“Ghosts are like echoes of souls that remain on the earthly plane after the soul has moved to the astral plane. Most of the time they’re just confused, or there’s like, unfinished business or something.”
“And you can see them?”
He snorts. “Oh yeah. Even before my epiphaneia. Every couple generations, someone in my family gets like, “super” necromancer magic,” he says around a mouthful of theaforementioned crime against bacon. “My great-grandma on my dad’s side was the last one to have it. My parents realized what I was when I came home from school one day talking about “Grandma Fran”, who’d died about twenty years before I was born.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud, and he smiles ruefully. “She was actually really helpful. Turns out she was just waiting around for the next “super necro” to pop up in our family tree so she could teach them how to control it before their epiphaneia. She peaced out after I went through it last year. And I’ll probably do the same after I kick the bucket.”
“That is so fucked up.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Are there any here right now?”
He crooks his eyebrow. “Do youreallywant me to answer that?”
Nope.
No I do not.
“Okay so—spirits.”
He nods, finishing off his drink before continuing. “Spirits are souls that have moved on, but they comebackthrough the Veil. Usually when the Veil is thin, like Samhain, though some are strong enough to cross anytime they want.”
“How can you tell which is which?”
“Spirits are like… heavier than ghosts.” He grabs my full cup, lifting it in one hand and his empty cup in the other. “Think of it like a full cup versus an empty cup. Still cups, but one has more substance than the other. Then you’ve got poltergeists and wraiths, but we’ll save that for our next lesson,” he grins, then quickly flicks his eyes over my shoulder before meeting mine once more, looking sheepish.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not like you can help it.” I shrug, and he blinks a few times, like he can’t quite compute my easy acceptance. I think I broke him.
“What class do you have next?” I ask, trying to restart his brain.
“Uh, Divination. You?” He asks as we start cleaning up our trays, making the long walk from our secluded corner table through the crowded Great Hall. When I told Milo about the Legacies ordering the servers to withhold food from me, he insisted we divide and conquer: he’d get the food, I’d get the table. Between the two of us, I actually managed to sit down for a real meal for the first time in… fuck. Weeks.
“History with McCall,” I groan as we meet the frigid morning air.
“You don’t like History?”
“I like all my classes—it’s the faculty I can’t stand. The last few weeks have been the worst: they’re either failing me, ignoring me, or humiliating me. McCall prefers to do the latter.”
“That sucks, I’m sorry.”
Now it’s my turn to glitch. “Um. Thanks. I’ll survive.”
“Want to get lunch later?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Cool, I’ll text you.” He fist bumps me and starts walking in the opposite direction my class is in. I brace myself for the worst when I walk in, claiming a seat at the back of the classroom. It begins as it usually does, with everyone around me pretending I don’t exist. I’m weeks ahead of the reading McCall is covering now, so I let myself zone out as she drones on.
And like a genie appearing from a lamp, Brandt walks in.
McCall looks up from her lectern with surprise. “Wolfram, this is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
“Good morning Marilyn, students.” He nods graciously as he steps down the aisle of the tiered classroom. “Please excusemy interruption, I wanted to return one of your students assignments that I believe is due today.”
“An assignment?” she asks, reaching to take the papers he offers to her.
“Yes. I asked to review Ms. Byrke’s latest assignment to ensure accuracy as there seemed to be some confusion, and I’m afraid I lost track of time. I’d hate to see her stellar work penalized for my tardiness.” He turns and waves at me before I can slink down my chair.
“Ah, yes we have been trying to catch her up, given her unfortunate circumstances?—”
