Chapter Four: Shivers "Here, bon." Watari offers me a new towel. He doesn't look weary from the long journey or from working round the clock. As a matter of fact, he looks almost excited. He leans his hands on his knees and looks at Tsuzuki. "Still no change in his condition, I take it." I shake my head and place the towel on Tsuzuki's brow. He's been like this, *melting*, ever since I woke up. I would say he's burning with fever, but he still feels cold. Watari walks over to the desk and opens his laptop. "Actually I kind of suspected it." I get up and walk over to peek at the screen. "Did you find out something about that ghost?" Watari's glasses are reflecting the screen as he clicks open a file. "The Western Department is still struggling with the case, but so far, no process. The police are at Harvey's house, which hampers our investigation." He gives me a quick look and one lock of blond hair falls over his eyes. "Bon, you have to understand that though the Western Department is pretty powerful, and they probably could end this matter with a mere snap of a finger, they can't risk bringing the soul back to where it belongs, because as far as we know right now, it could take Tsuzuki with it." "But how can a Western ghost capture a shinigami's soul?" I demand. I'm being unfair, I know, because Watari doesn't know it any better than I do. But he always has theories. This time is no exception. He starts frantically typing something. "Well, there is the possibility that it was a new type of yuurei, a Westernized yuurei, if you catch my meaning. Its deep love and hatred for a foreigner altered its shape and powers. Now, what might result from that kind of union ---" An old picture of a pale nun fills the screen. Watari taps the side of the keyboard. "Maybe it gave the ghost the ability to affect Japanese immortals." "I know that picture," I tonelessly tell him and turn my back, "it's the ghost of the Borley Mansion." "Borley Oratory," Watari corrects me. "It haunted the place for decades before its bones were found and finally put to rest. I wish we were facing something as simple as that here. Harvey's wife doesn't seek salvation or rest. It seeks revenge." "I don't think so," I say, thinking aloud, the thought just popping into my head. "I think it's gone mad from its hatred. It doesn't know what it is doing." "Like a yuurei, right? But something holds it." I feel Watari's eyes on me as he speaks. "The letters." I spin around. "So what are we doing here? Shouldn't we be searching for them? What the hell did Tatsumi-san mean by 'staying put and waiting for more orders'?!" I fling my fist to the wall and grit my teeth. "No one knows what that thing is, how could they give us any further instructions?" I growl, my both hands clenched into shaking fists. "Bon!" Watari gets up and hurries to me. I shake off his hands when he attempts to take a hold of my shoulders. "Bon, calm down. We will find a way, but we have to investigate these things carefully before acting. You wouldn't risk Tsuzuki's soul, would you?" I sniffle and hastily wipe my nose to my sleeve, then realise that my cheeks are wet. I'm crying, and I hate it. Watari puts his hand over my head and gives my hair a gentle tussle. "Tatsumi knows what he's doing. He called for the needed reinforcements and is currently investigating the meaning and placement of the letters. Our job right now is to guard Tsuzuki and take care of him." "Yes, I *know*!" My voice sounds irritated and childish to my own ears. I hiccup and continue, hoping I won't sound as teary. "But there is no point in just watching and... not being able to do anything." I'm of no use to Tsuzuki this way. Watari just sighs and runs a hand through his hair. We stand there in silence, Watari trying to find something to say and me roughly wiping the tears from my eyes and cheeks, trying to get a hold of myself. I don't usually lose my patience like this. I sit down on the floor next to Tsuzuki's futon and, almost against my will, look at him. His eyes have opened again, the warm purple colour paled into a dull shade of navy blue. I thought he was getting better. I thought he would wake up, but no, it's worse now than before. He no longer fights. He just lies there. I don't feel anything but cold and sadness radiating from him when I reach out my hand to close those unseeing eyes that I don't know. They will open again, I know, but then I'll just close the lids again. Tsuzuki's moving slightly, which is a surprise, even though he's just shivering a little. "Do shinigami suffer from hypothermia?" I wonder aloud, because he looks so cold right now, the shivering somehow making it even more poignant. It's a sharp reminder that he's still alive, still