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Chapter Text

Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft

Charles and Edwin phased through the walls of Crystal’s flat in London without warning, Edwin carrying a stack of papers in his hand. With a dramatic flourish, he slammed them down on the table in front of where she was sitting, digging into her lunch. She startled and immediately glared at him. One of these days, she would get used to people (and things ) just appearing out of thin air. Loudly. 

Right when she was finally having a moment of fucking peace and quiet. Fuck.

Edwin pressed a single, elegant finger down on top of the stack of papers, leaning forward daintily. “Crystal. We require your assistance. Immediately.”

“God. What now?” She groaned through a mouthful of chips. She had missed British chips in Port Townsend. “Can it wait till after lunch?” 

Edwin inhaled sharply and opened his mouth. She could already tell, he was about to say something that was going to piss her off. “Crystal, while I appreciate your recent best efforts to contribute as little as possible, we simply do not have space for a sluffer in our agency, and the myrmecoleon –” 

Charles put a hand out and clapped it over Edwin’s mouth. “What Edwin was about to say is - well, we only have an hour before this ant-lion is freed from the locking spell Edwin placed on it and begins eating people again, so we would appreciate it if you would come help us do a reading on it?” He smiled at her sweetly.

A slew of nasty retorts rushed up in Crystal’s mind. She supposed she was lucky that she still had a mouthful of food because it allowed her to swallow down her ugly thoughts along with the remnants of her chips.

This is my first time sitting down and relaxing all day - no, all week! I have given up my whole life for this agency and what do I get - more of Edwin's sniping. Why exactly would a ‘sluffer’, whatever that is, help out with your stupid ant-lion. I am so. Fucking. Tired.

She forced herself to let out a breath. Since she had gotten her memories back, her patience with the dead boys had been running very, very thin. She hadn’t been lying when she told Charles that she probably wouldn’t be the same person anymore, and that truth was slicing her deeply in this moment.

Crystal Palace without her memories would have been jumping up in an instant. Crystal Palace without her memories wanted to help people, so badly. 

Only now, Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft remembered all the ways that trying to help people had fucked her over in the past. All the people who were supposed to help her, care for her, who had totally failed. And she didn’t want to go back to not caring, to giving in to apathy and mischief, but she also remembered with crystal clarity - oh, the irony - why she had stopped letting people in, letting herself feel things.

Crystal Palace without her memories had been naive, hopeful, trusting, like a fully grown baby or an alien, dropped unceremoniously onto earth. Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft knew better. It didn’t mean that she was going to stop trying to be a better person. But it was so much harder now, particularly with Charles looking at her like that. With his huge, puppy dog eyes, big and trusting and adoring. Like he just knew she was going to make the right choice, be the perfect girl he had fallen for.

She tried desperately to not resent him for it.

“Fine. What’s this ant-lion thing and how do you think I can help?” 

Edwin shoved Charles’ hand away from his face. “It is a myrmecoleon - half lion, half ant. According to the Physiologus, they resulted from the mating of both species, but were fated to die at birth from starvation due to their dual nature, since the head, which is a lion, eats only meat, whereas the gut, which is the ant, can digest only grains. What we are facing now is the spirit of a myrmecoleon, which has been wandering the earth since its death, ravenous with hunger. I have trapped it in a temporary locking spell. However, what we do not understand is why it is suddenly here and now, devouring other ghosts. Something or someone must have brought it here or awoken it. That is why we need your assistance to read it so we can know how to release it.”

Crystal sighed and nodded, shoving her food aside and standing up, trying not to think about how much her feet hurt. 

“Alright. Take me to the myrme-whatever.”

Edwin Payne

“Well, now that is just ridiculous. The only being that I am aware of who can so casually travel through time is Desire – well, and of course, Time himself - but even so, none can travel into the future!” The Night Nurse scoffed and folded her arms.

“It’s not supposed to be true,” Crystal responded, glowering. “Humans create these stories as a way of… I guess, escaping the real world. Or sometimes they’re meant to tell you something about the real world, through metaphors. Look, you said you wanted to know more about human culture. Humans love watching tv, and this show is super popular, especially here in London.” 

Edwin sniffed and turned back to the television set. He had been aware of advances in technology over the years, of course, but had never quite made an effort to familiarize himself with them, beyond, of course, keeping up with the scientific developments (while he had been in hell, humanity had made astounding progress in quantum mechanics, and he had spent many a night reading lectures on particle physics and electro-magnetism). 

However, the Night Nurse had been getting increasingly agitated in past weeks, becoming more and more exacting about rules and regulations she expected them to follow while solving their cases. Not to mention the loads of paperwork she had assigned them to complete after, and oftentimes during, each case (quite naturally, this onus had fallen on Edwin, as the paperwork filed by Crystal and Charles had been replete with inaccuracies and grammatical errors).

The sum of it being, they had all been growing rather short of patience. Then, Crystal had used one of her new credit cards to acquire a rather large television set, which was assembled in a spare room of their detective agency, sat their prickly trans-dimensional being down, and put on something that she explained was called “Doctor Who”. He supposed this was Crystal’s way of attempting to give the Night Nurse something else to focus on, other than badgering them all. 

Edwin wasn’t sure he could entirely explain why he had felt… curious. He had ambled rather casually into the room, hovering in the back and watching the opening scenes with suspicion. He quite agreed with the Night Nurse’s criticisms. While he was of course familiar with humanity’s desire to create stories (he himself had loved to escape into the tales of Sherlock Holmes as a boy), he found the inaccuracies of this so-called television series grating.

“Anyways.” Crystal rolled her eyes, standing up. “I’m just going to leave you to it. I’ve got… stuff to do.” She left the room and went into the one adjacent. 

Edwin could hear the murmur of voices as she conversed with Charles. Charles laughed at something she said.

Edwin sat down. “Do you suppose there’s any way we can raise the volume on this television set?” 

The Night Nurse fumbled at a black plastic rectangle with buttons on it. “Your little friend told me that this device here may be used to control the television…” 

They peered at it together. Edwin pointed, “This symbol here is similar to the depiction often used in scientific texts to illustrate the movement of sound waves through the air. It appears there is a button for a larger and a smaller sound wave. I imagine if we press the button for the larger soundwave…” 

They pushed the button. The noise from the television set increased. 

Edwin smirked. 

“A-ha! Clever boy,” the Night Nurse said. 

They both agreed that the “song” that played at the beginning of the episode was an appalling example of how musical quality had deteriorated in recent decades, completely lacking in melody and rhythm - and how these noises were passed off as instruments, Edwin would never understand. A while later, they both scoffed at the Doctor’s explanation of the Nestene Consciousness that controlled the plastic mannequins. Edwin explained how the molecular construction of plastic made it so that it could not possibly be receptive to the type of signal described by the Doctor, and the Night Nurse provided him with fascinating insights on the implausibility of the construction of the tardis and the nature of Time itself (he even pulled out his notebook to record a few of her points). 

The episode ended. Edwin shifted and glanced at the Night Nurse, who was tapping her finger on the arm of the sofa.

(He remembered sitting on Niko’s bed, watching anime with her. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would have liked this show too. He wished she were here.) 

“Should we… put on the next installment?” She asked. 

“Yes. Let’s.” Edwin agreed.

Charles Rowland

I knew this plan was shite! Charles thought as he flew backwards and landed roughly on the ground, skidding several feet back before coming to a stop.

He’d had a funny feeling about this case since the woman had shown up at their agency in tears. She was a ghost, and was nearly inconsolable as she explained that she had been wandering with her daughter through the eastern coastline of England when a large, glowing red eye appeared, shining through the darkness and the mists. Terrified, she had turned to flee, only to discover that her daughter wasn’t with her when she made it out of the thick fog. She had gone back for her daughter, searching all through the night and into the daylight, but had been unable to find anything except a scorch mark on the ground and the smell of brimstone. 

Crystal had awkwardly tried to comfort the woman, and Edwin immediately began flipping through various books, already catching the scent of whatever it was that had taken the woman’s daughter.

There had been a bit of an argument about how they would get to East Anglia, where the woman’s daughter had disappeared. Crystal had bought a new car with her parents’ money, but both ghosts, and especially Edwin, were hesitant to actually get inside, since the exterior of the car was made of a combination of iron and steel. In the end, Charles had taken Edwin’s side, still feeling a bit raw from the iron collar Esther had clapped him in, and the boys had traveled through mirrors while Crystal made the three hour drive up from London to East Anglia alone.

At the coastline, they had talked to other spirits who supported the woman’s story - at night, when the mists were particularly heavy, wandering ghosts tended to disappear, never to be found, with only the occasional scorch marks found on the ground. 

