling. 

“Indeed.” 

Crystal was trying to think of something to say. By the way Edwin kept needlessly wetting his lips, he was also struggling. Charles just looked at the floor, completely still. 

“Oh, there you are!” Crystal had been living with ghosts long enough not to jump at the high, yet strangely flat, voice. One of the contestants had entered the lobby. She didn’t move until the door shut behind her. Then she smiled. Crystal felt her palms start to sweat.

“Yeah, I just started getting a migraine.” Crystal watched the girl closely. She moved stiffly, cutting across the room to where Crystal sat. Crystal kept waiting for her to blink.

“That’s Katie, innit?” Charles asked. Feelings Time was decidedly over, because apparently if you were a dead teenage boy, those were things you could turn on and off or bury in a cardboard box and kick it down a flight of stairs. Crystal just hummed her agreement. 

Katie stopped in front of her. “They’re looking for you. I’m supposed to take you back stage.”

“Okay. For what?” 

Katie smiled again. It made her look demented with joy, mouth pulling her skin. Her eyes were so wide someone would have had to have stapled them open like that. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to take you backstage.” 

“Fine, fine, I’m going.” Crystal carefully slid off her stool. She met the boys eyes, shaking her head subtly. “Kinda weird they sent you and not one of the theatre lackeys.” 

“I don’t know. They’re looking for you.” Same flat inflection, the same phrases. Guilt stabbed at Crystal for what she was going to do, but if she was right, Katie had probably had a worse invasion of privacy already.

As she moved to stand in front of the girl, Crystal’s arm snapped out. Curling her hand tight around that bony wrist, there was only a second’s resistance before–

what was she doing she wanted to go home that wasn’t her voice Victoria talked to her she just wanted to get in deadweight too much not enough she couldn’t–

Crystal fought to focus, driving deeper–

“Hey, kid. Katie?” And Victoria smiled a blinding smile. “Yes, you, silly. Wanna help me with something?” 

Katie could hardly believe her luck! All the other girls terrified her, and Victoria was so pretty and cool. Katie’d been certain she just saw her as some weird fourteen year old with big teeth… Katie might have been staring. 

This was her chance!

“Anything!” She wanted to cringe. Way too eager. Except Victoria just smiled, not the dazzling one for the crowds, but a softer one. A secret one, just between them.

“Aren’t you just a doll,” and then–

light searing light she wanted to scream something bad this wasn’t what she wanted and suddenly she didn’t want anything she only had orders bring me that little psychic–

Crystal gasped. She could feel a slick oily gaze on her skin. She’d had to dig down deep to find Katie past a layer of enchantment and the same angled chains of the rune. It was everywhere , seeping into anything with a brain. 

It took her so long to come back to herself that she didn’t notice Katie taking a swing at her until too late. The arc of her arm was jagged, fighting itself. Crystal stumbled back.

The impact that came wasn’t the one she expected. She lost her breath as arms wrapped around her middle. Her shoulder slammed into the wall with a resounding thud as she was pulled out of the path of the hit. Katie’s momentum threw the small girl forward. 

Charles was waiting. He raised his hand palm up and blew on it. Tiny particles shot through the air, catching the light. In the space of a blink, Katie swayed. Charles caught her as she fell and lowered her to the ground. 

Ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder, Crystal levered herself off of the wall. She found Edwin’s eye as he quickly retracted his arms from around her. As usual, he looked ready to pitch himself into the nearest hole after betraying the fact that he did care about her. Bickering came easily enough for them, goading the other into finding solutions. Proper teamwork may never be in their comfort zone. Just last week, Crystal had saved Edwin from getting eaten by the haunted phone line, and when he had tried to thank her, it took only a quick look at his wide stunned eyes to make her feel a little flayed. Unlike Charles, it was easy to forget that he was, in many ways, just as young as her, until he looked at her with uncertainty and fear that he was doing something wrong. So she’d hauled off and punched him on the arm before purposefully making a joke about the agency being on the hook for collect calls from the afterlife that Edwin stared at her for, bewildered, once again an old soul.  

For the record, Charles would have laughed at the joke, but then they had realized he was miles away and just as likely to be eaten, so they had started running, back on even ground. 

Crystal, being a nice friend and good colleague, made it easy now, too. “Thanks for the assist. Maybe don’t manhandle me next time.” 

“Maybe don’t just stand there next time.” Edwin turned away with a sniff. “That was brilliant by the way, Charles. Was that one of the powder vials? Those must be a decade old!” And just like that, everything was as it was. 

“Well, couldn’t exactly do as I usually do, yeah?” Charles was lit up like a Christmas tree at the praise. Yet no one praised Crystal’s incredibly difficult success at suppressing her eye roll. Curious. 

“It was an utter shitshow in there. She’s feeling the rune, too, and she wasn’t acting by her own will.” Nausea tugged on Crystal’s gut. It was bad enough to subject yourself to this. It was another to start hurting people because you, what, wanted to be liked by someone? Couldn’t stop someone from taking advantage of you? Katie seemed like a sweet girl. She definitely didn’t deserve that, and she definitely didn’t deserve whatever she might remember doing when she woke up. 

Edwin peered down at the sleeping girl, frown tugging at his lips. “A piloting spell most likely. A complex piece of spellwork to pull off, but the execution here was quite sloppy.” 

“Victoria’s not going to stop hurting people until she gets what she wants or that crown gets a chiseling.”

“Crystal, that is precisely why we cannot rush into anything.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Charles crouch down, leaving her to argue with Edwin again. She wasn’t sure what was worse, him disappearing during their arguments, too afraid to pick a fight, or almost always agreeing with Edwin, and then telling her in an aside that even if she was right, she wasn’t right . 

The memory came unbidden of her dark closet in Port Townsend, the single tired light bulb swinging wildly with her frantic, exploding anger and panic that one of her only friends was suddenly in Hell . Charles, taking it all, not moving an inch, only staring back at her, serious for once, too serious, serious as the grave she hoped he at least had. Then he leaned in, close enough she expected to feel his breath against her cheek, and whispered one cold word: No. 

He picked Edwin over her, again, as he always would and would never realize–

She forced herself out of the memory. It was stupid, of all the moments in her arsenal, to pick that one. That one was something different. Getting Edwin back from Hell was something that went deeper than her; it something between her two friends that, no matter what role she might try to play, was not hers to touch. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The closer she got, the more apparent it was that she could never make up the distance. And honestly, given all her shit, it seemed unlikely anyone would ever want to build something like that with her. 

Crystal forced herself back into the moment. She was only thinking like this because she was pissed and trying not to get her head exploded by bad vibes. There were girls in trouble, and she had decided boy trouble, of every variety, was taking a back seat to everything else. So she channeled her anger into something more productive.

“‘Rush into something?’ Edwin, this is exactly why we have to do something. She’s not going to stop! She’ll use whoever she has to, and if she can’t win that way, you really think that thing will let her walk away? She was in pain before that thing got to her and getting the approval that she’s a good little daddy’s girl or whatever the fuck was the only thing she had in life. How much pain do you think she’s in now? She’s suffocating and she can’t stop hurting people. Victoria is ruining her life and she can’t stop it! But sure, let’s stand back and let her keep going because you made a little miscalculation, great idea, Edwin!” Crystal heaved a breath. She hadn’t meant to say all of that. There was no reason for her to get so worked up over a case that had absolutely nothing to do with her whatsoever . 

