In the early hours of the morning in the thirty-first of October, the streets of Chelster are filled with ghosts. Most of them are real now, and only some are figurative.

Este having been there before, guides Ajay to the spot where they returned. In the dark, without even the light of the moon slipping through the gaps in the thinning leaves, Este does not find him. Death took Jayce with finality, a lecture she was not afforded.

Then again, a death so banal is fitting for him. The shot got his lung, and he was dead within seconds. He didn't even croak out a last word to get as she smirked at him from above.

They are not the last to get back to the motel, their shoes muddy and their bodies warmer than when they left.

By then, most others have returned. Leo hogs the bathroom, starting at Miku's reflection in the mirror. Not even now, knowing that they are in Hell after Clare's revelation, does she cease her torment. There is a reason Leo is tattooed with a dragon and not a phoenix; fire was never meant to bring about his rebirth.

While Clare lies in bed next to Kaia, pretending to sleep, so does Kaia. She didn't eat any of the fries that she was supposed to share with Barry earlier. Now, her stomach is just as hungry, but she feels no more faint. She is not ravenous. Lying in bed, she is just as tired. When the sun rises, she suspects she will feel the same as she does now.

Clare still doesn't speak to her. All Clare's words were given to Leo. Telling him only Leo worse, and Clare hadn't imagined that possible.

After she returns, Lydia shoves a few loonies into a vending machine and chugs back a coke. Tucked into the wall on the opposite side of the vending machine, she holds the empty can in her hand and listens for a sound. The sweet sticky syrup soaks into the inside of her throat. What would her father say if he saw her drinking this? Would he despise her more than he hated her album? What would her old co-workers think? Her producer? And Barry, if they came down from their room and saw her, they'd be certain this new Lydia is not the old one.

Barry is upstairs, and no matter how much they brush his teeth, they still taste vinegar. They only put on one packet out of the three Kaia offered, but their tongue feels slimy still. At least, somehow, Kaia is tolerable. It still beats Audrey, who rocks in the bed they share and whispers to themselves.

In the room over, Fallon sleeps. It is easy enough for Fallon to lie still when she is upset. It is easier to dream and wake up with a pounding chest than to remember what she saw through the crack in the door. What she told Nico about while they unpacked the groceries without Lydia's help.

Nico doesn't sleep. They look over at the bed that contains Ajay but not Leo. Could they tell Leo? What good could come from it? Perhaps Ajay, although Leo would only feel more isolated if Nico kept more things from him. Even with Fallon's soft snores, their bed feels so cold.

Ashamed to think it, but Nico wonders if Leo is warmer because he's been burned before or if Leo just feels like a hearth naturally.

The coldest bed of all belongs to Eva. It is nice, having cold pillows and money and no mother in sight. Of course, it would be better if Ambrose was there, lying next to her. Maybe it would feel even colder. Lying with him is like resting in a coffin. Snug.

The day begins before he is back. Through the thin blinds their rooms ignite in light. It is impossible to sleep through the brightness. In this half life, it is impossible to rest.

Eva borrows Lydia early to sell the jewelry to the pawn shop. The pair walk together in the cold, Lydia taking deep breaths of the icy air before finally chain smoking with Eva.

"How long will this last?" Lydia shuffles through the bag, making sure she has each item committed to memory. She decides she hates a particular watch that she bought for her husband. Back when there recognized each other, when she got it for him because she was always punctual. Before she realized he wasn't just unaware of time but unaware of her.

That's what she'll tell the pawn broker.

Eva shrugs, "want to come on the next heist?"

They are nowhere near the house they will rob, but Eva feels like her mother's hand is on her shoulder. Another ghost in Chelster.

Lydia smiles, "absolutely."

What would the other opera singers think if they saw her now? They wouldn't think she is shy, or meek or innocent. They must have at her funeral. Her mere existence now is maybe more impactful than her whole life before it.

Lydia stops walking. She looks back at the motel even though they can't see it anymore.

"Do you ever get the feeling..." Lydia blinks. She was never poetic.

Barry was. She didn't remember them, but she is sure of it.

Though Lydia is stood still, Eva keeps walking. She can't wait for Lydia's thought to appear. Eva refuses feeling. She doesn't feel her lungs burn, or the cold, or the violent acute in her chest when she coughs at night. Her mere existence is sensational enough without experiencing it.

"Eva," Lydia calls.

Eva looks back.

