The Tall Man climbed out of the cab of the old pickup truck, tossing the keys onto the passenger seat and locking the door behind him. He wouldn't be needing the vehicle any longer. He grabbed the five gallon tank of gasoline from the bed of the truck, then headed across the parking lot to the church's front doors. At this time of night, the building would be empty.

The license in his wallet identified him as one John Ferguson, but he had not been that man for two or three months, now. John—the real John—had struggled at first, had tried to resist the preternatural control that was being exerted on him, to reclaim his own body. Those efforts had long since passed, however, and he had eventually succumbed to the terrible fate of being a prisoner in his own body. He was broken now.

"You'll be free soon enough, John," the Tall Man murmured in his victim's voice. He strode inside, heedless of the locked doors. Such minor barriers were of no consequence to him. He walked through the nave and made his way to the confessional booth before setting down the gas can. He then retrieved a chair from the alcove near the entrance, and brought it over to sit just outside the booth.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and began pouring the gasoline over himself. The smell burned his nostrils, and the gas was freezing cold on his skin, not that either of those things bothered him. When he was thoroughly soaked, he sat down the can and retrieved an old army knife from the waistband of his jeans. He began carving a circle into the roof of the booth, as well as the crude but legible glyphs of a powerful binding rune. To most, it would surely appear mystical, but he knew better. There was a science to it, a science that only a small handful of individuals like himself truly understood.

Once the circle was complete, he retrieved an old metal lighter from the pocket of his drenched jeans. Somewhere deep inside the recesses of his mind, John Ferguson screamed in protest, but his cries were hollow and impotent. The Tall Man flicked the lighter open and spun the tiny flint wheel with his thumb. There was no fluid in it, but the sparks were enough by themselves to set the gasoline alight, starting a blaze that quickly engulfed his entire body.

The thing that had been inhabiting John Ferguson then left effortlessly, finally restoring control of his body only moments before he died an extremely painful and horrifying death. It passed through the closed door as though it were a curtain. Inside the booth, John screamed. The spirit casually dragged the chair over, propping it up against the outside of the door to block him in.

It did not wait for the screams to die down, nor to see if the fire sprinklers that had just came on would be able to extinguish the flame. It left, confident in its knowledge that John was already dead.

It was time to find a new host.

*     *     *

When Alex returned to school the following day, they held a special memorial assembly in honor of Lucas. The principal, a representative from the police department, and school counselor each spoke. They used phrases like "senseless tragedy," "victims of violence," and "coping with loss" in their prepared speeches. The official story was that he had been mugged while walking through the park alone, and that some animal had torn up his leg afterwards, perhaps a stray dog.

And so they spoke at great length about gang violence, as if it were actually a problem in Arcadia City. What a joke. Alex knew for a fact that Arcadia City's crime rate was notably low for a city its size, and most gang-related crimes were theft and vandalism. Gang violence was virtually non-existent here. The police didn't have any better leads, though, so rather than admit that they were empty-handed, they created a smokescreen and stirred up anti-gang sentiment in the community.

Alex wasn't the only one who found the explanation unconvincing. As she and Cynthia ate lunch in the cafeteria, she overheard two girls talking behind her.

"Funny how it happened like a week after he started hanging out with that weird girl."

"I know, right? I heard he was supposed to meet up with her after school that day, too."

They were deliberately speaking loud enough for Alex to easily hear them, but she pretended not to. She did her best to ignore them. Cynthia, however, was giving them both a death glare that promised unimaginable suffering if they continued. It did not deter them.

"I'll bet she and her lesbo friend killed him as a sacrifice to the devil, or something."

Before Alex could react, Cynthia slammed both of her hands down against the table with enough force to make every tray on the table rattle, simultaneously rising to a standing position. She leaned over the table and yelled at the two girls. "If you got something you want to say to us, why don't you turn around and say it to our faces?"

Suddenly, they had the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. Alex glanced around, and nearly every face she saw was looking in their direction, waiting to see what happened next. Mortified, she cast her eyes down and wished to be someplace else.

"Um, excuse me?" one girl said. Alex now recognized her as Zoe Pierce, the same redheaded girl with the nose stud that Lucas had been sitting with the day she met him. They hadn't really been friends, according to Lucas, but were more or less friendly lab partners. "Who said we were talking about you?"

"Sounds like someone has a guilty conscience," the other girl chimed in, a lanky brunette dressed like she were attending a Catholic school. Alex thought her name might be Amanda, but it could easily have been Amber.

Alex shook her head and looked straight at Cynthia, mouthing the words "Let it go." She then rose from her seat, holding her tray, and loudly proclaimed "I'm not hungry anymore. Let's go."

Cynthia lingered a moment, staring down the two girls with venom in her eyes. Finally, she stood as well, and began to follow after Alex, still mad dogging the other two girls as she moved.

Alex didn't see Zoe's foot shoot out in front of her until she was already tumbling headlong towards the floor. She let go of the tray instinctively, trying to hold her arms out to catch herself and reduce the impact of the fall. She hit the ground gracelessly, the tray clattering and skidding across the floor in front of her.