Edwin had been the one to identify their mark as a black dog, or a hellhound. This one in particular was known as the “Black Shuck”.

“What’s a Black Shuck?” Crystal asked.

Edwin raised the old book he was holding with an overly dramatic flourish and cleared his throat before reading aloud, “ He takes the form of a huge black dog, and prowls along dark lanes and lonesome field footpaths, where, although his howling makes the hearer's blood run cold, his footfalls make no sound. You may know him at once, should you see him, by his fiery eye; he has but one, and that, like the Cyclops ', is in the middle of his head. But such an encounter might bring you the worst of luck: it is even said that to meet him is to be warned that your death will occur before the end of the year. So you will do well to shut your eyes if you hear him howling; shut them even if you are uncertain whether it is the dog fiend or the voice of the wind you hear.”

Edwin looked up primly, “That was from Highways & Byways in East Anglia, W. A. Dutt, 1901. However, there are several accounts since then of the Black Shuck murdering the living, including a case where it entered a church and slaughtered dozens of people. It appears that when an electrical storm occurs, it is somehow able to feed off the energy and become corporeal. In the meantime, I suppose it satisfies itself with ghosts.”

Crystal shuddered. “Okay, so a creepy cyclops demon dog. Nice.” 

“That’s just brills,” Charles shook his head, wryly. “I really prefer cases where we get to just release souls to the afterlife, I don’t like having to worry about some monster chowing down on us. So how can we kill it, mate?”

“Well, piercing its heart with iron should do the trick,” Edwin replied primly.

“Um, just a tick, there’s a bit of a problem with that. How are we supposed to pierce it with iron without burning ourselves?” Charles asked. 

“Charles, you and I cannot wield iron weapons. However, as you have reminded me many times, we happen to have our very own living psychic. You and I will merely distract the dog for a moment so that Crystal can attack with the element of surprise.”

As much as Charles hated the idea of Crystal having to get up close and personal with a demon dog, she had nearly bitten his head off when he protested the idea. In the end, he hadn’t been able to come up with any better alternatives, so here they were. 

Except it had all gone to shit immediately.

Instead of them getting the jump on the black dog, the dog had properly gotten the jump on them. Crystal had been hurled to the ground and hit her head on a rock, immediately knocking her out cold. This put the boys on the defense, mostly just trying to distract the dog from her limp body while avoiding getting bitten themselves. Charles felt spread thin trying to both protect Crystal and keep an eye on Edwin. 

Then, the Black Shuck jumped with supernatural speed that Charles just wasn’t expecting and batted him hard so that he flew through the air and smashed to the ground, next to Crystal. 

I knew this plan was shite!

He pushed himself up, feeling rattled and then heard Edwin cry out. As if through a bit of smoked glass, he watched as the black dog bared its teeth, single eye glowing dark red, and let out a howl that rattled down his spine and turned his muscles to goop. The dog jumped, arcing through the air towards Edwin - and then its jaw unhinged like a snake, revealing a dark yawning pit with tendrils of goo and yards of teeth spiraling down its throat, as it dropped down on his best friend.

“Edwin!” Charles screamed.

And then a figure emerged from the mist, darting through the bits of light that shone from Edwin’s lantern. Faster than Charles could react, the figure raised a sword over its head with both arms and pierced the beast straight through the heart. 

The black dog began to glow a hellish red right where the sword had pierced it. The shine grew so bright, Charles had to shield his face. Then it exploded into hundreds of blood red fangs. The teeth scattered all over the ground, a few even reaching so far as Charles, one slicing a shallow cut into his arm. It stung like a bitch.

When he looked up, he could see that the figure had knelt over Edwin on the ground, shielding him from the explosion.

Next to him, Crystal groaned and started to sit up. 

Charles scrambled to his feet, checking to make sure that Crystal looked okay as he did so. She was rubbing at her forehead, but nodded at him to let him know that she was alright. 

“Edwin? You alright?” Charles started forward towards where the figure was slowly standing up. “Who are you?”

Now he could see that it was a ghost, a boy with short blonde hair and odd clothes, like a peasant from a movie set in the middle ages. They were still turned away from him, so Charles couldn’t see his face, but now that the ghost had moved off Edwin, Charles could see that his friend was slowly sitting up and appeared to be unharmed. He was gazing up white-faced at the figure standing over him.

The boy held out a hand to Edwin to help him up and softly asked, “Art thou alright?” 

Edwin slowly raised his hand to accept the offer, arm trembling, and let himself get hauled to his feet. “Uh, quite!” He responded, awkwardly, before letting go of the ghost as if his touch had burned him and quickly taking a step away, then promptly tripping on one of the many fangs littering the ground.

Then the ghost shifted towards Charles so that he could see the newcomer clearly for the first time. It was a tall and broad shouldered boy, with blonde hair and very pale blue eyes. He wore a white tunic over breeches, leather boots, and a sheepskin cloak. He had a distinctive face, and looked to be fairly young but perhaps a few years older than them.

He was very fit.

“Oh.” Crystal appeared by his shoulder. “Hello, there.”

“Thou art both alright?” The boy asked. 

“Erm, yeah, we’re stellar, mate. Who are you again?” Charles asked, carefully wading through the mess of fangs, intent on checking if his friend was unharmed.

The boy shifted his weight a bit and stooped to grab his sword, where it was half-buried in the pile of teeth. “I am Philippus, pleased to make thy acquaintance. And thou art?” This last looking back at Edwin. 

“I am Edwin, pleased to make your acquaintance as well.” Edwin extended a hand and they both shook. “This is Charles, and that is Crystal - we are the Dead Boy Detectives. That is, we…” Edwin paused for a moment, “Well, I suppose now we work for the Lost and Found agency, helping release trapped souls to the afterlife.”

Charles huffed a laugh, finding it strange to hear their work described as part of an official agency.

Philippus nodded but looked perplexed at Crystal. “The Dead Boy Detectives? Forgive my confusion, but is that not a living… girl?”

Crystal was also now close enough that she held out a hand to shake Philippus’. “Yeah, it’s a stupid name. Under revision.”

Edwin rolled his eyes but turned back to Philippus. “I must properly thank you. You have saved my - well, you are about a century too late to save my life, but you have saved my afterlife.”

Charles felt a flash of irritation. They’d had the situation handled just fine without this bloke’s intervention. Charles would have… thought of something, surely. He swallowed down the feeling though, pasted on a bright smile, and reached out to shake Philippus’ hand as well. “Right, yeah, that was pretty cracking, getting him with that sword of yours.”

“Oh!” Edwin explained. “How did you manage that? If your sword is iron, how is it that you are able to yield it without pain?”

Philippus grasped the hilt of his sword and held out the blade for Edwin’s inspection. There were some symbols carved into the iron, and Charles leaned in closer to get a glimpse but couldn’t make any sense of it. Edwin, however, let out a delighted noise, bringing two gloved fingers up to hover in the air over the symbols and trace over their outline.

“Astounding! You have warded the blade so that it does not harm the bearer - you did this yourself?” 

Philippus nodded. “Well, I had a teacher, some four hundred years ago, who showed me how to ward iron weapons in this way. If thou art interested, perhaps I can show thee sometime?”

Edwin nodded, his eyes still tracing the symbols frenetically. “That would be splendid!”  

“Four hundred years ago? When exactly did you die? And why haven’t you passed over?” Crystal asked.

Philippus smiled wryly. “Ah. I passed some eight hundred years ago, in the 13th century. As for why I have not yet crossed over… I was lied to. Mislead. Convinced to take up a false cause. I died for that cause, and only after my passing did I realize the truth of it. I refused to pass over so that I could stay here and accomplish some good, perhaps. I have been traveling ever since.”

Eight hundred years. That was a very long time, compared to his thirty. Charles tried to imagine wandering the world, helping spirits pass to the afterlife for eight hundred years. With Edwin at his side, he could see it. 

But alone? 

“Why don’t you come back with us to London?” Crystal interrupted his thoughts. “You could help us with some of our cases! We could use some brawn on this team.” 

“But I’m the brawn,” the words slipped free before he could leash them. 

Crystal flashed him an odd look. 

When he looked back at Philippus he noticed again that this boy was taller than him and Edwin both, and certainly more muscled. 

“But you mate, are wicked fit,” he corrected himself, smiling charmingly. “I think you’ll be great! Edwin’s the one you’ve got to convince, though.”

Edwin clasped his hands together across his middle, holding his shoulders back in perfect posture. “Well. You did save my life. And I should love to hear about how you have warded this blade.” 

Charles felt that he shouldn’t be so surprised that Edwin had agreed so easily. Over the past few months, Edwin had truly come out of his shell and become so much more open to change and letting new people in. But still, he was a bit surprised.