in a mortal body, and the danger he's in seems all the more severe. "It is not common," Watari replies, and I hear him typing something on his laptop. "But we must be ready to expect anything right now." That does it then. I can't bear to see Tsuzuki like this, even his eye colour turning icy. I tuck the covers under his chin and then fetch mine, too, and throw them over my shivering partner. "I'm going to get some tea," I mutter as I open the door. "We have to get him to drink something." Watari murmurs something back; I bet he didn't even hear me. When he's investigating something, it's no hope trying to talk to him. He'll return back to us once he's found something, which in this case might not be much. Why do I get the feeling that we're all just sitting around, pondering endlessly over things while nothing really gets done? I rub my eyes and bite my lip, hard. Watari makes me so mad right now. When he heard that Tsuzuki is down and in need of help, he came over and started working, like this was a normal case, and what's worse, he seems *happy* to do it. Sure, Tsuzuki is turning a new shade of blue each minute and he's got his soul taken by a ghost of some kind which no one seems to know anything about, but hey, it's something new. Something *fucking* interesting to poke at and ponder over while the last signs of any kind of life flee him. That's not what I'm going to do. I'm going to bring my partner back, and I can't do that by standing around. I fill the cup with steaming tea and return to the room, my pace faster and my back straightened. I will do something, I have to. Watari is still working on his computer when I close the door behind me. I kneel down at Tsuzuki's side and put the cup on the floor for a while. I have to raise him up some, so I snake my arms around his chest and pull him up, then settle a few pillows behind his back to support him. His eyes have closed, but I know it won't last. He feels so cold I swear I can see frost in his hair when I tilt his head up slightly to make him swallow the tea. I've never done this before, and feel kind of awkward when I bring the cup to his lips, but I seem to do something right because I manage to get him to swallow the liquid. My hands are shaking, tired for having to reach so far and I scoot closer to make myself more comfortable, resting my other leg on the outside of Tsuzuki's thigh and the other between his legs. This is better. Sip by sip, the tea disappears between his lips. I watch him closely to see any kind of reaction. I swear I can see some colour returning to his face, to his lips particularly, and that gives me some satisfaction and relief, at least. I'm so happily surprised that the last drop of tea escapes down Tsuzuki's chin when my hand sways a little. Muttering a weak curse, I put the cup back on the floor and my other hand flies to catch the drop, in vain. I watch it disappear down his collar, leaving a wet trace on the pale skin. I stare at that spot of wet skin and all of a sudden, find myself thinking strange thoughts. Thoughts that I hardly recognize as my own, because I would – I would never think – I would never admit to think… I swallow and hastily wipe the liquid off with my sleeve. Did I just - want to *lick* it off my partner's neck? That's just – what am I thinking, at a time like this? This is Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki means *a partner*, Tsuzuki means work. Stuff like that is for some weird midnight fantasies. Not for now, when I have to make sure some ghost is not going to steal Tsuzuki's soul. Still… It's not like I can deny it to myself. I mean, sometimes… thinking about him. In an obscure way, you know, the way fantasies are… It's not really him and it's not really me in those, it's just my imagination getting out of hand. It's kind of normal, isn't it? Compared to everything else in my life, in my death, it is the most normal thing I can think of. Not like I'm gay or anything just because I sometimes think that Tsuzuki's, well, sweet. More than that, of course, but… I'm never going to tell. Mostly because it's kind of hazy to me, too. I wouldn't be able to give him a straight answer even if he asked, even if I wanted him to know. I just… wouldn't. Maybe I'm scared. "I'm scared," I say aloud, my voice low and raw, and know that it's true. Tsuzuki looks like he's listening, silently. I grab his hand in mine, and awkwardly try to gather him closer. Finally I push off the pillows that I put to hold him up and replace them with my own body, and he's lying in my arms, and I want him there. "You hear that, Tsuzuki?" I mumble, catching his hand before it falls from his lap to the floor. "You've made me scared." I hold his hand, tightly, almost