AUTHORS' NOTE: DECEMBER 2018

Please note that all four of the previous chapters to this story have undergone updates/additions/edits, including an entirely new scene in Chapter 2. We highly recommend that before you proceed with this chapter, you take the time to go back and reread the previous chapters so that you have the most up to date information for the story.

Chapter 5

Gene knew they were in the room as soon as he woke. Their presence brought a prickling to his skin that didn't fade despite the heavy hammering in his skull.

He cracked open an eye. Six pale, ghastly faces stared down at him in various states of decomposition. He shut his eye with a groan. The transparent nature of their gruesome forms did nothing to stop the daylight from stabbing directly into his brain.

Gene threw an arm over his face. "Ugh, it's too early for this shit."

"It's nearly noon," he heard Yasuhara say from nearby.

The soft, sharp whispers of otherworldly voices tumbled over each other in their rush to reach him. 'Please, sir—cold—If you could just tell my sister—my son—they lost—so cold—you fuckin' murderer.'

Gene brought his hands to his ears, but he could still hear them. Asking, accusing, demanding. They always seemed to find him.

'I never told—Mary, my Mary—they didn't know—you're gonna fry—I need to speak to him.'

Gene sat up, flinging his pillow across the room. "Shut it! Get out! Out!"

He held his head, panting against the dizziness his movement had caused.

He knew the cause, or at least part of it. It was something about death. He only had to be near it for them to find him. And if he caused it...well, there was a reason he liked to drink after a job. Blood on his hands brought the ghosts like flies to shit.

Come to think of it, this didn't feel like his bed. A memory from the night before stung at his frazzled mind. Had he passed out on the floor?

"Fuck."

The calls faded and Gene peeked out from between his fingers. Three of the ghosts were still in the room. An older man Gene didn't recognize stood by the window. Frank, a former bootlegger for Delaney, was waiting by the front door with his usual scowl. And Colman O'Brien was seated in Yasuhara's armchair, his torso a ghostly reflection of the bloody mess Gene had left on the top of the lighthouse.

Gene ran his hand through his hair. At least they weren't crowding around him anymore.

"Gene?" Yasuhara's voice was quiet, but it still made Gene wince.

'I didn't tell nobody. Nobody,' Frank kept repeating.

Yasuhara walked over and placed a glass down on the side table near Gene's head. "Here's some water."

Gene took the glass and drank it in three long gulps.

"Take it easy. You don't want to make yourself sick."

Gene made a face and looked up at Yasuhara, only to find himself momentarily stupefied. He knew his memories from last night were more than a little bit spotty at the moment, but how was it that he ended up waking on the floor with his head threatening to split open, and Yasuhara still managed to look as impeccable as usual, hair styled and pressed suit resting on him perfectly?

He wasn't the first guy Gene had known who seemed to put more than two thoughts into what he wore in a day. But where Oliver and Lin had always appeared to don their suits as a means of commanding dominance, Yasuhara's outfit was both relaxed and professional. It felt younger, funner, than anything Gene had seen him in before. It wasn't half bad.

"How are you feeling?" Yasuhara took a sip from his own glass of water.

"Like shit." Gene kicked away the blanket —where had that come from? —and tried standing, grabbing onto the arm of the sofa to help his balance.

"I can't say I'm surprised, with the amount you drank last night. Did you need more?" He held out his glass.

The semi-transparent mass of Colman glared up at him from the armchair. 'You dirty traitor! I'm gonna kill you!'

"Yeah." Gene gave the ghost a glare and grabbed the offered glass, downing the contents and wiping a hand across his mouth as he finished.

"The clothes came back this morning. I took the liberty of putting yours on your bed," Yasuhara said, holding a hand out for the emptied glass. "Get dressed, Cogliano wants us to stop by before we head out."

"Head out? Where the hell—"

"Get dressed. I'll put on some coffee," Yasuhara said, heading towards the kitchen.

The distant politeness was back.

