Daniel tried to avoid trouble, but Asheton was so active that he couldn’t go more than half a day without running into something. Any time he met a hostile spirit, he’d detour until it lost track of him. Some would ask him for help with some problem or another, locating a tool or chasing out a wayward ghost or whatnot. And every once in a while, a spirit would address him with that strange question about his cousins. After the second time, he just started telling them, “I’m probably not who you’re looking for, but if you need help, I can try,” and let them decide if they trusted him.
Like today, for example.
“‘Scuse me,” whispered a snake made of light. He looked up from his seat -- the libraries had cushions in all the windowsills so you could sit and watch the town go by. Rain rattled against the panes. “Are your cousins well?”
“Sorry, I’m not one of those guys. Is something wrong?”
As usual, the spirit was thrown for a loop, but she recovered quickly. “Are you the spectral Rami was talking about? The teacup,” she clarified when he frowned. “It said a newcomer pacified the glass cannonball a week ago.”
He shut the book on his lap. It wasn’t anything interesting, anyways. “What’s wrong? Did it come back?”
“No, there’s a different problem. You wouldn’t know how to contact the Cousinhood, would you?”
The name was unfamiliar; no doubt it was the source of all the cousin questions. “No, sorry. But I know a few spectrals, if you need…”
“ -- don’t get it!” A sudden outburst from a few rows over made him and the snake jump. Another person replied in a nervous voice, and the first voice lowered. “Right, sorry -- just, you’re the second spirit to ask me that today, and I don’t get why. Can you just -- Hey, wait!”
He recognized the voice a few words in, and he got up and dropped the book on a return shelf. At the last two words, a strange, fuzzy spirit with tiny dragonfly wings zipped around the corner. It squeaked and dove behind his shoulder just as Lyric appeared after it. They were running, one hand up to yank their baton off their shoulder. When they saw him, they jerked to a stop.
“Uh,” he said. “Hi?”
“...Hey.” They let go of their baton a little too slowly. “Do you know who this is?”
“No? No.” He moved aside, and the fuzzy spirit squeaked again and shot through the nearest wall. “Uh--” The snake hovered at his other side, looking as confused as a relatively expressionless snake could look. “What, uh, what were you saying before?”
She looked Lyric over. “Are you a cousin?”
They got agitated all over again. “I don’t know what that means! I have three cousins, two are fundamentally awful human beings and one isn’t that bad but none of them are spectrals, why do you keep asking--”
“It’s code,” he interrupted, then felt bad when they jumped. “Uh, sorry -- I think they ask spectrals that to see if they’re part of some group.”
The snake looked sheepish. “It’s not a very well thought out code. Sorry for the confusion. If you would help us, though…”
“I’d. Uh. Love to help, but I’m actually looking for someone, so I can’t--”
“I’ll help,” he offered. The snake lit up brighter, and Lyric grumbled. “What’s the problem?”
She cast another look at Lyric. Despite their refusal, they didn’t move, just crossed their arms and waited. “There’s another spirit kicking up trouble,” she said. “We’re not sure what it looks like -- it’s either very good at hiding, or it can cloak itself somehow. Anyone who tries to follow it vanishes.”
He frowned. It was awfully vague. “Do you know anything about it?”
She wobbled in an approximation of a shrug. “It flashes when it attacks. That’s all we know.”
Lyric straightened up. “Like a camera flash?”
“Er, what’s a camera?”
They hesitated, then dug in their pocket and pulled out a stack of photographs, small and white-bordered. “I keep finding these around town,” they said, and fanned them out. Each one had a slightly blurry photo of a spirit caught off-guard -- a doctopus with wide eyes and purple energy, a cat with its paw up to cover the camera, a bird poised to take flight from a tree branch, and--
Without thinking, he reached out and took the fourth one. Lyric blinked, but didn’t take it back. “That’s Rami,” the snake confirmed when he showed her the photograph. The teacup spirit was hard to see, out of focus and flying away from the camera, but the sky-blue energy was clear. “Where did you find this?”