Edwin opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her off.

“Mate, does this girl look familiar to you?” Charles was looking at Katie, head cocked to the side. It was strange to suddenly be unified with Edwin after shouting him down, but the twin glares they pinned on him probably could have exorcized a minor demon. Charles, being Charles, looked up and smiled at their expressions. Crystal felt her expression drop from anger to disbelief as she realized this boy’s question was serious. 

Edwin’s ire was entirely redirected. From behind his back, Charles met Crystal’s eye, expression sobering. You okay ? He mouthed. She wavered. No, obviously. And no, not really. 

But here was Charles, looking at her, appearing totally guileless, as if he hadn’t redirected the fire at himself and kept her from doing something stupid. 

Drifting over, Crystal dropped to a crouch beside him. He nudged her with his shoulder, her cue to lean over. And as she draped an arm over her shoulder, she told herself this was not boy trouble. They were her friends! She believed that, truly. They were friends who just really understood and helped each other and after this case they might… She couldn’t bring herself to overanalyze the implications. They had enough going on. Everything else had gotten far too complicated without it. 

To her relief, Edwin had finally gathered his opinions and was strutting over, because god forbid he do anything in half measures. “Charles, you know full well I am not attuned to such things. Besides, it would be incredibly inappropriate to pry into your dalliances. Really, of all the unprofessional– Oh. You’re quite right. Where have I seen that face before?”

Crystal felt like her brain had just been blended again. “What.” 

Edwin dropped down on the other side of Katie. Crystal really hoped that whatever was in that sleeping powder was still good after ten years, or else Katie was going to be really confused when she woke up. 

“Been driving me crazy the whole time. Thought it was an old client, but then it hit me. Dead ringer for the Case of the Ruined Soiree, innit?” 

“You’re right. I had no idea there could be such a strong resemblance.”

“Uh, line? What’s happening here?” 

“Here, take a look.” Charles had been rooting through his bag, and now pulled out a small flower. It was only when he leaned over that Crystal saw that it was a small hair clip. Edwin looked dazed for a moment as Charles clipped it on for him, but he shifted in a cloud of dust too fast for Crystal to be sure about that one. When the dust settled, a young girl batted her eyelashes at them expectantly. Crystal looked down. She looked back up. Same mousy brown hair, same soft gray eyes, same short build. It was like a mirror. 

Then she got an idea.

“Are you able to change the disguise’s clothes?” Currently, Edwin-Not-Katie was wearing his Sunday best, a modest frilly dress and a cardigan over it. 

“In theory, although I’m hesitant to entertain that thought. You will not succeed in getting me into a ‘crop top.’”

Crystal didn’t look, but she noticed Charles was very loudly not saying anything beside her. In fact, it was the one running argument that she took great amusement out of him staying silent.

“That’s only fun for me if you’re not disguised. Can you make it so the disguise is wearing that?” Crystal pointed at the sleeping girl between them. 

Edwin caught on immediately. “Oh, now that is brilliant. I should be able to conjure…” He trailed off. Crystal waited. 

“What, are you going to watch?” Edwin raised a brow and imperiously twirled a finger. Crystal grabbed Charles by the elbow and yanked until they were facing the other way. 

“What are you doing?” Charles’ voice was harsh. Under all that self-deprecation, he did catch on quick.

“Making a plan.” 

“No, wait up a second. Are you sure you’re okay? It’s just–”

“Charles, you are not trying to bench me. I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Me? I’m right as rain, you know that, since I seem to have to remind you every other bloody day–”

“I do not know that. Sure, you tell me, but you’re a terrible liar! You looked ready to lose it earlier.” 

“Because I don’t like seeing my best mate and my– my mates getting walloped like that.” Charles’ jaw ticced, his whispers getting sharper. Good . Finally, a scrap of honesty. 

“We all signed up for this. We can handle ourselves.”

“Until you can’t! Crystal, why are we fighting about this? I’m the brawn, you’re the medium.” 

“And when the case is over? Because I can’t read your mind and you sure as shit can’t read mine. You’re not half as okay as you claim to be and it’s going to blow up in all of our faces if you don’t admit it.” Crystal wanted to take the words back as soon as they left her mouth. All the venom had to go somewhere, so of course she spat it out on the person closest to her. 

She’d meant to push him, not shove him off the side of a cliff. By the way Charles flinched back from her, face shuttering, she’d just succeeded in giving him a glimpse of the real her. She swallowed hard against the sick taste rising in her throat. Maybe it was better if he met her sooner rather than later.

Edwin’s voice was a lifeline breaking their wounded staring contest. “Well. Is this satisfactory?” 

It was scary good. They could have been twins. There were a few details that were off, but for the time crunch they were under, it didn’t seem like Katie was close enough with anyone for the discrepancies to go noticed right away. The biggest difference was that Edwin’s ego was far larger than Katie’s could ever be. 

“Dead on, mate. Nice work with the dress pattern. Always trips me up.” 

“It’s not up to your usual standard, but I am glad to hear it.” 

Crystal nodded absentmindedly, a plan coming to her. “Yeah, so long as you don’t sashay and act too bitchy, it’ll work. Actually, just don’t talk around Victoria.”

That only worked to remind Charles of his original complaint. “I’m sorry, why are we sending Edwin back at the unstable witch?” 

“With luck, I will be able to stay clear enough from Miss Hyatt.” 

“It’s just a bit of advice since we’ve had worse luck than the Titanic.” 

“Just let me have a crack at that crown.” Charles wasn’t pleading yet, but he was a little frantic.

Edwin smoothed his new dress down. “Normally, I would. However, destroying the crown is liable to break Miss Hyatt’s mind at present. It would also be irresponsible to assume that only she would experience side effects. But if I am able to get close enough without detecting her suspicion–”

“And if he had backup once he did attract suspicion, and someone else trying to wear down the crown’s power from the inside, then Edwin can take care of it.” 

“Truly, Charles, I understand you have always been protective, but do you think me no longer capable?” Edwin said it lightly, but Crystal knew he was sincere.

“What, mate, no, it’s not like that. I just– are you sure you trust me with that? It’s only–”

“Charles, you are being ridiculous. Do you have anything productive to add to our plan or do you need me to run through the itemized list of why you are mistaken?” 

Damn. A one-two punch from both of them in under ten minutes. She almost felt bad. Almost. 

“I can duck down and take care of the main rune before you head out,” Charles muttered, not looking at either of them. 

If that was all taken care of… “Edwin, help me get Katie into the bathroom.”

Edwin-Not-Katie’s face bloomed scarlet. “Wholly inappropriate.” 

“So help me God or Death or whatever , I am not dragging a fourteen year old girl across a lobby because of Edwardian sensibility.” And because she was feeling a little petty, she gripped Katie under her arms, leaving the ankles to Edwin. 

“Bloody living clients,” he spoke under his breath. 

YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN

Crystal’s stomach flipped, weightless with nerves. It was eerily quiet backstage, save for the tapping of Edwin’s heels. He hadn’t skimped on the details, including the height of Katie’s heels, and he hadn’t even stumbled once. 

There was no way Victoria wouldn’t catch on eventually. They just had to buy enough time and catch her off guard. Goosebumps popped on her skin as she thought about her role in closing this case. 

Edwin led her through the deserted corridors, walking quickly. She almost wished they were as endless as they felt. All too soon, Crystal could hear the barked commands of the stage manager, and the resulting sounds of construction, no doubt repairing the pulley system. The crown would be retrieved in no time. 