Philippus looked around at all of them, gaze resting on Edwin. “But thou work for the Lost and Found Agency? They shan’t make me cross over, if I come with thee?”

“Nah, mate,” Charles grinned. “You’re safe with us.” 

Philippus looked at him, as if measuring his sincerity, then nodded, mind made up. “Aye, then. I shall join thee for a few cases… I want to hear more about this agency, and whatever research thou have that might be useful.”

“I have many volumes in my collection that you may find interesting,” Edwin responded enthusiastically. “Have you read -” 

“Maybe let’s get out of this creepy mist and back to civilization before you guys start trading book club recommendations?” Crystal interrupted.

“Ah, yes, quite.” Edwin nodded.

Before they left though, he crouched down and collected a few of the fangs laying on the ground and examined them closely, slipping them into his pockets. 

Charles and Edwin both held lamps to light the way through the dark and the mist, Crystal using google maps and a flashlight on her phone to guide the way. Charles and Crystal walked side by side in the front, while Edwin and Philippus followed a few steps behind them, talking about books. 

They seemed to have hit it off rather quickly, Philippus following along and engaging with Edwin’s references easily and providing his own commentary in a conversation that Charles struggled to follow. 

When they made it back to the hotel room in town that Crystal had booked herself for the night, Edwin and Philippus were still deep in conversation.

Edwin paused, as if just remembering where they were. “Actually, Charles, would it be quite alright if I went back to London tonight? I want to get started on the paperwork and perhaps show Philippus here some texts we’ve been discussing.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, mate - see you tomorrow then?” 

“Yes, yes,” still quite distracted by his conversation Edwin touched a mirror and fell through it, pulling Philippus with him who looked a bit startled by their abrupt departure, but the pair were quickly gone.

Crystal slumped on her bed, rubbing her head. 

“You got quite the nasty knock there, huh?” Charles asked, sitting down next to her and reaching out to touch her head and get a better look at it. She flinched away from him, ever so slightly, so he stopped and drew back.

“Crystal? Everything alright?” 

“Yes, Charles. Everything’s fine.” She went back to rubbing her head ruefully, avoiding eye contact with him.

Charles hated pressing like this, always worried of how someone could go off if pushed when in the wrong mood, but she had been pulling away from him more and more like this recently, and he wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. 

“Have I done something?” He finally asked. 

“Charles.” She sounded just plain irritated now. “No, you’re fine.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Well, when you say it like that , I feel so much better.”

“Charles! Look, you’re clearly the one with the problem tonight, feeling so threatened by Philippus. You were barely listening to me on the walk here, clearly too distracted listening in on their conversation. What are you worried about, that if we get someone else on the team who both knows how to read and hits the gym more than you, that we won’t need you anymore?”

Charles stood up from the bed very quickly. It felt like she had pulled out a needle and plunged it under his skin, so fast and unexpected, he barely had time to blink before it was between his ribs.

He started for the door, then faltered. 

A pause. 

“I’m sorry, Charles, that was uncalled for.” When he looked back at her, she looked absolutely miserable. “Look, I just need some space, okay? Let me just get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow.” 

He nodded quickly, once, then phased out of the room.

Edwin Payne

Edwin busied himself with pulling out various volumes from the shelves that he and Philippus had discussed on their trip back from East Anglia. “So,” he said, “You’re rather well read… must’ve done a lot of reading during all of your travels?”

Phillipus picked up a book and leafed through it. “Yes, I grew up in poverty in the 13th century, an illiterate farmer. But I always dreamt of something more. So I spent the first few hundred years after my death teaching myself to read, traveling about, and devouring as many books as I could get my hands on. Now, I know so much more than when I was alive… but yet, in some ways, not anymore at all.”

“Yes, it is quite curious,” Edwin agreed, “Now that I am dead. I feel that I am an entirely different person, but also that I am not changed at all.”

Phillipus cast a rather intense and searching look at Edwin. “Truly,” he agreed. “So how was it that thee came to be a part of this Dead Boy Detectives agency?”

Edwin laughed awkwardly. “Well, you see, I spent the first 70 years of my afterlife in hell. Fortunately, I managed to escape, and I met Charles, and ever since we have been working together to help release souls to the afterlife and running from Death so that I would not be sent back to hell. Truthfully, our official status working for the Lost and Found Agency is a rather new and unexpected development. We have been in hiding for as long as I can remember. It is a strange feeling to be free of that.” 

“Thou wert in hell? Why were thee sent there, and how did thee escape?” Phillipus asked incredulously. 

“I was sacrificed to a demon by my classmates. It was their idea of a lark, I suppose.”

“Damn”, Philip said dryly after a moment. “I wish I was surprised, but it seems to me that more people than not die for no good reason at all.”

Edwin raised an eyebrow curiously. “That is a rather skeptical way of looking at things,” he inquired.

Philippus held his gaze steadily, then sighed melancholically. “In my seventeenth year, some men came to our village. They told us wondrous stories about a man named Nicholas who received visions from God and performed great miracles. According to Nicholas, God wanted us to march across the mountains to the sea. There, Nicholas would call upon the Lord, and the sea would split for us - just as for Moses in the Bible, leading the Israelites in their flight from slavery. We would have safe passage across the sea to the Holy Land, where we would conquer it for Christianity - not through force, but because the Saracens would convert at our arrival. 

“I was so… inflamed by the idea of being a part of something great and meaningful. Anything would be more important than planting and harvesting the same crops year after year.” Philippus’ face and tone were wreathed in contempt, as he spoke of his old passion for that cause. “We amassed at Cologne, about twenty-five thousand total in our company. We crossed the mountains, which are now known as the Alps. We were wholly unprepared for the journey.” 

Here, Philippus paused, voice growing raspy and quiet with emotion. “Two thirds of our company died from starvation and hypothermia. I myself was amongst that number. I never reached the sea. But I refused to cross over when Death came for me. I wanted to see for myself the holy victory we had been promised. 

“Instead, when the remains of our company reached the sea at Genoa, there were only seven thousand remaining. Nicholas raised his hands and prayed to God.” Philippus raised his own hands into the air next to his head, in a mocking gesture, imitating the so-called prophet.

“And not a single goddamn thing happened.” He let his hands fall flat back to his sides. “The seas did not part. No miracles occurred. And our company fell apart, most returning to their homes or remaining in Genoa. Nicholas himself carried on for a little while, but eventually died crossing the alps again.”

Phillipus breathed out a pained laugh. “Fifteen thousand people died - including children - on that march across the mountains. For what purpose? Because this one man wanted to be seen as a prophet or as a god?

So I stayed on as a ghost. Taught myself how to read and educated myself so that I would never fall prey to my own ignorance ever again. I just want to be able to do something good. To have an impact. That is all. But in all my years here, the more it seems to me that - well truthfully, all things just happen randomly and without meaning. After all, what do we even know of the afterlife besides hell? Surely it is quite clear to me now that a loving God with a perfect plan does not exist.”

Edwin felt rather startled. He hadn’t expected this outburst of genuine emotion and raw vulnerability from a stranger. As always, he felt entirely inadequate at comforting others. He was never very good with people. But in a way, he also felt that he understood and empathized with Philippus’ line of question with an intensity of emotion. 

He began speaking slowly. “Honestly, I have rather tried to avoid thinking about heaven and hell in general, less even the purpose behind it all. Charles is quite convinced that I was sent to hell by accident - that it was a technical error. I have spent the past thirty years trying to do good so that I can perhaps convince myself that I did not deserve it. Who knows if it is all random or not?” He asked ruefully. “I once had a conversation with Despair. I think… that Despair would have encouraged your line of thinking. Pardon my language, but I have decided - fuck it all. I have Charles and Crystal and our cases. They accept me for I am and love me. That is all I need.”

Philippus shook his head and laughed genuinely. This smile, the first earnest one Edwin had seen on his face, was quite attractive. “I admire thee… But can I ask why thou would believe that thou deserve hell? I have only known thee for a short while, but thou hardly seem the type.”

Edwin fidgeted nervously, pulling at his leather gloves. He could hardly believe that he was considering revealing this truth to a relative stranger, but his second time in hell had changed everything about how he viewed this part of himself. Simon’s words echoed in his memory even now. 

“Do you think it has to be torture? Being the way we are?” 

“Well I used to believe that it was because of my preferences.” He cleared his throat. “For men.”

He rushed on, so as not to create an awkward pause. “Now I know better. I am who I am and there is nothing wrong with me.”

Philippus was very still. As much as Edwin had been brave enough to force the words out, he did not possess the courage to actually look at their guest.