"Do you ever feel like even your death wasn't about you?" Lydia starts at her, doe eyes as wide as ever. "Or like... do you even like robbing houses? Or do you just do it because you're not supposed to?"

Eva arms feel heavy even though Lydia is carrying the stolen jewellery. Maybe Lydia could understand. After all, she died of a stress-related stroke from the pressure of perfection. Unfortunately, Eva could never be perfect. She wasn't then and she still is now. Her mother always wanted her to be different. Being a low life was always what Eva was destined to become.

And her mother always said Eva would never make it on her own. That Eva would end up back home. And that is Eva's plan after all.

"Quit whining," Eva ignores Lydia. "It's easier not to think about it."

~~~

Since Audrey rooms with Barry, Fallon has to pretend to talk to Barry for ten minutes. It's deeply unsettling and painful, but all Fallon must do to keep their attention is to ask a question about Toronto and then Barry is off like a horse at the races. A headless horseman, maybe, although Barry is too loud for something without a mouth.

When Audrey slinks out of the room, Fallon waits for a minute. Then another, and another, and then she ditches Barry. She goes to the room Este shares with the others. Unfortunately, Este is in the shower. Then, she is blow drying her hair. Ambrose is supposed to be here as well, but he's not. Fallon was hoping to catch him before he snuck out to do whatever it is he does.

Finally, Este appears out of the bathroom, hair blow dried and shiny. She no longer has blood under her nails, of course, but that is in spite of Este. She didn't attempt to wash her hands anymore than usual. If anything, Este wants to go paint her nails. Maybe even buy another red scarf.

"Something is wrong with Audrey," Fallon blurts out.

Hands on her hips, Este eyes Fallon carefully.

"Well, I mean she's been wrong for a long time. You know that. I thought maybe seeing your friend – or I mean your ex-husband's mistress turned wife, I know you aren't that close. But like, it was really messed up seeing that, as I'm sure you know. And I thought Audrey would stop being weird, but now she's got jars of blood and her hair all lined up in weird ways and she's doing experiments and it's weird. Really weird."

Este bites her lip, feeling the softness of her own flesh. She takes in a deep breath.

"Who's hair?" Este blinks slowly. "Kaylee's?"

"Audrey's," Fallon answers. "Sorry, I should've used they/them pronouns for Audrey. Since they use both they/them and she/her, but I wasn't really thinking because I was distracted. Audrey has their hair, and I think their blood. I mean, I don't know how to tell what is and isn't blood. And they also have ashes and dirt? And so many bones. I know there are lots of bones in the human body, but this is-"

"Fallon," Este interrupts her. She shakes her head. "Stop talking about Audrey Deetz."

Then, Este leaves the room. In just her socks. Fallon stares after her. The door shuts, and then Fallon is alone in a motel room that isn't even hers.

On the balcony, Este cools for a minute. She'll have to go back inside to grab a coat and shoes. Just for a second, she looks in the parking lot to see Audrey.

They are long gone. Down different streets, twisting and turning until they end up in that building again. They enter the room, examining the jars. Those have been the things which change the most. The vile of blood from yesterday is congealing, more solid and darker now. It smells just as much like iron. So it could be becoming dirt. Audrey reaches inside to touch it, feeling the sticky liquid between their fingers. They bring it up to their lips, pressing the tips of their fingers to the tip of their tongue. Copper, certainly. It's thick too, but not crumbly yet.

Next to Audrey, there are two vials of ash. Neither of them have a flower.

~~~

Nico needed extra supplies for that evening. Apparently. Kaia knows they didn't, but when they asked if someone would get the list of things they needed, and Kaia volunteered, Nico suddenly remembered there was more on the list and suggested Kaia should get Clare to go.

Kaia is going to use some of her personal fund to get the reception to buy them a paper-view copy of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Nico loves cinema as much as Kaia loves horror anyway. It doesn't have to be an act of gratitude, but as Kaia spends time alone with Clare for the first moments in two weeks, she is grateful.

Even though Clare is quiet.

There are more people out during the day. A few women are jogging and pushing strollers, bundled with ear muffs and mitts on their hands. An old man is raking the leaves off his lawn and a few people are sitting on a porch, cigarette dangling from their thin and dirty fingers.

Clare is quiet. She doesn't look at the cigarettes. The worst part is, she knows what she's doing. She can feel Kaia, as bright and warm as the sun on the shore, visibly dim. If Clare were a better person, she'd have refused to come. Fallon could go, or Este, or even Barry. Certainly Barry would be better than Clare.

