I turn to see Evangeline sitting quite calmly on the sagging sofa, her knitting needles clacking comfortingly.
She gives Mrs Abernathy a kindly smile. “Hello, Delores, dear.”
“Beau?” Mrs Abernathy shuffles over to Evangeline and offers her handbag.
“No thank you, dear. That’s not for me.” Evangeline shakes her head before turning her attention back to me and Dusty. “I can’t wait to hear what happened, I imagine it’s a fascinating tale.”
“Actually it’s pretty boring and straightforward.” I scratch my head. “I accidentally got drugged and while I was unconscious, Dusty jumped into my body to protect me. Then when I woke up, I was out here. She’s in there and wedged in tighter than those jeans she’s shoehorned me into.”
“Indeed.” Evangeline sets her knitting in her lap, folding her hands neatly as she studies us. “Tristan, were you injured in any way?” she questions.
“No, just temporarily knocked out,” I clarify.
“Well…” she hums.
“Please tell me you know what’s going on and how we can fix this,” I plead desperately.
“I do know what’s going on.” She clucks her tongue as she regards us thoughtfully. “I believe you have yourselves a case of spectral displacement.”
“Special what?” Dusty blinks.
“I suspect that when you jumped into Tristan’s body, you accidentally displaced him,” she explains. “As for what to do about it, that’s a little more complicated.”
“But there is a way?” My eyes widen fearfully. “Please tell me there’s a way.”
“I’ve only ever heard of one other similar case of spectral displacement, and I believe you’ll find all the details in Uncle Cornelius’ book.”
“Great,” Dusty mutters sourly. “So once again our fate rests in the hands of a drug-addled guide to the dead.”
“You want to look up the chapter on a man by the name of Bertram Phineas,” Evangeline continues.
“Who was he?” I ask curiously.
“A man with whom Uncle Cornelius crossed paths in his later years. Bertram was a very unlucky fellow. Got blackout drunk one night at a pub called The Drunken Duck and woke up the next morning to find a mischievous spirit had stolen his body while he was passed out. Poor chap ended up in Bedlam. His friends and family thought he was mad as a hatter, but the truth was some complete stranger was in control of his body and he was doomed to follow them around.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“You’re still connected to your body, Tristan, by an invisible umbilicus. It was the same for poor Bertram. The connection between soul and body can only be severed by death, but in both cases you and Bertram were unconscious, not dead. Therefore you are still bound to your earthly remains, even though someone else has taken up the residence. Wherever it goes, you go.”
“So how do we get Dusty out of my body and me back in?” I ask.
“I’m not entirely certain of the mechanics of it, but I believe a shock is called for,” she muses.
“What kind of shock?”
“Like I said, you’ll have to refer to the book. All the details are in there,” she says decisively and then picks up her knitting once more, effectively considering the discussion concluded.
“Beau?” I look down and once again Mrs Abernathy has appeared by my side and is offering me her handbag.
“No thank you,” I say politely.
“Did you know some people who practise witchcraft actually like to dance around naked in public?” Chan emerges from between two bookcases with a book open in her hands.
“So do people from The Wildcard, that club in Soho…” Dusty clears her throat. “So I’ve heard.” She claps her hands together and rubs them purposefully. “Right, we need a plan. Let’s go back to the flat and getCrawshanks Guide.”
“Er yeah… about that.” I offer an awkward and apologetic smile. “It’s not actually there.”
“Well, where is it then?” Dusty fists her hand on her hip.