forcefully - *flow, blood, dammit, flow through those veins and warm him up* - and finally feel satisfied. This is all that matters. I don't need much else if I have him. This is all I can give, and finally it feels it's enough. "…on?" What was that? It takes two attempts to drag my eyelids up enough to see Watari looking at me. "Bon?" He smiles, cheerfully, and puts his hands on his hips. His owl is sitting on his shoulder, one eye closed but the other peering at me. "Wakie wakie." I blink my eyes, feeling drowsy. My feet are completely dead, I don't think I can move my toes for an hour or so. I must have fallen asleep while sitting. And holding Tsuzuki on my lap. I hastily start shoving him back on the mattress and myself off it, feeling my face grow hot. It doesn't help that Watari is grinning like a pimp, dammit! I stumble on my feet, and Watari offers me his hand. "I hate to disturb you, you looked so comfortable there," he smiles, actually in a pretty nice, friendly manner. "And I see Tsuzuki is gaining some colour on his face, too." I arrange the pillows back under Tsuzuki's head, and it's true, he looks very much like himself. No longer pale, and although his eyes are shut, I bet they're not the icy colour anymore. I wish I could touch him and find out if he feels cold, but I can't do something like that with Watari peering down at me. So I straighten up and stretch my arms a little. "Any news, then?" "Some." Watari seems a bit tired. I wonder how long I slept, and look past Watari at the window. The curtains are drawn, and there is not a ray of light peeking through them. It must be nightfall – I got a good four hours of sleep. "Anything on the letters?" I ask. "Tatsumi's still working on that. He and some other people are at Harvey's mother-in-law's house right now. He said that they found one of the letters." Watari checks his watch, then pets his owl absentmindedly. It seems to have fallen asleep. "Now, I had to wake you up before people from the Western Department arrive. I got a message from them saying they're heading over here to check on Tsuzuki. I've been brainstorming with them all night; I think they have a pretty good idea of what we're facing here. Of course, not far from the idea I was developing myself." "Hold on, all night? What time is it?" I ask, baffled. Watari stretches his hands, and the owl on his shoulder moves its feet a little, not opening its eyes. "It's seventeen past five in the morning and my fingers hurt from typing! But an emergency is an emergency, right, bon?" And he winks at me. I feel like hugging him. He pats my shoulder and starts pushing me out of the door. "You'd better go clean up some. You definitely look like you've slept sitting up. We don't want to give the Western Department a wrong impression of us, do we?" "How could we? You definitely look like you've spent the night working, as usual." Watari laughs, and I go over to the small bathroom and wash my face. When I look up at the mirror, I see a puzzled-looking boy with wide eyes and sand-coloured locks of hair hanging over them, dripping wet. I look as if I've cried myself to sleep. I humph and lean down to splash some more ice cold water on my face. *** Chapter Five: Awakening I see movement long before I manage to open my eyes. The shadows flicker past me, dark spots in the yellow light that surrounds me. I can see them through my eyelids, and the movements become so hasty that I start forcing my eyes to open. There is a panicky feel to the air; something is not right. Maybe I'm needed? The voices return to me, the voices of the real world. I've never been so glad to hear them. I take a moment to just stare ahead (at a window with curtains drawn over it) and thanking all the higher powers there are that I'm back from my dreams. I guess usually in this state people feel they're still partly in the dream; they don't realise whether some memory is real or from a dream they just saw. Maybe they even try to grasp the fleeing memory of the dream; all too often, dreams are completely lost once the dreamer sits up and decides that he's wholly awake. I wish that would be true for me, too. But I know exactly what my dream was about, and it's wishful thinking that I'm going to forget it once I find the strength to sit up. I know these kinds of dreams. I've had a similar one very often, ever since I died. I know these dreams are not *real*, but they are always about real events; they tell me things that I know are true. The cruelest kind of dreams: the merciless ones that leave nothing hidden. I slowly start wondering about my current state. Where am I, and how did I come to be here? The last thing I can remember before the dreams is the scornful stare