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Like all law students in New York, Sonny Carisi had heard the rumors of the Winbane Law Archives, an extensive library fitted into the skeleton of an old gothic Cathedral. Flickering lights retrofitted into candle chandeliers, whistling wind down the halls, books opening to exactly the right page when they fell to the ground. The night he went there, though, he didn’t care about any of the rumors. He was going to fail his con law exam and this was the only library in the city with an immediately available copy of the book he needed.
He pushed through the doors with jittery caffeine-shot hands, hair clinging to his forehead from rain, and anxiety strong as nausea in his gut. It was dark out, but this law archive was open well past even his latest class. After an extremely busy day at work and a punishing lecture, he was tired of being on, but he couldn’t turn off. Not with this exam coming up. An exam that could determine whether he made it into the top tenth of the class or not.
The place was organized entirely without computers, which made it a huge pain in the ass to find what he was looking for. Aged yellow notecards and maps. He also couldn’t find a librarian for the life of him, even though he could hear voices whooshing around the corridors every few shelves he passed.
Scanning a shelf halfway to the back of the main hall, Sonny’s fingers pulled back the book he’d been looking for, finding it worn down, an original copy from decades ago. He thumbed through, searching for a particular passage that wasn’t available anywhere online for some reason. He hated paywalls and subscriptions like he hated very little else.
A scrap of yellowed paper, more like parchment, fell out and fluttered to the floor.
Sonny’s eyes followed it to the ground. He knelt to pick it up and the tips of his fingers prickled. The writing was hasty and youthful in smudged, bleeding black ink.
For the desperate student: 346.38
Sonny consulted the library’s collection guide that he’d gotten familiar with after poring over. Private Law in the Ancient World, specifically Inheritance & Succession.
A chill went down his spine.
As if guided by an unseen hand, Sonny crossed the library quickly and quietly without stopping to question what he was even doing. Despite this being a law library, there weren’t many titles in that particular classification, less than one shelf of one bookcase compared to the hundreds of oversized sections on everything else.
The book he was meant to find was obvious. Rich old violet leather, cracking silver leaf. Nothing else like it in the whole place. There wasn’t any title on the spine, so Carisi had to pull it off the shelf to see. Binding Rituals & Unbinding Rites. No author, just ‘An Anonymous Anthology’ on the inside. The last formal check-out stamp on the interior cover was from decades ago, but the spine and pages clearly had recent wear that hinted at it being slipped secretly inside countless messenger bags and briefcases through the years. Sonny found a page dog-eared, which made him cringe, and opened it up.
Surrounded by intricate runes and illustrations, the page held only a brief incantation:
-
By clause and covenant, writ and decree,
I plead, O counsel, come to me.
I summon ye who’s learned from death
that I may share with thee my breath.
I bind our souls so you may teach
the ancient wisdoms I beseech
-
Sonny looked down at the words, his thoughts somehow both calm and racing. Part of his mind reasoned that 1) this was ridiculous, and 2) his whole family was Catholic, so, if it wasn’t ridiculous, it was at least sinful. Then again, so was pretty much everything he did on the weekends and he hadn't gone to mass in a decade.
So, he reasoned, it couldn’t really hurt, right? Best case scenario, he got some help with his test; worst case, he still got to conclusively prove the existence of ghosts.
Against his better judgment, Sonny read the incantation aloud, trying to keep his voice library low. From his knowledge of movies, this was the part where the chandeliers should rattle, wind should shatter the windows, or at least a shiver should shake him to his core.
Instead, after a few beats of quiet, he slammed the book shut and rolled his eyes at himself. God, what was he doing reciting some weird poem in the middle of a library? Half those thee s and ye s had to be used incorrectly, but he’d bought it hook, line, and sinker. No wonder his grades were-
A deep voice, midway through a sentence, drew his attention. “-and yet you, weak and feeble student, useless mortal, entreaty those who have past to- Hey idiot, are you even listening to me?”
Sonny’s eyes crashed against the slightly translucent man in front of him. Shorter than him with neatly coiffed dark hair, angular features but soft lips, and a well-tailored suit, all slightly duller than technicolor, washed out.
Handsome.
