A Hundred Billion Ghosts by DM Sinclair

Author:DM Sinclair [Sinclair, DM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DMS Print
Published: 2017-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

Lowell’s car wobbled up to Ryan’s house. The storm had cleared but the sun was long gone, and the nightly wandering spirits had taken to the gleaming streets. Ryan had always liked how the dense flow of ghosts looked on a rainy night, their shimmering forms suffusing the damp asphalt with an ethereal glow. There was a serenity about it despite the sheer number of ghosts it took to produce it.

A little cluster of ghosts that spanned at least three centuries conversed in front of the house, and had to scatter onto the sidewalk as Lowell pulled up. One of them waved his fist and hurled Dutch insults, but Lowell ignored him.

Ryan was just grateful to be home. Despite his hurry to find his body, and despite the fact that he could not get tired, and despite it being the least comfortable place he had ever lived, it was still home. And seeing it again was a relief.

But something wasn’t right. He froze, staring.

Lowell got out the driver’s door. He pulled the snow globe out and set it on the roof of the car. “Where do you want…?” he started to ask.

But Ryan cut him off. “Wait,” he said urgently. He pointed up at the third floor windows. His apartment. “There’s a light on.”

There was a glow in the kitchen window, the one Sye used to sit in front of. The kitchen light made a dim orange circle on the water-stained ceiling. From their vantage point below, the ceiling was all they could see. But there was no doubt. The light was on.

“So you left the light on,” Lowell said, shrugging.

“No, I specifically didn’t.” He had been very diligent about everything when he left the morning of the procedure. He had shut off the lights, the heat, all the appliances that he counted on never needing again. The only thing he had left on was the fridge, because of the Algonquian ghost, who seemed to like the cold. He had definitely not left any lights on. And Benny the Poltergeist wouldn’t have turned them on; he liked the lights off because it was scarier. And he hadn’t ever managed to operate the switch anyway, though not for lack of trying.

There was somebody up there. Somebody living.

“So your landlord rented the place out again,” Lowell tried.

Ryan shook his head. “I just renewed the lease.”

He was sure he saw a shadow move, a slight darkening of a patch of the ceiling that slid away towards the living room. “Somebody’s in there,” he hissed. “What do we do?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re a detective! Don’t you have a gun or something?”

Lowell snorted in reply.

Ryan glimpsed the shadow shift across the ceiling again, crossing the kitchen and then crossing back.

“Come on,” he whispered. He started across the lawn to the front door. But Lowell stayed where he was. Ryan stopped halfway to the door and motioned for Lowell to come with him, but Lowell just leaned against the car.

“This has nothing to do with me,” he called across the lawn.

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