of a dead woman, the stare that says 'I want you dead'. In a fashion, the moment continues. I still feel the same irrational fear, although it's now dulled down into a continuous feeling of unease and helplessness. And cold. Someone runs past, I can make out the long limbs and blond hair but everything else is too quick for me to grasp. Watari? Yes, it's his voice that shouts, "Watch out, bon! I'll let you know as soon as I can!" And then, more figures, people I don't recognize, giving one-word comments to each other and then hurrying to the same direction as Watari. A door slams shut. It becomes almost completely silent. My whole body feels heavy; I attempt to move my fingers and find that they move easily, but shiver. I think I could sit up, even stand up, if I didn't feel this cold. Part of the cold is just the feeling of plain misery that gnaws at me. I feel forlorn, forsaken, outcast. There is no escape; were I to close my eyes again and fall asleep, I'd most likely return to the dream, which would mean worse misery than the one that holds me now. Desperate for comfort but finding none, I close my eyes again and watch parts of the dream flicker past my mind's eye. "Tsuzuki? Tsuzuki! Are you awake? Don't close your eyes!" I wince as someone shouts the words almost straight into my ear, and then a shadow falls over my face. Someone is close, looking at me. And I know who it is. A piece of a dream: beautiful green eyes, filled with contempt and accusation. I don't want to see those eyes, that would break me, I know. "Tsuzuki!" And now I'm shaken, literally, he's grabbed my shoulders and is *shaking* the real world back to my senses… Oh… Hisoka. I give in. I always do when it's you, did you ever notice that? His eyes immediately meet mine. He's staring at my face with a look of horror and unbelief that slowly turns into something close to relief. "Don't do that again," he hisses, seeming out of breath for no reason. "Scare me like that again and I'll – I'll –" "Hisoka," I manage to whisper, and then swallow. There's a cold lump in my throat, and what would I say to him? Pieces of the dream haunt me as I look at him. Think back. Recollect. "What happened? Where is she?" Hisoka looks away for a moment. "The ghost's at its mother-in-law's house. After one of the letters, I suppose. The Western Apartment people were just here, and they were really upset and wanted Watari to go help them with the ghost, something about their powers not seeming to get through." He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes irritatedly. "And just when Watari had finished saying that he thinks we can leave the rest to the very very capable Western Apartment. Figures..." I look around the room – for it is a room, a smallish motel room by the looks of it. It is finally all starting to make sense – so what is this nagging feeling that something still needs to be put to right? "I think she wanted to kill me," rolls off my tongue. Hisoka glances at me and humphs. "Isn't that obvious? You think she tried to strangle you and freeze you to death because she liked you?" That was harsh. Even for Hisoka. I think he's on the edge. "But she was strangled herself. So it makes sense, doesn't it?" "Strangled?" I got Hisoka's full attention with that comment. "What are you talking about? Didn't you read the file Tatsumi-san gave us?" Oops. I always knew skipping over boring medical details would come back to haunt me. "She committed suicide. By taking a lethal dose of painkillers." That makes sense. The trail of vomit on her chin... her body was trying to get rid of the pills, or whatever the medical term for that is. People don't usually start vomiting when they're being strangled, now do they? What was I thinking, where did I get that idea, anyway? It feels like someone put it in my head when I wasn't looking. Wait. Wait a second here. That could be the case. "Hisoka," I voice the thought, "I don't think it was my idea that Mrs. Harvey was strangled. I think it was her own. She told me how she was killed." "What are you talking about?" Hisoka snaps. "If Harvey had killed her wife we would have known it. It would've been in the files. Besides, her body showed signs of poisoning, and there was an empty container on the floor of the bedroom where she was found. So what exactly points to strangling?" I think back, although I'd really rather not. "She was... making these noises in her throat. Gagging noises... I don't know. Maybe it was just in my dream. It was one of worst dreams I've ever had." I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. It doesn't make me feel relaxed at all. There is a moment of silence. "Can you sit up?" Hisoka then asks, his voice almost gentle. I nod. "I