"Oh my god, what a klutz," Amanda/Amber giggled impishly. "You should really watch were you're going."

Cynthia started to lunge towards the girls, but Alex grabbed her by the leg of her jeans and pulled tightly. "Don't," she whispered urgently. "Please."

Cynthia clenched her fists, obviously wrestling with the urge to strike one or both of the girls right there in the middle of the cafeteria. After a moment's hesitation, she turned her attention to Alex, and helped her back up.

Alex kept hold of Cynthia's hand after getting back onto her feet, and pulled her friend with her to continue out of the cafeteria, leaving the splattered food on the floor.

"Are we just going to let them get away with that?" Cynthia hissed as she was dragged along.

"Yes," Alex replied, moving quickly. She didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away, and fast. This wasn't going to be an isolated incident, she realized. In the past, she had just been the weird girl who everyone else ignored, but this changed things. Everyone was going to be talking about her now. They would stare at her when she passed them in the halls, and whisper things about her the moment her back was turned. They would single her out for ridicule, and this probably wouldn't be the last time someone tried to trip her, or push her, or put something rancid in her backpack or locker. She had seen it happen to other students in the past, but she had always managed to fly under the radar until now. This was just the beginning.

*     *     *

Alex glanced across the street at the entrance to Ellison Park as she left the school courtyard and headed up towards the bus loading zone along the street, trying not to think about Zoe Pierce and her friend, or all the weird looks she had gotten from other students over the course of the day, or the whispered words behind her back that she had pretended not to notice. It was still cold and foggy outside, although not quite as thick as it had been two days ago. She wondered briefly if there were still any police presence there in the park, or if it were already like the roof of the Weisman's she and Lucas had visited, all traces of the recent death now gone.

"Hey, Alex!" an unfamiliar voice called from down the street. When she turned to look, she saw a boy waving at her. He was rail thin and dressed mostly in black, including his steel-toed boots and a studded leather wristband. A tangle of light blonde, nearly white hair spilled down into his face, and partially obscured the bright blue eyes that were made all the more dramatic by the addition of black eyeliner.

"Uh, sorry, do I know you?" Alex called back as he approached, although she was fairly certain she did not. She would definitely remember this guy.

"No." He wore a smile that was simultaneously jovial and a little bit smug. There were dozens of other students milling around, so he had to get very close to speak to her directly. The invasion of her personal space made her feel extremely awkward. "We have a mutual acquaintance, though. I know Lucas."

Alex frowned abruptly, suddenly realizing where this was going. "Look, I'm sorry, I don't know anything about what happened, okay?"

"We both know that's not true," he said, matter-of-factly.

Alex turned to walk away without a further word. She was not in the mood for this conversation.

"Hey, it's okay!" he called after her. "It's not your fault. He doesn't blame you."

Alex froze in her tracks as the words sank in. She turned back to face him. "What...?"

The boy closed the distance between them again, his expression never changing from that mischievous grin. "I talked to him earlier today. He told me what happened." He kept his voice low, glancing around to make sure that no one else was listening to them.

"That's not funny," she hissed through clenched teeth. She didn't know where this was going, but it was a cruel joke.

"It's not a joke," he insisted, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm like you, Alex. I can see them, too."

"Them?" she repeated, but she knew exactly what he meant.

"Spirits," he confirmed. She knew that much, of course, or at least had suspected. It just hadn't occurred to her that Lucas could have become a ghost, too. Or perhaps it had, on some level, and her conscious mind had refused to confront the possibility until now. Either way, it took her by surprise, and she wasn't sure exactly what to do with the idea.

"But I can't do what you did," he continued. "I don't have an eidolon, and I can't fight them off like that."

Alex had no idea what that meant, and was still trying to process what he had already said. "Wait, so that thing in the park... it was a ghost?"

"Basically, yeah. But not a normal one. We call those ones wraiths. They're spirits who have become corrupted. They're really dangerous, but they're also kind of weak because they've lost all sense of personal identity. They're not very smart, either."

Alex took a moment to digest this information. He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about, as outlandish as it sounded. More than she knew, at least. The question was, what did he want from her? She looked at him directly in the eyes for several silent moments, trying to decide if she could trust him. His smile never faltered, and he kept his eyes locked with hers. She couldn't be entirely sure, but he was the best and only source of information she had about what was going on.

"Okay, I'm willing to hear you out" she said. "But not here." She knew that if she stayed here much longer, she would miss the bus and have to walk home. She wasn't sure if Sarah would be there today, so it was hard to say if anyone would notice her getting home late. Plus, it was a long walk and her legs were still sore from running the full distance just a couple of days ago.

"Alright," he said calmly. "I can see you're in a hurry. Give me your phone, I'll put my number in it, and you can call me later." She did, and he programmed in his number under the name Spooky Jay, then handed it back to her.

She gave him a dubious glare. "Spooky Jay?"

"That's what people call me," he said with a shrug and a smile.

"Okay, Spooky" Alex said, tucking the phone into her pocket. "I'll be in touch."