The corridor opened up, leaving Crystal and Edwin stopped in a small square space. The thick velvet curtain was the veil between them and the rest of the world.

“You’re adequately prepared?”

Crystal snorted. You didn’t prepare for diving face first into energy like that. You crashed into it and hoped you remembered how to swim.

He read the look on her face. “Focus on keeping the room from crashing in on us, so to speak. The rune’s energy and Elsbeth’s influence are likely creating the feedback making it so unpleasant. There is no need to break your mind, Crystal. Just do what you can.” 

Crystal wanted to snap back and remind him that she knew , she was the medium around here. He wasn’t snapping, though, annoyed that she couldn’t keep up with him. Crystal swallowed thickly. This was payback, she supposed. “Think you can get a formal reading on the energy in this place? I’m gonna put it on my resume.” She sobered, saying, “But a good detective does what she needs to close a case.” 

Edwin’s sweet, pretty face was haunted as he replied, “I fear that sentiment does not extend so well to the living.”

“Bullshit. Don’t get yourself evaporated again while I’m not looking.” She cut him off when she saw what was happening on stage. “Show time, bitch.” 

Edwin sighed, fixing his longer hair. “Break a leg, Crystal.” 

The curtain rippled as he passed under it. With the curtain pulled aside, she could see the huddle of theatre techs repairing the pulleys, shouting down to crew on the other end. Not all of the girls remained onstage for the abrupt intermission, but enough remained to form a sizeable crowd. Victoria was at the center of the cluster, and she smiled as she watched Edwin-Not-Katie approach. That smile grew wolfish as her eyes flashed to Crystal’s, the last thing she saw before the curtain swished shut. 

She stepped forward to peer between the crack the curtain left. Victoria either wanted her in sight, waiting to be played with, or dead. 

“Dealt with the rune beneath the stage,” Charles whispered from behind her. He looked out of the curtain from above her head. The jerk didn’t even need to crane his head. “Tried to replace it with one that will counter the effects. Won’t be as strong, but hopefully it’ll take some of the edge off, yeah?” 

Crystal inched away from the curtain, trying to keep both of them to the shadows. “Thanks, anything’s better than before,” she replied. If she focused on it, she could feel the throbbing energy, but it did feel weaker. It pulsed quicker, as if sensing her attention or in panic that someone had messed with it. Crystal brought her focus back to the theatre, because was she really trying to assign feelings to a crusty old curse? 

“Did Edwin ever actually replace his stuff for the binding spell?”

“Few days ago. Couldn’t not bring it up after the last case, yeah? I know he’s been rattled, but he’s had that spell handy for as long as there’s been an agency. Wasn’t even mad, really. Just knew I could usually count on him havin’ it to defend himself.”

“But you two are talking?” 

“Yes, Crystal, we bloody talk. Tryin’ to, you know, check in and all that. Hell was never easy to have a chat about and now it’s all fresh. Didn’t say they were long chats, did I?” 

“You know if there are any ghost therapists around? God, even a couples counselor might help.” 

“Do you know the number of bets that people would be looking to cash in on if word got out?”

“I’m sorry, let’s discuss that for a– fucking shit ,” Crystal hissed, doubling over as pain bloomed in her skull. She forced herself upright, looking back out. The stage hands were clapping each other on the back. Chains rattled, the stage thrumming beneath her feet. 

It was starting again. 

“Charles, you need to do one more thing. Pull the fire alarm.”

“What?” 

“We need to get the living out. And with the way Victoria’s looking at Edwin, I don’t think we have much time until you need to start blocking punches.” 

Charles was phasing through the door before she’d even stopped speaking. Buzzing swarmed around her as the crown slowly ascended. Stage hands rushed backstage to call out the contestants. Crystal wasn’t “prepared,” but as the energy crashed over her she held firm. Her feet were roots, dug deep through the floor, pinning her to the Earth. She kept her eyes on the stage but cast her gaze in. Her mind was hers, only hers, a place no one, certainly not a curse like this, could tap into and control. Never again. 

She grit her teeth against her racing heart. Then, blaring yet muffled under the din, the fire alarm. Crystal could make out but not see the pandemonium of people leaving the theatre. 

Edwin stumbled backwards as if in shock, half running for an exit. He only went as far as the trap door, where the crown would appear any second, stopping a few feet downstage. 

He turned back, and his acting was weirdly good when he called out, “We have to leave, Victoria! It’s dangerous.” His attempt at doe-eyed concern in any other context would have made Crystal laugh. He’d even added a quaver to his voice. Victoria didn’t move. Crystal realized with a chill that the theatre had emptied and no one had tried to get them to evacuate. 

“You’re right. It is dangerous,” Victoria purred. It wasn’t the voice of a teenage girl trying to sound more mature. There was something behind it, warping it. Crystal jumped and saw Edwin do the same as the pedestal finished rising with a loud click. Victoria smiled, stalking forward. “I know you want it. The crown. Go ahead, look your fill.” She stopped beside Edwin, sighing. The flashing red emergency lights bounced across her face. 

Edwin shifted a few inches away. “We really should get going. People can pass out in two minutes from smoke inhalation.” 

Victoria’s hand snapped out and wrapped around Edwin’s arm. She reeled him back in to her side and draped herself on his shoulder. “You’re just here to take it. Mine. Well, I just won’t let you. Any of you.” 

Crystal had been doing this long enough now to know this was usually the part where they pulled a knife. She didn’t have a good enough view to see where it came from (and that dress did not have pockets, so she really was curious to know), but the blade was long and thin, glinting in the stage lights. Edwin went stone still. 

Victoria pouted. “I don’t think you’re really Katie in there. You’re certainly not listening to me, so that’s a major red flag. But this will hurt you either way. Pageant queens need to be everything for everyone, you know?” 

Crystal could see the smile on Victoria’s face. This was nothing like the piloting spell. She was completely consumed in her obsession. She enjoyed it. Or, maybe not her. The thing that was a long finished vengeance, overfed and still hungry for more hurt, just couldn’t help itself. 

Where was Charles? Crystal couldn’t leave to go and find him, but she couldn’t go out there, either. She needed enough distance between her and whatever Victoria was doing. Maybe spending more time actually talking over the plan would have been helpful. She can bring it up at her next employee review, or never. 

Like a long dead actress on the cusp of stardom, Victoria commanded the stage. Edwin started inching towards the crown, because he was apparently unimpressed with the idea of getting stabbed with iron. Victoria just kept twirling the knife. 

“Really? Your friend behind the curtain isn’t going to help you? Sad.” She slashed down hard.

The knife embedded itself into wood with a dull thunk. With a yell, Charles shoved back against Victoria. She kept her grip on the knife, pulling it free as she stumbled. He must have phased through the bottom of the stage. Now he was moving into the familiar territory between Edwin and the end of a weapon.

Victoria took it in stride, looking over her shoulder at Edwin and snarling, “ Two friends? Now I really know you’re not Katie.” From there everyone was moving. Victoria lashed out wildly with the knife and her magic. Charles mostly focused on blocking her attacks, unable to risk doing any injury. Edwin tried to keep his feet when Victoria turned her attention to him. All the while, the crown grew more insistent. Crystal shut her eyes. 