think I could, but... I'd rather... rather not." Hisoka seems to have made up his mind, however. He certainly sounds like it. "Come on, try it. Here." He grabs my shoulders, and then my hands, helping me up. I tense each time he touches me, as though I haven't been touched for ages. I don't feel particularly weak, not really. Just vulnerable, and cold. Obediently, I scramble up into a sitting position and lean against the wall. I wonder why Hisoka insists on this, though. "Why do you insist? To find a better angle to hit me for making everybody worried?" The humor refuses to return to my voice, and I sound plain miserable, at least to my own ears. Hisoka looks back at me, and for a second his emerald eyes meet mine before he looks away again, in that self-conscious way he acts most of the time. "No, you idiot," he says, in a small voice, and throws his arms around my neck. It is rare that Hisoka does something like this, and I always treasure those moments. Even now, when there's a chill that reaches my heart of hearts, his simple, awkward hug creates enough warmth to make me feel alive again. There have not been many embraces this sincere in my life. Hisoka might have tied himself into knots to keep every trace of his emotions inside of him; tight, tight knots that I can't imagine are good for anyone, but sometimes... Just sometimes, he forgets himself. And I'm happy that he does, because forgetting is sometimes the only way to deal with the past. I lift up my arms and wrap them around his lithe form, to hold him there, knowing that he is going to let go soon, flushed and self-conscious. No, Hisoka. I need you now, gods, do I need you, to keep the cold at bay. He shifts uncomfortably upon finding that he has to use force to free himself from the embrace that he initiated. Normally, I would let go immediately, make a joke, tease him a bit. Any sign of discomfort from Hisoka and I always do my best to put him to ease. It's the big brother role I have been trying to play as best as I've been able, though not always successfully. The boy's too damn smart, for one thing, too powerful and too professional. And I've come to love him too damn much. Which is why, oddly enough, I occasionally feel a little distance is good. For our work, anyway, and for Hisoka. I believe, as I have believed from the start, that what he needs, what he's never really had, is a friend. Hisoka sighs a bit and shuffles his hands nervously behind my neck. I can sense the tension in the air. He's waiting for me to pull the usual joke so that he can tell me I'm an idiot and everything can go back to normal. And there is a part of me that points out, mimicking Tatsumi's speech pattern, that I'm dangerously close to going over the 'big brother' line. The vulnerability becomes my weakness now, allowing Hisoka's closeness to affect me wholly and deeply, making it impossible to tuck my feelings into my sleeve and smile that it's all good. It is not. He's not close enough. The sudden *need* to have him close confuses me, but it doesn't make it any less urgent. He's leaning forward, arms around my neck, sitting on his knees beside me. A friendly hug; nothing to impose a closeness too intimate. *No.* On sudden impulse, I tighten my hold on him and pull him closer, so that he has to scoot closer or fall down on my lap. At first, he is about to do the latter, letting out a surprised noise. "Tsuzuki," he gasps, and starts removing his arms from around my neck, "what are you *doing*?" His voice holds more than a little bit of discomfort, mixed in with innocent puzzlement that I so often see underneath all the cynicism. For just a split second, I wonder exactly the same thing – what am I doing here? Why am I doing this to him, making him uncomfortable? – and then I know the answer. I have to. He's asking for it. "Shhh," I say, trying to gather him again in my arms as he tries to decide whether to fight or do something else. "Just a moment. Please." "But I'm... you're..." He's blushing, I can hear it from his voice, his words are dripping with embarrassment. Then I see it with my own eyes as he looks up at my face. "Tsuzuki, let go of me, this is really –" And then he suddenly freezes and stares at me in unveiled horror. "What?" I murmur, the hunger eating at my insides. I'm getting tired of this tag game. Why must he be so stubborn? As I begin to slide my hand under the boy's shirt, he gasps out a few words. I don't really care. "Tsuzuki, your eyes, they're ice blue again... Gods, you're not Tsuzuki! Who *are* you?" *** Chapter Six: Breakthrough I realise I'm holding my breath. I've seen those eyes stare unseeing into space, but now they are fixed straight at me, and there is hatred in its purest