Stay Dead, Stay Dead

This was just their luck, Beau thought, as she stood clutching a broomstick with her back pressed to the window at the end of the upper floor hallway. Their first house together as a married couple, and it turned out to be haunted. Of course it was haunted. What kind of old, nearly falling apart, mansion rumoured to belong to a legendary wizard was not haunted by a great number of dead people?

It had started out with small, odd things Beau could easily blame on the ever present draft or the state of the house: the cereal box moving an inch, strange noises in the middle of the night, an odd smell that she and Yasha both figured was mold, the feeling that someone was watching while she brushed her teeth. Then, she had fallen down that godforsaken ladder and hit her head really hard.

When she woke up, a man dressed in robes that had gone out of fashion at least a century ago and a vicious stab wound in his chest had asked her if she was alright, and although she would deny it to everyone who asked, she had screamed.

Turns out the hallucinations were not temporary, nor were they hallucinatory in nature. She swore she had seen a blue figure skip through the hallway where she was tearing down. some god-awful wallpaper.

“I have a black belt, I’m not afraid of you!” she called out but got no response. Swishing the broom around in what she hoped was a threatening manner, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Perhaps some of the monk shit Dairon taught her would help her with ghost hunting.

Creak

Beau’s eyes flew open, and she pointed her stick at whatever caused that noise.

“Woah, babe,” Yasha stood in front of her, holding a plastic bag with what smelled like Marquisian takeout, hands held up in surrender, “It’s just me, are you sure you’re alright?”

Beau lowered the broom, and reluctantly set it down to lean against the wall.

“Just thought I saw her again,” she said, “You know, that tiefling girl from the closet.” Yasha sighed, and Beau almost felt like a toddler again.

“Alright,” was all Yasha said, placing a hand on Beau’s elbow, “Come on, let’s sit down, alright? Perhaps we should go see that doctor again tomorrow.” Beau could hear the concern in her wife’s voice and tried her best to ignore the irritation welling up in her stomach.

“She’s real, Yash, I swear,” she protested, but followed her to their kitchen regardless, slumping down in one of the mismatched chairs and stubbornly glaring at the mug of tea Yasha set down in front of her.

That she was real was confirmed not even two days later. All the wallpaper in the hallway was finally down and Beau had rewarded herself by drinking a dairy based protein smoothie, which was a terrible idea, given her lactose intolerance. Her bowels naturally disagreed with her decision to chug it like a champ and sent her straight to the nearest bathroom.

Beau was very occupied with trying not to pass out from misery and all the fluids leaving her body, when suddenly-

“Are you pooping?” The blue tiefling poked her head through the door- literally- and retreated cackling when Beau let out an undignified scream and on instinct punched her hand against the door.

“She can totally see us, Fjord!” she heard the ghost shout, “Tell Mollymauk he owes me!”

What the fuck.

“Hey!” she shouted, after pulling herself together, banging on the door again, “You, ghost! Blue girl!” Almost immediately, the ghost poked her head back through the door.

“My name is Jester,” she said conversationally, “Can I come in all the way? Also, do you want to pull up your pants?”

Beau glanced down, considered it a moment, and decided she wouldn’t risk that just yet.

“Nah, I’m good,” she replied as the fucking ghost- Jester, apparently- floated her way up to sit on the recently installed sink. Beau cleared her throat, and said: “What the fuck?”

Jester laughed, the movement making the little bells attached to her horns tinkle. That explained one noise, at least.

“Are you like, a real ghost?” Beau tried again, crossing her arms and leaning back against the seat of the toilet, “And also, are there more of you? You gonna kill us?”

Jester shook her head, the ting-a-ling of the bells almost as bright as the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“We’re not gonna kill you, we’re just curious about you! Alive people don’t usually see us, you know,” she explained, “And it’s been fun! Maybe the others will fully show themselves now that we know you’re not gonna kill us. You’re not, right?” She leaned in really closely, almost until they were face to face which was weird. Beau shook her head, unsure what other choice she had.

“Good!” Jester continued, “There’s seven of us. Well, eight if you count Sprinkle, but we’re not really sure he’s fully dead. Do you want to meet him?” Before Beau could formulate an answer, she pulled an actual red weasel from the hood of her green cloak and held it out to Beau. It hissed and tried its best to claw away from where Jester had it firm in her grip. “Isn’t he so cute!” she cooed, lifting the feral beast up to press a kiss to its head.

“Uh,” Beau said, “Sure- Can we… I mean, we gotta talk about like, privacy and stuff? And when haunting is off limits? You know, bathrooms, our bedroom, stuff like that?”

“Oh, are you worried about us watching you bone?” Jester asked, stuffing Sprinkle back in her hood with only a mild struggle, “We’d never! I mean, Fjord said we shouldn’t, and it is kind of creepy watching you just sleep, you know?”

“You watched us sleep?” Beau said, mindlessly reaching for the loo roll to wipe her butt. Jester wiggled her eyebrows at her but politely turned around in mid air, her tail now swooshing.

“Oh yeah! We’ve watched you do loads of stuff, just to see if we should chase you away, or if you were dangerous or something,” she explained as if that was the most normal thing in the world, “But now that we know you can see us and you’re pretty nice, we won’t do that anymore, pinky promise. Unless you really wanted to.” She looked over her shoulder to wink at Beau who was just zipping up her pants and flushing the consequences of her actions down.

“Thanks, I think,” she said, unlocking the door, “Still, we gotta talk about sticking your head through doors and shit.” She pushed the door open, and immediately closed it again with a small yelp upon seeing five more ghosts staring at her.  

“You scared her, idiot,” a woman’s voice hissed, followed by the protests in what sounded vaguely Irish, and then a rupture of chaos.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Children, please, we should welco-”

“Eat shit, Caduceus!”

“They always like this?” Beau asked Jester, trying to calm her heartbeat down. Jester nodded, and solemnly sighed.

“I’ll calm them down,” she promised, and floated through the door.

That was going to take some getting used to.

When the rabble had died down (ha) again, she dared to push open the door, and was greeted by a group of ghosts pretending to be casual and failing incredibly. There was a tall and lanky Firbolg leaning against the wall and pretending to inspect his fingernails, an absolutely soaked halfling woman was straight up lying on the floor pretending to sleep, while next to her a redhaired human was sat cross legged on the floor. Beau sniffed, and yup, that odd, mouldy yet burning smell was absolutely coming from that guy. Beau had to do a double take when she spotted the half orc standing next to the Firbolg. He was dressed like a pirate, with the hat and all, as if he had ran through a costuming shop before he’d died. And finally, in the doorway leading to what was going to be a guestroom, leaning on the doorframe in an almost inappropriate manner, stood a heavily tattooed purple tiefling clad in nothing but a tapestry. He gave her a lazy wave, tugging the cloth up higher when it almost slipped down his shoulder.

“Everyone, meet Beau,” Jester happily said, “And Beau, meet everyone!”

Man. Yasha was never going to believe her, Beau thought, as a chorus of ghost-voices rose in greeting.

Living with ghosts was taking some getting used to. Beau was fairly certain Yasha still thought she had a lingering concussion, and the constant commentary and interruptions as they were trying to renovate a house were not exactly helping either.

One of them, though, was soon turning into the bane of Beau’s existence.

“Milk before your cereal? What are you, a heathen?” said bane commented from where he was lounging on the counter as Beau poured oat milk into a bowl. She glanced at where Yasha was washing up some of last night’s dishes and quickly flipped him off. “Honestly, I’ve been dead for well over four hundred years, and even I know that’s an abomination,” he continued, “You’re a trash person, Lionett.”

She reached through him to grab her cereal box and stuck out her tongue at his hiss of protest for good measure.

“Beau? Is… Is one of them here?” Yasha asked tentatively, watching her wife make faces at an empty countertop. Beau whipped around, glaring over her shoulder, before taking her oat milk and cereal and sitting down at their kitchen table.

“Yeah,” she said, as she aggressively poured the cereal into the bowl of milk, “It’s Mollymauk, being a dick as usual. Has his bare ass on our counters when I told him not to do that.”

“My bare ass is incorporeal,” Mollymauk shot back, dropping the tapestry for good measure, and stretching his long legs out so his feet were dangling into the sink, “Truly, I did not take you or dear Yasha to be such prudes, not when I know she wears naught but that apron when making casserole.”

He ducked away from the spoon that went flying in his direction with a cackle, reappearing behind Yasha’s back. 

“So, uh,” Yasha said, as if she hadn’t just seen her wife furiously throw cutlery at nothing, “We got a letter from someone named Fletching today, asking if they could use the grounds for a circus. We’d share in the profits, and it could be fun. I’ve never been to a circus before.” 

Beau sighed. Circus was usually trouble, and she fucking hated clowns, but Yasha was right. Any extra cash was welcome, especially if they wanted to be able to renovate the basement, and replace those rotten floorboards on the second floor. She looked up to respond after swallowing some soggy cereal, and found Mollymauk hovering next to Yasha with an odd expression on his face. If this wasn’t Molly, Beau would have compared it to a puppy. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” she said after a beat of silence, snorting a little at the similar looks of delight on Yasha and Mollymauk’s faces. “But no clowns in the house,” she quickly added, “Ghosts are bad enough!” 

One week later, tents were up on the grounds of their manor. Yasha had done most of the liasoning with the circus owners, and Mollymauk hadn’t left her side for a single moment. He was continuously talking to her, offering advice on what to say to the owners, where to place the tent. It was odd, for sure, to go a full week without her cereal box moving an inch, without finding a naked tiefling lounging on a couch or making mischief with Jester. 

Speaking of Jester, Mollymauk wasn’t the only ghost excited for the arrival of a circus tent. All of them had been fascinated by the arrival of a whole array of new people. Fjord kept hovering, as if wanting to make sure nothing was going awry. Jester wouldn’t stop haunting Beau asking if there would be acrobats, elephants, dogs on tricycles, or perhaps a rhinoceros in a tutu. Even Caleb and Veth, who usually kept to themselves in the library, kept going on walks to “get some fresh air”. The only ghost who seemed put out was Caduceus, who had shown up in Beau and Yasha’s bedroom at five in the morning, and complained that someone had bathed in his pond and disrupted the lily pads. 

On the night of the opening performance, there was an air of excitement around the house. Beau, despite herself, felt herself buzzing with anticipation as well. She had just finished smearing more glitter on her eyelids at Jester and Veth’s insistence, and glared at herself in the mirror. Yeah, she looked hot. 

Not as hot as her wife, though, holy shit. Yasha had dressed up for the occasion in a long black dress, with a slit that went up all the way to her hip. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but spilled in long ringlets down the open back of her dress. The traditional blue markings of her Xhorhasian tribe were painted meticulously around her eyes and down her nose to match the tattoo on her chin. 

“Fuck me,” Beau breathed as she stood up, hands hovering around Yasha for a moment before settling on her hip. Yasha laughed that incredibly sexy, low, quiet laugh of her, and reached up to tie Beau’s bow-tie. 

“Maybe later, if you’re good,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to Beau’s lips. Beau would have been incredibly turned on if it wasn’t for the fake retching noise coming from her right, and she groaned. 