After resisting it for so long, it was the easiest thing in the world to slip under the crown’s influence–

you need me you need me you need me I will never let you go this is all you are and don’t you want to be the best the best the best they’ll never question you again they will love you everyone will love you again –

Crystal was falling, plummeting through layers of frantic need. The thoughts came in snatches, whispers like TV static buzzing into partially coherent phrases. Each snippet was a different channel, a different voice. How many girl’s needs and desires had gotten warped, screaming for the same thing? How many had found it, how many more still hurting looking for relief–

A spotless granite countertop. Chipped nails, pressing bloody cuticles into the surface for sparks of pain. Mum looking at her stone faced before turning away. A door slamming. Words spilling from her mouth, too desperate to stop. “Daddy, I love her, I’m not–” The scene rippled. A loud smack. Spinning, flailing. “No daughter of mine. Prove you’re mine, or you can kiss your future goodbye along with that–”

Crystal slipped even farther in in an explosion of bloodred light. Her sight cleared, and the noise dimmed, murkier as if she’d plunged into the sea. Like a flash of deja vu, she felt as if she’d been here before. Every other thought screamed at her to leave. 

She jumped at a sudden clash of broken glass. No, that wasn’t it. She stopped breathing when she thought of it. Chains, the sound was like chains sliding against each other. Crystal turned.

“Oh my god…” Two large eyes bulged at her. One was milky, as if blinded. The second was bloodshot, frantically looking her over. She was in Victoria’s mindscape. The eyes floated back from Crystal, rearranging around a broken looking huddle further off. It groaned. Crystal knew that saccharine voice. She’d been right on the money earlier. Victoria was trapped, unable to stop herself. She never could have imagined how horribly accurate that was. Crystal dropped to her knees, reaching for her. 

Victoria was wrapped in what looked like chains. Crystal managed to roll her over, but her eyes were closed, face contorted in a grimace. It was just like when she’d read her earlier. How long had she been like this? 

“Victoria! Victoria, can you hear me? I’m going to get you out, we’re helping you,” Crystal shouted, searching for a padlock or loose chain link.

“No…” Victoria groaned, “I can’t go…” 

“Victoria, you need to listen to me. This isn’t what you want. This is hurting you and everyone around you.” Crystal fell back as Victoria suddenly flailed, kicking and clawing as much as her bonds allowed. 

“Can’t stop, can’t stop, they don’t love me,” Victoria wailed, her voice rasping. She was covered in sweat, delirious in an almost fevered state. Crystal grabbed her, trying to keep her still– if she was staying at the agency, she really needed to learn first aid. Victoria shuddered, and Crystal nearly felt relief, if her eyes hadn’t snapped open.

“You can’t save me. You can’t even save yourself.” The ground beneath them rumbled. Crystal gasped as pain lanced through her skull, a good old icepick through the eyes. Sobs burst out of her, unbidden. Through the haze, Victoria looked euphoric, but tears raced down her cheeks. It was so much worse in here, it was like dying.

“STOP!” A new voice pushed directly into Crystal’s brain, frantic, crying.

That was when the roof caved in on her. Something tugged on her gut, sharp and fast like a fish hook. Lifted off her feet, Crystal didn’t have the breath to yell. She flew, the layers of anguish and memory screaming, literally screaming, past her.

Reality hit her as a punch to the stomach. She stumbled, gasping. Panic spiked in her chest as she heard pounding footsteps ahead of her. The world was spinning, but the knife that glimmered as it came down she could focus on. Except she must be out of it still, because Victoria looked like she was several feet away. But the next second she went down, a limp sac of flesh, boneless, and Crystal realized she didn’t have brain damage after all. Her knife spun across the floor to tap Crystal’s boot. She wasn’t sure what was louder when Victoria hit the floor, the crash or the sob she let out when she did. Her whole body twitched, otherwise unmoving. 

A hand wrapped around her arm then, holding her up. Charles . He had a line of ash on his cheek. His eyes were flinty as he dragged her a few feet back. 

He wasn’t looking at her, though. The fight wasn’t over. Vision still swimming, Crystal looked across the stage. 

“Elsbeth?” 

The girl’s shoulders were heaving. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, as if she were about to be sick. Muffled shouts still escaped between white knuckles. She swayed, and horror dawned as Crystal realized that she was suffocating. She swooned again, and this time her hands slipped. 

“THE CROWN WILL KILL US ALL!” When Elsbeth screamed, it wasn’t with her voice. She screamed with the force of a tsunami hitting the shore. Her voice ripped through the theatre, drowning out the alarm. It was more sound than one girl could make. Then it wasn’t words, just a soundless screech.

Crystal levered herself up to Charles’ ear to yell, “We have to help her!” The sound was completely washed away. He might not even have heard her without the noise. His gaze was far away. He flinched at nothing, and Crystal was finding it hard to keep a grip on him. 

Crystal was going to lose them. That crown really was going to take everything from her. Not that she wouldn’t have messed it up herself anyway. Edwin would go back to Hell, Charles would either get lost looking for him or worse. Niko would always be alone, and Crystal would be no one, just a mean, unloveable girl. She–

Her despairing thoughts were cut off by, inexplicably, a tiny twinkle of glass. 

Immediately, the theatre grew silent, save for the roving fire alarm. An iron grip released from around Crystal’s lungs and heart. She hadn’t even known how tightly it constrained her until it fell away. Charles slumped next to her, rubbing his face against his shoulder. 

“That was rather unpleasant.” Edwin stood at the apron, crown in one hand, scraper in the other. A fine coating of metal dust was caught in his long hair and dress. 

“Everyone okay?” Charles kept an arm around Crystal as he walked them over. 

“Regretting not keeping any aspirin on me,” Crystal grumbled. As they approached, Edwin held out the scraper to Charles. Instead of taking it, Charles grabbed his wrist and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. 

She did not sign up for a group hug, but it was… nice. It helped further chase away the spiral the crown had sent her down. The only thing that was broken here was the crown. 

Edwin wriggled away after a moment, hissing, “We are on a case , you two,” which, this was not her idea, buddy! But both the boys looked far more real than they had a moment prior.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Elsbeth’s voice was as strong as ever, no evidence of the throat ripping she’d just been doing. Horror carved out her features. 

“Sorry? That was amazing! Kept that from going right bad.” Charles smiled at her. Crystal took the moment to step out from under his arm.

Elsbeth shook her head fast. “I can’t control it. Something bad is going to happen and I always make it.”

“Elsbeth, if I may,” Edwin stepped forward, removing the pin.

Crystal was close enough to give Elsbeth an aside. “That’s Edwin, the other, actual dead boy, detective. He’s an ass, don’t take it personally.” Elsbeth was definitely overwhelmed, but she put her pageant skills to work and rolled her shoulders back, waiting. She even raised an eyebrow. Crystal could have clapped. 

“I believe you are a very powerful banshee. They are young women gifted with prophetic visions of the future, generally warnings of ill fortune. The already tumultuous psychic energy triggered your abilities, and for the rest of us who are supernaturally inclined, it got… messy.” 

Elsbeth nodded absentmindedly. “Is that why my mother can’t get inside? I did something?” 

“We do not know many banshees, but with the information we do have, I would say yes. It is likely that your mother was on the path to end someone’s life, so you were able to prevent it.” Edwin turned, going to check in on Victoria. He stooped over and checked her pulse. Figures. If he had to deal with the living, he wasn’t going to favor the one that could talk to him. 