form behind that blatantly dead cold stare. There is no way Tsuzuki would ever look at anyone - at *me* - like that. But then, who...? Right after uttering the question aloud, it's suddenly all too clear what the answer is: the features are all Tsuzuki's, but I've seen Mrs. Harvey's eyes once and the memory is still vivid in my mind. After staring numbly for a second in surprise and fear, my danger sense kicks in. I gasp sharply at the first feel of cold fingers on my back. This is bad, I have no idea in hell what she is capable of. She's way too close, I need to get away, she's touching me with Tsuzuki's fingers and I can't take it! "Get away from me!" I think aloud, my voice rising to a panicked shriek. I focus on creating shields, barriers, anything that'll keep my mind safe from hers. It gets harder when I have to struggle to push her - his - hands away. Tsuzuki is bigger than me, and the ghost uses it to her advantage. I'm in a bit of a compromising position at the moment, unable to get on my feet and dangerously close to losing my balance altogether. I try to leap to the side, to slip away from the grasping hands, but the ghost grabs my shirt with a force that I didn't expect at all. Tsuzuki's not that strong, unless... Unless she's using his powers. I'm thrown down, my head meeting the floor with a nasty thump. My legs are still on the mattress, and as the ghost that looks like Tsuzuki starts advancing, I try to kick her away, in vain. I almost see stars from the forceful strike to my head, and as I struggle to get the ghost off me, I lose concentration. The fingers travel across my chest, painting lines of freezing pain. I try to scramble backwards, to get away, but then the hands grab me in a firmer hold, holding me in place. As I continue to struggle, I hear an angry growl and the ghost tightens her hold, nails burying in my skin. I cry out in pain, and before I manage to block it away, the feelings come crashing in, like a rain of ice. I feel the loneliness, the endless checking on everything in the house to pass time, talking to the sofa cushions because no one else would listen. I feel the helplessness, as someone throws me down on the bed and accuses me of things I have never even thought of doing. I feel the small, strong fingers tighten around my throat, long, painted nails burying into my neck. Then I feel, like a sudden lash of a whip, a hate so deep it is almost sorrow, the maddening hate and scorn that screams - "Everything! I gave you *everything*, I cut myself into pieces and fed them to you with my own hands!" I swear I can actually hear someone screaming, out loud. Where did that voice come from? It sounds familiar somehow. A sudden feeling of physical pain brings me back to real world - intense, tangible pain, located on my shoulders. I'm pinned down, almost literally. The ghost is keeping me in my place, forcing me down on the floor so hard that I can hear the floor slowly start to give away under me. It takes all my power to hold the ghost's emotions back, to keep them from crushing me now that she's practically forcing them on me. I barely have strength to notice that I'm shivering for the effort, that my shirt is pushed all the way up to my throat and the cold makes goose bumps rise on my skin. My upper body twists, uncontrollably, as the nails dig in deep and start again creeping towards my throat, the ghost now sure that I have no energy left to fight them. Then, unexpectedly, the voice returns. "I never thought a bad thought of you, I loved you more than anything! It was not enough, I was not enough - you selfish bastard!" The voice, now weakened from the previous scream to no more than a hateful hiss, belongs to Tsuzuki. Through the pain my rational thought whispers, 'It's Mrs. Harvey talking to her husband, it's she hating her husband', but I can see Tsuzuki's lips moving, forming the words, and they hurt just as much as if they were meant for me. Why wouldn't they be? I take him for granted, the one person who cares for me - No. It's not Tsuzuki. Collect yourself, Hisoka, you're a shinigami, you know weird shit. Concentrate. All you need is a little power, and you can get this monster off of you before she destroys every chance you have. Just as an idea dawns in my mind, the hands start squeezing my own shirt tighter around my throat. I act immediately, not pausing to ponder if it's going to work, because it's too late for that. I open my eyes, and reach forward, grabbing a hold of Tsuzuki's hair, and at the same time, reach inside of him, for his power, merging it with mine. I have done this before, when he was near death. This isn't much different. Still, the sudden rush takes me by surprise. The thing that looks like