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Logan’s eyebrows arched, clearly impressed. "And you can interact with things?"
"To a limited extent," I admitted. "Floating books, fogging mirrors, that kind of thing. I'm all about making an impression without leaving a fingerprint, if you catch my drift."
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm starting to believe you're real, and that's the most frightening part."
I grinned. "Ah, the delight of uncertainty. Kind of exciting, eh?”
His phone buzzed again, this time with an insistent rhythm. A call, not just a message.
"Sounds urgent," I noted, drifting back a bit to give him some space.
"It's work," he sighed, checking the screen. "I have to take this."
"Well, go on. Duty calls," I said, understanding the pull of the living world. "Just know that when the call ends, so does your little break from the supernatural."
As he answered the call, walking back into the living room for privacy, I wondered how our new friendship would unfold. Logan was unlike any of my past hauntees—skeptical yet intrigued, mundane yet extraordinary in his own quiet way. He was a puzzle begging to be solved.
Logan
By mid-afternoon, my office mates had finally left me alone. I sank into my well-worn couch, feeling the cushions hug my body.
The ghostly tales that Ben had spun hung in the air like mist. My coffee mug sat on the table, the rich aroma filling the room. Trust a ghost to be a great storyteller.
"So, ready for another?" Ben's voice echoed around the room, his reflection flickering in the television screen across from me.
"Hit me."
"Ah, this one's special," he began, his ghostly voice tinged with a kind of nostalgic excitement. "Imagine a world where spirits can make deals to walk the Earth again, even just for a day."
The thought alone gave me chills. I clutched my coffee mug tighter. "Is that even possible?"
"In the afterlife, darling, all bets are off," Ben quipped. He flashed a playful smile.
"But what's the catch?" I had to ask. "No one gets something for nothing."
"Oh, Logan, always the skeptic." Ben laughed. “There is always a price. A little give, a little take."
I interrupted to make sure we were on the same wavelength. "Like a Faustian bargain, huh? Like Robert Johnson at the crossroads? So, what do they give up in return? Their spectral rights?"
Ben's laugh turned into a full-blown guffaw. "Spectral rights! That’s a good one. I’ll save that for Haunting Happy Hour. No, it's not that official. More like the energy they've accumulated."
"And this energy helps them how?"
"Think of it as spiritual currency," Ben explained. "The more you have, the more you can do in the afterlife—like appear in mirrors to incredibly charming men."
I blushed, trying to ignore the twist in my stomach that said I was enjoying Ben’s presence a bit too much. "Go on."
"The really fun part?" Ben leaned in closer, his image filling more of the television screen. "Some spirits use that day to reconnect with lost love. Imagine a ghostly date night.”
That thought had me blushing for real. The idea of ghosts finding love was oddly romantic, if a bit far-fetched.
I leaned back on the couch, arms folded across my chest. "So, you’re explaining the mechanics, but you left me hanging on the story.
Ben's image flickered, this time in my large picture window that overlooked the cityscape outside. "Ah, yes. Where were we? Right—deals."
"Out with it, Casper. I'm all ears."
"It starts in a place we spirits like to call the Crossroads. It’s not the one you mentioned earlier, devils, blues music, and all.