“Veth!” she hissed, “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on us in here!” Yasha sighed, just as disappointed in the moment being ruined by a ghost once more as Beau was. 

“Not my fault you two are always being gross all over the place,” Veth shot back, “But anyway, I’ve been sent to fetch you guys, Molly says it’s nearly time.” She disappeared through the wall again even though the door was open, and Beau groaned. She rested her head against Yasha’s shoulder for a moment. 

“We better get going, then,” Yasha guessed, and then turned in the direction of the door, “We’ll give you a show after, Veth.” 

“She’s already gone,” Beau mumbled, “One night. One night without them barging in on us, that’s all I ask for.” 

They made their way downstairs with only one brief pause on the staircase to make out, this time undisturbed but for Caleb’s cat Frumpkin chasing Sprinkle down the stairs. When they made it down, Mollymauk had already gathered everyone in the hall. He had managed to drape his tapestry in a way that it almost resembled a coat, with the unfortunate side effect that his dick was on full display. Beau was never going to get used to that. None of the other ghosts seemed to mind much, as they were all breathlessly listening to Mollymauk recount one tale or another. 

“But then, my dear friends,” he said, leaning forward dramatically, “The old man began to cough, and to cough, and to cough, and before we knew it, he was shedding his own skin! I swear it, saw it with my own two eyes, didn’t I. We all sprung into action, and thank the Weaver I had my trusty scimitars on me.” He pretended to slice and stab at something, earning gasps from the small crowd. He winked at Beau when they arrived, and let out a victorious whoop on one last stab. 

“With the husk of the man dispatched, the show could go on!” he continued, evidently speedrunning the story, “The crownsguard weren’t too happy, of course, but we’d made good tips that evening, so they were easy enough to pay off. Thank you for your time, my dears, and may our evening at the circus be blessed and curious.” He made a deep bow and jumped off the chair to applause from the others. 

“Onwards!” he cheered, motioning for everyone to follow him. The ghosts happily complied, for once all their attention focused on Mollymauk as they made their way to the circus tent in a loud procession visible and audible to none but Beau. The ringmaster welcomed them to the tent, Mollymauk mirroring the man’s bow of welcome to his posse of ghosts. Beau and Yasha were led to the front seats, seated between other prominent members of the township the manor was technically a part of. The ghosts sprawled out around them wherever there was a free spot, but Mollymauk hopped over the barrier to get into the ring, an odd serene expression on his face as he just wandered the sand and looked around, almost as if lost in his memories.

Beau had no time to ponder on it, as the lights went off and Molly was both out of her sight and out of her mind as the show began. 

The show was alright, as far as Beau was concerned. The most joy she got was from watching Yasha react to the tumbling acrobats, the tightrope walkers, hell, even the jugglers made her whole face light up like it was her birthday. When she wasn’t watching Yasha, she was busy observing how Jester would excitedly tug on Fjord’s arm every time someone flipped through the air, whispering something in his ear that made him turn bright red when the aerial silk performer dropped all the way down to the ground. She laughed out loud when Caleb leaned over to explain the logistics of fire breathing when the firbolg wondered out loud how they did that. She watched Veth wipe at her eyes when the mayor’s son next to her destroyed a massive cone of cotton candy within seconds, before her eyes wandered back to the spot next to Yasha where Molly had been perched, but found it empty. 

Right at that moment, a most cursed sound made a shiver run down her spine. It was unmistakably the sound of a claxon, signalling the arrival of the clowns. Absolutely not. 

“I’m gonna go look for Molly,” Beau whispered to both Yasha and Jester, who seemed delighted at the sight of three clowns piling out of a small car, barely acknowledging her as she snuck past. Once outside, it wasn’t too hard to find Mollymauk. The grounds were lit up with lanterns and fairy lights everywhere, and she quickly caught sight of him on the small hill that housed the remnants of an ancient temple, as well as Caduceus’ pond. She quickly made her way up, mentally patting herself on the back for being barely out of breath as she sat down next to the lavender skinned tiefling. 

“Unpleasant one,” was all he acknowledged her with, not moving from his cross legged position. 

“Sup,” Beau replied, lounging backwards and stretching her legs out, “Got sick of the show?” Mollymauk huffed, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“If you could call that a show,” he said, “Where was the singing? The thrill? The swords! We used to put on a much better show back in my day.” That wistful look presented itself in its eyes again, a yearning that felt foreign to see displayed on Molly’s face. 

“You used to be part of a circus?” Beau asked, unsure why she was surprised at that. It explained a lot of Molly’s excitement from the past week, now that she thought about it. Molly gave a hum of confirmation, and made a grand motion towards the tent. 

“That circus down there, to be precise,” he said, “The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities. I mainly juggled with my swords, helped out a bit with security, did tarot readings, that sort of stuff. I was going to be the ringmaster, you know. Gustav was training me up.” He shook his head, falling backwards so he was stretched out in the grass next to Beau, staring up at the sky above. 

“What happened?” Beau asked, and regretted the question the moment it left her lips. Mollymauk tilted his head to the side, and lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Oh, right, you…” she vaguely waved at his incorporeal body, dropping her hand uselessly to lie in the grass. 

“Yup,” Molly said, popping the last letter, “Right after our opening performance. It was my first night as ringmaster, because Gustav had caught a bout of illness and was coughing his lungs up. So, on I went, and I was amazing.” Molly closed his eyes for a moment, the memories of that night playing back behind his eyelids. The energy of the crowd, the feel of his coat- oh, that glorious, beautiful coat-, of Gustav’s hat on his head. His voice, booming through the tent, welcoming the guests and warming them up for Toya and Kylre, for Desmond, for the Knot Sisters, for Orna… It had been such an incredible show, the whole cast had agreed to the invitation of the young lord on whose land they were performing. 

“It was a grande party,” Molly said, “The finest wines, opiums, tobacco’s, and Moon Weaver knows what powders and fluids.” He laughed, opening his eyes again. He held up a hand towards the sky as if inspecting his nails, before balling it into a fist and lowering it to rest on his chest. “Of course, a night like that can only end in one way,” he continued, briefly turning his head at Beau to wiggle his eyebrows. 

“Gross, spare me the details,” she quickly said, pulling a face to emphasize how little she wanted to know of Mollymauk’s last night of debauchery. 

“Fine, your loss,” Molly said, chuckling to himself, “Regardless, it was fun. Some of us left to find other partners to spend the night with, but he- the Lord of the House, by the way-, he offered me to stay, and have a drink from his personal cabinet. Came all the way from Feolinn, he said. I had no idea where that was, but it sounded rare and exotic, so I couldn’t turn that down, now could I? It took him just a tad too long to pour the cups, but I was on another planet at that point still, so I didn’t suspect a thing.” He tugged the tapestry closer around him, playing with a frayed edge. 

“I just wanted him to come back to bed, so I grabbed this thing from where it had come down from the wall,” he continued as Beau for once in her life kept quiet and listened, feeling as if she was seeing a side of Molly that rarely anyone ever got to see. 

“I made my way up to him, you know, held him from behind like I’ve seen you do with Yasha when she cooks,” he interrupted his own story, “You two are far too sweet together, by the way, it is sickening if it weren’t downright adorable.” Beau swatted half heartedly in his direction, and rolled onto her stomach to look at Molly as he took a moment to gather himself. 

“He just turned around, handed me this glass of wine, toasted me with it,” he finally said, “I can still hear those words now. ‘Drink up, little peacock. Here’s to us.’ Bastard had put poison in the wine, both of our glasses. Fucking rude, becaue the wine itself was the best I’ve ever had.” Molly’s expression was an odd mix of sadness and resentment, and Beau decided she didn’t much like seeing those emotions on her friend’s usually cheerful face.

“Both of your glasses?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice down and gentle like Fjord had been trying to teach her. Molly let out a low growl, and sat back up to stare at the lit up festival below them. 

“Both of us,” he confirmed, “I don’t know why he decided I should die with him, or what his aim was, but turns out I wasn't quite ready to move on yet. So, I’m stuck here, while he’s galavanting around whatever afterlife he wound up in. Here’s to us, indeed. Asshole.” Molly mockingly raised a glass to the sky, mimed knocking it back, and then abruptly stood up. “But that’s enough feelings for tonight,” he said, forcing his signature grin back onto his lips, “Come on, the others will be wondering where we are, and I would rather we return before Jester gets any ideas about what we've been up to, for both our sakes.” 

Beau huffed, but silently agreed and stood up. She attempted to wipe the grass stains off of her fancy dress pants, and as they began to walk down the hill, she shoved her shoulder through Mollymauk on purpose. 

“Fucking- stop doing that,” he hissed at her, but Beau didn’t give a shit that she couldn’t actually show her affections through physical touch with her dead friend right now. He needed the comfort, she decided, and so he got a shoulder bump. 

“Only if you stop sitting on my counters with your bare ass,” she retorted, “But Molly, seriously. Thanks for sharing all that with me. If his portrait is like, up in the house still, just let me know, we’ll take it down, kay?” She shoved her hands into her pockets, a little less comfortable with the verbal part of offering comfort. Mollymauk rested his hand over his heart, tilting his head with his eyes closed for a moment, genuinely touched by her offer. 

“Thank you, Beauregard,” he said, “I will absolutely take you up on that. You know, I am genuinely happy you moved into the old home.” Then, he channelled all his energy into punching her shoulder. When it made contact, he cackled triumphantly as he sprinted down the hill, Beauregard in hot pursuit. 

Yasha cracked her neck and stretched her arms over her head. She could do this. She was really fucking strong; something as simple as a slab of old wood on hinges would not bar her entry.

She was the goddamn Orphan Maker, champion of the Storm Lord, wife to Beauregard fucking Lionett, and the unrenovated bathroom hiding behind the door would learn to fear her wrath.

Her foot collided with the door, and- and she bounced back from it as if it was a hostile bouncy castle. A flash of rage blinded her for a moment as she let out a noise that could only be described as a roar and slammed her fist against the door. The wood creaked in protest, the hinges complained, but it still did not open.  

_

Beau had just returned from her biweekly trip to the market to restock their cupboards and cabinets, as well as to pick up a few more paintbrushes and place an order for some extra timber they’d need to build the gazebo Yasha had been dreaming of. Just as she had placed the milk in the fridge, a loud scream from upstairs scared her shitless.

She wasn’t the only one startled. Frumpkin, who had been napping in the windowsill, almost fell off the ledge and disappeared with an irritated meow, and Beau could hear Jester shriek from upstairs where she was most likely camped in front of the television. Without closing the fridge door, Beau bolted the two staircases up to where the scream had come from. She prepared herself for the worst; perhaps Yasha was fighting off burglars, or a monster had hidden in the bathroom Yasha was renovating, or perhaps, even worse, Yasha had injured herself in the process somehow.

She was not prepared to round the corner and find Yasha aggressively trying to kick the door to the bathroom in, and in the process putting her boot right through the spectral form of Caleb. Frumpkin stood between Caleb’s legs, back arched and hissing at Yasha.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, perplexed. Both Yasha and Caleb immediately focused their attention on hers, Yasha’s gaze intense and Caleb’s expression more stressed than usual. Yasha’s blazing eyes went soft, the anger on her face ebbing away at the sight of her wife.