Elsbeth didn’t even notice. She looks at her shoes, clearly having read between the lines. 

“She really was going to be the death of me.” 

“Hey,” Crystal reached for Elsbeth’s hand, squeezing when she didn’t pull away. “We messed up, believing her, but we’re not gonna let anything else happen to you.” 

Elsbeth looked up, ready to respond, when her gaze caught on something behind Crystal. “Oh my– Vic!” She ran over to where the other girl was stirring. Her dress pooled around her as she kneeled, pulling the other girl’s head into her lap. Edwin jumped away, but he had an odd look on his face. 

He… he did know about lesbians, right? 

Crystal was too far away to hear what was said as Elsbeth leaned down to whisper to the other girl. She could hear Victoria’s resulting sob before she promptly went back unconscious. 

Over the sound of the alarms, Crystal heard something new, almost as unwelcome as what they had just dealt with: sirens. The boys heard it, too. 

“If everyone wants to answer a lot less questions, we’re gonna have to leg it.” Charles shifted his bag on his shoulder. 

Elsbeth looked back at them. “I’m calling an Uber. Can one of you help me get her in the car? And maybe distract the driver for a minute so I can talk to my mother?” 

***

Crystal and Elsbeth stood next to each other in the theatre loading bay. Edwin had put the disguise back on, and Charles was helping him guide a passed out Victoria into a green car. 

“You don’t have to see her again if you don’t want to. I’m sure we can send her packing.” 

Elsbeth was already shaking her head, hair disheveled but still pretty as it swished around. “No, I want to.” She clenched a fist at her side. Her gaze bore into the ground, as if looking for a line she was about to cross. 

“I think you’re really brave, for facing her. I don’t know if I could if it was mine.” Crystal swallowed. I don’t know if I can.

Elsbeth smiled at her then, a small but confident thing. She was planning to put on a performance, Crystal realized. “Please, it’s nothing like that. I’m just taking my last chance to finally mouth off.”

“Elsbeth? Oh, Elsbeth, what has been going on in that blasted theatre?” Four out of five heads turned at Diane Bedlam’s shrill voice (Victoria’s bobbed, still asleep). She stood, impeccable as ever, at the end of the alley. She hurried over in a dignified hustle. Elsbeth stood her ground. When her mother was a few feet away, she said, “Don’t come any closer.” 

It was her normal voice. She wasn’t relying on her powers, but there was an edge to it. It was the same icy authority Diane spoke with. 

Diane was good, so she didn’t crack. She did let her confusion show. Crystal ground her teeth. 

“Elsbeth, what’s wrong? Why were the authorities called? Did the detectives figure out what was keeping me from you?” 

“Yeah, they figured out what was wrong in there. But that wasn’t why you couldn’t get in.” 

Diane sighed, turning to Crystal. “My daughter is being unreasonable, as usual. Perhaps you could enlighten me?” 

Elsbeth scoffed. “You really do think I’m stupid. I told them everything, Mum. You’re done .” 

Diane looked at each of them. The concerned mother act dropped. “Your abused girl act is beyond unbelievable. Any person who looks at you can tell I’ve never laid a hand on you. I’ve been nothing but encouraging. You never would have–”

“I never would have done a single thing for myself if I let you use me. You hurt me, everyday. That doesn’t even register to you. For sixteen years my life has been yours. No more. I’m keeping you away from me, and there’s nothing you can do anymore. 

Crystal had expected to have to intervene by now. Diane was yet to make a move. She looked… bored. But when she spoke, her voice was brittle. 

“Are you quite finished? We’re going home. Your attitude will be put to rights after such a long day without me.” 

Elsbeth smiled. “You’re not going anywhere with me.” Crystal felt it in the way the hairs on her neck stood up, in the sudden chill that wormed its way inside her. Dread . 

Diane finally took a step back. Elsbeth didn’t move, steamrolling ahead. “You’re a terrible mother. I was just a pretty young thing to make you look better.” Her voice changed, becoming more. 

“Elsie, please. I’ll make it up to you. You want to quit so bad? You can quit.” 

“You betrayed me. You hurt me. You lied to me. Go to Hell!” Elsbeth screamed. The ground cracked beneath Diane’s feet. She hardly noticed, because she had started screaming, too, high and desperate. It was the type of scream of someone knowing the worst was coming, but they had no power to stop it. 

A bright red light shot out from the crack. 

Crystal knew that light. 

She snapped her head to the side to look at the boys. Edwin was staring at the light, and the word for his expression came loose from her memories of school, unbidden: shellshocked. 

“Edwin, go! Go!” Charles was pushing him away, grabbing at the pin and then shoving him through the car mirror. He never let go, getting dragged through with him. A loud crack drew Crystal’s eyes back to the mother-daughter argument. With a final cry, Diane was engulfed in a tangle of tentacles. The light grew unbearable as it swallowed her whole. 

When Crystal’s vision cleared, it was a normal day in a normal London alley. No trace of Hell or Death or abusive mothers to be found. 

“Elsbeth Bedlam, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Elsbeth was pale, but she grinned. “I didn’t actually mean to send her there.”

“If it makes you feel better, she was probably supposed to go there anyway and you just gave her a little push.” Elsbeth blushed, looking sheepish.

“I might have to be a little more careful with my swearing until I figure this banshee schtick out.” Elsbeth ran her hands over face, sighing. Without her mom looming, she took in the rest of the street. “Where’d your friends go?”

“Oh, we, uh, had a run in with Hell not too long ago, and it’s best if they steer clear. It’s a long story.” Crystal had never been left alone at the end of a case. Usually, clients came back to the office at some hour where Crystal had a 50/50 chance of actually sleeping. Seeing how their client just got (deservedly) rocketed down to Hell, there wasn’t a model for what happened next. 

Elsbeth sighed. “She probably offered to pay you, right? I can’t imagine she wasn’t throwing money at the problem.” 

Crystal turned to her. “Elsbeth, no. That deal was with your mom. I’m so sorry for what happened. We can’t accept payment from you when we put you in more danger.” 

“It’s Crystal, right?” Elsbeth waited for confirmation. “Yes, I was angry, but mostly, I was freaked. Then you proved me wrong. Without you, we’d all be in that miserable situation. I still have a lot to work out, and sorry if I’m overstepping, but it sounds like you do, too? But even with everything going on, I was still trying to help Vic and the other girls. Just because something sucks doesn’t mean you can’t help. So thanks for making it suck less. No one else was going to help.”

Crystal looked away. She was a professional. “What are you going to do now?”

“Uber to my family’s summer home. Have a long discussion with Victoria about how I was in love with her and that she could have told me a crown was whispering to her like an Eldritch horror or that she was struggling. Burn this dress, maybe. I have no idea. It’s kind of awesome. You know, I’ve always wanted to start a metal band.”

“That sounds really–”

A car horn punched through the air. The Uber was still waiting. 

Elsbeth jumped. “How much do you think he saw?” 

“Enough that you’re probably in for a long ride.”

“Oh, for fucks– Do you have an agency phone, so I can call you about payment? Please, my dad never checks the credit cards. I’ll send you whatever she promised.” 

Crystal rifled through her pockets. “We don’t have a phone, because it’s run by literal geezers, but–” She pulled out her notepad and quickly scribbled a note, tearing it free. “This is my number and the address. We’ll work it out. Seriously, Elsbeth, we owe you, like, an agency favor. Edwin will say that doesn’t exist, but whatever. If you need something, let us know.” 