Gene had a sinking feeling that something he had said last night was the cause. Things had gone well, from what he could remember. But it would make sense if he had managed to put his foot in his mouth yet again.

The old man was looking at him. 'Please, I need to speak to my son.'

Gene ignored him and shuffled towards his room. He wasn't surprised to find Colman following behind him.

'Don't you walk away from me! I had a wife and kids, you little shit!'

"Then go bother them, why don't you." Gene shut the door, Colman's pointed finger passing through the dark wood. Maybe that would buy him a few moments of quiet.

Gene stopped next to his bed, resting his hands on his freshly pressed clothes, when he caught a waft of the sweet smell of molasses. A smile came to his lips.

"Morning, Lucy," he said, turning to the goo-covered ghost of a young woman sitting on the chair in the corner.

She raised a sticky, molasses-covered hand in greeting.

Lucy never asked things of him like the other ghosts did. In fact, Lucy never said anything. But that didn't mean they hadn't figured out their own means of communicating in the eleven years that they had know each other.

He held up his two shirts. "Gray or blue?"

She raised her left hand and Gene threw the gray shirt from his right back onto the bed. He set to getting dressed, then moved to look himself over in the mirror. He wasn't as put together as Yasuhara, but it was surprising what a good clean and press could do to even his old stuff. He smirked. "All right, how do I look?"

Lucy brought her hands to her heart for a moment, then moved her fists to the air in front of her, turning them as if breaking an invisible branch between them.

Gene chuckled. "You're the Bee's knees, Luce." He grabbed his hat off the bed post and gave her one last smile before he headed out of his room.

'Hey, hey, I ain't done wit you yet!' Colman bellowed, but Gene ignored him and headed down the hall. He wondered if Yasuhara would be willing to make a pit stop on their way. Colman was one piece of baggage he wasn't interested in bringing with him wherever it was they were headed.

"I'm going to be out of town for a while."

Gene slowed his step at the sound of Yasuhara's voice. Was he on the phone?

"I'll be in touch as soon as I can."

He scanned the room as he entered. Yasuhara was at the doorway; the door was open, but Gene couldn't see who Yasuhara was talking to. Only a pile of brown curls was visible past him. Gene took another step and the round face of a young woman came into view. Her gray eyes grew wide as she noticed Gene past Yasuhara's shoulder.

"Beatrice, take care of yourself and—" Yasuhara stopped when her hands and the small package within them were jerked from his own. He turned his glance to follow Beatrice's, his face falling when he noticed Gene.

The girl fled. Yasuhara turned back, taking a few steps to follow Beatrice into the hall with a short cry of "Bea, wait." But he seemed to think better of making a scene and came back into the apartment, staring at the door while he shut it. As if he were hoping she would appear back before it finished closing.

"Sorry if I was interruptin'," Gene said, more than sure that he had interrupted something.

"Come on, you should eat something before we meet with Cogliano."

Gene followed Yasuhara to the kitchen where a plate of eggs, tomato, and toast was waiting on the table. Yasuhara grabbed a mug and the newspaper, and sat across from the plate.

That meant the plate was for him. Gene's stomach roiled at the thought of eating.

"I'll just have some of that coffee."

Yasuhara poured him a mug while Gene sat down, pushing the plate across the table.

"Hey…" Gene blurted, the need to say something pressing the word out before he had found the question. Yasuhara turned down the edge of the paper to look at Gene. "I, uh, I hope I didn't say nottin' to disturb you, last night...I know there's a lot about me that tends to give folks the heebies. If you ain't comfortable—"

Yasuhara let the paper back up, blocking his face once again. "Who were you talking to?"

Gene looked at him, and it took all the frazzled self control he had not to reply, 'I could ask you the same thing.' "What'cha mean?"

"This morning, when you woke up. You were yelling," Yasuhara said, bringing the paper down to rest on the table.

"Oh." Gene took a sip of his coffee. "I had some of my special sort of guests."

Yasuhara's face paled.

"You don't gotta worry, I won't let them do nothin' to ya."

"Are they dangerous?"