Not that that was relevant, considering Sonny could see slightly through him like he was made from mist or a hologram, almost physical but not quite. He startled backwards away from the slightly shimmering form. The man — ghost? Sonny’s mind provided the word in curious horror — waited with an annoyed expression for Sonny to finish processing. Which took another full minute. After all, he had just learned ghosts were not only real but easy to summon with a freshman-level poem.
Finally, Sonny stammered out, “Is this real? Are you real?”
“In a way,” the ghost said seriously with a wave of his cloudy hand, “it’s all real.”
“Huh?”
“Okay, so the fake-deep, ancient deity shtick isn’t going to work with you. Got it.” The ghost sighed heavily and offered, “My name is Rafael Barba. I worked as a lawyer until-”
“Wait, Barba? That sounds familiar.” Sonny took his phone out and began to tap the name into a search engine. The man in question attempted to smack it out of his hand, but his fingers drifted right through, cold and loose as fog. Sonny exclaimed, “Right, right, you’re that lawyer who let a guy choke him on the stand! That was really something; my bosses talk about it like-”
“I wonder how long it’ll take for that particular tidbit to die. Talk about being haunted.”
Sonny snorted. If this was a sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination, at least it was a charming one. “Well, I’m Dominick Carisi. I’m a Detective in Manhattan and 2L at Fordham. Call me Sonny.”
“Definitely not.”
Eyebrows knitting together, Sonny inquired, “So who was right? Which god? Which religion?”
The ghost — Rafael, Sonny corrected himself, wanting to be polite — rolled his eyes that time. “A little foreplay, please, Detective.” He crossed his arms over his chest and continued, “Well, I know that the Christians are wrong. There’s clearly no heaven or hell, unless I missed a train somewhere. Maybe the Mormons are right and-”
“I don’t even want to consider that possibility.”
“Look,” he huffed, “I died. Then I woke up. That’s all I know. Now how can I help you?”
Sonny searched over him, ignoring the question. “You’re sitting on a desk right now, but you couldn’t grab my phone? How does your…physicality situation work?”
“Is that a come on?”
Flustered, Sonny protested, “No, of course not! We just met!”
And you’re a ghost , his brain supplied a little too late.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know all the rules?” Rafael stood suddenly as if self-conscious to be caught sitting. “Some snot-nosed law student like you says the special words, yanks me right out of whatever I was doing, bleeds me dry of my encyclopedic law knowledge to pass a test or write a paper, and then I go back to my business.”
Sonny laughed. “Your…business? What do you do in between these summonings?”
“That would be my business, not yours.”
“Right, yeah. Sure. Okay, whatever.” Sonny’s phone alarm buzzed to let him know it was time to catch the train home. “Alright, look, I have a con law test coming up and I need help gettin’ my head around some of it, but the library’s gonna close soon; can you come back to my place or-”
“Very forward of you.”
Sonny rolled his eyes. “This is gonna be fun; I can already tell.”
“No need to be sarcastic,” Barba chided. “I’m bound to the book, so I’ll go anywhere you take it. Try not to drop it or lose it; the month I spent underneath a 22-year-old’s bed was extremely annoying.”
“I pinky promise I’ll take great care of your book.”
“That would be more comforting if we could actually link pinkies, considering that's legally binding.” At the entrance to the library, Rafael said, “Mind tucking me back in for a quick nap while you slog through the winter weather and public transit?”
“Ah, sure, how do I-”
“Oh, right. You’re new.” Rafael gestured to the book and said, “Press your palm to the front cover and say ‘case dismissed.’ If the book opens, I’ll be back out, even if you drop it, so be careful. It’ll be awkward if it tumbles off the nightstand while you’re fucking someone.”
Sonny guffawed. “Not likely.”
“Aw, give yourself some credit, you’re a perfectly handsome mortal. I’m sure-”
“Is that a come on?”
Pointedly, Rafael said, “We just met, Detective. Now let me have my nap; there’s also an unbinding incantation on the next page for when you’re completely done with me.” With an edge of bitterness in his voice, Rafael added, “Let the next person have a turn.”
Sonny wondered, for a moment, what it must be like from Rafael’s perspective. Being summoned for his knowledge and then cast aside again. Over and over. Shoving the thought down, Sonny whispered a ‘see you soon’ to Rafael, closed the book, and murmured, “Case dismissed.”
Rafael shimmered into nothing more than ink on the page.