Tsuzuki lets out an unworldly howl, and throws me back down on my back, forcefully. No matter. I have the power I need. When the hands start returning to my throat, I push them off, as simple as anything, and only the loud crashing sound as something hits the opposite wall makes me realise just exactly how much power I released. I sit up, panting, feeling empty and faintly sick. I barely have time to gasp before I realise that making a visible crack on the wall didn't stop the ghost and it's going to counterattack - And then, seemingly out of nowhere, comes a splash of cold water. I hear a deep voice shout something in a language I don't recognize. A shriek that has nothing to do with Tsuzuki's real voice escapes the thing that looks like him, and it falls on the ground, head landing at my feet. I turn around, shivering, spooked. There is a man standing at the door, a black-bearded, tall man who is wearing a leather jacket one size too small and dusty black trousers. He looks European, and around his 40s. His arm is still outstretched, and in his hand is a small bottle. There is a grim expression on his face. "I knew saving a little holy water for later would come in handy. Looks like the dead bastards are all over the place," he then says, in precise, although accented Japanese. He raises an eyebrow and whistles, then pockets the empty- looking bottle. With two steps, he's by my side, and crouches down to look at Tsuzuki, then flashes a quick look back at me. "Everything all right there, lad? You ought to be glad you're still breathing. These are evil goddamn things we're up against. Holy mother of Christ, how many are there, anyway? Here." He reaches out to help me pull the shirt back down, but I dodge and move away from both him and what looks like Tsuzuki. I can't stand anybody's touch right now, I've never liked it but now I really can't bear it. The sound of quick footsteps echoes from the hall, and then Watari bursts in the room, the owl flying after him. "Bon! Bon, gods, bon, are you all right? How is Tsuzuki?" Watari sits down next to the huge man with a black beard, who is currently straightening Tsuzuki's limp body. "He looks like he's going to be well enough," the man says, and I'm not sure whether he's talking about me or Tsuzuki. My fingers shake as I quickly pull the shirt down to cover me, wishing I had something bigger I could just wrap into and disappear for a while. Watari looks at me, cheeks flushed from running, and runs a hand through his hair. "*What* happened here? What's wrong with Tsuzuki?" "It was Harvey's wife." My voice sounds raspy and weak to my ears. Then, because I just can't hold it back, I pour out all I know. "Watari-san, you have to listen, I tried to block it but I couldn't, I saw her thoughts and Tsuzuki was right, she was murdered, I don't know how or why but I could feel it!" "Shh, calm down, bon, calm down. It's okay now." Watari pats my thigh, and turns to the man who is still examining Tsuzuki with grim interest. "This gentleman is Allendorf-sensei, the ghost expert from the Western Department. He knows what to do." "Well, first of all, we need to get this young man here up on his feet," the bearded man says, "and that's just Allendorf, by the way, I'm only a priest when there's need for one." "Kurosaki Hisoka, Summoning Department," I say in a small voice, and sniffle. "Charmed," Allendorf says, not looking up. He's started to sprinkle something around Tsuzuki. Sand? "Bon - did you say Mrs. Harvey was *here*?" Watari looks confused, and more than a little worried. "Not only *was* she here," Allendorf says with a snort, "she apparently still is. Whatever you did to this young man here certainly wasn't a banishing spell, lad - Kurosaki, was it? Grim name for a young tyke like you - but it knocked him around good and proper. Holy water should keep the soul of the late Mrs. Harvey stunned for another ten minutes or so, so let's see if we can kick her out before she realises what we're doing." I feel cold. I grasp Tsuzuki's abandoned cover and pull it over me, clutching it tightly. Watari's gaze flickers from Tsuzuki to Allendorf. "If Harvey's wife was here all the time - what were *we* fighting against?" Allendorf shrugs, concentrating on his work. He's formed a circle of sand around Tsuzuki's unmoving body. "I think I understand," I say quietly, "and Tsuzuki was right. Mrs. Harvey was murdered, but the murderer wasn't her husband. She was strangled by a woman. I saw the hands. They were small. And the hate she felt - it wasn't all for her husband. She loved him, even after death. It was for her murderer." "But the information I got from Tatsumi...!" Watari frowns, goes over to his laptop and switches it on. "What about