He held it out, and Lyric took it gingerly back. “Talon cafe, I think,” they said, looking at it again before tucking it into the pack. “I only know these two”-- they tapped the bird and the cat--“but I’m looking for the rest of these, too.”
“Are you sure it’s a spirit?” he asked. The snake tilted her head. “Like, could it be a spectral taking photos and then, um… putting them into tools or something?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” she replied after a moment of thought. “But if it is a spectral, they’re leaving an awfully clear trail for us to follow. Where were these?”
He looked at Lyric. They were looking more uncomfortable by the second, only meeting his eyes for a moment before looking back at the photos in their hand. “Mostly in Satama Park.”
“How far is it?”
“A mile down the main road.” Then, as something flashed across their face, “Wait, you don’t have a tool, you can’t--”
“I’ll be fine. Just don’t, uh, tell the other two.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left. After a few moments, he heard a rapidfire string of swears, then a rush of footsteps as they chased after him. The snake followed suit, albeit much quieter. “Do you want company?” they said when they caught up.
“Kind of,” he admitted, keeping his voice low. “But if you’d rather not--”
“Nope. Kris will kill me if I let you run off. And then she’ll kill my ghost, too, probably.”
He snorted in spite of himself, and Lyric cracked a smile, though it faded quickly. He pressed a hand against his jacket pocket for a second. The bracelet was still tucked away, maybe inert, maybe not. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to test it, and he let go. “Who are those spirits?” he said, with a little nod at the photos.
They were getting crumpled in their grip. Lyric tucked them back into one of their many pockets. “Footpad and Rose,” they said. “I met them a few months ago, fighting a local nuisance. Antonia -- another spirit, a ghost -- came looking for me after she couldn’t find them.” They pat their pocket ruefully. “No clue how long they’ve been missing for. I should’ve kept in touch or something.”
“Spirits go missing pretty often,” the snake said. “But it only got bad a week ago. And besides, you’ve only found photographs, right? No tools?” At their nod, she shook her head. “I’m sure they’re fine, then. Killing a spirit is easy, but getting their wisp is trickier than you’d think.”
He had first-hand experience with that. From Lyric’s wince, they did, too. But the snake couldn’t continue that cheery thought.
They’d just left the library and gone a few steps down the rain-soaked sidewalk, but a distant flicker of light made them all stop.
Lyric put a hand to their baton again, and the snake wafted forward in front of them both. “Stay close,” she warned, and flew down the road. They followed her, Lyric half a step in front of Daniel. The tension in the air was ruined slightly as they both kept slipping in the puddles, trying to match the snake’s brisk flight, and they’d fallen behind a bit when she reached an alley and stopped. A slight glow reflected off of the rain-stained bricks and pavement. She waited for them to catch up, then peeked around the corner, gingerly.
Nothing happened. “I don’t see any--”
The alley flared white. Daniel was blinded, and Lyric yelped and lurched back, bumping into him. He caught their arm to steady them, but they wrenched free.
He blinked the spots from his eyes. Lyric was rubbing their own with one hand, the other vice-tight around their baton, now free of its bag and glowing an acidic yellow. “Sorry,” they said -- for what, he wasn’t sure. They dropped their hand and looked around, then swore. “Shoot -- where’s the snake?”
Daniel looked around. She wasn’t in front of them anymore, and when he stepped forward to check the alley, Lyric held the baton up to stop him, gaze fixed on the ground.
A soggy photograph sat in the center of the alley’s entrance, grey clouds and dull brown bricks framing a surprised serpentine face. Lyric flicked their hand. A ribbon of yellow snapped to it like flypaper and pulled it into their hand. They looked at it for a moment, then back up, face tense. They whispered, “Did anything come out of there?”
“I -- I don’t think so.”
They tucked the photo into their pocket, shifted to the edge of the alley, and pointed the baton.