“The door won’t open,” she said, feeling a little like a petulant toddler. Beau frowned, looking from Yasha, to Caleb, to the door, to the puddle of water slowly emerging from under the door.

“You cannot go in there, Beauregard,” Caleb spoke up, still standing in front of the door and blocking the way. Beau supposed it was the effort that counted because she could easily walk through him.

“Why not?” she asked, crossing her arms, “Also, do we have a leak? Why’s the floor wet?”

Yasha looked down at the floor, confused. Her feet were not wet as far as she could tell, and when she knelt down to touch the ground to double check, there was no moisture whatsoever on the floorboards.

“I don’t think so,” she said, and glanced up to find Beau looking intently at an empty space. She ignored the pang of jealousy in her chest and instead turned her attention back to the door to try and open it.

“Oh- Yash,” Beau said, reaching forward to rest a hand on her arm, “We uh- Let me? It’s ghost stuff. Caleb’s… Caleb’s here, he says we should stay out. It’s Veth, she’s… She doesn’t like us coming into her bathroom, so she’s locked herself in there. He won’t say why, though. Asshole. Yeah- you heard me.”

“Her bathroom?” Yasha repeated, “This is our house, Beau. That bathroom needs to be redone, I’m pretty sure it’s where the mould in the guestroom is coming from.” Beau glanced aside, and pulled a face.

“Caleb’s gonna try and talk to her,” Beau said, “I wanna know what Veth’s so upset about that she’s flooding the whole bathroom.” She gave a nod, and presumably Caleb left, because next thing Yasha knew Beau was banging her head against the wall.

“Uh, does Veth flood bathrooms often?” Yasha asked, trying to go for nonchalance. Beau stopped hitting her head against the wall which Yasha counted as a win.

“I mean, she’s usually dripping wet,” she said, “But this is new.” She made grabby hands at Yasha, who happily went along to wrap Beau up in her arms. With Beau’s face pressed against her chest, Yasha struggled to make out her muffled words.

“They stress me out so much, Yasha,” Beau said, “Feels like every day something happens with them.”

“We could still find an exorcist,” Yasha suggested, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had overheard, which was silly, because she still could not see the ghosts. Beau made an unhappy noise, and reluctantly turned her head so her cheek was resting against Yasha’s soft chest.

“Nah,” she said, “They’re my friends, I guess. Just worry about them, which is dumb. They have so many issues, Yash, and I can’t help them. We can’t help them. Hell, I can barely handle my own shit, and here I am, worrying in a hallway half flooded with ghost water, wondering if Veth’s gonna come out.”

Yasha leaned down to press a kiss to Beau’s forehead. “First of all, you don’t have to handle your shit alone,” she said, “Like I don’t have to handle my shit alone. I can’t… I don’t know how I can help with the ghosts, but I want to help, Beau. I don’t like that they give you more stress. We’ll figure it out.”

Beau was about to respond when a familiar gagging noise came from behind Yasha’s back.

“Get a room you two,” Veth said, arms crossed where she was standing next to Caleb. Beau untangled herself from Yasha, on instinct flipping Veth off before remembering the situation at hand.

“Sup,” she said, smoothly. Caleb tilted his head at her, looking disappointed, and placed a hand on Veth’s shoulder. “Uh, I mean, are you good?” Beau awkwardly added, only now taking a proper look at Veth. The halfling was wetter than usual, the drips of water falling from her braids adding to the ever-present pool at her feet.

“Just peachy,” Veth bit back, but her expression betrayed her. Her usual glint of mischief was entirely absent, replaced instead by dullness and exhaustion. Beau crossed her arms as well and lifted an eyebrow. She just looked at Veth, who looked up at Caleb, then back at Beau, and groaned.

“Ugh, fine, you can come in, I guess,” she said, and marched back through the door of the bathroom. As she stepped through the wood, the door swung open. Yasha, who had only observed half that conversation, nearly jumped out of her skin, but picked up her toolkit.

“Leave that here, babe,” Beau said, “Come on. Veth’s gonna show us something.”

To Yasha, the bathroom seemed perfectly ordinary. She gingerly sat down on the broken toilet, praying it would not break under her weight.

Beau leaned against the windowsill; her face directed towards the bathtub. On the edge of the dirty and shattered bathtub sat Veth, with Caleb at her feet. She was playing with his hair, a ritual Beau had observed the two of them do almost daily, usually whenever Caleb was having a bad day.

Beau just listened to Veth speak, and then suddenly got on all fours to look under the bathtub. Yasha just stared, part of her immensely distracted by her wife’s ass, the other half of her more confused than ever. The latter won when Beau emerged with a victorious “ha!”, clutching a necklace in one hand, and an old flip phone in the other.

“This yours?” she asked Veth, and then was silent for a while, “Fuck- yeah, we can get the phone to the cops.” She glanced at Yasha, mouthing “I’ll explain later”, before kneeling down in front of the bathtub and opening the button shaped locket dangling from the chain of the necklace. Yasha’s curiosity got the better of her, and she got up to look over Beau’s shoulder.

The locket held a photograph, depicting a halfling man with unruly hair, impressive sideburns, and thick spectacles. Next to him stood a grinning woman with long braided hair and a beautiful curling face tattoo around her eyes. She was wearing the locket Beau was currently holding. Between the two stood a small boy, their child, Yasha assumed, holding a toy crossbow of all things, and smiling a gap-toothed smile at the camera. All three were wearing matching yellow dungarees.

“Is that Veth?” Yasha asked, “She looks happy, there.” Beau blinked rapidly, and cleared her throat as if getting rid of a frog in her throat.

“Yeah, that’s Veth,” she said, “Uh, that’s her husband- his name’s Yeza? Yeah. And that’s…” She looked up for a moment, and chuckled. “I’m quoting Veth here,” she said, “She said that’s her little terror of a boy, his name’s Luc. He’s five here, but she thinks he’d be in his mid-twenties now.”

Yasha was quiet, unsure what to do with this information. She rested her hands on Beau’s shoulders, feeling a weight in the atmosphere she could not explain.

“What happened?” Yasha eventually broke the silence when it became too stifling.

“Can I tell her?” Beau asked, finally getting up from her squat to sit down on the floor, back against the bathtub. Yasha joined her, holding out a hand which Beau gladly took.

“Veth was murdered in this room,” Beau said, in her brusque to the point manner, “She died roughly twenty-ish years ago, drowned in that bathtub by a bunch of goblins, but they never caught them. Fucking hell, Veth, why didn’t you say this before?” Beau rolled her eyes at whatever response she got, but Yasha could tell it was more an act than sincere irritation.

“She doesn’t like us renovating this room,” Beau continued after a bit, “Says it’s a bad place. Veth, we gotta redo at least the plumbing in here though. We can leave the tub if you like, but the rest of it has to go. You gotta understand.”

Veth evidently did not understand, as Beau gestured widely and exclaimed: “See, Caleb gets it. Look, we’ll take your phone to the police, get them to reopen your investigation. But we have to fix this room when they’re done investigating.”

“Uh- Veth? Miss Veth?” Yasha interrupted, and looked in what she hoped was the direction where Veth was, “Hi. Uh. I’m Yasha- we haven’t spoken much. I… If you want, maybe I could find your family? Ask them to visit, um. If that would help.”

Beau looked at Yasha, eyes wide. She hadn’t ever seen Yasha interact with one of the ghosts before, not like this. She knew Mollymauk had attached himself to her, and that they occasionally communicated through painstakingly moved fridge magnets, but as far as Beau was aware, this was the first time Yasha had spoken to any of the ghosts.

Caleb’s face was going through an odd journey before becoming guarded when Veth said: “Tell her yes, Beau. If she can find my boy for me, maybe I can move on or something.” Caleb’s shoulders went tense at that, and Frumpkin suddenly appeared around his neck.

“I think that is a good idea,” Caleb said, voice oddly flat, “You deserve the next life, Veth.” Veth smiled up at Caleb, patting his knee.

“I’m not going without you, silly,” she said, “No matter what. But it would be nice to see Luc and Yeza again.”

Yasha nodded once Beau conveyed Veth’s consent, and she stood up, brushing some dust off of her jeans.

“I will begin to look immediately,” she promised, hesitating for a moment, before holding out a hand, “Veth, if you need to speak to someone, I am usually here. Uh. Bye now.” Beau watched her wife shuffle out of the room, and smiled a little bit.

“I love that woman,” she sighed, but at the same time made a mental note to check in on her later. She had a feeling she knew why Yasha was determined to reunite Veth with her family, to give Veth a chance she had never gotten with Zuala.

“Yeah, she’s alright,” Veth said, “Please don’t destroy my bathroom until I’m gone. Come on, Caleb, we should go see what Caduceus is up to or something.” She sank through the floor, which Beau seriously was never going to get used to.

“Ja, just a moment,” Caleb said, and turned to Beau. “Thank you, Beauregard,” he said, sincerely, “You and I, we are friends.”

Beau didn’t know what else to do but shoot him some finger guns as he followed Veth through the floor. Then she just sat there for a moment, and if she cried, nobody was there to see.

Later that night, Beau made a stop in the old library on the second floor of the manor where she knew Caleb and Veth spent a lot of their time. She saw Veth curled up under a desk, seemingly asleep. Caleb sat at the desk, pouring over whatever old book he had asked Beau to pull off the shelf last. Without needing to ask, Beau turned the page for him, before she headed to a marble bust of some ancient white guy. She dug the pendant from her pocket, and carefully hung it around the white stone. She clicked it open, frowned, and polished a speck of dust from the glass so it was no longer obscuring Veth’s smiling face.

There, perfect.

It was odd, Beau thought. Up until today, she had not realised that this house was the ghosts’ home as much as it was her and Yasha’s. Some had lived here, and all had died here, and Beau felt like an idiot for not thinking to include them in the decisions she and Yasha had been making about the place.

The bathroom could wait, she decided in that moment, looking at Veth’s once happy family. It could wait. First, there was a murder to solve, a family to reunite, and after that, renovation plans to reconsider.  

Caduceus had a routine when he had been alive. He had died alone, of course, his family having all left long before. He had tended to the graves, prayed to the Wildmother, kept up the temple, drank tea, buried the dead when they arrived, and hoped his family would return. Eventually, She had come to take him into Her arms, and he had gone willingly. And yet, Caduceus knew he was the one supposed to stay, and so he stayed. And waited.

Of course, his family never returned. He watched the temple he had grown up in crumble, had seen the graves grow over, and felt how the world had forgotten about the ancient temple to Melora and her guardians. She visited, sometimes, and asked if he was ready to move on, but Caduceus always politely declined.

He was the one who remained.

He witnessed the building of a small hunting lodge, was there when it was torn down and replaced by a larger structure, and eventually a manor. He was there when the first ghosts came and passed, there when the circus arrived and Mollymauk never left.

Caduceus was content in his death. The pond from when he was a small child was still there, unchanged. He found comfort in that. The ruins from the temple were nearly gone, but he still liked to wander them sometimes, close his eyes, and pretend he could hear his family around him. It always hurt him more than he liked to admit when he opened his eyes, and nobody was there around him. And so, he gravitated towards the pond. The fish and the duck might change, but the pond was the same, always.