Philippus started speaking slowly. “One of my favorite things about the past hundred years has been how the world has started to change how it views people like us.”

At his words ( us! ), Edwin was unable to stop himself from jerking his eyes up and taking in Philippus’ face. The boy was looking down, eyes fixing on Edwin’s hand where it rested on the table.

Philippus continued, “I felt ashamed of my nature for so long, especially while I was alive. That crime was punishable by death or mutilation back then. Now I’m wondering if it’s possible to be like us and be a good person. Mayhaps even be… happy?”

Silence rested on the room, thick but not cloying.

Then Philippus lifted his hand, fingers curled slightly, and rested his knuckles delicately on the back of Edwin‘s hand, a feather-light brush of contact. He raised his eyes and met Edwin’s own.

They were still for a long moment.

Then Philippus removed his hand and took a step back. “I shall head out,” he said.

“Will you return tomorrow? Help us with a few cases?” Edwin spoke, the words coming out perhaps a bit too quickly. 

“I shall think about it,” Philippus responded. 

“Well.. good night,” Edwin said.

“Good night,” Philippus said. Then he phased out of the room.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in London

Somewhere in London, an unnamed young woman lay on the ground. She was dead. Her body was littered with marks, including track marks in her arms where she had injected heroin into her veins, and bruises wreathing her neck where the life had been choked out of her. 

A figure stood off to the side, tending a fire. They took several metal rods and stuck them into the flames. They sat very, very still, watching, as the metal rods slowly began to glow, molten with heat.

Taking one of the rods from the flames with a pair of large metal tongs, the figure approached the dead woman. Her body did not move at all as the dark figure shoved the molten rod through her eye, deep into her skull.

Dead Boys Detective Agency, The Study

“I’m Jack Devoy, general manager of the Palais Garnier, nice to meet you.”

Edwin quirked a single eyebrow. “You are alive.”

“Well, yes. I guess I am.” The man standing in front of them fidgeted with his hands. It was a middle-aged man, with red hair and facial hair, not tall but not short either. He was wearing a business suit that was clean and well-taken care of, but clearly a bit old. “I was hoping you could help me? Some ghosts told me about you - the Dead Boy Detectives, right? I’m in the right place?”

“Would you look at that mate? We’re famous, eh, eh?” Charles grinned and elbowed Edwin.

Edwin tsk’d and brushed him off.

“Yup, you’ve found the right pair of idiots. So, you can see ghosts?” Crystal folded her arms, leaning back against the desk. 

“Well, yes. I’m a, uh, I believe it’s called a psychic medium?” Mr. Devoy looked back and forth between them all, as if unsure if they would believe him.

“Oh.” Crystal said, momentarily surprised. “Me too. I’ve never met another psychic.” 

“Oh,” Mr. Devoy’s eyes widened. “Me neither.” 

“We do not take living clients,” Edwin cut in. 

Mr. Devoy blinked. Charles gave Edwin a gently reproachful look.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Edwin,” Crystal said, annoyed. Then, to Mr. Devoy, “Ignore him. So what do you need help with?”

“Well. I’m pretty sure there’s a ghost haunting me. Or, my hotel anyways - the Palais Garnier. Recently I’ve been hearing strange noises at night - footsteps and terrible laughter. And then, about a month ago, guests started dying in their sleep. Three of them now - perfectly healthy young people - just dying in their sleep. The doctors can’t find a cause of death, and it’s starting to make people suspicious. It’s driving away my customers, and I’m pretty sure some people are starting to ask questions about whether or not I’m involved somehow.”

“If thou’rt a psychic,” Philippus spoke up for the first time, “then why hast thou not spoken to the ghost thyself?” 

Mr. Devoy shuffled a bit, awkwardly, almost nervously. “Well, I um… to be honest, I’m scared of ghosts. I can see them and talk to them - but a ghost that’s killing people? That’s a bit out of my league. Just because a man can see the rats infesting their walls doesn’t mean he shouldn’t call a professional exterminator.” 

“Fair point,” Charles conceded. He smiled brilliantly, “Give us a moment to discuss, yeh?” He tapped on Edwin’s shoulder and gestured with his hand to the back of the room. Edwin and Crystal, familiar with this routine, got up and followed without question, walking behind the desk to form a huddle. Philippus trailed behind them, watching Mr. Devoy with an evaluating eye. 

“He seems like a nice enough old chap,” Charles stage whispered.

“If there’s a ghost killing people, we can’t just leave it, we need to at least check it out and see if there’s anything we can do to help so no one else gets hurt,” Crystal whispered. 

The two of them turned to Edwin expectantly. He could see that they both anticipated that he would argue.

Before he could say a word, though, Mr. Devoy spoke up again. “Please, can I say one more thing before you make your decision?” 

Edwin straightened his spine and twisted to face the man. 

“Go for it, mate,” Charles said. 

“The Palais Garnier means everything to me. Both my parents died when I was very young, and I took a job there as a bellboy when I was still a teenager. I’ve worked there ever since. My whole life is there. This… thing is going to affect my business. People will stop coming, and I may have to close down. If there’s a chance you can help - please ,” Mr. Devoy’s face twisted. Then he added, “I can pay you.”

Edwin could see Charles and Crystal turn to look at him, expectantly. Instead of looking at either of them, he glanced at Philippus. Philippus was watching him steadily with a clear expression, merely observing without judgment.

“Yes, we shall help investigate your problem,” Edwin pronounced.

Charles clasped his hand on Edwin’s elbow, squeezing once, then lingering. He looked over to see that his best friend was giving him a fond grin, face crinking with warm affection. 

It was so blinding that it was almost painful to meet his eyes.

“We can start by heading to your hotel, maybe I can get a good read on it and see what’s been going on?” Crystal asked. 

“Yeah, that… that works,” Mr. Devoy breathed. “Thank you so much.” 

They agreed to head over to check out the hotel after lunch. After interviewing for several more cases, most of them duds, Crystal went out for food, and Charles went to put supplies in his bag of tricks to prepare. 

Which left Edwin and Philippus, alone. 

Edwin felt a blaze of nervousness crawl over his chest. Not necessarily a bad nervousness, but nevertheless… some of it must have shown on his face, because Philippus asked, “Did I make thee uncomfortable, last night?” 

“No! Not uncomfortable,” Edwin busied himself organizing books on the shelves so that he didn’t have to meet Philippus’ eyes. “But… I must be honest with you.” He paused. “I have feelings for someone else.” 

“Oh.” Philippus said. Then slowly, carefully, “Of course, I understand, and I hope I did not make thee feel pressured -”

“Again, I must assure you, you did nothing wrong. And I have already confessed my feelings, and he does not feel the same.” 

“Oh.” Philippus said. 

Edwin, breathed deeply, trying to organize his thoughts and still his shaking fingers. “So - I wanted - damn it.” 

“It’s alright.” Philippus said. 

“No. I want to be honest with you,” Edwin forced out. He had thought about this long and hard all night. He did not, for the life of him, understand how other people were able to do this so casually and smoothly. “But… I am wondering… if you would be willing, of course… I have gathered, from others, that sometimes, perhaps, an emotional connection or the promise of a greater commitment is not required, in these situations?” 

“Oh.” Philippus said. 

“But only if you want to! You can, of course, tell me to ‘shut up’, as Crystal would say.” Now he was just rambling. 

Philippus took a swift step towards him, and gently clasped Edwin’s hand. “Yes. I am comfortable with that arrangement.” 

“Oh.” Edwin said. “Quite. What, uh - what now?” 

Philippus looked deeply into his eyes. He really was attractive.

Philippus slowly moved forward, clearly waiting to see if Edwin would object. Edwin did not. Then, Philippus kissed him. 

It was pleasant. Better than with Monty, if only because Edwin was expecting it this time. He closed his eyes. Tried to follow Philippus’ lead. It… it was… 

“Oh!” Someone yelped. 

Edwin squawked and jumped away from Philippus like he’d been burned. Crystal was standing in the doorway, where she had just come in. 

“Sorry?” Crystal looked shocked. “I can come back later…?” 

“No!” Edwin cried. “Now is alright. It’s fine, it’s quite alright.” 

“Oookay.” Crystal said, her tone implying something Edwin didn’t really want to understand. Philippus looked quite unbothered. “I just wanted to ask you something, Edwin? Something private? Do you think we can have a moment?”

Edwin nodded, and Philippus gave him a meaningful look, then phased through the wall. 

“Edwin!” Crystal shoved him playfully. “Look at you! Snogging boys - I’m proud of you.” 

“There is nothing to be proud of,” Edwin straightened his collar. “Stop it.” He didn’t really mean it though. 

