DJ studies me, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Eden, I didn’t feel anything.”
I squint back at the bar, trying to focus through the alcohol fog. If there’s a ghost in there, both of us should be able to see it.
I’m too drunk for this. I’m relieved when DJ loops her arm through mine, steadying both of us as she calls an Uber. I collapse into the backseat with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. My head lolls back against the headrest, and I watch the streetlights roll together into a blur.
I can see the driver’s face in the light from the dashboard. He has gray hair, thick glasses, and keeps humming along to some country station. He looks nothing like the description of Morrow’s type, but what if we’re wrong about the age? What if Morrow can possess anyone?
I’d be about as effective against Morrow as a wet paper bag right now. I need to be more careful.
I lower my voice so the driver doesn’t hear me. “Does alcohol really make it easier to see ghosts?”
DJ grimaces. “Yep. Anything that lowers inhibitions also lowers your brain’s ability to filter out anything supernatural.”
Awesome. “Guess we’re drinking in the house next time.”
“Given how powerful you are, it’s probably a good idea for you to only ever drink in the house.” DJ slumps back into her seat, the fake leather creaking under her. “Nico’s completely sober—he hasn’t touched alcohol or caffeine since I met him.”
“Are you sure our team leader isn’t actually a robot?”
I make beeping noises and bend my arms at right angles, and DJ throws her head back laughing.
The driver drops us off at the gate. Our walk back down the driveway feels like it takes an hour, but when we reach the front steps, my muscles ease. The porch light is on. Warm light spills from the windows.
Is it too early to start thinking about this place as home? Probably. But it’s hard not to think of it as home when it’s the only place I feel safe.
DJ jiggles the door handle, only to find it’s locked.
“DING DONG!” DJ yells through laughter as she fishes her key out of her pocket. “DING DONG, GRIFFIN, AND FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKASS SIGN!”
Griffin doesn’t come to the door, but it’s okay because DJ gets it unlocked after a couple of drunken tries.
“It’s safe to say neither of us is getting any work done today,” DJ says, holding the door open for me.
I snort. “You think?”
“Want to watch a movie?” she asks.
Last time I watched a movie all the way through was two years ago at a homeless shelter. Every Saturday night, they’d play whatever PG-13 DVD had been donated that month, and the common room would be full as everyone crowded around the ancient screen mounted on the wall. I stopped going there a year ago because they don’t allow dogs.
Benji appears in the doorway, eyes brightening behind his glasses. “Are you guys watching a movie?”
“I’m letting Eden pick.” DJ turns to me. “You can choose anything, as long as it doesn’t have ‘ghost’ in the title.”
“I hope your favorite movie isn’tGhost,” Benji says. “OrGhostbusters.Ghost Ship.Ghost Rider.”
“I also request no horror,” DJ says. “No possessions, no hauntings, no creepy dolls, no cursed videotapes, no murderous children, no blood-drinking immortals?—”
“Actually, blood-drinking immortals are vampires,” Benji says.
“I’maware, Benjamin.” DJ rolls her eyes hard enough that I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “The point is, I want two hours where nobody dies.”
“Unfortunately, all of my favorite movies have ‘ghost’ in the title, so I’m going to have to sit this one out,” I say.
DJ now rolls her eyes atme, which makes me grin.
Benji fetches two glasses of water for us, helpfully and non-judgmentally placing them on the coffee table. He pulls a small black vape pen from his pocket, taking a long pull before sinking into the recliner. The musty, sweet smell hits me a second later—definitely weed.
I take a seat on the couch next to DJ and accept the remote she hands me.