Some part of Sonny immediately missed his presence. Rafael disappearing was like being pickpocketed; he’d lost something valuable without even realizing it. The thought – the longing that came with it – was weird, too weird, so he shoved it down.
Still, the moment Sonny was off the subway and saw that it had stopped snowing, he popped the book open. Rafael fell into step next to him like they’d been walking together the whole time. He smirked and tutted, “Couldn’t even wait to see me ‘til you were out of the cold?”
Sonny chuckled. “Guess I got lonely.”
Rafael grimaced as he kicked balls of salt down the sidewalk, only half of them skittering away, some unmoved by his half-physical touch. “I’ll send you my dry cleaning bill.”
Sonny gave him a gleaming glance. “Where exactly does a ghost go for that sort of thing?”
Rafael cut Sonny a look, surprised to find someone stealing his ability to come up with a clever quip. “You’d probably be happier if you stopped asking so many questions.”
“That sort of goes against the whole spirit of law, doesn’t it?”
He narrowed his eyes cruelly. “Was that an attempt at a joke?”
“No, I didn’t-” At Rafael’s deeply offended expression, only halfway serious, Sonny snickered and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, sorry, no jokes.” As they walked down the street toward Sonny’s building, catching looks when he spoke, Sonny asked, “Can other people see you or just me?”
Rafael sighed. “Just you.”
“So right now, anyone who sees me will think I’m-”
“An absolute nut, yes.” He shrugged, phasing through Sonny’s front door and unlatching it so Sonny wouldn’t have to fish for his key. “But it’s New York, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”
“Yeah, fair point.”
Rafael tsked as they rode up the elevator. “Human travel is so inefficient. If you’d told me the unit, I could’ve at least watched TV while I waited.”
“The building’s a maze; you would’ve gotten lost.”
“You underestimate my navigational skills.”
“Regardless, I didn’t wanna risk losing my only study buddy to the old-ass ventilation system.”
Once they were in Sonny’s apartment, Rafael having pulled the same move with the door as he had downstairs, Sonny puttered around the kitchen, making himself tea to stay up and study. He tried, “Can I…get you anything? Do you, like, eat? Drink?”
“No.”
“Right. Obviously.” Sonny poured the tea and gathered up his laptop and books before settling on the couch. Rafael joined him. Booting everything up, he asked, “How did you…die?”
Rafael let out a laugh. “Little rude to ask a girl that on a first date.”
“Oh.” Sonny tried, “Sorry?”
“I’m teasing you. I was murdered by a former defendant.”
The air punched from Sonny’s lungs. “Fuck.”
“Teasing again. You’re cute when you’re befuddled.” Rafael sighed and admitted, “It was a boring old heart attack; turns out stress and takeout are deadly when used at dangerously high levels.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sonny resisted the urge to chew his pen. “So. Constitutional Law.”
“My second favorite type of law.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Spectral.”
Sonny laughed. “Of course.”
He shook his head, still smiling, and logged into his computer. The soft clicking of his keys filled the quiet while Rafael waited, patient and amused, for his questions to start.
For a while, the conversation stayed on cases and clauses, but, as hours wore on and tea cooled, the subjects loosened. They talked late, late into the night. The conversation started with law but gradually, subtly drifted away, at first slowly but then fast as a derailed train. Sonny had so many questions Rafael had never been asked; it had been a long, long time since someone actually seemed interested in him and not what he could do for them.
Weirdly, Sonny could’ve sworn Rafael looked almost totally real and solid by the time he set the book down for the night. That had to be the sleepiness blurring his thoughts.
Way too late, Sonny tossed and turned with racing thoughts.
Like, did he have a crush on a ghost?
And was that a sentence he really just thought to himself?
For the rest of the week, any time Sonny wasn’t at work, he had Rafael in his apartment helping him study. Among other things. The studying almost always gave way to something more. Their conversations went from silly to deep and back again, meandering comfortably. They learned about each other in a way neither had in a long time.
Rafael liked the smell of coffee – black, always black – and jumped at the chance to watch Jeopardy every evening, treating the production like a serious competition as he wiped the floor with Sonny for a light-hearted half hour. Rafael knew how to answer Sonny’s every question, and not only the ones about law; his advice about work, family, and relationships was equally as valuable.