“He’s really cute.” Crystal continued, unbothered. “And I totally see why you’re into him - you read the same books, you -” 

“Crystal,” Edwin interrupted. “I assume you did not come here to gossip about boys?” 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes, “practically my whole life has failed the bechdel test at this point, what’s a bit more gossip going to hurt?” 

“What is the bechdel test?” 

“You know, in movies, how basically all the characters are men, and the women only exist to validate and obsess over them?” 

“Oh,” Edwin nodded, “I recall Niko was telling me something about this - something about a sexy lamp?” 

“A sexy - what? No, Edwin, it’s about feminism. ” 

This time, Edwin rolled his eyes. “I do know what feminism is Crystal, I have read ‘The Second Sex.’” 

Crystal leveled a glare at him. “First off, I don’t know what that is, Edwin, I don’t exactly read books for fun. Second, if you’re so progressive, then why are you still asking women if they have hysteria?”

Edwin began counting off his fingers as he responded, “One, for a so-called ‘feminist,’ it is ironic that you have not read Simone de Beauvoir. Two, you may have forgotten, but I’m not alive Crystal. I have no body. I’ve seen no reason to keep up with modern medical developments.” 

“Just the other day I saw you reading about cold fusion - you know what, no. Never mind. This is all beside the point.” 

“You must be joking, Crystal, cold fusion is not a medical topic. And also, if that technology is properly developed, it could have a potentially enormous impact on the spirit world, since that type of reaction would release a great deal of -” 

“I don’t care!” Crystal cried. She looked up at the ceiling, as if for patience, and then said, much more quietly, “I just wanted to ask you something about Charles.”

Oh. “What about Charles?”

Crystal closed her eyes briefly. “Ever since I got my memories back, I’ve been struggling… I remember now, why I stopped trusting people, why I stopped… feeling things. And I just - I think I’ve hurt him, Edwin, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and he still expects me to be this sweet and innocent girl that he has to protect - and I’m just not that girl anymore.” She looked at him again. “But you know him better than anyone, so I guess I just thought…” 

Oh. He hadn’t really been expecting this… but maybe in some ways he had, since the two of them had had a distinct air of discomfort about them for a little while now. 

He thought for a bit about how to respond. 

“Charles is… very special. He is unfailingly loyal to the people he cares about. I’m sure that if you tell him what you just told me, he will understand.”

He patted her arm awkwardly. There. Case closed. Conversation over. 

“How do you do it?” She asked him.
“What?”

“You were in hell.” 

Yes, I was. 

“For seventy years.” 

Yes, I was. 

“I can’t even imagine what you went through.” 

No, you cannot. 

“But you’re still… trying?

Oh. 

“I just saw you kiss a boy, Edwin! And believe me, I know how repressed you are. So how are you still - I don’t know - fuck, I can’t even -” 

Crystal broke off to scrub her hands through her hair in frustration. 

Edwin knew that whatever he said, it was going to be the wrong thing. He was never good with people. But at least he was going to try, because she seemed genuinely upset, and as much as he pretended to still dislike her, he actually did care for her a great deal. 

“I do not know that I have any great words of wisdom to offer you, Crystal. After all, I was the one who resisted you joining us for so long.” 

She punched him lightly. “Yeah, thanks for that by the way, dick.” 

“Ow! Your manners are quite lacking.” He rubbed his arm, ruefully. “As I was saying, I do not have some great answer for you. I have spent a larger portion of my existence in Hell than I have out of it. But even the people who sent me there - well, now I understand that they were just looking for the same thing as all the rest of us. They were simply misguided. Very misguided.”

He tried his best to hold her gaze and convey his sincerity here. “I think it’s quite simple, really. I have found things - and people - that I love. And I choose them. Everyday.”

Crystal looked at him for a long moment. Then she suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

He froze awkwardly. Then reached up and patted her back, feeling the unnaturalness of the gesture intensely.

“Crystal, I am not good with people either. I know that I have sometimes said things that are… tactless.” 

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. He had not realized that she was struggling so much with these feelings. It was… upsetting. “I mean, I can think of a few other words to describe it, but ‘tactless’ works, I guess,” she laughed. 

“Shush! I am comforting you,” he chided. 

“Is that what you’re doing?” She asked, laughing even harder. 

“For goodness sake!” He hissed. “Let me finish!” 

She pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her giggles, and waved a hand for him to continue. 

“I am not good with people, and maybe you aren’t either. But as Charles told me once - he is. You can trust him.” 

She looked at him fondly. “Thanks, Edwin.” 

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that, please don’t ever mention this again.” 

The Palais Garnier

The hotel was fairly small and quaint, in an older, but well-maintained building. The lower half of the walls were made of carved wood, chestnut colored, and the upper half was covered in an old-fashioned but pretty wallpaper. It was clean, cozy, and comforting.

“Welcome to the Palais Garnier,” Mr. Devoy greeted them. “Please let me know what I can do to help you.” 

Crystal nodded and asked for the location of the rooms where the previous guests had died, then went off to go try and read them. 

Similarly, Charles went off to case the hotel, familiarize himself with the layout, and see if he could find anything of note. 

Edwin and Philippus stayed to question Mr. Devoy. 

How many people had died? 

Three. 

Any other weird events? 

None that he knew of. 

Had anyone seen or heard anything strange the nights of the deaths? 

Once, the next door neighbor of one of the victims reported hearing a cry of alarm in the middle of the night. The next day, their neighbor had been found dead. Additionally, there were consistent reports of the sound of quick footsteps and malicious laughter. 

Any strange marks on the bodies? 

None at all. No cause of death found in the autopsies either. 

“Very odd…” Edwin muttered, scribbling down his notes. 

Then, Philippus asked, “Why’s that on the ground?” 

Edwin looked where he pointed and saw a plate covered in some cheese, crackers, salame, and chocolates laid on the ground in the corner of the room. 

“Oh, it’s for the brownies,” Mr. Devoy answered. “You know - the household spirits? I feed them, and in return, they do the chores.” 

“That’s rather clever,” Edwin paused. “They clean at night, correct?” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Devoy answered. 

“May we speak to them?” Edwin asked. “Perhaps they’ve seen or heard something?” 

“That’s a splendid idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” Mr. Devoy muttered to himself. 

At that moment, Crystal re-entered the lobby. She shook her head at them when Edwin sent her a questioning glance. “I didn’t get much. Just flashes of something on the ground, moving very quickly. And then they were dead.” 

Edwin pursed his lips. He told her about the brownies and how they should speak to them that night. 

“Actually,” Mr. Devoy said, “You can speak to them right now, if you want.”

He screwed his eyes shut and was silent a long moment. 

Then, two small figures materialized out of the walls right before them. They were about waist height, wearing red floppy hats and shoes, long tunics belted at the waist with leggings. When they spoke, their voices were about a full octave lower than Edwin had been expecting. 

“Hullo,” said the first. 

“Hullo,” said the second. 

“Um, hi?” Said Crystal. “I’m Crystal, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, Crystal,” the brownies said simultaneously. 

“I’m Crispin,” said the first. 

“I’m Tarquin,” said the second. 

“... Right,” said Crystal.

“What do you know about the recent deaths here?” Asked Edwin. 

“Subtle, Edwin,” Crystal poked him with a finger. 

Then Charles returned. He took one look at the brownies, and his mouth fell right open. “Wow! Look at these lil chaps!” 

The brownies exchanged glances with each other. 

“These are Crispin and Tarquin, Charles,” Crystal said. “They’re brownies, and they work with Mr. Devoy.” 

“I’m Charles,” Charles introduced himself. “I quite like your hats, very mint.” 

Crispin suddenly spoke in a high-pitched voice and an imitation of Charles’ accent, clearly meant to be a mocking, “I’m Charles!” 

“Mint!” Shouted Tarquin. 

Both brownies dissolved into mocking laughter. Charles’ face fell.

“What the fuck?” Crystal asked.

Charles looked offended. “Alright, then.”

“How very odd.” Edwin leaned in, scribbling observations in his notebook. “They were speaking to us quite politely just a moment ago.” 

“Is it me?” Charles asked. “What did I do?” 

The brownies howled with laughter. “What did I do???” One cried while the other repeated, “Is it me???”

“It does not seem as though these brownies like thee very much, Charles,” Philippus commented.

“Oh my god,” Crystal breathed. 

“But I just walked in?” Charles looked around, at a loss. “Everyone likes me!” 

“Everyone likes ME!!” The brownies mocked, absolutely crying with laughter.

“Charles, it appears we have found the weak point in your people skills,” Edwin said. 

Charles smacked him lightly. “Oy! If I can make friends with you lot, I can damn well make friends with these -” he gestured awkwardly at the brownies - “things.” 