"No." It wasn't a total lie. Most of them were harmless. Especially for someone who couldn't see them.

"Do they bother you?"

"Well, alotta them are a real pain in the ass." Gene threw Colman, who was still lingering, a look, which Yasuhara tried to follow. "But they ain't all bad. Most of them just need help."

"Help?"

"Yeah, you know, moving on. Most folks, they don't end up like this. They just...go, ya know. But sometimes it don't work and then they are here, sorta stuck like, so some people help them go."

"Is that what you do?"

Gene took another drink and shook his head. "I'm not so good at it. I just seem to attract them. I can talk to them, but when it comes to making them move on, well...I leave that up to the professionals."

Yasuhara looked at him, and Gene wished he had paid more attention at those Spiritualist meetings Masako had dragged him to. He normally didn't care too much when it came to the details of things, but Yasuhara was making him nervous. Particulars seemed much more important when it came to Yasuhara, with his ledgers and his fancy education.

"Are they still here?" Yasuhara asked after his own sip of coffee.

"Yeah. Some of them, anyway. Actually, that reminds me. Do you think we could stop by this church when we're out?"

"A church?"

"Yeah, it's off Tudor. There's a priest there I gotta see. Especially if we gotta skip town."

Yasuhara stopped drinking his coffee.

"Cause that's what you meant. When you told that dame—"

"Cogliano thinks it might be best if we have you relocated for a while. Given the...circumstances of what happened last night."

Gene let out a sigh. While the news didn't surprise him, he had to admit that it hadn't occurred to him last night that his actions would lead to this. This was one of those times where Noll would scold him for jumping to act without thinking.

Noll. Shit. What were the odds that he wouldn't have any more jobs while Gene was away?

Either way, there was no doubt that he had just landed his brother in a new heap of trouble.

"District Attorney Richard Wilson continues bid for City Council!" a newsboy called out from the intersection. "Vows to root out organized crime at the source!"

Oliver moved with the flow of the midday traffic as the bells of St. Peter's rang out, signaling the turn of the hour, and by the hurried steps of the stragglers bustling through its doors, the start of the next Mass.

A sheet of paper suddenly blocked his view. "Hey mister, you want a paper?" the newsboy asked.

Oliver had begun his automatic 'no' when a thought stopped him. His eyes scanned over the print-heavy sheet. Was it there?

The boy pulled the paper away. "It's five cents if you wanna read it, mister."

"Is there anything about a lighthouse?" The need to know loosened his lips more than he would normally risk.

The boy's face fell, brows knitting momentarily before being wiped away by the drive to make a sale. "Sure, you can read all about it for a nickel."

Oliver felt that he was lying, but he dug a coin from his pocket and dropped into the boy's waiting hand nonetheless.

Studying the page as he walked down the street, he tried to remember things he had seen, words that had been pointed out to him, the pages of the small primer that he had had so briefly as a child.

It was pointless. He knew two of the words, he could guess on three others. But the one that he needed, the one that might shed some light on the severity of the mess he was about to walk himself into, it could be staring him right in the face and he wouldn't even blink.

It's nothing to be ashamed of. Mai's voice echoed through his head.

Oliver crumpled the paper, tossing it and the memory away as he opened the door. The bell above the door jingled, announcing his arrival at Brannigan's Hattery. Eamon, the shopkeep, gave him a nod as he adjusted a brown homburg on the head of his customer. Oliver returned the greeting and continued on to the hall at the back of the room, still trying to forget the pitious look he had seen in Mai's eyes.

"Balor. It's been a while."

Oliver's attention was yanked from his own mind. He would recognize that slimy voice anywhere. Delaney's right hand man, commonly known as 'Vlad,' had just stepped out of the boss's office.

"Mr. Delaney would like a word with you," he said, sending Oliver a smile that further twisted the wrinkles on his face.

"Yes, that's why I'm here." Oliver straightened and took a step forward.