He spent most of his afterlife there, sitting at the edge of the water, staring at the lily pads, and conversing with the frogs and the dragonflies. Mostly, his fellow spirits left him alone, although sometimes they would drag him into their shenanigans, which was amusing to observe. Sometimes, he even liked to see if he could push them towards even more chaos, just for his own entertainment. In the mornings, he meditated. He usually did this alone, until Beauregard and Yasha moved in.

That had been quite an upheaval in his routine. The previous tenants had been much calmer, Caleb and Essek had only ventured outside to go on a walk of the grounds when Caleb had been alive, and of course, they had not been able to see him. Beau and Yasha ventured outside a lot more often, and it was nice to have someone tending to the gardens again, but Beau did have the tendency to interrupt his morning meditations with her “working outs”, whatever that meant.

One morning, she had plopped herself down next to him, and she had joined his routine. They meditated together, often in silence, and likely with different purposes. Sometimes Fjord joined them as well, which was nice. He had been trying to teach the two of them about the Wildmother through the meditations, and while Fjord seemed genuinely interested, he had a feeling Beau was just here to catch a break from her own mind.

Still, it was nice to have company. It got lonely, sometimes, being the last warden of the Grove. Not even the Grove was truly there anymore to keep him company.

One morning, Beau joined him alone, and sweatier than usual. Caduceus cracked open an eye to observe her as she took her place on his opposite side.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling softly when he was met with a grunt. He could sense there was something bothering her from the tension in her shoulders, if not from the general… What was the word she had taught him? Ah, right. Her vibes were off. Caduceus remained silent and continued his meditation with one ear open should Beau decide to talk. And, surely enough, after a few minutes of her shifting and attempting to meditate, he heard her flop back into the grass, and she spoke up.

“You’ve been here since like, the dawn of time or something, right?”

Caduceus huffed a breath of laughter at that, unfolding his legs from underneath himself and opening his eyes to look at her.

“Not quite the dawn of time, but I was here before the house was built,” he confirmed, “Why do you ask?”

Beau was silent for a minute longer, as if she had to steep the thoughts in her mind before she was ready to voice her concerns.

“The others said you know the most about ghost stuff,” she eventually brought up, “And I have a question. About ghosts, like, in general.”

Caduceus hummed, tilting his head in her direction to show he was listening attentively. He had a vague suspicion where this was going. After all, Beauregard and Yasha had lived here for nearly a year now, and Caduceus prided himself on his observational skills.

“Is it possible to like, summon a ghost?” Beau asked, her voice oddly uncertain and wavering just slightly. He lifted an eyebrow, and she crossed her arms and adverted her gaze. An interesting question, and he took a moment to ponder it.

“I suppose it depends on the ghost,” he eventually offered, “I know all of us- or, most of us, I think- who linger here died here. I’ve never tried to summon a ghost here, only ever helped them move on if they wished to do so.” He had not had to perform that rite for a long time, he mused. Deep inside, he was glad for it. He liked having the option of seeking out familiar company; it was almost like he had a family again.

“And if it’s someone who hasn’t died here?” Beau pressed, “Just like, for a bit.” Caduceus turned his full gaze on her now. It was an interesting suggestion, and Caduceus wondered if it was possible at all. He had never considered it before; perhaps he should try it sometime. It would be nice to see his mother and father again, or his siblings. He knew Beau's question had nothing to do with his family, though. He leaned in towards Beau so that he was almost in her personal space, studying her expression closely.

“Is this about your wife’s wife?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as friendly as he possibly could. Beau shifted uncomfortably, and looked down at her hands, avoiding Caduceus' inquisitive gaze entirely. She gave a little shrug, which Caduceus chose to interpret as a ‘yes’.

That request made sense, he supposed. He had overheard a few conversation between the two women, and Yasha had spent more time amidst her flowers than usual. Caduceus knew, because he liked to join her and pretend he could still feel the dirt between his fingers, and often offered her unheard advice. She talked to someone, sometimes, when she was gardening. It had taken Caduceus a while to figure out that she was not talking to him, but to a different ghost. A ghost that was not present physically (incorporeally?), but very much present for Yasha. He had felt a little guilty for listening in on her conversations, but his curious nature won out eventually and he had set out on a little mission to find out as much as he could.

So, he had asked Jester and Mollymauk, which had solved most of the mystery.

“I don’t think we can summon her here,” he said, “She died far away, did she not? Perhaps she still lingers there. Has she asked to see her?”

“She wouldn’t,” Beau said, “But I know she misses her, and the anniversary is coming up. I want to support her, you know. I know usually she leaves for a bit, travels, but she said she’s staying here this year.”

Caduceus thought for a while. Boy, he was doing a lot of thinking today. He looked around, seeing the very few remaining headstones of the old cemetery. Each one of them was covered in moss, vines, flowers. Most of the names had been corroded over time and were now barely legible, with the exception of the last remaining stone of the Clay family. Caduceus was unsure why that headstone stood the passage of time, but he assumed the Wildmother had something to do with it. Or maybe it was his presence.

A soft breeze disturbed the dandelions growing over the grave of a long-forgotten adventurer. Darrington, Caduceus thought his name was. His funeral had been an ordeal, to say the least. The breeze carried some of the fluff of the dandelions over to Beau, who sneezed.

Caduceus smiled. Perhaps She could help his new friends, too, through him.

“I don’t know if her soul lingers wherever she’s buried,” he said, as Beau blew her nose on the towel around her neck and muttered something about fucking pollen. Caduceus hoped she wouldn’t. “But,” he continued, “If you want, me and my family used to run a cemetery.”

Beau’s head snapped up at that.

“You were undertakers? That’s kind of morbid,” she said. Caduceus hummed.

“Not really, death is a regular part of life for most of us,” he pondered, “We were just caretakers of the dead. You know, like taxi-drivers, except our client’s next destination was their afterlives.”

He sat back a little bit, looking up at the sky above where the temple used to stand.

“We can’t bury her, obviously,” he continued, “But I have an idea, if you’re interested, that might be nice.”

A week later, Caduceus’ morning routine was different. At sunrise, he stood at the edge of the cemetery. Himself and Beauregard had worked hard on getting the little plot ready all week. Of course, he had mostly instructed Beauregard as she did the heavy lifting.

He could feel Melora’s presence around him as he stood there with the sun rising behind his back, waiting. It took only a few moments until two figures made their way from the house, and just a little longer for them to walk the distance to the pond.

“Beau, what are we doing here?” Yasha asked when they arrived. Her breath made clouds in the air, but despite the chill she was not wearing a jacket. She seemed tired to Caduceus, her shoulders more slumped than usual and the bags under her eyes stood out more against her pale skin than usual.

“Just a surprise,” Beau said, squeezing Yasha’s hand, “I know today’s… Today’s rough, and I know you usually go somewhere to remember Zuala.” Yasha flinched a little at hearing that name, but otherwise did not speak. Beau glanced at Caduceus, who just gave her an encouraging nod.

“I… I hope I didn’t cross any boundaries or something, but we’ve been talking about her a lot, and I… I don’t know, I wanted to do something for you,” Beau said, taking a deep breath, “So I asked Caduceus.” Caduceus waved at Yasha, despite her not being able to see him. It seemed like the polite thing to do, regardless.

“Is he here?” Yasha asked, looking around her.

“Yeah, he’s right there,” Beau said, nodding towards the little plot where Caduceus was still waiting, “He’s helped me come up with something special to commemorate her and what she meant to you. Means to you.”

She let go of Yasha’s hand the moment her wife spotted the small wooden altar. It stood right at the base of a relatively young tree, the sunlight filtered through its leafy canopy. There were no flowers around it, yet, but Beau had tilled the earth, so it was ready to receive whatever seeds Yasha wished to plant there.

Caduceus watched the taller woman walk towards the alter with a hesitance to her step. She collapsed to her knees right next to him, and he watched her reach out to touch the twisted branch that made up most of the altar. He knelt down next to her and spread out his hands towards the earth. He closed his eyes and reached out towards the Wildmother as he began a prayer he had not said in centuries.

Wildmother, receive this soul and take her into your warm embrace. May she rest peacefully amidst Your breeze. May her body sustain the earth and give new life in honour of her old. May her memory give birth to new beginnings. May her soul ride the skies in storms that feed the rivers that are your veins. May she run wild and free in Your presence, blessed Melora, Mother of us all.

As he finished the prayer, a warm glow surrounded himself and Yasha. He looked up to find a familiar face smiling down at him. He bowed his head in respect, and only looked up once Her attention was on Yasha. She had descended to touch the wooden altar. A pale green vine began to grow around it, blossoming into a pure, white, flower at the top. Melora did not speak but knelt in front of Yasha and briefly cradled her face in her hands. Caduceus watched Her press a gentle kiss to Yasha’s forehead, her eyes widening at the sensation.

You did well, dear.

Her voice echoed through his mind like a cool evening after a hot summer’s day. Caduceus smiled bashfully, but offered a silent thank you, before he watched her vanish into the rays of the early morning sun.

“Thank you,” Yasha whispered, “Thank you, Caduceus.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” he replied, “Glad to be of any assistance.” She smiled up at the trees, and only now Caduceus noticed she was crying.

“Thank you,” Yasha said again, reaching out to gently caress the flower’s petals, “That’s her favourite flower, you know?” She lowered her head as if praying, and Caduceus decided that was his cue to step back. He stood up, the joints in his knees creaking as much as they had done in life.

“You should join her,” he told Beau, who had been lingering a little awkwardly further back, “She needs you now, I think.” He rested his hand just above Beau’s shoulder, knowing the woman hated it when the ghosts touched her.

“Thanks, Deuce,” Beau said, and her sincerity warmed him almost as much as the approval of his Goddess. She knelt next to her wife, and Caduceus felt this was right. He had done something good today. It felt oddly emotional to perform a funerary ritual of some sort again after all this time, even if it was more of a memorial than an actual funeral. Even so, Caduceus had not felt this connected to his family since Colton and Calliope left.

He offered his own thank you to the skies, hoping She would carry it to wherever his family was, so they would know. Perhaps one day, the wind would carry a message back to him. Until then, Caduceus would wait.

After all, he was the one meant to stay.  

Fjord was a bit of a mystery to Beau. After living with the ghosts for, gods, just over a year now already, she knew how most of them ended up at the mansion post-death. Veth had drowned, Molly was poisoned, Jester had fallen victim to a plot that to Beau sounded like it came out of a salacious novel and wasn’t entirely sure was true, she assumed Caleb and his cat had died in a fire based on the constant smell of smoke around him, and Caduceus had just sort of died one day.

But Fjord? She had no idea how a man dressed as an old timey pirate ended up as a ghost at a mansion in a landlocked area. Somehow the topic had never come up on their morning runs across the estate.

She jogged up the hill and past Caduceus’ pond, Fjord wheezing behind her. It was hilarious watching him insist that regular runs would improve his stamina, given that he had been dead for a couple of centuries. She came to a halt at the fallen tree they usually used as their marker, and waited a moment for Fjord to catch up.