“Things?” The brownies turned on them, now starting to look sort of mad.

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Crystal intervened. “Charles, maybe you could just - wait outside?” 

Charles looked at Crystal for a moment, then over to Edwin, who avoided his gaze studiously, scribbling down notes furiously. 

“Fine.” Charles huffed and left the room.

“Thank god, he’s gone,” Crispin said.

“Did ya’ see that hair?” Tarquin asked. 

“Oh gawd, and that jacket?” Crispin chimed in. 

“Proper uggo,” Tarquin declared. 

“Yeh,” Crispin agreed. 

Edwin cleared his throat. “Alright. Quite enough of that. What have you observed of these deaths?” 

Now calmed again, since Charles was gone, the brownies seemed more willing to answer.

“Well, sometimes at night, I see a little man running about,” Crispin started. 

“Proper uggo,” Tarquin declared. 

“Yeh,” Crispin agreed. 

“A little man?” Crystal prompted. 

“Yeh,” said Crispin. 

“Yeh,” said Tarquin. 

“Can you describe this man?” Edwin asked. 

“Shorter than you,” Crispin said. 

“And shorter than us,” Tarquin said. 

“But he’s always laughing,” Crispin said. 

“Aye! Chuckling to himself,” Tarquin agreed. 

“Proper creeper,” Crispin declared. 

“Yeh,” Tarquin agreed. 

“Have you noticed anything else suspicious?” Edwin asked. “Anything at all out of the ordinary?” 

Crispin paused and looked around. “Actually, there is something - blah blah blah.” 

“We’re being blah blah blah blah blah!”

“Blah blah blah!”

“Blah blah blah blah blah BLAH!”

The brownies appeared to be rather upset, waving their hands in the air, voices raising.

Edwin wrinkled his nose. “How very perplexing.”

Next to him, Philippus whispered, so low Edwin barely heard it, “Something does not feel right.” 

Crystal bent over next to the brownies. “Are you guys okay?” 

The pair had stopped trying to communicate and had fallen silent, almost resignedly.

“Yeh,” said Crispin. 

“Yeh,” said Tarquin.

“Oooookay,” said Crystal, in that same suspicious tone of hers that said something was definitely not okay. 

Later That Night

They had decided to set up a stakeout that night. Whatever the “little man” was that the brownies had described, they were going to see him at night, and they had decided to split up to cover the most ground. Whoever saw something first would shout and alert the rest. 

Charles hummed with energy, tossing his cricket bat from hand to hand. 

He hated waiting. 

Throw him into the thick of it - right into the fight - any old day, and he’d be just fine. But sitting around, with nothing for company but his thoughts and the anticipation of the coming confrontation? 

Not his wheelhouse. 

After an hour of it, to keep himself occupied, he pulled a hacky-sack out of his bag of tricks and started kicking it about. He knew how Edwin would lecture him if he saw - but what Edwin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

That was when he heard the screams. 

At least. He thought he heard screams. 

They were faint, so faint, he might have been imagining it.

He froze, straining to hear. 

It was there, but just barely. An unearthly sort of wail, full of such raw grief, it sent shivers down his spine. 

Where was it coming from? 

Dropping the hacky-sack back into his bag, Charles lifted his cricket bat with both hands, preparing himself for anything. He crept through the hallways, following the noise, hoping to run into Edwin or Crystal on the way. He didn’t dare call out for them, in case it alerted whatever he was stalking. 

Then, a blood-curdling shriek nearly startled him out of his skin, this one much louder and distinctly human. 

It was also back in the direction he had just come from. 

Charles wheeled around and took off at a sprint, hearing distant yelling from Crystal, a loud shout (was that Philippus?), and a heavy thud. 

He burst into the hotel room where he’d heard the shouting and immediately saw Philippus, sword drawn, facing down a short creature. A woman (a guest at the hotel), was curled up in the bed, wailing bloody murder. 

The thing that Philippus was facing down was… unnatural. 

It was quite short, reaching only about knee height. Its skin was pale, leather, and sagging. It was humanoid, but its limbs and torso were unnaturally thin, approaching skeletal. But its head was the hardest to look at. It had a large, toothy mouth, taking up most of the space in its skull. It had long and pointy ears, tilting this way and that, and prominent nostrils, sniffing the air. Where its eyes should be were gaping, bloody holes, with a third sitting in the center of its forehead.

“Bruh,” the thing said, “ Not. Cool.” 

It sounded like a dull-as-bricks American bloke in a fraternity. 

“Get away!” Philippus cried, sweeping the sword in a broad arc. 

“Dude, chill. What’s your major malfunction?” The thing turned to Charles. 

Just then, Crystal and Edwin burst into the room behind him. He quickly threw out an arm to prevent either of them getting around him, so he could stay between them and the thing. 

“Oh my god!” Crystal cried in disgust when she saw it. 

Edwin inhaled sharply and grabbed Charles’ shoulder from behind, saying, “Charles, be careful!” 

The thing shrugged and said, “Guess it’s my time to go then. Bummer, dudes.” 

Then it smiled, inhumanly wide and impossibly cruel. When it next spoke, its voice was deeper, crackling with power and pure malice. “See you soon.” 

Then it tossed what looked like a small stone in the air, caught it in its mouth, and promptly disappeared. 

“Where the fuck did it go?” Charles yelled. 

“What the fuck was that?” Crystal shrieked. 

The woman lying on the bed started sobbing anew. 

“The creature hurt her,” Philippus lowered his sword, turning back to face her. “I was able to travel through that mirror,” he gestured to the mirrored closet door, “on time to prevent her death, but it still managed to… to…” 

The four of them moved closer, clustering around to look closer. The woman was clutching her foot, still wailing, and rocking back and forth with pain. 

They all simultaneously leaned in, looking down with horror to see that - 

Her big toe had been bitten clean off. 

“What the fuck is happening?!?!” The woman wailed, tears streaming down her face. “And why are there so many fucking teenagers in my room?!?”

The Study, Next Day

“Edwin, mate, please tell me you’ve got an idea of what that thing was,” Charles pleaded.

Edwin just made a distracted humming noise, flipping through books with ferocity. 

Crystal walked through the door, holding her phone from where she’d recently shut off a call. “Good news - the woman is going to be okay. She’s shaken up, especially since she’s seeing ghosts now, but… overall, okay.”

The Night Nurse stood by the desk, arms folded disapprovingly. “Good lord, I cannot believe the mess you’ve made of this! How did you not catch that thing before it ate her toe? There are at least three separate forms we have to submit for this - I’ll never understand how you operate in such chaos!” 

She stormed out of the room. Charles winced as she slammed the door behind her.

“Not to be that person,” Crystal began, hesitating, “but what exactly happened, Charles? You were supposed to be right there, how did Philippus beat you to her room?” 

Charles winced again. “I know, I know, I just… I thought I heard a scream coming from somewhere else, and I went to look for it.” 

Crystal looked surprised. “I didn’t hear anything - well before that lady’s toe got bitten off anyway. Charles, are you sure you heard something?” 

“Yes!” Charles protested. “Well… mostly sure, anyways.” 

Edwin snorted. Charles flicked him. 

“Where was it coming from?” Crystal asked. 

“I’m… not exactly sure,” Charles answered. 

Edwin sighed and snapped the book he was holding closed. “Charles, we split up to have the most even and efficient coverage of the hotel rooms. By leaving your post, you left your wing vulnerable.”

Charles closed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m well aware, Edwin. Sorry, guys.”

Edwin continued, picking up another book and flipping through it frenetically. “We are most fortunate that Philippus was able to navigate to the room as quickly as he was.” 

“Right.” Charles felt his mouth form a thin line. He swallowed down the bitterness and pasted on a smile. “That was right on, Philippus.” 

Philippus nodded, solemnly. 

That bloke was too quiet sometimes. 

“A-ha!” Edwin exclaimed. “Got it!” 

He turned the book he was holding around to show them the images. They were quite disturbing - one showed a corpse, stabbed through both eye sockets and the forehead with hot pokers. The other showed the image of a creature quite similar to the one they had encountered the previous night. 

“Agh,” Crystal shuddered. 

“What the fuck is that?” Charles asked, grimacing. 

“It is a tokoloshe,” Edwin explained. “This creature is created when a witch doctor performs a ritual on a corpse, involving stabbing its eye sockets and skull with heated metal rods. The corpse is transformed into this creature - which we encountered last night. The creature then goes about creating mischief. It is known for biting off toes and stealing the lives of sleepers during the night. 