Clare is fucking miserable. They both know it.

After everything, Kaia still denies despair. It's so fucking beautiful.

"Do you want..." Kaia swallows. "Can we talk about it?"

No. No of course they can't. Kaia doesn't believe in God in the way that Ambrose does, or seems to, and Clare doesn't know what to believe anymore. All she can say is that Kaia is too good for this.

"What do you want to know?" Clare looks back at Kaia.

All Kaia can do is shrug, "whatever you want to tell me."

If it were Clare, she'd want to know everything. Even still, she does. She wants to know if the smoking couple isn't working because a factory shut down, or if they work the night shift somewhere far away and are just getting home. Clare wants to know all of Kaia's history, even her murder, and she wants to know how Kaia looks with wet hair and sandy skin. She wants to know everything.

And she wants to tell Kaia nothing.

"Don't worry about me," Clare says.

Kaia's hand curls into a fist. She stops walking, and Clare takes one more step and Kaia stomps her foot.

"Stop it," Kaia scowls.

Clare's eyes widen, "sorry."

"Stop that too," Kaia breathes in and out, and it's like a gust of wind. Clare is sure her hair will fill with static and the fourteenth lightning storm this month will rain down on her. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm-"

"I'm talking!" Kaia shouts, cutting her off.

The jogging women, earmuffs and toques and all, spin around. Clare looks over at them, eyes wide and apologetic, teeth clenched together and mouth wide in a wince.

"Look at me!" Kaia shouts. "I'm done having the same conversation with you. I get it. I do. You went through something really fucking hard, and in typical Clare Canosa fashion you are determined that the burden is yours alone. But I'm here! I'm here and I can handle it."

Once again, Clare is fucking up. And Kaia is shouting in public.

"I never let anybody see me either," Kaia points out. "And I'm just realizing that it really fucking sucks, Clare. This really fucking sucks."

If she doesn't act now, she never will. Life is too short, death too long, and Clare reaches forward and hugs Kaia. The shifting weight makes Kaia stumble, but Clare has her. She has her, the Kaia that is always happy and the Kaia that screams at her. And between fire and brimstone and everything else there is Kaia.

"Okay," Clare's chest rattles with shaky breaths. "Okay, I'll tell you."

~~~

There is children's Halloween programming in the library that morning. Tots, mostly the children who aren't in school. Some of them might have even been in the Sunday school yesterday, which Ajay knows is running from the posters announcing it on the bulletin board. He's supposed to be paying attention to Leo, who continues to ask him questions from behind a computer screen. A little girl stumbles by, dark skin like his, and a little pink princess dress on. His sister used to have one. He hasn't seen her in two years. This little girl could be hers.

Ajay shivers.

"Is it cold in here?" he asks, looking at Leo.

Leo shrugs. It's only been one day since Clare's revelation, not even a full twenty-four hours, and he hasn't stopped sweating. He scrolls through the computer screen, looking for answers. They have something. A fire. A spark. And Fallon is depending on him, and Nico is depending on her, and they are one officer down. An aircraftsman is a good substitute.

"Lee," Ajay reaches over, tapping the edge of the table.

Leo blinks. His eyes hurt. He needs sunglasses, indoors, as if looking up burning and ash and dirt and Kaylee Wood-Roswell isn't enough.

Ajay glances at the screen, seeing the blonde woman's face. He recognizes the necklace choking her, tightly. A dead woman on a screen. Another child runs by, this one dressed as an alien, and Ajay leans in to block the screen. Children shouldn't have to see dead people.

"What are you doing?" Ajay whispers, his voice low.

"What do we know?" Leo asks, clicking off the tab. He waits for Ajay's response.

Then, Ajay sighs, "we were buried alive."

"And Este saw Kaylee Wood-Roswell pop out of the dirt. Something is burning," Leo says. He looks over at Ajay, betraying Clare for his oath to justice. "And when Clare went back to where she died, it was burning too. So, there is some significance to the place we were buried, and there is some significance to fire."

"Ask Ambrose about the fire and brimstone if you believe in that," Ajay points out.

Leo sighs, "now, why Kaylee Wood-Roswell? Is it because she was connected to Este? Or perhaps, because she was taken before her time. None of us died of old age, or whatever you medical experts called it."

"Quit talking about her," Ajay whispers. "It's morbid."

And Ajay killed her husband. Another lie to Leo. Two dead people and Ajay knows who did it. Two killers though that Ajay has let go. Este and the pastor. Not Jayce though, Kaylee's killer.

It occurs to Ajay that he killed Este too, or at least he was supposed to. Ajay puts a hand on his shoulder, massaging the tight muscles.

"Are you sure we are dead?" Ajay asks, looking over at Leo.

"What?" Leo asks, blinking and turning over. "What are you talking about? We died?"

"No," Ajay says.

When Leo furrows his brow, Ajay sighs. He flips over Ajay's hand. There are few burns on the insides of his wrist, and so Ajay runs his finger, icy cold over Leo's hot skin. Leo winces as Ajay traces the muscles and arteries in the most fragile part of his hands. He grimaces when Ajay presses down on each knuckle in his hand and on the gaps in between them, held together by tight tendons. There are still calluses on his hand from playing guitar in the church basement.

"Seem alive to me," Ajay points out. "What if Audrey's right and we are clones?"

"Clones with flashbacks and burning?" Leo thinks about it, dismissing it.

A possibility remains though. Maybe Leo Sang-Wood is dead, just as dead as Kaylee Wood-Roswell, and the women the pastor took. Something else might be alive.

The little girl in the pink dress waves at Ajay. He smiles and waves back.