“You know you don’t have to breathe, right?” she said when Fjord finally collapsed next to her. He dramatically rested his arm over his face. He had lost his hat somewhere along the run, but Beau had quickly come to realise that it never stayed lost for long. She had found the damn thing in the strangest of places, curtesy of some kind of a prank war between Jester and Veth. And indeed, it wasn’t long before the hat popped back into existence on top of Fjord’s head. The feather bobbed comically in the wind.

“You know you don’t have to run so fast, right?” he countered, and swatted the wide brim of the hat out of his face.

Beau snorted, sitting down next to him. The sun was just starting to rise over the town in the distance, and Beau allowed herself to just observe the beauty of it for a moment. Fjord sat up next to her, the hat on his lap and no longer out of breath.

“We never ventured out much, before,” he mused. “Can’t recall last time I saw a sunset before you started torturing me.”

“It’s hardly torture,” Beau replied. “You come on these voluntarily, my man.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. Wasn’t it just last week you were asking Caleb if your butt had changed yet?”

Fjord threw the hat at her, and Beau didn’t even bother to dodge the incorporeal garment.

“There’s no shame in working out to impress a girl,” Beau said as casually as she possibly could. “’specially one like Jester.”

Fjord pulled his hat, which had returned to him moments before, all the way over his face with an audible groan.

“Torture,” he said, voice muffled. “Torture, I say!”

“Come on, she’s hot,” Beau said. “Those muscles, that dress she wears that pushes her tits way up, her smile that lights up a room, the way she looks at you all earnest and excited…”

“You’re a married woman,” Fjord said.

“I’ve still got eyes,” Beau countered. “Come on, you can’t deny you like her. Hell, you two are worse than me and Yasha were.”

Fjord was silent for a second, staring out into the sunset.

“I don’t think she and I… She deserves better than me,” he finally said, and Beau smacked him through the side of the head.

“What’s that about?” she said. “Like- bro, I don’t go for it, but you’re alright for a guy. You’ve got muscles, and your butt isn’t that bad.”

“She was here when I arrived,” Fjord said, clearing his throat. He was silent for a moment, and when he opened his mouth again, it was a different person speaking. He spoke more softly, his accent was rounder and a little posher, and while it was confusing, Beau decided not to comment on it right now. (See, she could be sensitive when she had to, take that, Mollymauk.)

“First thing I saw when I opened my eyes was her,” he said. “Staring at me like I was an interesting painting. Then she shoved that weasel in my face and yelled to Mollymauk they finally had a new friend. It was just the three of us for a while, until Caleb joined us and we realised Caduceus was out there.”

Beau got up to stretch her legs out, simultaneously giving Fjord some space. He wasn’t one to talk about personal stuff. Every time something even remotely close to him came up, he would deflect or change the subject, and as much as Beau was starting to feel like a dead people therapist, she knew it was important for them to talk about their situations.

“How’d you end up here?” she prodded. “There’s not a lot of pirates around here. Or harbours, even.” She wobbled a little bit when a forceful breeze came through and ruffled the grass around Fjord’s ghostly form. It smelled like salt, which was odd, until she remembered she was standing on what used to be sacred ground of Caduceus’ ancient goddess of all things nature. That probably included the ocean.

Fjord had his eyes closed when she looked back at him. He said nothing, but his shoulders relaxed. A small smile played around his lips, showing off his short tusks.

“Blessings be with you,” he mumbled, before he stood up and said, in his regular accent: “Race you down.”

And fuck, Beau wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

The next time the subject of Fjord’s untimely demise came up was during movie night. Jester had insisted on watching Pirates of the Caribbean, and every time Will Turner came on screen, she wiggled her eyebrows at Fjord. He had been enjoying the film initially, even responding to Jester’s obvious flirting with some banter, but when Jack and Elizabeth were left stranded on an island, his mood changed. And while Beau was suitably distracted by Keira Knightley and Yasha’s warm body behind her, Fjord’s growing discomfort did not escape her notice. His shoulders were more hunched, he hid behind his hat, and where earlier he had been commenting on the inaccuracies in the sailing, he was quiet now.

“I’m gonna go grab some more snacks,” Beau said, while Caleb tried to explain to Veth how actual magic was better than movie magic and Jester loudly encouraged Elizabeth to look behind her and Sprinkle hissed angrily at the undead monkey. She extracted herself from Yasha’s arms with a quick kiss to her wife’s lips and made direct eye-contact with Fjord. All she had to do was raise an eyebrow for him to nod, and sure enough, barely two minutes after she had made it to the kitchen he walked through the door as well.

Beau took a bag of popcorn from the box and placed it in the microwave.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked as she closed it and punched in the three minutes it would take to pop. She leaned against the counter, while Fjord had sat down on one of their chairs looking dejected.

“It’s stupid,” he said, and Beau noticed he had dropped the accent again. He had done that more and more when they were alone together, and Beau was pretty sure this was his actual voice. Around the others, he still talked like he was a damn cowboy, however.

“Was it the film?” Beau asked, the microwave humming in the background.

“It brought back memories,” Fjord agreed. “Unpleasant ones. It was hard to watch them explore the ocean, simply because I miss it.”

“Were you a real pirate?” Beau asked, unable to keep some of the glee her inner seven-year-old pirate phase provided out of her voice.

“Privateer,” Fjord corrected her. “We had government papers and everything. But yes, I was. Long time ago now, but when I was a lad, a captain came looking for crew at the orphanage I was living at. I already had some experience working the docks and wanted nothing more than to get out of there, so I took the chance and never looked back.” He smiled, and that same salty breeze Beau had noticed when they were talking on the hill came in through the cracked open window.

“Vandran was like a father to me,” he continued. “Taught me everything I know. One day, we ship wrecked. I was the only survivor, as far as I know, washed up on the beach. Figured it was a sign from above, so I became my own captain.” He wistfully sighed, his fingers playing with a tassel on his coat. Beau glanced at the microwave to make sure the popcorn wasn’t burning.

“So how’d you die?” she asked once she made sure it was still blissfully popping the kernels.

“Got stabbed,” Fjord said casually, pulling aside his coat to reveal a bloody stain on his undershirt and a wound underneath. “By an ex- did I ever tell you this hat used to be hers? I found some treasure she had her eyes on. Well, eye. She had an eyepatch.” He helpfully held up a hand over his eye to visualise.

“Sucks,” Beau said, unsure what else to say. Even after having heard some of the other death tales, she had no clue how to actually respond to these stories. It wasn’t like there was a Reddit for this sort of stuff- she had checked. “Was she hot, at least?”

Fjord actually laughed at her awkward attempt to defuse the tension.

“She was very hot,” he agreed, “Also very evil, unfortunately. I don’t know what happened to the treasure she stole, or to my crew, or the ship. All I know is that I opened my eyes, saw Jester, and knew I wouldn’t ever see the ocean again. Few months before this, some uncle I did not know I had left this place to me, and I guess someone must have thought I would have wanted to be buried in the family plot.”

“Did you not?” Beau asked, and the microwave dinged behind her. She busied herself with taking the hot bag out and emptying it in a bowl.

“I wanted to be buried at sea, like Vandran,” Fjord said, and Beau was glad she wasn’t looking at him. “The ocean was the only home I’d ever known.” His voice sounded shattered, and Beau swallowed thickly. When she spoke again, her voice felt rougher than usual.

“Do you still want that?” she asked. “Cad might know where they buried you, we could dig you up or something.” Fjord had the audacity to look genuinely touched by that and had Beau not been holding a bowl of hot popcorn she would have crossed her arms defensively.

“Thank you, Beau,” he said. “But I… I don’t know if that’s the solution to my troubles. I’d like to see the sea again, though.”  

“Oh, Fjord,” another voice suddenly piped up, and both simultaneously turned towards where Jester had walked through the wall. “Sorry- I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said, “So I came to check! But Fjord, that’s so sad and tragic!” Beau rolled her eyes, picking the popcorn up when Fjord shrugged a little bit and noticeably changed his demeanour.

“Oh, I’m alright Jester,” he said, all smooth and southern once more. “You know, I’ve got a home here now.” Beau hoped that was a sincere statement, but Fjord was harder to read when he put this mask back on. She hoped he’d feel comfortable enough to take it off around everyone soon.

“Why were you talking all funny?” she heard Jester ask. “It was super sexy, but-”

Nope. Beau made the conscious decision to quit while she was ahead and took her bowl of popcorn back to where the rest of the ghosts and Yasha were still watching the argument between Jack and Elizabeth. Beau made herself comfortable again and snuggled up to Yasha. Yasha greeted her with a quick kiss to the lips before she stole a handful of the warm popcorn.

“Missed you,” Yasha said, and unbeknownst to her, Veth gagged. Beau blindly flipped her off and kissed Yasha again for good measure.

It was the morning after Hallow’s Eve, and someone was ringing the doorbell rather insistently. Beau groaned and curled closer to Yasha in an attempt to vanish in the warmth of her wife and the bed.

“Someone’s at the door,” Yasha mumbled sleepily, and flung an arm over her face.

“Let them stay there,” Beau replied grumpily, but when after two minutes the bell continued to ring, she cursed loudly and forced herself up. “I’ll get it,” she told Yasha, who gave a thumbs up and rolled over to resume sleeping off the hangover she undoubtedly was nursing.

Without bothering to put a robe on, Beau made her way down the stairs.

“Who the fuck is making all that racket?” Mollymauk asked as he floated through a wall, rubbing at his eyes as if he too had just woken up.

“We’re about to find out,” Beau said, and it came out more like a threat than she intended. She fumbled with the locks on the door for a bit before opening it just on a crack just wide enough to glare at whoever had dared disturb her slumber.

Outside stood an ancient looking elf. His skin was weathered and wrinkled with age, and he wore his thinning blonde hair in a neat coif. A thin framed pair of glasses rested on his nose, behind from which two violet eyes looked at her with a friendly expression. He wore a long dark cloak that went down past his feet, which Beau realised were hovering just slightly above the ground. He was leaning on a fancy cane with one hand, and with the other he held a parasol.

“Ah, good morning,” he said politely when she opened the door. “I do apologise for disturbing you this early.”

“We don’t buy things at the door,” Beau said curtly, and went to close the door again but the drow spoke before she could.

“I was wondering if I could come in for just a moment,” he said, “I used to live here, you see, and I would like to see the old place one more time before I pass.”

Beau halted, opening the door a little further to study the man standing on her porch. As far as she was aware, the house had stood abandoned for well over a century before she and Yasha bought it. She supposed elves did grow rather old, but she had never met one older than 250 years before.

She couldn’t really let an old man stand outside in the cold.

“Fine, I guess,” she said, “I’ll uh, I’ll make you some tea.” She opened the door, realising belatedly she wasn’t wearing pants. To his credit, the elf either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t comment on it, and merely gave her a nod before stepping inside. Beau closed the door again and noticed Mollymauk openly gaping at the visitor only when she turned around.

“Holy fucking shit,” he said. “Oh man, everyone’s gonna flip.” He then took off sprinting, and it sure said something about her life that Beau didn’t even question his behaviour anymore.

“Can I like, take your coat or something?” she asked when the drow set his umbrella down next to the door. He looked around the hall with an odd expression on his face- nostalgia, perhaps, but there was something deeper there Beau couldn’t place.