“What is most disturbing about the tokoloshe, however, is that someone has to pay the witch doctor to create it, in order to target someone else, for revenge or whatever malevolent purpose. The witch doctor’s client must agree that the tokoloshe can take the life of one of their loved ones in exchange for its creation - although they cannot choose whose life it takes or when. It may be as long as a year after its birth that the tokoloshe will take its prize.” 

Charles felt horrified. “So someone really has it out for Jack Devoy.” 

“That’s despicable,” Crystal muttered. “How do we stop it?”

Edwin didn’t answer, flipping through more pages and muttering to himself. 

It was Philippus who spoke up. “Unfortunately, I do not believe the tokoloshe can be killed easily, if at all. Elevating the beds in the hotel should work to prevent any further harm to the guests.” 

“Excuse me, elevating the beds?” Charles asked.

“Yes,” Edwin muttered, “it says here that if the bed is tall enough, the tokoloshe cannot reach the sleeper to harm them.” 

Charles laughed. “Why doesn’t it just get a step stool?” 

Edwin fixed him with a despairing look. “Now Charles, we shouldn’t go about giving the malicious, demonic creature suggestions for how to kill people more efficiently.”

“Well, I just can’t say I love the idea of just… putting all the beds in the hotel on stilts and calling it a day. Any other way we can actually get rid of the little fucker?”

“Yes, there might be,” Edwin looked back at his book. Charles walked over to him and leaned over his shoulder, reading the book as well. “It says here that there is a ritual I can perform that will banish the beast. Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, Philippus is correct, there is no known way to kill it.”

“What about the body used to create the tokoloshe?” Crystal asked. “Do we need to release that spirit?” 

“As far as I can tell,” Edwin responded, “that spirit most likely crossed over before its body was desecrated by the witch doctor.”
“Well, I suppose that’s one good thing about this case,” Charles said sarcastically. He draped his arm over Edwin’s shoulder and grinned brightly at him. “Brilliant job as usual, Edwin.”

“Who could have hated Jack enough to agree to lose a loved one to get that kind of revenge?” Crystal wondered aloud, brow creasing. “We should talk to Jack and see if he can think of anyone - maybe he’ll be willing to let me do a reading on him?” 

“Good thinking, Crystal,” Edwin praised. “We should ensure that we elevate all the guest beds tonight, then prepare to banish the tokoloshe. We’ll need to figure out a way to get us both in the same room for the ritual.”

“I can be bait,” Crystal said. “I’ll pretend to go to sleep on a bed that’s not elevated, and we’ll wait for it to come to me.” 

“No way,” Charles immediately shook his head, straightening so that he was no longer leaning on Edwin. “I’m not letting you -” 

“You don’t let me do anything, Charles.” Her voice was harsh enough that it actually made him freeze. “This makes sense,” she said.

“She’s right,” Edwin chimed in, “it’s the only thing that makes sense, she’s the only living one among us who can lure it in.” 

Crystal glared at him. “Philippus will be right on the other side of the wall to protect me if anything happens. The thing will show up, Edwin will banish it, and I’ll be just fine.” 

It didn’t escape him that she had chosen Philippus to protect her, over him. 

“Where do I fit in this plan?” He asked.

“You shall help me ensure the tokoloshe does not escape when it sees us,” Edwin interjected. “They can turn invisible if they swallow some water or a stone.” 

“So my job is to watch it and make sure it doesn’t have a snack before we banish it?” Charles asked.

Edwin rolled his eyes. “One can hardly consider a rock a snack, Charles.” 

Trust Edwin to interpret something too literally. Charles laughed. “Who knows,” he teased, “maybe I’ve been secretly indulging in my love of little pebbles the past thirty years, and you’ve just failed to notice?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles, unless you’ve forgotten, ghosts don’t have bowel movements, so if you chose to eat rocks they would simply accumulate in your stomach.”

Crystal groaned, “Oh my god, can we not talk about ghostly bowel movements right now?”

“Are they always like this?” Philippus asked Crystal. 

“Pretttty much,” she drawled. “Harry,” she pointed at Charles, “meet Sally,” now pointing at Edwin.

“My name is not Sally,” Edwin grumped.

Charles laughed at him, elbowing him gently in the side. “Really, mate? I’ve just been so dreadfully confused all this time.” 

Edwin folded his arms and harrumphed dramatically. 

Philippus looked at Crystal, and then, with a completely straight face, nodded at Edwin and said, “I’ll have what he’s having.” 

Crystal choked. “You’ve seen that movie?” 

Philippus nodded, a small smile starting to edge up the corners of his mouth. “I’ve got quite a bit of spare time, what with being dead. What else would thee have me do when the rest of the world is sleeping? Besides, I quite enjoy modern film.”

Edwin looked even more confused. “What just happened?” He asked Charles. 

“Got no clue, mate,” Charles responded.

-

Later that afternoon, Charles sat alone in the study, playing with his hacky-sack again to kill the time. Everyone had left - Edwin and Philippus to go find some books that would help with the banishment ritual, Crystal to get lunch.

He tried not to mind it. 

Crystal opened the door quietly, and came in holding a greasy brown paper bag, containing her takeout. She waved at him, uncharacteristically awkward and unsure of herself, and sat down to begin eating. 

Charles batted the hacky-sack at a bad angle, and it flew across the room. 

“Damn it,” he hissed. 

She raised an eyebrow at him while he went to retrieve it. 

“So,” he said, needing to break the silence or do something. “That Philippus bloke… pretty quiet chap, huh?” 

Crystal sucked in a breath excitedly as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh my god - that reminds me - you’ll never guess what I saw yesterday.” 

“Yeah?” Charles smiled at her, finally feeling himself relax. This was good, she was excited to talk to him about something. Things were good.

“Edwin and Philippus kissed!” She exclaimed with a wide grin. 

He suddenly felt a bit ill. “What?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought it either, but I walked in on them snogging! I am happy for Edwin though, Philippus does seem good for him.” 

Charles fought to keep his expression level.

It was just… surprising, that was all. After all, Edwin had only very recently confessed that he was in love with Charles. He hadn’t really expected his friend to move on quite so fast.

And Charles was suddenly overtaken by thought that - well, he was quite useless really. After all, Philippus was a good fighter, maybe even better than Charles, stronger, taller, and older. He also read all the same books as Edwin, and they seemed to get on faster than Edwin had warmed to anyone else except maybe Niko. Certainly, Edwin wasn’t constantly chiding Philippus for making stupid comments or mistakes, like leaving his post on a case. After all, Philippus had been the one to fix Charles’ stupid mistake last night. 

“Yeah,” he tried to agree with Crystal, tried to summon a bit of enthusiasm and happiness for his friend. “Yeah, I guess - I didn’t notice it before, but - yeah.”

Crystal squinted at him. “Okay…” She closed her eyes and sighed. “About that. I wanted to apologize again for what I said the other night. You do know that Edwin and I could never replace you, right?” 

“Right.” Charles tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a grimace on his face. He was sure she could see right through it, but he couldn’t figure out how to get rid of the achy feeling in his stomach. “It’s brills, Crystal, don’t worry about it.” 

“Right.” She repeated. She paused for a second, a funny expression on her face like she was trying to figure out how to word something. 

He took a step towards her, suddenly needing to work something out, feel something else. “Hey, so - about you and me. When you said goodbye, back in Port Townsend, well - you kissed me. And I was just wondering..” He stretched a hand out towards her. 

She took a step back. “Charles, I don’t -” 

She cut herself off, growling in frustration. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am. It’s just not a good time, okay?” 

Charles nodded. “Okay,” he responded because he didn’t really know what else to say. 

“Let’s just… get to the hotel so I can do the reading on Mr. Devoy,” Crystal turned away. 

Crystal and the Little Psychic Boy

Crystal closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. 

“You sure this is alright?” She asked Mr. Devoy. 

He nodded. “You’re much more experienced with this sort of thing than me, maybe you’ll notice something I would never even think of as odd.” His eyes got a bit distant. “I just can’t imagine why someone would hate me so much.” 

Crystal sighed. “I don’t know. It seems unthinkable. Okay. Brace yourself. Here I go.” 

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she was swept up into his mind. 

-

A young boy, growing up with no mother. 

Empty liquor bottles on the floor. 

His father, pale and writhing on the bathroom floor, choking on his own vomit and frothing at the mouth. 

A new house, strange adults taking care of him. 

Another new house, new foster parents. 

A little girl, his neighbor, who loved to skip rope. His first friend. 

The neighbors, his foster parents, whispering because why was he talking with someone who wasn’t there? 

A new foster home. 

His foster mom, crying to his case worker that he was scaring them, always talking to people who weren’t there - that he was crazy. 

A teenage boy in a group home. A teenage boy who stopped talking to everyone and withdrew inside himself because he could never be sure who was alive and who was a ghost. 

