“My… mother?” Mrs. Dell’s eyes went wide as she scanned the room. Her eyes fell on the rocking chair, still moving. “Mom?”

  “Who are you? Get out!” The old woman didn’t seem to notice her daughter calling her. She was busy trying to shoo the two strange men from her granddaughter’s room. “Go on, get!”

  “Ma’am, just let us—” The spirit shoved Vincent back with a jab of icy fingers and tried to shove Eric. The connection with spirits went both ways, unfortunately, and they never had trouble interacting with Vincent.

  “I just felt a chill! Did she touch me too?” Eric whipped the camera to Vincent, unconcerned by the fact his psychic was moved away from his side.

  Vincent rubbed his chest where he was sure bruises already formed. “She wants us to leave.”

  “I know!” Eric replied, eyes and voice both filled with glee. “I heard her!”

  Mrs. Dell came to the doorway, a calmer Krissy in her arms. “You really see my mom? Right here? With Krissy?”

  The spirit turned her attention to her daughter. “Do you know these two, Dani? Why are strangers sneaking around Krissy’s room?”

  “Nana! Nana!” Krissy called, reaching out to the spirit. Her grandmother’s entire demeanor softened immediately as she turned to coo over the baby.

  “Krissy’s been calling for her since she died,” Dani explained, her voice trembling. “I had no idea…. Is she psychic, too?”

  “Not necessarily. Some kids can sense spirits of those they were close with. Usually it fades....”

  Eric paused riffling through his pockets to look up at Vincent. He looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he pulled an old pair of ear buds out and swapped them for the earphones.

  “Mrs. Dell, I’ve been able to pick up on your mother’s voice, if you want to hear her. I think she can hear you just fine.” He looked to Vincent, who nodded in agreement.

  “Mom? Why are you still here…?”

  “Why—Dani! Leaving cabinets wide open for Krissy to get stuck in? Leaving keys and lighters where she can reach them? For god’s sake, you didn’t even put the safety lock on the basement!”

  Tears streamed down Dani’s cheeks as her mother scolded her. “I miss you…” she whispered in the pauses between her mother’s complaints.

  “Sweetie, don’t cry. Being a mother is hard. I’m not saying this to upset you. I just want—” The spirit tried to wipe the tears from Dani’s cheeks only to phase through her head. She froze, staring at her hands as they faded to almost nothing. Confusion, shock, panic, and dread washed over her face in turn.

  “She’s crying because you died. You’re not supposed to be on this side anymore,” Vincent told the woman. He turned to Eric and lifted his camera hand from its slack position at his side. “The kid’s grandmother doesn’t understand she’s dead. Dani, what’s your mother’s name?”

  “Anne. Maryanne. Am I keeping her from resting?” Dani held her confused daughter close and hid her face in her free hand.

  The spirit shook her head, her form flickering like an old TV with a bad signal. She muttered to herself, denying the reality of what happened, and paced the room. Then, she stopped, staring out the window.

  “What’s happening? Why does she sound like this?” Dani asked.

  “Maybe she does understand that she’s dead, she’s just in denial.” Vincent took a step into the room. “Anne, your family will be fine. You can rest.”

  “Who are you? Get out of my granddaughter’s room!” Anne charged forward, shoving Vincent again, this time with her elbow, as she hurried to her daughter’s side. “Dani, sweetie, why are you crying?”

  Vincent rubbed his ribs and used the small unicorn mirror in the corner to assess the damage. He pulled his hoodie up to reveal a dark purple, nearly black, bruise forming just under his ribcage. It nearly mirrored the old scar on the opposite side that he made sure remained covered. “Is this really necessary? Was your mother this violent when she was alive?”

  Sensing movement near him, Vincent flinched away, expecting more bruises. Instead, he was just met with Eric and his camera. He’d given the EVP recorder and earbuds to Dani.

  “Is this the kind of footage you want?” Vincent let his hoodie drop back into place and folded his arms. He’d never had a spirit lose memory through sheer denial.