“Oh- thank you,” he agreed, and let Beau help him out of his long mantle. He was indeed floating, Beau realised, which was sort of cool, but when she hung the mantle up, he set himself down on the ground and leaned more heavily on the cane.

“Uh, kitchen’s this way,” Beau said, although if he had lived here before, he probably already knew that. Nevertheless, he followed her, all the while taking in the surroundings.

“You’ve done a good job on renovations,” he complimented her, “I left her in a bit of a state, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, we’ve almost finished,” Beau said, “Still gotta tackle the basement, we want to sort of make a wellness place out of it.” She hadn’t checked in with the strange and somewhat terrifying plague pit ghosts yet, but maybe they’d get a kick out of having access to a sauna.

“That sounds lovely,” the elf said. “My… My partner was always fond of a hot bath.”

Beau pulled back a chair for him at the kitchen table, which he gracefully accepted. She quickly turned the kettle on, and then said: “I’ll uh, I’ll be right back.” The man glanced at her bare legs and an amused smile played at his lips.

Beau could only hope he wasn’t going to rob them, and almost ran back upstairs. The moment she threw open their bedroom door, the whispered conversation between roughly half of her ghostly housemates fell quiet.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” she said, crossing her arms, “Get out- we’ve been over this, guys.” Molly held up his hands defensively, and then quickly picked the tapestry back up when it fell around his ankles.

“Swear we’re not here to watch you two copulate this time,” he promised, and Jester shook her head.

“Is it true?” She bounded up to Beau, almost vibrating with excitement. “Is it really Essek!”

“Who the fuck is Essek?” Beau asked. In the bed, Yasha groaned and turned over, muttering something about how Beau needed to stop talking to dead people and come back to bed.

Veth had an uncharacteristic solemn expression on her face where she was leaning against Beau and Yasha’s wardrobe. When she spoke up, she sounded more serious than Beau had ever heard her speak before.

“Essek is Caleb’s partner,” she said, and everyone turned to listen to her, “They were together for forty years or so, or that’s what Caleb told me. He doesn’t like to talk much about his death, or about Essek, but you all were here when it happened.” Jester shifted awkwardly in place, leaning into Fjord unconsciously. Molly physically winced at whatever memory Veth’s words stirred.  

“The house was tense in his last weeks,” he acknowledged, “They fought, a lot, which was a shame, because they were great fun before that.”

“Gross,” Beau automatically said. She really didn’t want to think about Caleb, who she had come to consider as something of an incorporeal sibling, doing anything fun. Molly stuck his tongue out at her, and Veth rolled her eyes.

“Point is,” she said, “I don’t understand why Essek came back. He sold the house the week after they buried Caleb back in his hometown. I’m pretty convinced that him leaving trapped Caleb here.”

Beau held up a finger to silence Veth for a moment and quickly dug up a notebook from her bedside table. She uncapped a pen with her mouth, and flipped the notebook open to the page she had marked “Caleb Widogast”.

“Okay, continue,” she said, as she quickly scribbled down some notes.

“What are you doing?” Fjord asked just as Jester materialised next to Beau to look over her shoulders.

“Oh my gosh, do you keep notes on all of us?” Jester gasped, “What do mine say?”

Beau flushed and tried not to sound too defensively when she said: “What? You guys are a pretty interesting mystery, and I like solving those.”

“I too would like to know what mine say,” Mollymauk commented, “Only good things, I hope?”

“You wish,” Beau countered, not looking up from where she was scribbling down everything, she knew about Essek thus far.

Veth cleared her throat, and all eyes in the room were immediately back on her.

“Point is, when Essek left the house, Caleb went…” She searched for the right word, making a motion with her hand as if she could pluck it out of the air.

“Rogue?” Fjord suggested.

“Batshit insane?” Molly supplied.

“Bren?” Jester offered.

“Yes,” Veth said, “All of those, I guess. It took a decade or two and us finding Frumpkin’s ghost before he was himself again.”

Beau had just finished placing a question mark behind the name Bren, when she realised something. “Wait, if Caleb isn’t buried here, how come his ghost is trapped here?” she asked, “All of you have your graves or bodies deposited here somewhere, right? I assumed that was how this ghost thing worked.”

Everyone but Jester nodded, and Molly shrugged. “I don’t actually know where they left mine,” he said, “Don’t particularly care, to be honest.”

“None of us have ever tried to figure out why we’re still here,” Veth said, “It never mattered- it still doesn’t. All we have in common is that we died here, and we didn’t move on.”

Beau wrote that down too. Another mystery for her to solve.

“Okay, so, if it’s not his body tying him to the house, you think Essek has something to do with it?” she asked, and Veth immediately agreed.

“I do,” she said, “I don’t trust why he’s here. It’s weird. I know I wasn’t here yet, but if you ask me, Essek’s hiding something.”

“Oh please,” Molly said from where he was lounging on the floor, “Essek wouldn’t harm a fly. Well- no, that’s not true. He wouldn’t hurt Caleb, but he’d murder anyone who tried to come for Caleb. He has, remember when he straight up challenged some creepy old wizard to a duel and won by crushing him into goo?”

A shudder went down Fjord’s back and Beau wondered if ghosts could vomit.

“Don’t remind me, please,” he said, “Look. None of us are suggesting Essek murdered Caleb, but it is strange that he left so quickly after Caleb’s death.”

“I think it’s just because he was so heartbroken, he couldn’t be here anymore,” Jester sighed, “It’s really romantic, when you think about it.”

“How did Caleb die?” Beau broke in, tapping her pen on the empty space after cause of death in her notebook. Jester sighed and rested her head in her hands.

“It was so sad, Beau,” she said, “Him and Essek were all alone in the big house, except all of us were watching to see if Caleb would stick. But he was so old, like, eighty or something, and he was in their bed. I don’t think he was quite right in the head anymore, because he kept mumbling things about Astrid and telling Essek he was silly for staying with him, and Essek was crying and telling him all the romantic things, and then he just sort of died.”

“He doesn’t look eighty,” Beau said, frowning, “You sure he didn’t die in a house fire or something?” Veth shot her a glare.

“He didn’t,” she said, “And don’t mention that to him. None of us know how this ghost shit works, or why he showed up half the age he was when he died, but he’s one of us, and I won’t see him hurt again. Not by you, not by any of you, and certainly not by Essek.”

Behind her, Yasha sighed deeply and rolled out of bed. “I’m going to shower,” she said, but Beau barely paid attention to her wife, too engrossed in the new information before her.

“So, what do we do?” Fjord asked, looking around the room. Veth looked at him with a vaguely grim expression on her face.

“He needs to leave as soon as possible,” she said, “And we do not tell Caleb about this.”

“We do not tell Caleb about what?”

It was almost comical how quickly everyone swivelled around to face the familiar voice. In the doorway stood Caleb Widogast, dressed in his usual night gown, smelling vaguely of smoke and cradling a purring cat in his arms.

“Oh, hey Caleb!” Jester was the first to respond, jumping to her feet to wrap Caleb up in a hug. “What are you doing out of the library! Oh my gosh, did you want to come talk to me about the new page of Tusk Love that Beau flipped over for us yesterday?” Caleb pushed away from the hug, a deep frown on his face as his eyes flicked from one person in the room to the next.

“What is going on?” he asked, “Veth? Beauregard?”

“Nothing,” Veth lied, but Caleb clearly saw through it and narrowed his eyes at her. Beau sighed, and snapped her notebook shut. She grabbed some joggers from the laundry pile and tugged them on.

“Essek’s come to visit,” she said, and the floorboards around Caleb burst into flames.

~

Two hours later, the ghosts had managed to calm Caleb down enough to prevent the house from burning down. Beau rushed back to the kitchen to find Yasha and Essek chatting over a cup of steaming hot tea.

“I am so sorry, Essek,” Beau said, a little out of breath, “Things got out of hand-” Essek waved her apology away.

“Your lovely wife explained,” he said, “I always suspected this house was haunted.”

Yasha shrugged, looking at Beau with an expression of well what else was I supposed to do? Beau shrugged back in reply, attempting to convey I don’t fucking know either, babe. She took one of the other chairs after quickly pouring herself some lukewarm tea from the kettle.

“So uh, what exactly are you doing here?” she asked. Straight to the point was her preferred method of investigation, after all. Essek calmly sipped his tea, which was somehow still steaming. Magic, Beau realised after a while, and wondered if she could get all their mugs enchanted with that spell.

“Allow me to introduce myself first,” he said with a slight incline of his head, “My name is Essek Thelyss, although it seems you knew this already.” Beau paused for a moment, and right, he had never told her his name. The ghosts had.

“I lived here many years ago with my partner,” he continued, “It must nearly be a century and a half ago now, if not longer. He was human, so I always knew he would pass decades before me.” A sad smile played at his lips, and Beau glanced at Yasha to check in she was okay with where this was going. Yasha reached out to squeeze her knee under the table, a sign which Beau knew meant not to worry about her.

“And he was right,” Essek said after a short moment of silence, “I specialise in magic that controls time and space, and he was the most talented transmutation expert I have ever seen, but he wouldn’t let us come up with a way to prolong his life. He had his reasons, and I could never blame him, but… When he died, the house was far too big for me alone.”

“So, you left,” Beau said, unable to keep the accusation out of her tone.

“I left,” Essek confirmed, “My past was catching up to me, and the house was lifeless without him here. So, I ran.” Beau smelled the smoke before she saw Caleb materialise behind Essek.

“Tell him, Beauregard,” he said, a desperate urgency in his voice that dug its claws deep into Beau’s heart.

When Essek continued, he sounded was sorrowful. “I am old now,” he said, “And it was no lie when I said I wanted to see the house once more before I died. I lived the best years of my life here, with him and the cats. We were happy.”

“Tell him,” Caleb begged, and knelt next to Essek. He reached out for the drow’s hand with shaking fingers, choking back a sob when his fingers went straight through. Essek shivered and clenched his hand.

Beau put her tea down and focused her entire being on the warmth of Yasha’s hand on her knee.

“Yasha told you the house is a little haunted,” she began, entangling her fingers with Yasha’s. She could use the support right now. “Your partner, Caleb, correct?” Caleb didn’t tear his gaze from Essek’s face even as the carefully guarded expression he carried crumpled. “He is… He is one of the ghosts,” Beau continued, “He’s here- next to you. He asked me to tell you, and I swear I’m not making shit up.”

Essek was silent for a long while. He closed his eyes as if concentrating on something and Beau almost got up to check if he was still alive when he opened them again.

“I believe you,” he told her, “I have no reason to doubt you, and I thank you. Caleb?” He held out a hand, and if it wasn’t for the slight tremor in his hand Beau wouldn’t have guessed any cracks in his composure.

“I am here, liebling,” Caleb said, and rested his hand just above Essek’s. “Please, hear me, I am right here.”

“I have missed you,” Essek said, “I- Had I known you were here, I would not have left you.” He turned to his right.

“Other side,” Beau whispered, unsure how welcome her intrusion was at this moment. Yasha let go of her hand and stood up to busy herself with washing up the empty mugs of tea in the sink. Beau let her, sensing she needed a moment to herself. Essek turned to his left and looked right above where Caleb was staring at him.