Sonny added too much sugar to his coffee. Sometimes, he even added chocolate syrup. Sonny still woke up early on the weekends to catch his favorite morning cartoons, even if it meant going right back to bed after because he’d – they’d , mostly – stayed up too late the night before. Sonny was so painfully, beautifully human – clumsy, blushing, grinning, laughing – that it made Rafael ache.
With Rafael’s help, Sonny passed that first test with flying colors. The victory was only undercut by the fact that he couldn’t wrap Rafael in his arms and spin him around to celebrate.
“You know,” Sonny said absently, “there’s no reason you can’t help me with the rest of the semester. Class isn’t gonna get any easier, right?”
Rafael thought he should come up with an objection, but none came.
“Boo!”
Sonny startled out of bed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Barba!” He launched a pillow that went right through him. “You can’t do shit like that when you’re actually a ghost. It’s messed up.”
“I was getting tired of waiting for you to wake up and entertain me with legal questions.” He laughed and flopped down on the bed. “You knocked the book off your bedside table. Thought I’d take advantage and enjoy the sunrise. I don’t get to do that very often.”
Sonny turned onto his side and looked at Rafael. “Most people summon you and then ditch you?”
Rafael sighed. “That’s sort of the deal usually, yes.”
“That’s messed up. One night stands have never been my thing.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is. I don’t know if there are any alternatives.”
Sonny’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Can’t I just never dismiss you? Then you can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want within about fifty feet of the book,” Rafael corrected bitterly. “Since I can’t carry the book around, I can’t do much of anything. Can’t even enjoy a nice cup of coffee.”
“Is there any way to, like, bring you back? Or make you physical again?”
Rafael rolled his eyes. “If there were, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?”
“But you’re bound to the book,” Sonny pointed out. “You haven’t exactly been able to do much research, I take it.”
Rafael considered that. “No, I suppose not.”
“And nobody’s ever tried to help you out?”
“Correct.”
“So really you don't know anything and you’re being a lame-ass pessimist for no reason.”
Rafael admitted reluctantly, “That’s one way to put it.”
“Well, you’re helpin’ me out with school, so let me help you out with this.” Like he’d actually spent time thinking about it in depth, Sonny added, “You shouldn’t have to spend eternity at the beck and call of useless law students. You’re worth more than that.”
Rafael paused for a long time, analyzing Sonny’s features, which seemed almost hurt. Tender, at the very least. Rafael hadn’t experienced an expression like that leveled in his direction in ages. So he sighed and reclined, hands behind his head and legs crossed. “What did you have in mind?”
“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere! Lemme think a minute.” Sonny got out of bed and went to the closet; Rafael’s eyes followed his shirtless back as he moved. After getting ready in the bathroom, Sonny returned in a Fordham shirt and jeans. Toothbrush in his mouth, he asked, “You have some kind of unfinished business we can sort out? That’s kinda the classic first solution.”
“I’m pretty happy with where all my business landed, actually.”
“That shocks me.”
“Rude.”
Sonny snickered then said, “It eliminates a lot of our options, unfortunately, if you don’t have any jilted lovers to reconcile with, outstanding revenge plans, or unfulfilled hopes and dreams.”
It became something of a quest after that. Sonny spent a lot of time on Google and came up with a list that made sense. He surrounded Rafael with circles made of salt, chalk, and herbs on separate occasions, all of which only led to him breaking out the broom. They each read the spell that summoned Rafael backwards, forwards, and every other direction they could come up with. They read the rest of the book’s rituals and incantations closely, trying out anything that sounded like even a remote possibility, accidentally reanimating several spiders dead under Sonny's couch. In a fit of frustration, Sonny thought about destroying the book, but Rafael made a compelling argument that that would probably do the exact opposite of what they were trying to accomplish.
While Sonny tried to reshape the afterlife, they came up with rules. A system. So that neither of them would come to resent the other despite the whole ‘Rafael literally being bound to his summons’ situation. Sonny never put Rafael into the book without being asked first. Rafael tried not to scare him with his ghostly presence. Time passed by without either of them noticing, too lost in the ebb and flow of their attempts at freeing Rafael, which were mostly an excuse to get the other’s attention.
Sonny drafted a formal contract offering Rafael a new life and body in exchange for his legal tutoring. After signing it, he pricked his finger and sealed it with the tiny droplet of blood that caused him to pout disproportionately, figuring that would help.
