Page 17 of Malice

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Spirits can’t drink still, right?”

Crash huffs, appearing beside me. “Information. What do young people call it now?”

“The tea?”

His face lights up. “Ah, yes. Wrong hot beverage. The tea. I have it.”

“What did you call it in the eighties?”

“The 411.”

“Why?”

“That was the information line. You called it when you needed to know something.”

“Fascinating.” I start the car.

“Yes, well, now you all have little computers in your pockets.”

“Right. What do I need to know?”

“Obviously, you saw with your own eyes that Hudson has an uninvited guest.”

“Yeah.”

“The whole house is filled with spirits who have been there for a couple of centuries, give or take. It’s a peaceful home and they want to keep it that way.”

“How long until Chester can manifest?”

“Depends how smart he is. Or how motivated. He hasn’t been dead long and he’s already escaped, so that’s not good.”

I rub my forehead before shifting gears and pulling out of Hudson’s driveway. “I feel weird about leaving him.”

“You’re doing the right thing. He’s not open to it yet and he hasn’t had any evidence that he needs you. Sadly, he’ll get it soon enough.”

“What if he gets hurt?”

Crash shrugs. “He’ll call sooner then. Hopefully, his Horror will take a bit of time to ramp up. That’s usually how it goes. It took me ages to move an object. Now I can speak and be seen by the living who have gifts.”

His answer makes me feel slightly better. “Thanks, Crash. So those other spirits, because they’re benign, they can just stay there?”

“Basically. There’s not enough Afterlife resources to chase after every spirit. Very few qualify to be in the society. Consider yourself a rare breed.”

“Do you know how many Soul Chasers there are?”

“No. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.”

“That seems like a lot.”

“The world is a big place. Do you know how many people die per day? On average, 150,000 souls enter the Afterlife every single day. Imagine the percentage of those that go to the Below. They have the advantage.”

I nod, focusing my attention on the road. “That’s sobering.”

“You’re going to do just fine.”

I hope he’s right. For Hudson’s sake.

Chapter 8