"You know, I find it quite amusing." Vlad moved towards him, his silver handled walking cane making soft thumps on the carpeted floor. "Your intelligence provided us that lighthouse. And it's that traitor brother of yours that took it back for Cogliano yesterday."

"So I've heard." He and Lin had heard about the incident at the lighthouse less than an hour before, as well as of the higher-ups' suspicion that it had been Gene's work. Incidentally, it was the same phone call that informed him that the boss wanted to see him. Oliver could not imagine that the two subjects were unrelated.

"Sounds like it's gonna be a bitch to deal with." Vlad's oily smile spread further, yellow teeth gleaming. "But then again, there's more than one way to skin a cat."

The leather of Oliver's gloves groaned as his fingers clenched. It took all of his strength to keep a blank face. "If you will excuse me." Oliver forced himself to look into the rancid pools that were Vlad's eyes. "I don't want to be late for my meeting."

"Dutiful as always, I see." Vlad moved out of Oliver's way, but continued walking towards him. As they passed each other, he reached over and gave Oliver's shoulder a squeeze. "Let's hope you remain that way."

A shiver rippled down Oliver's spine. Even after all these years, this man was still the only person who could provoke fear in him. Oliver grit his teeth as he pulled the office door open.

Delaney's office in the back of the hat shop on Baxter Street had not changed much in the twelve years since Oliver and Gene had first been deposited there. Its familiar forest green walls and dark furniture did nothing to shake the helpless nervousness that hummed along the length of his body.

Oliver forced his hands to unclench. He wasn't a child anymore.

"Balor, come in," Delaney called from his seat behind the large mahogany desk, an ever-present cigar wrapped between thin, upturned lips. He stood, the large desk still coming to his waist. It was this mild stature combined with his young, amiable face and silver tongue that had allowed Delaney to acquire the contacts and capital needed to create the city of Boston's largest underworld operation. But it was his sharp wit and ruthless resolve that had kept it going strong for more than a decade and a half.

Delaney rounded the desk, picking up a bottle and two glasses from the drink cart as he passed, and came to meet Oliver. His bright green eyes shone with some hidden secret that had always felt impossible to decipher, even now when Oliver had to look down to meet them.

"Sit down," Delaney said, gesturing to the velvet lined chair that waited in front of the desk as he poured two glasses of whiskey with his other hand. "Have a drink."

Oliver accepted the glass and dutifully took a sip as he settled into the chair, his gaze now forced upwards to meet Delaney's.

Delaney placed his cigar in an ashtray on the desk, and took a sip from his own glass, his freed lips curving higher as he enjoyed the libation.

"Now this here is the real stuff," Delaney said, tapping a finger against the bottle. It didn't look like one Oliver had ever seen at the speakeasy before. "Imported straight from Ireland. None of that watered-down shit we sell in the speaks. Taste the difference?"

Oliver said nothing. This was the first time the boss had asked to speak to him one-on-one; Gene or Lin had always done the talking before, and he wasn't sure if he was actually supposed to answer.

"You and Lin did good work for us with Vincent. I haven't gotten the chance to thank you properly for that, things being what they have the past few days." Delaney leaned against the desk, close and looming in a way that left Oliver's shoulders clenched.

"It was a shame he didn't have more vision than his brother. Could have saved that family from more grief. But family's always a tricky situation. Ain't it, son?"

Oliver stilled, the glass half way to his lips. Was Delaney trying to say something? He took a sip, wracking his brain to try to find the answer to a question he was unsure of.

He wondered if he should bring up the lighthouse, or if he should wait for Delaney to mention it. He had always fallen on the side of leaving it to others to broach new information. The less he said, the less complicated things became. But he didn't want Delaney to think that he was avoiding the subject.

Would it better prove his loyalty if he offered to retake the location for him? And yet, that also ran the risk of putting him into conflict with Gene. If at all possible, Oliver wanted to avoid a direct confrontation with his brother under 'professional' circumstances. Though it seemed like it was only a matter of time before things came to that.

