Page 18 of The House on Haven Way

“No, I mean... I didn’t know ghosts could do that! You feel like a water bed.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, since I never got to try one of those out,” I frown, puzzled, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Are you the guy who kept this place in such good shape? With the little toolbox under the sink?”

That makes me smile. “Yeah. That was me. Nice you noticed.”

“I did! This place was in really good shape, even though the banker, Mr. Silverman, told me no one had been here in years. I got the place at a good price since it was abandoned.”

Abandoned. Ugly, ugly word. My mouth twists. Chest hurts.

“My family used to visit in the summers. Sometimes. They were busy. This place is in the mountains, but it ain’t no vacation spot,” I snap.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You wanna make a deal, Amber?” I say with sudden conviction, a pain inside my heart now flowing out of my mouth in the form of bargains made in haste. “Prove Harry Rogers murdered me. Find out if justice was served. I can’t cross over until I know. You answer all my unsolved questions, and I’ll get out of here. I know you’ll—” I have to stop and swallow, throat suddenly thick. “I know you’ll treat this place right.”

Amber blinks in surprise, and then sticks out her hand. “If I do that, you won’t pull any more Fright Night stuff on me? You’ll be a ‘tame’ ghost? You’ll help me figure out the case, give me clues and stuff only you would know? Not give me red herrings to prolong the time you stay here?”

“You think I want to stay here, all alone? My brothers and their families used to come and visit me—well, they took the house. They came to the house. But I saw them. I watched my brothers get old. Stop coming. Watched their kids grow up, and some of them kept coming... My youngest brother died a while ago, I guess, based on what I heard that centaur tell you.”

“Centaur?” Amber says faintly. “Mr. Salvin? The handyman is a what?”

“Centaur. And the guy with him, Hugo? I’d say he’s an Orc, but he looks different. Might be an ogre or a troll. I don’t really know.” I relish dropping these little tidbits on her, even though I shouldn’t.

But hell, she rattled my world. I’m only returning the favor.

“Wh... Who? How? These things... Like ghosts make sense. People die. They have souls. Sometimes souls must have forms, right?” Amber licks her lips, which are several shades paler than I remember.

“Hey, don’t you go fainting on me,” I warn.

“But Centaurs? That’s half man-half horse. And horses and people don’t... Like how...”

I shrug. That’s none of my business. “Hey, I remember a couple of myths in the Sunday Special Illustrated Classics. Centaurs or minotaurs were around thousands of years ago, right? Who’s to say they weren’t always real, weren’t always around, like people, but the people didn’t wanna believe in them? People like to believe they’re real superior,” I sneer. “Especially the ones who are still breathing.”

She has the manners to know that jab was meant for her. “I’ll start looking into your death in the morning.”

“It is morning. It’s after midnight,” I inform her.

“In the daylight. You’re not getting any deader, and I need sleep. Lots of it. I’m trying to heal my body, and even though people don’t like to admit it—sleep heals. If I don’t get much sleep, the headaches are unbearable. I can’t look at screens, can’t leave dark rooms, and that’s going to be zero help to you.”

“Oh.” I nod and feel worse than ever. “Sorry about waking you up.”

“I need a shower and clean clothes, and an ice pack for my foot... I think I have ice packs somewhere. I have a gel mask for my head...”

“You get changed, I’ll get the stuff and mop the floor,” I promise.

“You can do that?”

To prove it, I jerk my head to the side, and a mop flies out of the hall closet and into my hand. Amber squeaks in surprise.

“That’s freaky,” she whispers, eyes wide.

“I can do a lot. We’re all just matter. Energy. Sometimes I think we’re like water, ‘cause I hear we’re made with a lot of water, and water can be liquid, gas, and solid, depending on what you do with it.”

Amber nods, face thoughtful. “That’s true. And weird.”

“Weird or not, with enough time alone and enough practice, a ghost can move anything—except himself, outta the place he died.”