Rafael pored over it, correcting his mistakes before signing with the flourish of someone who knew it wouldn’t work. Sonny still couldn't get his head around Rafael being half physical. “I’d prick my finger, but, you know.”
When nothing happened, Sonny just moved on to the next thing, making Rafael groan. Expending way too much detective work, Sonny tracked down a handful of Rafael’s old belongings through thrift shop exchanges and credit card records. One burned designer suit later, he realized that wasn’t going to do anything. So he tried sacrificing his own personal items, which only led to the smoke alarm going off.
At least letting Sonny trying to defy the unknowable laws of life, death, and the afterlife was cute. He had to admit that it was nice having someone care for him so much for once. He’d missed that more than he could say.
For Sonny, though, it wasn’t cute. Somewhere among all the days and attempts, the winter giving way to a rainy spring, it stopped being a favor to Rafael and started to become a plea to whatever might be listening. Sonny’s desperation to feel Rafael’s skin beneath his spoke into the sky and he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in anymore that this time, any time, it would take. Each failure broke a piece of his heart. It was so, so stupid, and he was fully aware of that, but he couldn’t help it. Rafael was bitingly funny, charming even when he didn’t want to be, and had a deep passion for everything. Sonny got drunk on him. He made every topic interesting and seemed to always be happy to let Sonny ramble away by his side.
It was April by the time Sonny realized how obvious this whole thing was. Had to be.
He came home from work, soaking wet from running through the rain. Rafael was on the couch watching the droplets fall, his expression far away until he realized Sonny had returned. Then he smiled with a warmth that sent shivers through Sonny’s spine the way it should’ve when seeing a ghost. But, no, his spine shivers were reserved for this particular ghost doing that particular smile.
“I think I’ve got it.”
Rafael chuckled and stood. “Okay, great. What is it today? Do I need a fire extinguisher? A knife? Am I dressed appropriately for the occasion?” When his teasing didn’t elicit the usual smile and enthusiasm, Rafael paused. Sonny shed his layers, shook out his wet hair like a dog, and crossed the kitchen. “Why do you look so serious? Something happen at work? Rollins giving you trouble again?”
“No- Well, yes, she always is, you know that, but- It’s not that.” Sonny crossed his arms over his chest and chewed his lower lip, debating how he should start this line of thought. Eventually, he decided to just go ahead and get it over with. The worst case scenario was supernatural awkwardness. He’d had a hell of a lot worse. So he sucked in a sharp breath and spit it out. “The thing is that I love you, and that makes me think we have one more option.”
Rafael stared at him blankly. “What? You’re in love with-? You can’t be- I- I’m dead , Dominick.”
“But what if you don’t have to be? What if we can make you fully human again right now?” His eyes were urgent, a vibrant blue sky breaking through the clouds outside, as he pleaded, “One more thing, Raf. One more try. That’s all I’m asking.”
Looking like he’d been punched hard in the stomach, Rafael whispered, “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
But Sonny didn’t waver. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way and I won’t say another word.”
“Sonny, I-” Rafael faltered. The truth of it was written in his shaking hands and breaths, clear as the ink on the page that had brought them together. “I can’t tell you that. Of course I feel the same. How could I not? You’re stunning and funny and exactly what I’ve always needed, but-”
Sonny nodded hard, and, almost to himself, murmured, “True love’s kiss it is then.”
He strode to Rafael and kissed him like it was the only thing that had ever or would ever matter to him. Like he meant it.
For a split second, it was like kissing a cloud, cool, misty, nonexistent.
Then Rafael’s lips yielded to his.
Rafael felt everything in his entire body as if his skin was a universe that Sonny had spoken into existence. This kiss was Genesis. He felt Sonny’s hot skin – Had skin always been this warm? This soft and smooth and miraculous? – and tasted his breath and smelled the rain and his cologne and he was alive , really alive, in every sense of the word. When Sonny pulled back barely long enough to check that this was real, debating whether or not he should pinch Rafael in addition to kissing him, his smile wasn’t just bright and beaming. It was the explosive force that made everything exist, that took Rafael’s breath away, that flew in the face of death itself.
Hell of a first kiss.
Not that hell was real, of course.