“My time is soon, perhaps we will see each other again,” Essek continued, and Beau abruptly stood up when Caleb tried to kiss Essek’s hand. She picked up a dish rag to dry the mugs Yasha was washing up.

“Are you okay?” she asked her wife, who was silent as she rinsed soap off a wineglass, they had left in the sink last night.

“Should we ask him to stay?” she softly asked, “If he is truly going to die soon, and him and Caleb… Should we?” Beau didn’t know what to say to that. She glanced over her shoulder, where Caleb was murmuring something Essek couldn’t hear as he openly cried now. Fuck. She couldn’t make that decision on her own. Hell, it wasn’t her decision to make. That belonged to the ghosts, and Caleb and Essek in particular. And even then, it wasn’t even sure that it would work. Essek might move on, and Caleb would be left behind for good. A little voice in the back of her head that sounded a lot like Veth reminded her it might also mean they would lose Caleb, if all he needed to pass on was to be reunited with Essek, and that was an option Beau liked the least.

“I’ll talk to everyone about it,” she softly said, touching Yasha’s waist to reassure her, “He can stay for dinner tonight, and we’ll figure it out from there.” Yasha nodded and turned the tap off.

“I think I’m going to visit Caduceus,” she said, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Beau said and with a last glance at Essek, Yasha exited to the yard. Beau leaned on the counter and let out a deep breath before rejoining Essek and Caleb at the dinner table. She reached out to take Essek’s still remarkably soft hands in hers and addressed both of them when she said: “Enough of this blubbering when you can’t hear each other. Talk through me instead.”  

Caleb gave her a grateful look and gingerly sat down on the chair next to Essek, never once taking his eyes off him, while Essek looked at Beauregard with ancient eyes that had seen far too much for one lifetime, and Beau readied herself for whatever this development would bring next.

Living with Essek took some getting used to. Beau and Yasha had a rhythm in their daily lives, even with six ghosts demanding Beau’s attention. Inserting an old drow in the mix had been challenging at first, but eventually his presence was as much a part of Beau’s routine as her morning runs.

As the months progressed from autumn to winter to spring, however, Essek grew weaker. He refused to admit it, but he could no longer bring up the energy to float himself up the stairs and needed Yasha to support him when they went for walks. Beau could tell it annoyed him, but he was nothing if not stubborn. He spent most of his time in the library now, always accompanied by Caleb, determined to work out a way to communicate with him that did not require Beau’s presence.

The whole situation stressed Beau out more than she liked to admit. It was taking its toll on Yasha, who clearly cared deeply for Essek, but who was also spending more and more time at Zuala’s shrine. The other ghosts were still divided on if they should trust Essek, and the plan to have Essek join them after his inevitable passing had driven a rift between some of them. Veth was avoiding everyone, going as far to duck through a wall whenever Beau spotted her. She refused to talk to Caleb after they had fought, a first according to Molly. Fjord was doing his best to hold everyone together, but his own objection to having Essek join them wasn’t helping him in this regard. Jester was clearly upset about this, and while Molly pretended not to care, Beau knew he hated the situation as much as she did. The only person who was still acting like himself was Caduceus, who had visited the house one day to check if Beau was still alive when she hadn’t come on a run for a few days. He had taken one look at Essek, then at Caleb, nodded, said something cryptic about inevitability, and left to pray.

Safe to say, you could cut the tension in the house with a butter knife.

And then, the postman delivered a letter from her mother.

She sat in the attic windowsill, staring out at the rain gently drizzling down outside. The attic had become her refuge over the past months. It was dark and messy, mostly used as storage, but she had made some space for a mat and her punching bag. Best of all, she could be alone here. She turned the envelope over in her hands, her family’s pretentious wax seal staring back at her from the front. Her address was written in her mom’s neat hand on the back, and Beau couldn’t bring herself to open it.

Why write a letter? Why not simply call, or text? Not that they had done that in the two years since Beau had last seen them.  She only received Winter’s Crest cards and a bottle of wine for her birthday and her and Yasha’s wedding anniversary, and that suited Beau just fine. She sent gifts for TJ’s birthday and Winter’s Crest cards in return, but they did not communicate.

Beau groaned and threw the letter down in front of her, only to pick it back up immediately.

“Oh- it’s occupied, sorry! I’ll go… Somewhere else.”

Beau blinked, tearing her gaze away from the letter.

“You’ve never had a problem with barging in on me before,” she told Jester, who stood next to an abandoned dresser. Her shoulders were hunched, and she had her arms folded in front of her as if she was cradling herself. She shrugged eyes cast down.

“Just didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, and Beau could taste the fake cheerfulness in the air. She sighed and tried not to feel resentful towards Jester. She was a dear friend, and it was not her fault Beau was having a shit week. Not entirely hers, anyway.

“Come here,” Beau said, motioning to the other end of the windowsill, “Plenty of space for two.” To her surprise, Jester sniffled.

“Oh, shit- no, Jes, don’t cry,” Beau tried, which of course only made it worse, and before she knew it, she had her arms full of a sobbing Jester. Or, somewhat, her horn was very much somewhere inside Beau’s collarbone, and it was a little bit like hugging the air at an ice rink, but Beau couldn’t do much else than vaguely wrap her arms around Jester’s incorporeal form.

“I’m sorry,” Jester sobbed, “I’m just having a really, really bad week.” She extracted her horn from Beau and flopped back on the windowsill. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on top of them.

“You too, huh,” Beau said and sat down, mirroring Jester’s position. “Wanna talk about it?” she offered after a beat of silence and only slightly reluctantly. Jester immediately took her up on it.

“Everyone’s all tense,” she said, “And I don’t like it at all, Beau. It’s like, Caleb is worried about Essek dying and also about him moving on, which is setting Veth off because she’s worried that Caleb will move on when Essek moves on. And then Molly is acting all weird and jealous, which is so stupid because he liked Essek when Caleb was still alive, but he won’t admit it’s because he’s got a crush on Caleb now. Fjord is trying his best to keep everyone happy, but he keeps being dragged into arguments and I can barely get him alone, and he hasn’t even kissed me or anything yet, even though I told him I’d really like to do that? And I don’t like that we’re not all just a happy group anymore because I miss everyone, and I miss you and Yasha, because you two are acting weird too because you are stressed about all of us and about Essek, and Yasha’s all sad because Essek dying reminds her of Zuala and she’s also super worried about you being all stressed- it’s okay, Caduceus told me- and none of you are talking and it just sucks.”

Jester took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging in relief as she stared up at the ceiling.

“And then it’s Mother’s Day soon and I miss my mama,” she added, as if it was an afterthought. The tone of her voice indicated it was anything but that, however. While she sounded emotional blurting all that out, her voice only broke when she mentioned her mother. Beau glanced at the letter just visible from under Jester’s splayed-out petticoat.

“Everyone’s been a bit tense,” Beau weakly admitted, and averted her gaze to watch a droplet of rain make its way down the window. She could feel guilt rising, the feeling churning her stomach. She knew Yasha was struggling lately. They had talked about it, about her unease with the ghosts, about her concerns with Essek, but she hadn’t told Beau the situation was bringing back memories of Zuala. Bad memories, too, Beau assumed by how much time she had been spending with Caduceus and the shrine. She should have picked up on it, but she had been preoccupied with the ghosts and that wasn’t fair on Yasha. Then again, she hadn’t told Yasha exactly what was going on with them beyond the gist of it, and Yasha hadn’t asked her about it. Beau groaned, thudding her head against the wall. She was going to have to make it up to Yasha big time, she decided. Big romantic gesture, and a conversation about everything. No ghosts, if she could help it, just the two of them.

“Super tense,” Jester agreed, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “And everyone keeps looking to you and me to solve things, to cheer people up, and I can’t do that all the time.” She looked frightfully young like this, and Beau realised she had no idea how old Jester was. She could hardly be older than twenty, maybe twenty-two.

“It’s nice and quiet up here,” Beau said instead, “If you ever wanted to get away from everyone.”

“I know,” Jester said, and wiped at her eyes with her long sleeve. “I come here all the time, even before I died.” She got up from the windowsill, fully exposing the letter from Beau’s mother again, which Beau pointedly ignored. She watched Jester walk up to the wall and trace her hand over the old wallpaper they hadn’t bothered to remove.

“Can you take this down, Beau?” Jester asked, “I wanna show you something.” Beau frowned but got up and began to tear the wallpaper down. She sneezed at the dust coming free as she ripped it from the wall and unceremoniously dropped it to the floor. When she blinked her eyes back into focus again to continue, she halted. From behind the dusty wallpaper emerged something colourful and bright. Beau continued a little more careful, revealing more and more of what turned out to be a massive mural.

Even only partially revealed, it was gorgeous. The colours had faded slightly over time but were still bright. Beau could see bright flowers and what looked like a creek with a very pink unicorn drinking from it. She wiped at the wall to clear any dirt and dust from it, and she could have sworn the grass moved under her touch.

“Jester, what is this?” she asked, looking aside at her friend who wore a wistful expression.

“Do you like it?” she asked, leaning forward and nearly pressing her nose against the wall as if looking for something.

“It’s beautiful,” Beau answered honestly, carefully removing some more of the wallpaper and promptly revealing- “Wait, is that a dick?” Jester laughed, booping the phallic looking mushroom with her finger.

“I hid so many dicks on there,” she said, “I worked on it whenever mama would have people over, and I was sent up here. This was basically my kingdom, you know?”

Beau knew Jester had lived here for a while with her mother, who was some sort of courtesan wealthy enough to have purchased a place for herself. Jester had dropped hints here and there about her childhood in Nicodranas before moving here after an incident got her and her mother banished from the city. Beau knew Jester had been a lonely child, that she loved her mother, and that she had somehow befriended an ancient God named the Traveller that sometimes still visited her. Beau was a little skeptical about that last part. Jester sighed, looking at the wall.

“I was almost done with it too,” she continued, “Arty was helping me with the last bits, all the way up there.” She pointed up to the ridge of the roof. “It was so cool, Beau! He made me fly, and I was painting such beautiful clouds. I was going to include a red dragon and her blue baby up there, you know, for mama and me. They were gonna fly to Nicodranas, which I put all the way over there.” She pointed at the wall underneath the window, and Beau made her way over to remove the wallpaper there too. Sure enough, it revealed a beautiful coastline and medieval looking city underneath a starry night sky.

“Jester, holy shit, you’re incredible,” Beau said, turning to look at her friend who shrugged a little bit and hopped over to study the unicorn closer.

“Oh, it was just something to do,” she said, “You know, to pass the time. It was fun!” She motioned for Beau to remove more of the wallpaper, so the unicorn was fully revealed. “I had some magic paints mama bought me,” Jester said, “I used it for all the dicks, and also this unicorn, but I think the magic’s worn off on her.” Beau reached out to touch the unicorn, and it gave no response. Jester sighed sadly and sat down on the floor. Beau sat down next to her, taking in the imagery before her.

“Why didn’t you finish it?” Beau asked, although she felt like she knew the answer. Jester looked back up at the ceiling again, a slight frown on her lip.