Fortunately, Delaney saved him from having to respond. "How's that apartment treating you? Having the speak next door isn't giving you too much trouble now, is it?" Delaney picked up his cigar and took a drag.

"No, sir," Oliver said, taking another sip. He, Gene, and Lin had lived in those rooms for nearly a decade, and Delaney had never thought it worthwhile to check on them before. Why ask about it now?

"Good. Now, we already have our agreement when it comes to the cat, but with all your hard work, I think it's high time you deserve a little something more. Name anything. Women? Booze?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. This...was not what he had expected. "I would think you'd prefer that I refrain from indulgence. It keeps me focused, sir."

"That it does. But a man needs one or two desires. It makes you human, see?"

"Sir?"

"You're too inscrutable for your own good, Balor. I need you to be human. A human, I can understand. A human, I can trust."

Oliver gulped down another sip of whiskey. The liquid burning away any fool hearty replies that might point out that it was precisely Gene's humanity that had led him to betray Delaney. Alcohol? Women? If Gene had been less swayed by desires, Oliver wouldn't be in this position.

"You've been in your brother's shadow all this time, I understand. But now's the time to become your own man. Time you start thinking about the future."

Future? Oliver blinked. He had never thought of more than making it through the given moment. 'More' was something people outside the business thought about. He and Gene had always been little more than tools. They were given instructions, not asked for their opinions.

"I don't need anything, sir."

Delaney finished his glass and turned his attention back to Oliver. "Yeah, and why do you suppose that might be the case?"

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. The intensity that he had expected to find when he came in was spreading across Delaney's face now.

"You and that double-crossing brother of yours would've died in a gutter if it weren't for my charity," he said, brandishing the cigar near Olivers face. "And how does he repay me? With a knife in the back!" His fist slammed into the top of the desk, ash scattering from the cigar as the bottle jumped with the impact. Oliver's hand flew to his pocket on instinct, fingers wrapping tightly around the first marble they found.

"I let him leave, let him live, and that ungrateful son of a bitch uses what I taught him to steal from me. That f—" Delaney stopped himself, his eyes darting to Oliver's hidden hand. He ran a stiff hand through his hair as he brought the cigar up for a drag.

The long inhale seemed to calm him, the tension sliding off of his shoulders languidly with the smoke rising from his lips. He stepped away from the desk, moving out of Oliver's line of sight as he paced around the room.

Oliver kept his gaze forward. Delaney wasn't going to hurt him. He couldn't risk losing both of them. Especially not now that Cogliano had started putting Gene to work. Oliver pushed away the anger that flared when he thought about the position Gene had just put them in.

"You see how this puts me in a position, son."

Oliver fought the scowl that wanted to form at the word son. He had always hated it. And now it grated even more than usual.

"But you, you're smart." Delaney put a hand on Oliver's shoulder, his fingers twitching at the tension that rippled from the contact. "I've seen you at work, son. Precise. You don't get carried away." The fingers tightened. "You ain't a man for wasted energy for overdoing things. And you understand the value of an agreement." The last few words oozed out with another stream of smoke that flowed past Oliver's shoulder. "The downside of throwing a gift like that away. Don't ya, son."

"Yes, sir."

"But I won't speak ill of your brother any further, I'd hate to spoil the time you have together. I'm sure you are doing your best to help set him right. And I'm sure you will. I'mma generous guy, and it does my heart good to get to give you that chance." Delaney gave Oliver's shoulder one last squeeze and let it go. "I won't keep you."

Oliver stood, placing his hat on his reeling head. Delaney led him across the room back towards the door.

"You just think about my offer. Whatever you need. A young man like yourself, I'm sure you will come up with something. Every man's got his desires." Delaney laughed and clapped Oliver on the back with a heavy hand that had him fighting to keep his balance.

Oliver nodded slowly and headed out. What did he desire? Desire? This was going to be difficult.

The cemetery was quiet, the falling sun was thin and failed to do much to heat the air. Mai would have preferred to come earlier. To catch the day before the chill had set in too deeply.