Elsbeth took the note. Crystal extended a hand. Edwin always sealed the deal with a shake. He’d probably make a point to ask if she’d done it, the pompous jerk. With a smile, Elsbeth took her hand. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Crystal’s cheek.

“Good luck,” she said softly, and then pulled away, hurrying into her car. 

Crystal waited until she’d driven away. Another screaming success for the Dead Boy Detectives . She allowed herself a minute of celebration, standing in the alley, a cold wind carrying the sour smell of the streets. Yeah, she’d really earned it. Living it up, that she was. The city bustled around her, and in that moment she could have done anything she wanted. She didn’t have anyone, just ghosts. She could hurt two more people, what would that really add? 

Then her minute was up, and she wasn’t feeling particularly celebratory anymore. Her head raced, and not because of any malignant psychic energy. 

She started the walk back to her empty apartment, alone. 

CASE CLOSED

Charles remembered to phase through the desk this time as he fell out of the mirror. Normally he didn’t, a sure way to get a scolding. He hit the floor and slid, keeping his eyes on Edwin, who had caught himself against the edge of the desk before sitting heavily in the chair.

Pushing himself to his feet, he asked, “You okay, mate?” Edwin didn’t say anything, didn’t even glance at him. “ Edwin .” 

His best friend finally looked up at that. Charles still felt like he was in the middle of a fight when he saw how hard Edwin was shaking. Slowly, he made his way to the corner of the desk, resting his weight on it. He tried to make his breathing louder and steadier. 

“We’re back in the office, yeah? Just you and me. Nobody’s lookin’ for you.” Except me , he didn’t say. I’m looking for the moment I drag my best mate out of Hell again . “We just closed a case, which is another point on the board. You’re safe here with me.”

This wasn’t the first time Charles had done this. In those early years, he had been petrified when Edwin just… went away for a bit, facing memories he could hardly imagine. Even now, when it wasn’t just his imagination, he was so afraid of doing the wrong thing. Edwin was the toughest person he knew, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get hurt. Charles would tip himself headfirst into the afterlife if he ever hurt him, or if he ever got confirmation that he had at some point. 

Overtime, Charles had learned that just babbling helped. It was probably the first time running his mouth did any good. Now he kept up a steady stream of conclusions about the case, steering clear of anything close to uncaring mothers and the pain that waited in peoples homes. He was perfectly happy to do this, he’d do anything for him, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t ready to smash something for having to do it again after all these years.

Was this the first time it had happened since Port Townsend? Edwin wouldn’t hide that from him, he hadn’t for decades, but then again, there were enough times that Charles got back to find Edwin gone, and his panic was so bad he couldn’t think a single thing until Edwin walked through the door. He believed every excuse Edwin gave him, his relief a heavy thing, but what if he’d missed–

Charles paused when he noticed Edwin’s breathing had leveled out. His unwavering gaze was on Charles in full force. He had no idea what he was thinking. Even after his– their talk on the stairs, it only made him harder to read, easier to hurt, too, he thought. He looked away.

“So anyway, that’s the job jobbed.” 

“Yes. Thank you,” Edwin said, slowly, not uncertain, right, but… cautious? Charles couldn’t sweat, but his palms sure did remember the feeling. “Top whole job as always, even despite my–”

“Oi! No one’s allowed to beat up on my best mate.” He poked him on the shoulder when he saw his mouth open to argue back. “No one.”

It was Edwin’s turn to look away, staring straight ahead towards the door. With their bodies facing different directions, Charles could take in his profile. He looked like one of those old marble busts in a museum, some Roman, stern and imperious and larger than life. But Edwin had a lot more life in him than a hunk of white stone, though. Charles could see the way his throat worked, how his eyes couldn’t stay in one place. 

Crystal could make whatever point she wanted, but Charles really was trying. It just seemed like he was the first one to realize how rubbish he was at the “helping his friends” gig. He was going to do it right this time, but he wondered if maybe he should step back. Or wait an hour before, or–

Wait. This was Edwin, his best mate, his impossible, stubborn, smartest, most caring person he knew, loved, even, and now he was second guessing himself. He didn’t second guess himself with Edwin, he didn’t have to. 

Right? 

“Edwin, you can talk to me. You don’t have to–”

“Of course I don’t have to, you bloody well know what was happening.” 

“Yeah, I know what you were remembering, but the way your mind works, I’m not like Crystal, am I? Can’t read your mind.”

“And how lucky for us all that she can do no such thing, either. I was startled. Truly, an extreme reaction that I am working on controlling. It won’t happen again, as I am sure you would prefer.” 

Charles barely understood what Edwin was saying. He didn’t think the words had hit his brain, and yet there went his mouth, too loudly saying that “Of course I don’t want it to happen again, it’s bloody horrible for you, but–”

“Well, there’s that. I will begin the terminal paperwork and review my notes on Ms. Barnassus’ murder, hopefully rectifying my previous oversights.” He’d already started moving files and papers around, quick as ever. 

Charles, for one, wanted to cry, and it wasn’t even at the promise of paperwork in triplicate. Here it was, happening again. Edwin was the easiest thing in the world to him, and yet Charles could not help him. Edwin did not want him to help, hardly seemed to want him at all. 

“Mate, that’s not necessary. We couldn’t have finished this without you. Please, just let me–”

Edwin turned to him sharply. “Aren’t you meant to be with Crystal, now?” There was little trace of Edwin after a case, triumphant and smiling to himself. There was no Edwin barely disguising “annoyance” at their new friend. There wasn’t even Edwin scared and haunted by things Charles refused to let hurt him anymore. 

There was just the closed-off, lonely Edwin that came back from Port Townsend, once the elation of afterlife immunity had worn off. 

It was only from decades as a detective (and his role as #1 Edwin Whisperer) that he saw it. Charles was doing a piss poor job at hiding his desperation, and he knew he should be fixing that, right away, but Edwin caught him at it. Something cracked a little in his gaze, and Charles spotted it. It was hardly anything, but to Charles, lost and shivering in the dark, that crack let in enough light to soothe the chill. 

Edwin reached out, stopping just shy of Charles’ hand. Before he could say something really daft– take it, there’s no part of me you have to ask for, whatever you need – because talk about embarrassing and painful, he couldn’t even get his bloody thoughts in line for him because he had also considered grabbing the thing himself , Edwin dropped it. He tapped a finger so close to Charles’ he went a little mad imagining the feel of it brushing against his. 

“I’ll be all right, Charles. Go make sure Crystal gets home safely. I’m certain she has a lot on her mind.” 

He couldn’t be in the office anymore. Something ugly was going to crawl out of him, the emotion was too big to name and too sharp to examine. He pushed himself up and away. “Reckon we all bloody do, mate.”

He slipped through the mirror and out the first surface he could find that led him to the right street. Orienting himself only took a minute, and then he was running. Crystal’s purple jacket was distinct, way cooler than what most folks wore nowadays. She hadn’t made it very far from the theatre yet. Muttering apologies, he phased through a few people. Then he was walking in-step with Crystal.

She did a half-turn, swore, and then swiveled to face forward. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered. 

“Cheers, but I don’t think he had as cool a jacket as me.” 

Crystal did something that was a cross between a laugh and a scoff. “I think you’re actively getting worse.” 

“You love my jokes. I know you do.” 

