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“What?” I asked in confusion, because the paper had just one word written there.

crossword

“It’s a password,” Owain explained. “We set up a word after each episode. Once he can write it down and slip the paper under the door, we know he’s back to himself and we can open the door.”

I stared at him.

“I told you we had measures in place,” he said. “Do you want to talk to him now?”

“Yeah, I should,” I said, and Owain nodded, reaching for the handle.

“Wait!” I jumped to my feet, grabbing for my PolterPulse again and pointing it toward the door. Bronwyn moved and stood in front of it.

“No,” she said.

“Just in case,” I said.

“No case. You either want to help or you don’t.”

I looked at everyone else, looking for someone to side with me. But no such luck. They all glared until I relented and dropped the Pulser.

Owain grabbed the handle again and opened the door slowly, the soft squeak echoing around the hallway.

He pushed the door open until it touched the wall and left the room visible to us all. It was grim—wallpaper shredded, floors scratched, ripped paper scattered everywhere and glued to the floor with the black stuff that oozed off the ghost when he was enraged. It was carnage. And in the middle of it all, Andrew.

He sat there, surrounded by the wreckage of his own making as he looked at the floor.

“Forgive me,” he said before any of us could say anything.

Owain shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said, and it sounded like something he said every time an episode ended, every time Andrew tried to take accountability for what he had done.

Andrew looked up, past Owain, past the other ghosts. And directly into my eyes.

“Blame me,” he said, voice cracking as if he couldn’t control it at all.

“What?” I asked.

He stood up suddenly, rushing to the door in a blur of motion. He hit the salt barrier and glued himself to it, staring at me, desperate and pleading. “Be angry at me,” he begged. “Blame me. Get mad. I need someone to finally react properly and be angry and scared and just…”

He managed to pry his eyes away from me and look at Owain. “I know you want to help, but maybe…maybe there’s a reason Ryan’s here. Maybe it’s time…”

“Time for what?” Owain asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Andrew looked down and I realised he was staring at the PolterPulse lying on the floor just outside the doorway.

“Time for what, Andrew?” Owain repeated and Andrew looked back at him. His eyes were so fucking sad. He looked like every minute here was torture.

“You know what,” he whispered.

“Andrew!” Owain said, shocked and hurt, his eyes glossing over with tears. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying what needs to be said,” Andrew replied. “It’s time to accept that this isn’t getting any better. I’m not getting better. And I’m tired, Owain. When you helped those ghosts pass on, it looked so peaceful. I haven’t felt peace in so long…”

“Are you…” Owain’s eyes widened, tears spilling over the edges. “You…you want to leave us?”

Before I could react, all hell broke loose.

Harri and Larri jumped up, chains rattling and shouting over each other as they charged for the door and yelled their heads off at Andrew.