the evidence of suicide? You think her husband, or her killer staged it? The medical record -" I shake my head. "I haven't figured that out, either. But one thing I do know." I look up at Watari. "The ghost you were facing was the killer." Watari is silent for moment. Then he bites his lip, looking thoughtful. "Of course. If the killer hated Harvey's wife, she would want to make sure she never got her hands on the letter and go snatch it herself. Good thinking." "It still doesn't change the fact that bringing this letter to Harvey's wife is probably the only thing that is going to make her forget her anger," I say, excited by the whole process, the feeling that things are getting back on track. "Otherwise she's just going to keep raging and trying to kill her husband, or killer, over and over again." Watari and Allendorf look at each other, and Watari sighs. "You see, bon, that is the problem. We thought the ghost we saw at Harvey's mother-in-law's attic was Mrs. Harvey, and figured that since she had found the letter, she should finally be freed." "You didn't!" I stare incredulously at the two of them. "How could you do something like that? You *destroyed* the only thing that could've sent Harvey's wife away! The only thing that might have given her peace!" "Now, now, we don't know if it was the *only* thing yet," Allendorf says, his voice slightly offended. "We did it because it seemed like the smartest thing to do at the time. It's my job, don't forget: to destroy the anchor, so that the ship is free to fly. So we burned the letter, and the ghost vanished. How could we have known there was more than one ghost? It was, as it turns out, most unfortunate, but ultimately unavoidable." I let my gaze drop on the floor. Now what? How are we going to bring Tsuzuki back, and send Harvey's wife where she belongs? "So this means our work was for nothing." Watari sighs. "We only did the killer a service. I don't think she's gone for good, she's just lurking around the corner, wanting to make sure poor Harvey's wife goes back to being as dead as she meant her to be. As long as Harvey's wife is around, so shall she be, I'm afraid." Allendorf scratches his beard. "But her ghost was hazy, lacking distinctive characteristics. How are we to find her again?" "Never mind the killer, what will we do about Harvey's wife?" I almost yell at the man. "She's possessed my partner! I want him back! I'm not sure if he can take it much longer!" "Watch your mouth, Kurosaki-kun," Allendorf replies sharply, "and use your ears. What I'm trying to do here is to bring him back as soon as possible. I believe I already mentioned as much." "We have to find the killer, bon. She and Harvey's wife are connected, you know that." I don't know when Watari came over to me, so it makes me jump a little when his hand falls on my shoulder. He's very serious. "If we want to find her, we have to first find out who she is. You are the only one who has the power to do it. You told me you already did it once." "No," I reply immediately, "No, Watari-san, I can't do it again. I don't have the strength. You don't know how much it *hurts* -" "It is going to be different this time," Watari says assertively. "I can't say I'm a professional when it comes to empathy or mind reading, but I know it is different when the subject is unconscious. The ghost is still stunned, now is the chance. Please, bon. If we have to stun the ghost again, it will be another hit on poor Tsuzuki, too. You said it yourself, we don't know how much time we have before his strength fails. We have no time to lose." I take a deep breath. And think of the state Tsuzuki is in; as if being possessed by a ghost wasn't enough, I just threw him to the wall, using his own powers. How can I even think of putting any more strain on him? "All right then. I'll do it. Step back." Allendorf reluctantly leaves his work. "Don't touch the salt," he says to me. Salt? I let go of the cover I've been holding and let it rumple on the floor. Then I swallow down a nasty lump in my throat. Okay, this is it. I reach out my hand and place it on Tsuzuki's brow. His eyes are closed and he's pale and unmoving. Gods, I almost wish he hadn't woken up at all, because now I'm afraid of the next time he is going to open his eyes. Are they going to be blue or purple? I push my thoughts aside. I lower my shields and let his thoughts slip into mine. No, not his; Harvey's wife's. The fall is not as sudden as before, but I do feel it: suddenly the world seems to be a cruel, cold place. But this is just the surface. I want to know more. So I plunge deep, blindly searching for the memories that I need. And, in a heady rush, I dive into Mrs. Harvey's last night. Next Part go back