  Eric dropped the camera, awkwardly shuffling from one foot to another. “N-no, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He gingerly rubbed Vincent’s bruised side through his hoodie. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

  “Sometimes spirits fight me thinking I’m some kind of grim reaper or something. They try to get away. Once they realize they’re already dead, though, they usually accept it. I don’t know what to do with Anne.”

  “Dani is trying to convince her that they’re okay. Krissy is not making it easy though. I don’t think Anne will leave as long as Krissy wants her to stay.”

  “Shit. I don’t know how to talk to kids that young. A nine-year-old was hard enough.” Vincent sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Can she even talk?”

  Eric thought for a moment, then returned to the family. He’d turned off his camera and whispered something in Dani’s ear. She set Krissy on the floor where Eric knelt in front of the child.

  Vincent joined them. Dani reassured her mother that Eric was trustworthy and a friend. She got another lecture on being careful who she allows near her kids.

  “Krissy, hi, I’m Eric. Do you want to push some buttons?” He handed her one of the devices from his pocket. It looked like a less complex version of his usual EMF recorder, this one having fewer flashing lights and a more straightforward screen that said exactly what it did.

  “What this?” The girl inspected the new toy, turning it around in her tiny hands.

  “It helps me find ghosts. Do you know what a ghost is?” Krissy shook her head, pushing every button she could find. “Ghosts are people that died. Their body stopped working, so they couldn’t stay here anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Their heart stopped and their brain stopped, so they can’t breathe or walk or anything. The ghost has to leave.”

  Eric spoke to the girl slowly, but otherwise normally. A gentle smile never left his lips and he answered every question. Since he wasn’t recording this feat, Vincent took out his phone to record Eric explaining ghosts to a two-year-old.

  “Your Nana is a ghost now. She body stopped working and she died.”

  Krissy shook her head and pointed to where her grandmother hovered around Dani. “Nana.”

  “Yes, that’s your Nana’s ghost. Ghosts can’t stay here. Ghosts need to move on to the next life—or heaven.” Eric glanced around and back at Vincent.

  “Why are you looking at me? It doesn’t matter where the ghost goes as long as it’s not here. Your Nana’s spirit will fester until she forgets who she is. She’ll be nothing but negative energy.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Eric waved Vincent and his complex explanation away. “See? Your Nana will be sad and angry here.” He paused and looked around the room. “If this little cat was in the ocean, he’d be sad and angry, right?” Eric picked up a stuffed cat and made it rub its eyes like it was crying. Krissy nodded along. “Cats can’t go in the ocean and ghosts can’t stay with us still alive.”

  “Nana, bye-bye?” Krissy toddled back to her mother’s side. “Nana, bye-bye?”

  “Worst case, we’ll have to wait a couple years for the kid to understand. She needs to tell Anne she’ll be okay without her,” Vincent whispered. He had to help Eric to his feet, the short stint on the floor having numbed his legs. “If Anne even lasts that long.”

  Eric rubbed the life back into his calves. “I think she got it. Kids are smarter than we give them credit for.”

  Meanwhile, Anne swatted away Dani’s attempts to convince her to pass on. “No, Krissy, Nana doesn’t need to go bye-bye.”

  “Ghost, bye-bye! Mommy, Nana ghost!” Krissy waved around the EMF recorder.

  “No… Nana isn’t….” Anne was on the verge of another breakdown, another reset. “I’m not….”

  “Anne, you’re dead. You can’t watch them forever. You’re already unstable. Any longer, and you’ll forget who you are, forget your family, even,” Vincent pled with the spirit. She flickered for a moment, then steadied, then flickered, having a battle with her own fear and denial.

  “But they need me….”

  “Mom, we’ll be okay.” Dani picked Krissy up and held one of the earbuds to her ear. She forced a smile through her tears and tried to keep her voice steady. “Right, Krissy? Nana can go and we’ll be okay?”

  The girl nodded and waved at her grandmother.

  Anne’s form steadied as a calm washed over her. She stroked Dani and Krissy’s cheeks and whispered a few nearly inaudible last words. Light enveloped her and she was gone as if she was never there.

  “What? I couldn’t hear….” Dani looked to Eric holding out the EVP recorder. “She said something, I know she did. Why can’t I hear her anymore?”