But it couldn't be helped, she had learned after her first visit on a Sunday to wait until nearly the end of the day. That way the church's parishioners would be gone and she could speak with her mother without the fear of someone finding her, of recognizing her. Of asking where she had been this past decade.

A crisp breeze rustled the trees, tearing a few fiery leaves from their bow and tugging at the hem of Mai's skirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, the wind stinging through her sweater.

"I think it's gonna be a long winter, Mama," she said. "It's only September and it's already so cold. There was even frost on the window when I got home from work last night."

She kneeled down to leave her flowers, the chill of the grass passing easily through her stockings.

"Work is fine. I'm having a lot more fun now that I am used to it. It's full of so many interesting people. Ayako is funny, but perhaps a little too wild for your tastes, Mama."

She smiled at the thought.

"And those twins I told you about? I've been trying to get to know them better, but I...I think I may have just made a mess of it. Oliver only seems to get more angry with me every time we talk. And Gene..." Mai chewed her lip. "Gene is more like me than I had thought."

Damp from the grass was seeping into her stockings, but she ignored it. She sat, leaning against the stone, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He can see them too." She looked to the sky, worrying her lip more before she could go on. "I know you never thought I was mad, Mama. But for so long…"

Mai took in a heavy breath and wiped away the lingering wetness on her cheeks as she watched the falling sun stream over the tops of the headstones.

"It's a little scary. But I feel like I'm not alone anymore. And I wish...I wish I could do something to help them too. I know, I know, you always told me not to meddle, but they helped me when they had no reason to, and you always said that we should do unto others."

As if in answer, the leaves rustled softly in the trees. But whether it was approval or a warning, she could not tell. Mai sighed, resting and soaking in the small amount of heat that she could glean from the sun.

"If they would just let me…" she whispered.

She had begun to doze off, when the sound of voices in the distance jolted her awake.

Mai peered over the headstone. If they were headed towards the main gate, maybe they wouldn't notice her. Across the graveyard, Mai could see two men heading away from the church. One of the heads turned her way and she jumped, ducking further down.

"Mai?" One of the men called out.

How had someone recognized her from that far away? She had been eight the last time anyone from this church could have seen her.

"Mai, is that you?"

Mai was contemplating the best direction to run when she realized she knew that voice.

She popped up from behind the stone. "Gene?"

"Heya doll," Gene waved as he called over. "I thought that was you."

Mai blushed down to her toes, the chill forgotten. "Gene!" She headed over, hardly able to hold back the smile taking over her face.

She couldn't believe it. To think that she would meet him here, at a time like this. She knew it was silly, but it felt like fate. Just as fate brought them together in that alley.

"What brings you here, this fine afternoon?" Gene asked.

Mai pointed back over her shoulder. "I was just visiting my mother."

"Oh...I'm sorry ta hear it."

"It's okay. She passed a while back. I'm just glad to be back in town so I can visit her again."

Gene nodded. He opened his mouth to speak again, but his companion beat him to the punch.

"If you will excuse me, Miss Mai, I'm going to take the air," Yasuhara said with a tip of his hat. "I'm afraid I haven't acclimated to the cold snap just yet." He gave a somewhat exaggerated shiver. When Gene moved to follow, he gave a small shake of this head.

Gene looked at him, confused. Yasuhara just smiled back. "Feel free to take your time, Gene. I'll be in the iron." Mai thought she saw him send Gene a wink before he headed towards their car.

Mai smiled at Gene. He smiled back, and silence enveloped them for the first time since they had met.

Mai scuffed her shoe on the ground. Why couldn't she think of anything to say? Well, that wasn't true; she had a list of questions a mile long. About ghosts, and why he was here, and well, there was a lot. Mai took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if—"

"So—" Gene started at the same time.

They both stopped. Mai giggled nervously. Gene let out a chuckle.

"After you," he said.

"Sorry, I just wanted to apologize. You are probably busy and here I am stopping you."

"No. I, uh," Gene glanced in the direction Yasuhara had gone off. "I needed to talk to you anyway."