“If thinking that makes it easier to sleep at night… oh wait, you don’t have to, so there’s no point.” Charles laughed. When he opened his mouth to respond, Crystal beat him to it. “Yeah, not my best either. I’m a little surprised to see you, honestly.” 

“And miss out on tradition?” 

Crystal smiled a bit at that, but then she squinted at him. “I take it Edwin didn’t want to talk about it?”

Honestly, Charles didn’t really want to talk about it right now, either. “He just needs time.”

“No shit. But he’s going to–”

“ Crystal . It’ll be fine. I’m handling it. I know you’re worried, yeah, but he’ll come to us when he’s ready.” He tried to sound sure about it (because that’s what would happen, that had to be it), but his voice cracked at a really bad moment, and it kinda made it sound like he really wasn’t all that sure. 

Crystal looked as if she was chewing on something harsh that Charles really deserved to hear at this point, but she must’ve decided to dig into him another time, because she dropped it. “I’ll give you and Edwin the full debrief tomorrow when I get to the office.”

Case work. What a bloody brilliant thing to talk about it. “How’s Elsbeth?” He really had been worried about her, and he couldn’t stop kicking himself about earlier. He should have known something. How could he have not? 

Crystal pulled him out of his thoughts. “Pretty excited about living her own life. She’ll be in touch soon about payment– yes, I told her she didn’t have to. Said she was looking to start a metal band.”

“That’s brills! A banshee band? We’ll have to go to one of her gigs.” Charles hadn’t been to a gig in so long. The agency had been busy even before Port Townsend, and after there’d never been the time. He had so many places to take Crystal. She knew about night life, so it wouldn’t be like when he could coax Edwin out, but she’d been to all the posh (boring) places. Granted, being a psychic, maybe she had been to some of his favorites. That would be pretty mint, too. 

He was about to ask her what band names she thought would work for Elsbeth (he had ideas), when her saw her face fall.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” 

“That I’m making plans with a dead boy and I’m jealous of a glorified prom queen for having a future because I have no idea what I’m doing with mine!” Crystal started walking faster. 

Charles blinked. Yeah, he knew Crystal was still dealing with her own stuff. He’d be having a rotten go of it too if his demon-ex (you could stop the sentence there, having a demon-ex would be bad enough) stole his mind and then treated him to (apparently, it was kind of hard to believe Crystal did anything bad bad, just mean, maybe, and he believed she kind of was allowed, anyway) remembering all the bad things he’d done. Crystal had joked about him not sleeping, but there were plenty of long nights where he would have been kept up with his own shit… but it didn’t matter. Crystal had an apartment, and a job, and money, and she was Crystal . She could do anything she wanted. She didn’t give up when other people were in trouble. No reason the same couldn’t apply to herself. 

He ran to catch up to her. They’d been in that theatre all day. The days were getting longer, but that didn’t stop the street lights above them from flickering on, signaling that night was falling. The sidewalks were in limbo, everyone leaving work now arrived at home and the revelers still getting ready to go out. 

“Crystal, ‘course you have a future.” 

He thought he’d made a pretty good point, but Crystal pulled up short. They’d stopped in front of a corner store. Red neon lights burned behind Crystal as she turned. The urge to grab her and run at the sight was one he shoved down. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, Charles! I can’t talk to my family. I constantly feel like I’m on the brink of fucking everything up because that’s the only thing I’ve ever done. This is, like, a Sweet Sixteen crisis! I got my memories back, great, it turns out I’m actually a really shitty person, and I don’t know where to go or what to do with that!” She scraped her hair back from where it had fallen over her face. She stepped away from him. 

Now that she’d said it all out loud, he could maybe see her point. She was dead wrong, but watching Edwin argue for decades meant he could probably change her mind about that. 

“I know there’s a lot of things you remembered doing that you don’t wanna talk about, which is fine, but I’ve seen a lot of things that you’ve been doing in the past two months, right? Powers or not, you’re helping people. You care about other people, Crystal. Memories can’t change that. You’re the same person I met who didn’t remember she was a ‘bad person.’Think you’ve always been good, just didn’t really get a good chance to show it, yeah?” 

Crystal was staring at him like he’d grown another head, maybe two. He didn’t think anything he’d said was that crazy, but he’d also run out of things he’d planned to say two sentences in and had just given his mouth the wheel. He wanted to kick the streetlamp next to him when Crystal turned on a heel and stormed into the corner store. Stupid . That was two friends he’d hurt in one night. At this rate, his friends would be better off cutting out the middleman and not trusting him with any of this. Edwin and Crystal both had come back from Port Townsend with more to deal with. He was fine, perfectly fine, but apparently not if he couldn’t even put on a smile and make others feel better. 

The door slammed shut with a cheerful jingle of bells. Kicking the streetlamp would have been more satisfying than hearing its lightbulb pop, sprinkling glass onto the sidewalk around him. 

Charles took a breath, bounced on his feet, and phased through the door. He found Crystal towards the back, staring into a refrigerated display case of drinks. 

“If you look at me and try to tell me I’m not a bad person again, I’m pushing you into the nearest mirror and hoping you end up in the North Pole.” 

That was tough for Charles, because that may have been his plan. He propped his shoulder against the glass door of the case next to hers. She looked angry, but he knew it was the angry someone felt when they were mad at themself. He knew it pretty well. Charles thought back to their earlier argument. But it was an older conversation that pushed itself to the front of his mind. I just want something that’s real . So she wouldn’t trust what he said without something to prove it. 

It was just Crystal. She already knew most of it. He wasn’t scared. Hell was probably worse than this.

He still waited until she opened her own case door to speak. The glass door between them instantly fogged, obscuring her face. Then he opened his mouth again. 

“You’re not a bad person, Crys. But even if you were, you could still do anything. Plenty of bad people still live good lives.”

Crystal slowly shut the door. Charles thought Crystal’s face was mint, and he’d assumed he’d always be happy to see it, even when it was shouting at him for acting like an idiot, but he kind of wished he didn’t have to see the face she was making right now.

“What?” Crystal’s voice was small, stunned. It kinda felt like he’d hit her, and he immediately kept talking because he was not going to think about that now or ever again.

“My dad’s still around, happy and enjoyin’ telly and biscuits with my mum. The people who– my old friends, they’re all alive. Most are married with kids, shiny cars, summer homes, all that tosh. The people who love ‘em probably think they’re brills. Maybe they are and just had a bad day. Maybe it was me. You have a lot of time, is what I’m saying, and even if you were bad, doesn’t seem to matter much to anyone but you.” It was a good thing Charles’ throat had dried out, because he was rambling. He forced his shoulders to relax. It’d make it easier for Crystal to toss him to another continent if he wasn’t bracing for it.

She did grab and drag him, but it was away from the spinning rack of glasses with a mirror on top and towards the crisps aisle. When she finally spun to face him, she was mad mad, not at herself. Charles was phased a little bit into the aisle rack, but success! Maybe.

“Charles, you’re not a bad person.”

This was not the conversation they were having?

“Neither are you.”

“You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you! And the people who did those things to you definitely don’t deserve to keep living large. But you’re not… moping, or hurting anyone, you help people everyday.” 

“That’s exactly what you do!” 

“I’m not like you! I’m…”

Charles lightly gripped her arms. He gave her a little shake. “I know what I’m talking about, right? Trust me.” 