“I fell from all the way up there,” she said, “Arty was making me fly so I could start on the dragons, but he couldn’t be seen here since he was sort of banned from this plane of existence for being a false god, technically. It was all going really well, but then mama came looking for me and came in and startled us, and I fell right there.” She pointed at a spot just a few feet in front of them, and Beau shook her head to get rid of the image of Jester’s broken body lying lifeless in front of her.

“I don’t think I died right away,” Jester mused, as if talking about her death was no big deal. “I remember my mama holding me, and Arty standing over her and apologising a thousand times, but then he had to go because this creepy guy with a mask and a bunch of ravens showed up and said I should come with him. I told him I couldn’t, and so I stayed with my mama, until she left.”

Jester looked down at her bare feet when she mentioned her mom. “I miss her lots, Beau,” she quietly said, “And I don’t think the others really understand it. Veth, maybe, but her son is still alive. My mama isn’t, and I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.”

“I haven’t seen my mom since my wedding,” Beau said, frowning slightly.

“Doesn’t that make you sad?”

“I don’t really know.” Beau shrugged and leaned back on her elbows. “We were never as close as you and your mom were,” she said, “I think she loves me, but she never did anything to stop my dad from being a dick. I’ve never really forgiven her for not standing up to him or for choosing his side in everything. She sent me a letter just now.” She nodded towards the windowsill, expecting Jester to leap up and investigate but to her surprise the Tiefling remained and just looked at Beau curiously.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Jester asked, “There’s no harm in opening letters, at worst it’s bad news and then you can just burn it dramatically like in the films. But if you don’t open it, you won’t know. Plus, she’s your mama, and you only have one of those. Or two, if you and Yasha ever, you know.” Jester wiggled her eyebrows, and Beau shook her head. She was not going to have that conversation with Jester before having it with Yasha.

“We’ll see,” she just said, although she didn’t hate the idea of having a little tyke running around the house, chasing a dog, being lifted up by Yasha for a piggy back ride, crawling into bed between them during a thunder storm… She blinked herself out of the daydream and cleared her throat.

“Hey Jes, do you want all of the wallpaper removed?” Beau asked, “I wouldn’t mind looking at your mural whenever I’m up here. Won’t tell the others if you don’t want to.” Jester considered that for a moment and nodded.

“Okay,” she agreed, “I think I’d like that, and you can show Yasha.” Beau could understand the implication there, that Jester didn’t wish to share her attic with the others just yet. It made sense, in a way. The other ghosts who died in a room in the house were also very protective of ‘their’ rooms.

“Deal,” Beau said, “I’ll start on it tomorrow- I... I’ve got some things to do.” She got back to her feet and held out a hand to Jester to help her up. Jester pretended to take it as she floated back to her own feet.

“Thank you, Beau,” she said, “For all this. You’re a good friend.”

“So are you, Jessie,” Beau said, just as a familiar soft spoken voice called out to Jester just outside the door. Jester hesitated, but Beau shooed her. “Go on, your man’s looking for you,” she teased and laughed when Jester stuck out her tongue at her before walking through the wall. Beau could hear Fjord’s frightened yelp from where she was standing, and she shook her head. For all that they drove her to the brink sometimes, she did genuinely care for the ghosts.

She made her way back to the window, where the letter innocently remained. Beau picked it up, turning it over in her hands for a moment, before shoving it into her pocket. She’d read it tonight, she promised herself, repeating Jester’s words to herself. No harm in opening a letter. First, she had to talk to Yasha, though.

With a final nod to Jester's pink unicorn, Beau left the attic, feeling lighter than she had in days.

In the end, it was peaceful. Yasha found him in the library, sat in the chair, face angled towards the soft rays of the early morning sun. His book laid open on his lap, still on page 274. They knew it had been coming, but that did not make it any easier. Yasha choked back a sob and knelt next to the old wizard she had come to consider a dear friend over the year or so he had lived with them. She uttered a quiet prayer and went to find Beau.

She and Essek had spent a lot of time together the past few months. She liked his quiet company, and he understood her past. He had confided in her he couldn’t wait to see Caleb again, and she had told him she wanted to understand what Beau saw. Essek’s solution had been to work out a complicated spell that would let her see into the ethereal plane, whatever that was. His attempts to involve her in the creation of the spell were endearing, but Yasha knew she was more of a hindrance than a help when it came to magic. Still, she treasured those evenings sat together in silence, working, or simply talking about their days.

It was hard to believe he was gone now.

Beau bolted from their bed when Yasha woke her, looking wildly around the room before honing on on Yasha. She placed her hands on Yasha’s cheeks, bringing their foreheads together.

“Hey, you okay?” Beau quietly asked, wiping a tear away from the corner of Yasha’s eye. She seemed like she barely hanging on herself, but Yasha presumed she was running on adrenaline.

“I’ll be okay,” Yasha said, “He’s… He looks peaceful, at least.” Beau pressed a tender kiss to Yasha’s lips and straightened up.

“We should call people,” she said, “He wanted to be buried with Caleb, so I guess we’ve got to get him to Blumenthal.”

Yasha took her hand when they walked to the library together in silence. If they were clinging to each other a little more than usual, neither of them commented on it. In front of the library door, Beau hesitated. Yasha already had her hand on the doorknob but halted when Beau took a small step backwards.

“What’s- is it the ghosts?” she asked, looking around and wishing once more Essek had been able to finish that spell in time. Beau shook her head.

“No, they’re… I bet they’re in there,” she nodded towards the library. “I’m just nervous about what I’ll find in there,” she admitted, “You know. If they’re still here.” The or not went unspoken, but Yasha understood all the same.

“Well, I think whether or not they’re still there, they’re still our friends,” Yasha said after a moment of thought, gathering Beau’s hands in hers and squeezing gently. “And if they have left, they are together.” There was some comfort in that, Yasha thought, even if she too felt an uneasy turmoil at going back into that room.

Beau wiped at her eye and straightened her back. She could do this. She, Essek, and Caleb had talked for hours on end about this moment and what it could mean. And yet, all the preparation felt like it wasn’t enough. She held onto Yasha’s arm when she pushed the door open. Her eyes were immediately drawn to where Essek’s body was, bathed in the sunlight he claimed to love so much despite his sensitivity to it. He did look peaceful, she thought, if it weren’t for the ghosts huddled around the room doing their best to not look at where Caleb was knelt next to Essek, accompanied by an anxious Frumpkin.

For a moment, Beau feared the worst, but then Essek’s ghostly form sat up. It was odd to witness a ghost leaving his corporeal body, but not as scary as Beau had imagined it would be. In fact, it looked almost strikingly normal. Essek’s ghost looked the same as he had by life, the same aged blonde hair, the crows feet still lingered around the corners of his slightly milky violet eyes. He even still wore the comfortable deep purple kaftan embroidered with silver stars that Beau had bought for him early on. She nudged Yasha, relief washing over her. He was still here. Yasha tightened her grip on Beau’s arm, feeling oddly protective over her wife in this moment.

Essek looked around the room, confused for a minute, before honing on Caleb’s spectral form next to him.

“Ah, hello, love,” Essek said, reaching out to tilt Caleb’s chin up. “It is good to see you again.”

Beau couldn’t see Caleb’s expression, but she heard the crack in his voice when he spoke.

“Who is the old man now?” Caleb said, and pushed a strand of Essek’s hair out of his eyes before he pulled him down to press their foreheads together. Beau averted her eyes, feeling as if she was intruding on an intimate moment.

“Is it good?” Yasha whispered, and Beau nodded. She wrapped her arm around Yasha’s waist, her head against her shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s good,” she said quietly with a glance to the other ghosts, “Or, I hope it’s good.” Some of the others had been slow to come to terms with Essek potentially joining them, Veth and Molly in particular. She watched the halfling approach the pair of reunited lovers. She stood there for a moment, unobserved, before she cleared her throat and the pair startled apart.

“Hello, Essek,” she said as if she was reciting something. It was almost like she was nervous. “We wanted to officially welcome you to the house,” she continued, “My name is Veth, and these are Fjord, Jester, Mollymauk, Caduceus, and, well, you know Caleb, Beau, and Yasha.” She squared her shoulders and looked up at Essek, who seemed vaguely amused by the scene. She held out a hand and tugged him closer with surprising strength when he took it.

“Caleb’s my boy, and if you hurt him, I’ll personally banish you,” Veth hissed in Essek’s ear, and if ghosts could flush, Beau was sure Essek would have.

“I assure you, there will be no need for such a thing,” he said, glancing between Veth and Caleb. Veth immediately smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good! Now come meet everyone,” she cheerfully said, and the ghosts finally stopped pretending to examine the wallpaper or books they couldn’t read to descend on Caleb and Essek. Jester immediately flung herself at Essek, talking a million miles an hour about how glad she was they could finally really meet and how happy she was that he and Caleb were back together again. Beau snorted at Essek’s expression- he truly resembled a deer caught in headlights when confronted with the ball of energy that was Jester Lavorre. All through the introductions and subsequent interrogation, Caleb never once let go of Essek, continuously touching him: holding his hand, a hand on the small of his back, an arm around his waist. Frumpkin circled around Essek’s legs until the wizard bent over to pick him up. The cat purred and settled against his chest, bumping his head against Essek’s cheek.

“I have missed you too, little fey prince,” Essek quietly said and scratched Frumpkin under his chin. He looked up at where Beau and Yasha stood a little distance away. He whispered something to Caleb before standing up from the chair he passed in and took a few steps towards them. He frowned, looking down at his feet, and made a gesture he had made daily for the past 250 years or so. Much to his delight, it came to him as natural as it had come to him in life, and his feet slowly but surely lifted a few inches of the ground.

“Beauregard, Yasha,” he greeted them, “I do apologise for leaving without saying goodbye. But if it is alright with you both I think I will stick around for a while.” Beau couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, and she made a valiant attempt to punch him in the shoulder.  

“You better,” she said, “Didn’t you hear Veth? You’re one of us, dude.” Essek rubbed at his shoulder as if he could feel her punch. Frumpkin clambered from his arms, dropping to the floor with a heavy thud and giving Beau the stink eye before trotting back to Caleb.

“It is nice to have a family again,” Essek agreed, “Thank you, both of you.” Beau smiled, quickly relaying the message to Yasha. Yasha smiled and tore her gaze away from Essek’s body to the empty space in front of them.

“You always have a place here,” she said, “All of you- um. I know I cannot see you, but I know how much you mean to Beau, and to me. We’ll meet one day, I’m sure, but I- You can all stick around. This house is your home. And, um, Caleb?” Caleb looked up, and in an instant was at Essek’s side.

“I am glad you have him, and I hope he will bring you all the happiness you’ve not allowed yourself for so long,” Yasha said, “It- I… I presume he does, I can’t smell, you know, the smoke, but it’s- he loves you, and I’m not making a lot of sense, but that’s special.” She looked down at Beau who was looking at her with an open and unguarded expression that made Yasha’s insides flip. She didn’t hear Caleb’s reply, of course, but she did see Beau’s beautiful smile, the one reserved only for her.

“Yeah,” Beau said, presumably in response to Caleb, “Yeah, she’s pretty special.”