Thomas and Oliver arrived, and Gary shifted his attention to them. “Welcome, my dudes! You’re the first two partiers to show up.”
“We’re not here for your party,” Thomas said. “We live here.”
“Really?” Gary looked surprised. “I didn’t know any of our kind lived here other than that mean old hag. I’ve been trying to throw a bash here forever, but she always chased everyone away. How come she let you two stay?”
Slate’s jaw tightened. His great-grandmother had been difficult, but she was protecting the damage she’d done to the Veil. “That ‘mean old ghost’ was my great-grandmother. Watch how you talk about her.”
“Oh, wow. Sorry, dude.” Gary’s hands flew up, causing his wooden beads to click together. “Didn’t mean any disrespect. She was just really intense about keeping spirits away from this place. I get it now—family business and all.”
“Don’t insult what you don’t understand,” Dash said. “She was protecting everyone—spirits and the living—from a weak point in the Veil.”
“That makes so much sense now,” Gary continued, his voice picking up enthusiasm again. “This whole town used to have these dark, gnarly vibes. Like, really heavy negative energy that made spirits want to steer clear. But that’s all gone now too. The place is cleaned up and ready for a party. It’s gonna be groovy, man!”
Slate never realized the area’s dark aura had frightened other ghosts away, but now that the portal was stable, that didn’t mean it was ready for a supernatural version of Woodstock. He glanced at Dash who just shook his head.
“Look, Gary, you seem like a nice guy, but you can’t use our town for your party.” Slate gestured around the space. “This is a family-friendly event. People come from all over to enjoy the Halloween celebration. The merchants rely on the festival to make enough money to survive. Hundreds of ghosts showing up will scare people away.”
“Nah, man, you don’t need to worry about that.” Gary waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll be totally cool. I swear on mymother’s grave—she died a few years ago, and I visited her plot in a nearby cemetery—that no one will even notice us. We’re just looking for a place to celebrate Halloween the way it’s supposed to be celebrated, you know? With joy and freedom and good vibes all around.”
“That sounds great, but can’t you find someplace else?” Dash asked. “Somewhere without all these people?”
Gary faded, his form becoming translucent around the edges. He flashed them a peace sign with his fingers. “Don’t worry, living dudes. Everything’s gonna be beautiful. Trust the process!”
He disappeared completely, leaving only the faintest scent of patchouli and the lingering sensation of displaced air.
Slate stared at the empty stage for a moment, then looked at Dash. “That could’ve gone better.”
“Was it me, or did it feel like we were trying to reason with an enthusiastic golden retriever?” Dash glanced around the festival, where people continued their evening activities, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired.
Slate nodded and looked at the ethereal friends. What bothered him most about the meeting with Gary was that Thomas and Oliver lost the joyous wonder they’d had just minutes earlier. “Don’t worry, this won’t be a problem. Go back and enjoy the night.”
“Are you sure?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah, we can help deal with him,” Thomas added.
While he appreciated the offer, Slate didn’t know what ‘deal with him’ meant yet. “We’re good. Go have fun.”
He expected they’d be relieved, but they looked disappointed.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Dash said. “I’m not letting him ruin our night. You two shouldn’t either. We can meet in the morning to figure things out.”
Slate wanted to push back, but Thomas and Oliver brightened. “Right,” he said. “We don’t need to deal with this tonight.”
“Understood,” Oliver said with a curt nod. “We will join you after you’ve had your breakfast.”
Thomas studied them for a moment. “Okay.”
The pair headed back into the festival, and Slate turned to Dash. “What was that about?”
“Didn’t you hear Thomas? He said they live here.” He took Slate’s hand and rubbed it gently. “You can’t tell them to butt out. And they’re ghosts. They can do things you and I can’t.”
Slate wasn’t as convinced the two would be helpful. Oliver in particular seemed prone to accidents. But Dash was right, he couldn’t cut them out entirely. “Fine, but I’ll let you handle them.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Nope,” Slate laced their fingers together and walked away from the stage. “Just making it clear from the outset it was your idea.”
“Good. Then I get all the credit when it works out.” He lightly bumped Slate’s shoulder. “So, what’s the plan? Ghost-proof the town perimeter? Set up surveillance? Start researching binding rituals?”