Crystal blinked rapidly. The fight went out of her, eyes softening. Charles really wasn’t sure if anything he’d said helped. He really just wanted to be talking about gigs and music, but he also couldn’t if he knew Crystal was still feeling this way. He wanted to hug her, would have weeks ago, because frankly, he wanted a hug, too. 

It’d been a long day.

She turned without grabbing anything, and Charles let her go. She paid for her drink before leaving in a huff. Even as Charles shadowed her out onto the sidewalk she refused to look at him. Maybe this was what Elsbeth and her mum had been like. Nope, still not thinking about that, this was about Crystal! They walked in silence, Crystal occasionally taking a swig from the pink lemonade she’d bought. 

Charles was ready for the ground to crack and open up beneath him by the time they stopped. Crystal dropped to the curb in front of the Italian restaurant. Her apartment was just across the street. She gestured with her phone, explaining, “I ordered dinner before you found me. Still have a few minutes left until it’s ready.” It was the first time she’d acknowledged him since the back of his head merged with a Walkers bag. 

She patted the ground next to her. Relief dropped through him like a stone as he sat. The silence stretched on. It wasn’t as charged before. They were just two… good friends, right, waiting. But a few minutes lapsed and she still hadn’t gotten up, and he wasn’t exactly about to get up, so he did the next best thing. 

“You know, you talking about painting earlier, I ever tell you I used to draw?”

Crystal turned to him. Charles rushed to explain himself.

“I wasn’t that good, but I liked it. Got in trouble a lot for sketching in my books during class. Really wanted to get into tagging, but drawing was easy ‘cos I already had all the supplies. It’s why I got all into runes. Been a while since I’ve done it for fun, and I was thinkin’, maybe one of these nights, we could do a little art night. If you want. Because that’s somethin’ I want to do with you.” Good job, he’d really stuck that landing. Crystal didn't even look that confused or weirded out. 

Ladies, gentlemen, and other spirits, he still had it. 

“That sounds really nice, actually.” Charles smiled at her, and she smiled back. Finally . Job officially jobbed. Now he could have some time with Crystal without having to worry. Crystal looked like she was thinking it over. 

What she said next was not part of the plan. “Charles, we’re… we’re not…” Might’ve spoken too soon, mate.

He knew what Crystal was gearing up to say. They’d been dancing around the mixed signals for weeks. It was driving him mad not knowing what lines he had to worry about crossing, but having the conversation meant an end. Beating himself up was easier than talking. 

It’s just that he really was afraid of losing her. He kept waiting for the day she woke up, walked into the office, and said that she’d realized that she had better things to do than spend her time with two dead boys and risking her neck. He had no idea if he would have went to college or gotten a job he liked or not, but this was what he had. She had a choice, and Crystal was going to grow up sometime. This conversation felt very much in the territory of “Crystal Palace Leaving For Good.” 

“You wanna be?” Charles’ voice was low. He knew he should say it, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of getting to have this for a little longer, then he was going to try. His smile could be pretty convincing, after all. He just didn’t have it in him to do it. 

Crystal was quiet. She looked at him. For a second, he thought she was going to make him say it, eyes pleading. Crystal was right though, when she’d said earlier that he wasn’t actually that strong.

Crystal was.

“Yes. But not like this.” She gasped a little when she said it, surprised, relieved, it didn’t really matter.

The old living girl plus dead boy equation. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it. Just had hoped he was as rubbish at maths as he remembered and someone with a brain could figure it out.

“Okay.” Charles said, suddenly panicked. “We’re still friends, right, because I really do think you’re bloody brilliant.” 

“I think you’re special, too. I’m not going anywhere.” Crystal leaned into him a bit, unsure. He pressed back. Neither one of them moved any closer. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, or what he had a feeling either of them wanted in that moment. But he had to admit a small part of him was relieved to finally have an answer. 

Charles sighed. It was hard to imagine things going back to the way they were, even if they had been mostly great.

“Good. You’re still my best girl, you know.”

Crystal snorted. “Oh my god, you’re from the 80s, not the 20s!”

Charles laughed. Somehow, this felt good. “Oi, it’s the 20s again, innit? It’ll make a comeback.” 

Crystal gave him a little shove. “It definitely won’t.” 

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her lap. She went to stand.

“Do you.. Do you want to hang out? Maybe that’s a stupid thing to do with your– I’ll probably still be up for a bit, and I kind of want a few hours with someone who isn’t a supernatural teenage girl. I think I have some pictures of old paintings saved somewhere.” 

“That depends. You order spaghetti?” 

“I’d never do that to you.”

“Good, because then you’d really be breaking my heart.” He watched her go inside, still shaking her head. 

This was good. He knew it was the right thing. His skin still remembered what it felt like to rip a band-aid off, even if it never learned how her lips felt, or what her curls felt like under his fingers, or how warm she might be. 

He just didn’t know what to do with the choking feeling that he was watching her leave for good, regardless. 

You cannot keep her . He didn’t really feel like he deserved to, is the thing. He didn’t deserve much of anything he had. 

“You coming?” Crystal was at the crosswalk. Charles was still sitting on the curb, like a numpty.

He raced to catch up to her, making sure he was smiling as he did. 

***

Edwin had finished as much of the paperwork as he could, and the office was too quiet. He’d gotten rather used to someone else being there. 

The nights when Charles would go out wandering used to be times when Edwin would read and enjoy the solitude, at least for a few hours. He’d thought he’d been a creature of solitude before he’d met Charles. Yet, he’d also be smothered in warmth, smiling whenever Charles walked back in, bringing back his restless energy and constant stream of observations.

He’d thought a lot of things before meeting Charles Rowland. 

Back then, what had been a balance of comforts now seemed unbearable. Every creak became a giggle, every gust of wind an agonized cry of some lost soul. Frankly, the reminders of Hell were the kindest of visages his mind could conjure, if the past month was anything to go off of.

He furiously made another note in his updated file about Helen Barnassus. He’d consult with the Night Nurse to determine if there were records of her moving on, something he suspected she had done once the understudy suffered that breakdown. Then he would alert the living authorities to her remains. Those would be the loose ends taken care–

BANG . Edwin whirled, already on his feet. Stupid, he’d left himself alone and prone to an abduction from…

“Mail call!” A jolly voice boomed through the office. Edwin glowered as a cascade of mail slid onto the desk.

“If we procured a mailbox and installed it outside the door, would you deign to use it and cease trespassing?” Edwin was practically shouting, his shock transferring into his voice. 

The ghost postman just chuckled heartily and phased through the wall from whence he presumably came. 

Edwin slumped back into his chair. He’d been meaning to ask the Night Nurse if that man was one of hers from another department. The two had yet to meet. If the postman startled her like that, she was liable to bite his head off. In thirty years, not once had he managed to get any solid information on his occupation and workplace. 

Niko would have his whole life story, if she was here. 

Edwin immediately pushed that thought back, turning to the distraction delivered direct to his desk. There did not seem anything out of the ordinary. Some fliers from around the supernatural community, agency mail, a letter from a consultant on one of their low priority cases. 

Then he saw it. A small square of cardstock with strong, looping typeface. It was not the cheap kind so common in correspondence nowadays. This was sturdy and real, distinguished. It was addressed to him and Charles both. He turned it over. 

His spectral heart squeezed, nearly stopping for good a second time when he read the message.

St. Hilarion’s School for Boys cordially invites you…

TO BE CONTINUED