  “She’s fading. She finally accepted the fact she’s dead and that you’ll be fine without her.” Vincent checked the time on his phone. “Now, Eric forgot to mention this, but I take my payments up front, usually.”

  Eric stepped forward to interrupt, but Vincent spoke over him.

  “A séance or sending is a hundred sixty plus certain fees after the fact depending on the challenge. Since Eric’s recorder thing made the process easier, I’ll waive any fees.”

  Dani narrowed her eyes as she processed what Vincent told her. “A hundred…. Are you serious?”

  “Did you think I worked for free?” Vincent pulled up the app he used for payments. “I take card, cash, and mobile transfers.”

  “You’re as bad as the funeral parlors. Taking advantage of grief.” Dani pulled out her phone, glaring at both Eric and Vincent, and bashed it against the screen of Vincent’s phone.

  “My parents own one, so must be genetic.” He verified that payment went through before conveying the words they couldn’t hear through the recorder. “Your mother’s passed on. She said she was proud of you as she was fading. And that she’ll say hi to your dad.”

  Fresh tears wet Dani’s cheeks. She shoved the EVP and EMF recorders into Eric’s hands and stepped away from the doorway. “Get out of my house.”

  Eric was silent as he packed up his gear. He was silent as he loaded it back into the trunk of his car. Only after Vincent climbed into the passenger seat did he speak up.

  “In the future, whatever fees or payments you need to charge, I’ll pay it, okay? I don’t like asking people for money. I don’t even accept donations from viewers.”

  “When you provide a service for someone, they pay you. That’s how a business works. If you had told her that up front, she wouldn’t have been upset.”

  Eric set his jaw, eyes forward as he pulled away from the Dell house. “Charge me from now on. I’m the one who hired you to help after all.”

  ~*~

  For three days, Eric didn’t stop by Vincent’s house or even send a text. The last message Vincent sent him was a screenshot of his rates, including fees, which didn’t help the situation. The longer the silence stretched, the more Vincent stared at his phone. Between nearly every session he had that third day, he started to type a message, only to delete it seconds later.

  “I’m not going to apologize for needing to eat,” Vincent muttered. Jill played with her doll behind him. She and Gracie had heard that exact phrase countless times already. “If her sink was leaking, she’d pay the plumber, wouldn’t she? Even a kid understands that, right?”

  “If you make someone sad, you have to say sorry,” Jill instructed, enunciating each word as if Vincent was the child.

  Vincent let out an aggravated sigh. “Sorry for what?”

  “Um, are you open?” A familiar quiet voice stirred Vincent from glaring at the little girl. Martin’s head poked through the curtain.

  “By appointment only. It says that on the website,” Vincent answered. Cici lay still on the floor, Jill hidden inside.

  “My mom got pretty mad when she saw that charge…. I’ve been grounded since then.” Martin held out a wad of bills. “It’s only fifty but I don’t need a full session or anything.”

  “You’re Mateo’s cousin, right? Did you bring me another antique you found somewhere?” Vincent picked up the doll and sat it on the table so he could catch any movements that would alarm the teen.

  “Did some kid forget her doll?” Martin asked, fidgeting by the curtain.

  “No, her spirit is still inside it.”

  “I-if it comes to life, I’m going to punt it.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t know how to sew it back together and I don’t want to listen to a crying little girl all day and night.” Vincent gestured at the chair opposite him. “Are you going to tell me what you want?”

  “You were nicer last time…” the kid mumbled as he sat.

  “Nice costs more than fifty dollars.”

  Martin dropped the crumpled bills onto the table. “I… I just want to know who killed Mateo. You know something more, don’t you?”

  Mateo’s memories had all but faded from Vincent’s mind. He had no desire to think of them again. “…That’s also going to cost more than fifty dollars.”

  “Why?” Martin yelled. “The cops haven’t done shit! They’ll never figure it out and Mateo will never be able to rest!”

  “He’s resting just fine. I saw him off myself. You want revenge.”

  “So what if I do? Why should a killer get to walk around free while my cousin’s in the dirt?” Martin shook with anger and the struggle to fight tears. “It’s not fair.”