A young man, getting his first job as a bell-hop at a hotel, emancipated at sixteen. 

A young man, promoted to front desk attendant. 

Promoted to front office manager. 

Promoted to general manager. 

All his love and energy, poured into the hotel, for years and years. 

-

She sucked in a gasp of air as she surfaced from the reading. Mr. Devoy was watching her, looking a bit vulnerable and embarrassed. 

“Did you see anything?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “No. No one who obviously would want to hurt you.” 

She turned away, making eye contact with Philippus, who raised an eyebrow. She could see the question on his face, Are you alright? 

She shook her head slightly. More than ever, she knew she needed to fix this and find whoever was responsible.

2 AM

Charles pressed his ear up against the wall of the hotel room, straining to hear any noises on the other side. He stood on the left side of the bed, closest to the door. Edwin stood on the other side of the bed, near the window, mirroring his position. 

They had been like this for three hours now, just waiting. 

Charles didn’t dare move. On the other side of the wall, was the room where Crystal lay pretending to sleep. Bait. 

He hadn’t seen Edwin so much as fidget in the whole three hours. He wore an intense look of concentration, barely blinking. Charles supposed that spending decades in Hell gave one a certain level of patience.

One room over, Crystal pretended to sleep. Two rooms over, Philippus would be pressing his own ear against the wall, similarly prepared to leap out and corner the tokoloshe. Between the three of them and Crystal, they would have it surrounded. 

The waiting though. 

He really hated the waiting. 

Then, he heard it. The same ever so faint unearthly wailing he had heard the last night that had distracted him. It was like ice, sliding down his spine, and his mind whispered something bad is about to happen.

He looked at Edwin, whose expression hadn’t changed even a bit. 

“Do you hear that?” Charles mouthed at him. 

Edwin’s face scrunched in confusion and concentration for a moment. 

“No?” He mouthed back. 

Crystal’s shout broke through the tension. They instantly sprung into action, both of them phasing through the wall together, just on time to see Philippus arriving from the other side of the room.

Crystal was sitting up in the bed, scrambling to her feet and yelling, pointing beneath her. 

It was under the bed. 

“Crystal, move!” Charles shouted, but before he could do anything, Philippus grabbed her and swung her off the bed, placing her down behind him. He unsheathed his sword from the scabbard at his side and readied himself, face creased with concentration, and not even a hint of fear.

The long, thin fingers of the tokoloshe gripped one of the legs of the bed, and it began to pull itself out into the open. 

Charles positioned himself so that he was between the thing and the door. 

Edwin started chanting the words of the banishing ritual. 

Although it was easily a quarter of his height, Charles felt the aura of the thing leaking through the room, dark and powerful and evil and old.

It smiled at him, grin curving halfway round its skull. 

“This guy’s really harshing my mellow,” it said, moving towards Edwin, who continued chanting but stumbled a few steps backwards. 

Yeah, fuck guarding the door, Charles would rather the thing escape than lay a single fucking finger on Edwin. He quickly moved over to stand in front of his friend.
“Just you fucking try it,” he hissed at it.

Its smile grew, impossibly, a few inches wider. Its skin sagged even further, and then it started to grow.

“So much for needing a step stool,” Charles muttered. 

The three gaping, bloody holes in its head began to glow a dull, dark red, becoming brighter with each second. It was now shoulder height and advancing steadily towards them, Edwin chanting as fast as he could. 

Charles shifted his weight, lifting his cricket bat and snarling. 

It started to laugh.

“Charles Rowland. Edwin Payne. See you soon,” it promised. 

Then Edwin finished his chant with a shout, and the thing in front of them disappeared in a maelstrom of howling wind.

“What. The. Fuck.” Crystal breathed. 

Case Closed

“It is gone,” Edwin told Mr. Devoy. “With the ritual I completed, it cannot return to haunt this hotel.” 

Mr. Devoy sucked in a relieved breath, gripping the counter with a hand for support. “That’s - I can’t thank you all enough.”

“Don’t thank us,” Crystal muttered darkly. “I don’t think it’s over yet.” 

“Yes,” Edwin agreed. “Unfortunately, we still do not know who arranged for the witch doctor to set the tokoloshe upon you or why. They are still out there.” 

“ But, ” Charles said, trying desperately to inject the situation with some levity, “You have our phone numbers. The second anything happens - you give us a call.” 

Mr. Devoy nodded. “Alright. I will.” 

As the four of them left, Crystal still looked morose. “Anyone else think this was way too easy?” She asked. 

No one responded. 

Somewhere in London 

Somewhere in London, a figure sat next to a fire.

They smiled. 

The Study, That Night

It was strange, but at the end of the day, Charles felt relieved when Crystal left for her apartment.

The sick, hollowed out feeling in his stomach had yet to leave, and the way things stood so awkwardly between them after their conversation that afternoon - well, Charles was wishing, just for right now, that things could be as they used to be - just him and Edwin, alone.

The case they’d worked these past few days had drained him, particularly since he had just been so singularly useless the entire time. He just wanted a quiet night alone with his best mate - he knew that would help settle whatever anxious feeling was taking up residence in his gut, help him feel like he did belong here.

So when Edwin pulled out some book and sat down to read, Charles grabbed the Nintendo Switch Crystal had bought, plopped down on the couch, swung his legs up and onto Edwin’s lap, and started playing mario kart. 

Edwin was fearfully good at tuning out the noises of the game (although at one point, Charles almost wished Edwin would snap at him, just so he could fire back some retort and drag Edwin out of his book and into a conversation).

Finally, after maybe thirty minutes, Charles decided he was bored. He flicked off the switch, lifted his legs, and swung himself around, flopping his head down on Edwin’s lap and dangling his feet off the arm of the couch. 

Edwin glanced down at him for a moment, then returned to reading. 

“What are you reading?” Charles asked. 

Edwin showed him the cover of the book, which read All Creatures Great and Small, by James Herriot. 

“What’s it about?” Charles asked. 

“A veterinarian in rural England, in the early 20th century.” 

“While you were still alive?” 

“After I died, but before you were born.” 

“Did they even have good medicine back then?” Charles kicked his legs back and forth, feeling a bit childish. 

“Not really. According to the author, most of their medicines at the time have since become obsolete, particularly by the development of something called ‘penicillin’”. 

“Is it good?” 

“Penicillin? I’ve heard it’s quite effective, but some physicians caution against the overuse of antibiotics due to the development of antibiotic-resistant bacterial strains.” 

“No, you daft lump, your book, is it good?” Charles laughed fondly at Edwin’s insulted expression, grinning up at him to ensure his barb was interpreted as teasing.

Edwin’s expression softened into something sweet and affectionate. “Yes, the author has quite a way with words. He’s a very talented story-teller, the characters truly feel alive.” 

“That sounds good,” Charles responded, still smiling up at him. 

“Yes, it is,” Edwin said. 

After a moment, Edwin cleared his throat. “And how is your game?” 

“It’s brills. I’m quite jealous of all the kids who get to grow up these days with this stuff. Although it is getting kind of boring, playing alone.” 

Edwin tilted his head. “Would you - would you like to teach me, and we can play together?” 

For the first time all day, Charles didn’t have to force the bright smile that took over his face. “That would be bloody brilliant,” he said. 

He sat up, setting his feet on the ground this time, but staying close enough to Edwin that their legs pressed together, and started setting up the tv and the nintendo. 

This . This was exactly what he needed.

He was excitedly explaining all the buttons to Edwin and patiently answering all his questions when Philippus entered the room. 

“Hello, Philippus,” Edwin said.

Charles felt a twinge of irritation. He ignored it. “Hey mate, what’s up?” He greeted. 

“Edwin, Charles.” Philippus nodded at each of them. “Edwin, I came to ask if you wanted to go for a walk with me?” 

Edwin smiled. “I would like that.” 

He got up from the sofa. “Another time, Charles?”

Charles crushed his disappointment ruthlessly. It was a bit embarrassing to be so affected from losing out on a single evening of mario kart. 

The fact that Edwin seemed to be moving on was a good thing. 

It was happening rather faster than he had expected it to. But maybe that just meant that the depth of Edwin’s confession had been more due to Charles’ sheer proximity as the only other available boy. Or maybe it was due to heightened emotions from Edwin’s second visit to Hell and misconstrued gratitude to Charles for saving him.

It was a good thing. 

But that same hollow, twisting, anxiety and disappointment in his stomach was back, and it didn’t seem inclined to leave. 

An Igloo Somewhere

In an igloo somewhere, Niko Sasaki looked at the soap polar bear clutched in her thick mittens. 

It called to her. Pulled her in. 

And then it did. 

A whirlpool - it sucked her in.