~~~

Nico has finished cleaning. Now, they are attempt to bake cookies in the toaster oven they share. The group has a hot plate, a toaster oven, and some dishes they picked up from a thrift store. It doesn't bother Nico. Rather, it reminds them of nights in Montreal at friends houses, everyone drinking liquor from a different mugs. Nico's favourite to bring was wide and yellow with a happy face. They originally got flowers in it, from Kye.

The memory makes them smile, actually.

When Barry looks over, the role their eyes. Nothing fun in this town.

"Wouldn't it be better to go to a bar?" Barry asks. "I think everyone would rather be shit faced."

Nico sighs, "Barry, I know you are allergic to fun and gluten-free veganisms or whatever, but you don't have to make everyone else miserable."

"I'm not miserable," Barry snorts. "I'm dead."

Nico doesn't even answer.

Barryr grumbles to themselves, "you're from Montreal, aren't you? I mean, death aside, this place isn't nice. Putting up streamers and balloons doesn't change the fact that we are stuck here, probably forever."

"Barry-"

"How do you handle it?"

Nico slams the palm of their hand against the dresser, "not fucking well, okay? Jesus, you're so soul-sucking. The way I see it, I have two options Barry. Mope like you over how things aren't like how they used to be, or move on with my life. Or my death, or whatever. There comes a point where you have to choose to be happy. Chemicals aside, of course."

Barry doesn't answer. They wish they hadn't claimed the room in the middle now. To prevent neighbours from complaining about noise, the party is happening in the middle room. And Barry can't stand it. They wish things were different. They wish they weren't trapped here without Lydia, and with the not-Lydia creature that lives next door.

"Aren't you all about not moving on?" Barry asks. "You're from Québec. Aren't you people naturally stuck in the past all because you lost-"

"Go fuck yourself," Nico spits.

They aren't Francophone, but Kai is. That is something Nico will never move on from.

Barry rolls their eyes. They snatch the television remote off the bedside table and turn the news on.

"This is-" Nico scowls as Barry cranks up the volume.

As the volume raises, Nico starts shouting to match it. Nico wanted to have a better handle on their temper, for Kai, but he's not here now and likely never will be. Nico hopes he isn't actually. He hopes Kai too gets to keep doing drag and being happy. He hopes Kai never ever feels like Barry.

"You know, you're a fucking douchebag," the television is blasting almost as loud as Nico. "I'm not even from Québec. And also, nobody likes you. I actually think worse of Lydia knowing that she used to have feelings for you at all!"

The news show blares.

Sometimes, Barry wishes there was a violent bone in his body.

"-Ester Del Castillo Rodwell was legally pronounced dead."

Both of them turn to the screen.

"Police are urging any witnesses to come forward about the disappearance of Ester, Kaylee or the murder of Jayce Rodwell."

~~~~~

Okay, this isn't edited and I'm coming to peace with it. But, this is maybe the fastest I've written two chapters for this story in an entire year. And somehow, the scene with Ajay and Leo is somehow more unsettling than anything else. I feel like now is a good time for theorizing. Give me something.

Which of those is your vibe right now? Currently, I am oscillating rapidly between the two.