  “It isn’t. Life isn’t fair.” Against his will, the memories of Mateo’s last moments played in Vincent’s mind. “Not a lot of people believe I can see spirits.”

  “I don’t either. Not really. But Tia Ximena, she said you knew she asked Mateo to stay and help her in the kitchen. So, you were either there when he was killed, or you’re not faking. Either way, you know something.”

  “The cops don’t believe me either. It’s bad enough I’m the one that led them to his body. If you tell them I knew even more, I’d be arrested.”

  “I won’t tell them I got it from you, then.”

  Vincent stared into Martin’s eyes for a few seconds, but he heard Eric’s voice.

  Couldn’t you help spirits by helping them not become spirits?

  If Martin blindly investigated without Vincent's information, wouldn't he end up the same as Mateo?

  “Fine,” he sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I remember. It isn’t pleasant.”

  Martin nodded and Vincent closed his eyes, dragging the memories from the crypt where he stored all the terrible last moments he had to witness. The pain, emotional and physical, returned first, then voices, and finally visuals. He felt everything as Mateo felt it.

  “A group of guys talking about drugs, I think. They had some little pouches of something. Mateo wasn’t supposed to be there. A warehouse of some kind.” Fear. “Someone hit him from behind and the two talking came forward. The older one looks to be in charge. Signals to the others to….” Pain. “They beat him, thinking he was a spy or a narc. They shot him,” Pain. “And a big guy picked him up to choke the rest of the life out of him.” I can’t breathe. “That guy, the big one, he had a neck tattoo. Looked like… part of a snake.”

  Vincent doubled over, coughing and gasping and clutching his chest. His hand felt warm with blood and he still felt fingers digging into his windpipe.

  “Hey, are you okay?” The chair clattered to the floor as Martin shot to his feet. He put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, pulling the psychic back to reality.

  “Fine.” Vincent sat up and shoved the memories away again. “That’s all you get.”

  “That’s more than the cops have. And if fifty isn’t enough—”

  “Keep it.”

  “Keep what?”

  “Your money. Buy your aunt something nice instead.”

  Martin hesitated, watching Vincent warily.

  “Take it and get out before I change my mind. Mateo liked you. His little cousin…. He wouldn’t like if I took all your money.”

  Martin rubbed the tears from his eyes and shoved his money back into his pocket. “I promise I won’t tell the cops I got the info from you. And… and I’ll tell my friends you’re legit.” He ran from the shop yelling his thanks as the door slammed behind him.

  Vincent dropped his head into his arms on the table. The physical pain faded. The fear and helplessness lingered.

  A tiny hand rubbed his head. Jill, still inside her doll, was trying to comfort him.

  “Don’t do that. It’s creepy.”

  “But I can’t play with you the other way,” Jill whined. “Can we have a tea party later?” Her doll hands tried to tug on Vincent’s collar, but without real muscles or grip or fingers that separated, the fabric slipped out of her hands.

  “Sure, whatever.” Vincent sat up, rubbing his face, and grabbed the doll by its torso to carry Jill back inside.

  “No! Hold my hand!” Jill complained.

  Vincent instead tucked the doll under his arm to free one hand for the door while he looked for videos of something pleasant, like kittens or pandas.

  Mateo’s memories drained him. Reaching deep, picking out details like he did, affected him worse than he’d admit. Through the spirits he helped, he’d died hundreds of times already.

  He unceremoniously dropped Jill on the dining room table and wandered into the kitchen. “I don’t even know what a tea party is…” he muttered to himself.

  His phone rang in his hand, cutting his thought short. The name Robin and the photo he took of his sister after she had her wisdom teeth removed filled the screen.

  He answered the phone, voice flat. “What?”

  “Robbie, is that how you—”

  Vincent hung up before the woman on the other side could finish her sentence. His sister was probably the only family member he didn’t have blocked and the woman who called knew that.

  The phone rang again. He rejected the call. She tried again.

  If he rejected the call again, she would just come in person, if she could bring herself to acknowledge Vincent’s business choice.

  He answered the phone again. “Mother. What do you want?”