Her heart fluttered. "O-oh, really?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you have any questions, you know, about our friends?"

Mai tilted her head. "Friends? Oh. Uh, no. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that they are real."

"Oh, they're real, alright." Gene smiled. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, then?"

Mai chewed her lip for a moment, then smiled. "Not at all."

"How often do you see them?"

"...Not all the time. I used to see them a lot when I was younger. It wasn't always frightening, back then. I even made friends with some of them." Her smile faded. "But as I got older, I've had to…I learned how to ignore them. It's been years since I last saw a spirit."

"You don't say." He looked away, adding quietly, "I wish I could do that."

"No, you don't." Mai blushed at the forcefulness of her own voice and tried a different direction. "I've never met anyone else who could see them. My mother used to tell me it was best to keep it to myself, that no one would understand. But you said there were others?"

Gene's face darkened. "...Your mother had the right idea. I've learned that the fewer people know about it, the better."

Her heart sank a little at his words. "Oh, but…"

"And ghosts aren't often friendly." His voice was quick, carrying a trace of...fear? "Many of them are dangerous. If you have a way to keep away from them, you should."

He turned to her, his characteristic grin back on his face. "After all, you won't be able to sock them, even with your iron mitts! They'd just pass through, right?"

"Y-yes, I guess they would." Mai smiled weakly back at him. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

Gene placed a hand on her shoulder. Mai's eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed at the personal gesture.

"You just ignore them, Mai. If they know you can see them, there's no telling what they might say or do to ya. You were lucky when you were a kid. But I don't want to see you put at risk again." His eyes searched hers and his hand tightened its grip on her shoulder. "Promise you'll stay away?"

Mai's face colored more deeply, and she found herself only able to nod in response. She had never seen Gene look so serious.

Gene let out a sigh of relief, then released her with a glance over his shoulder. "Listen...I have to be gone for a little while."

"Gone?" Mai blinked.

"I'm not really sure for how long. I...I won't be back for dinner on Thursday. Will you tell Noll I'm sorry?" He looked at the ground with a grimace. "I'm sorry. Shit."

"Gene, did something happen?"

"It's just a… business trip. Something came up last minute. You know." He looked over his shoulder again. "I should get going. Don't want to make Yasuhara wait too long."

No. Something was wrong. He was scared. She could tell.

"You stay safe while I'm gone, Mai." Gene pointed at her as he backed away. "If you see a ghost, you get away. I'll help you when I get back."

She wanted to ask him to wait, to explain. Perhaps he didn't trust her enough to tell the truth. But she had to try, at least one last time.

"Gene!" she called to his retreating figure. Her voice hitched pathetically as she asked, "Is there...anything I can help you with?"

He froze, his eyes widening slightly. But then he shook his head with a resigned smile and half jogged down the path to the car.

And then he left her.

Mai stood among the headstones, the breeze enveloping her like an icy shawl.

Even Gene didn't want her help.

Authors' note:

1) No, we are in fact not dead. Who knew? Not us. I know I sure have felt dead this last year.

2) Yes, we do intend to continue writing this story. We have about 40 pages of outline to get through.

3) No, I don't know when the next chapter will be out. I would tell you it will be less than a year from now but I don't want to jinx myself.

4) Yes, we did make a bunch of changes, but nothing so substantive that this should feel like a new story. Just a richer, more polished version of what you read before.

5) Yes, we do want to hear your thoughts, send us a review. Stop by our tumblr for the story, and drop us a dime.

6) No, I don't know where these questions I am answering came from. But they still feel like they need to be answered.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed since our last chapter: Cats and Rabbitholes, orangestorange, Corr, readwithcats, FrenchCirce, Snavej, Ninjapenguinlove, Futuristic Typewriter, Hayers, chaipeppermint, soulsborne123, and Cabbit and the Weasel.

Futuristic Typewriter, you asked a question about the twins meeting up in the diner. Hopefully the added scene in chapter 2 helped to clear that up for you.