The ground shuddered -- cracked -- and vines burst out in one chaotic tangle. Something hit the ground with a clatter and a whirring noise. Lyric lunged around the corner. Daniel followed.
A net of vines was thrashing on the ground. It took a second for him to see what was inside, rain and light glinting off of something so clear he could barely make its outline out. The spirit twisted to a sitting position. A light flared on, and Lyric threw up another wave of vines.
As soon as the light died, the vines dropped away. But the net was gone. A trail of spectral energy shot down the sidewalk. Lyric swore and ran after it. Daniel paused to look at the ground before he followed; a photo lay on on the concrete, a tangled mess of vines captured in the middle.
He caught up with Lyric as the spirit turned a corner. “Left,” he said.
They slid around the corner, baton close at their side. Before he could follow, another light blinded him, and he stumbled to a stop and pressed a hand over his eyes.
Lyric was still there, somehow, but they were swearing incessantly. “Can you, uh -- ” he said, then stopped as the air shifted next to him. Without thinking, he grabbed. His hand closed around something slick and glassy. “Ack!”
His vision cleared in time to see the spirit. Three spindly legs, one of which he’d grabbed, leading to a short torso and an even shorter head, vaguely camera shaped, all a distorted silhouette of rain and light -- and then a light flickered on its head, and he didn’t close his eyes fast enough.
The flash hit him like a physical force. He reeled back, dizzy and blinded, and caught himself against a wall. His ears were ringing. Glass clattered against the pavement, followed by a rustle of displaced air.
But there was nothing else. No footsteps, no shutter sounds, no vines lashing through the air. Had Lyric chased after it? He couldn’t blame them if they had, but he still couldn’t see. He scrubbed at his eyes to clear the haze.
“That… that works,” Lyric said, oddly put-out. Their voice was on the wrong side. “How the heck did you do that?”
Do what?
He blinked, hard, and his vision cleared. The rain had slowed. The camera spirit was gone. Lyric stood a few steps away, rubbing their temple, mist swirling around their feet from a pile of glass shards that was dissipating into nothing.
He stared at it for too long. His ears rang louder. Lyric still had a hand to the side of their head, the wince fading to concern. Without saying anything, he fumbled at his pocket and pulled out the bracelet. It glowed a silvery grey, light flashing off its bells, then dulled back to nothing.
Still active.
“Uh.” Boots scraped against the concrete. When he looked up, Lyric had shifted back a step. The baton in their hand shook. “Who’s in that?”
“A.” He swallowed. “A sound spirit. Ringlet.” The bells were rattling again, so softly he almost couldn’t hear them. “They -- it’s OK, they’re safe, they’re not like her--”
Lyric opened their mouth. Before they could speak, though, something in their pocket glowed. They blinked, ducked their head, and pulled out the stack of photographs. The wet pages glowed white, then--
Click!
The pages burst. A pile of spirits spilled to the ground in a mess of shouts and hissing. The snake and teacup wiggled free right away, and a cat-person jumped to its feet, claws swinging. “Get back! Get--” It stilled mid-swing. “What the flip...?”
Lyric shot an opaque look at Daniel, then turned their back on him. “Hey, Footpad.” They slung their baton back over their shoulder. “Y’all ok? Uh -- I think you’re sitting on Rose, can you--”
While they sorted out the freed spirits, he backed away a step to lean against the wall. The ringing was fading from his ears, but not from the bracelet.
Glass. Something with sound. He’d seen videos of singers shattering goblets with their voice. Had he done the same thing? He couldn’t ask.
Lyric was still talking. A doctopus drifted out of the crowd and settled on their head. “Uh, Antonia’s looking for you two”-- that to the cat-person, who now had what looked like an off-colored pigeon sitting on its head-- “and I guess Talon cafe is--”
“That’s not our name,” said the snake in her whispering voice.
“Right, sorry, I can never remember…”
“Psst.” He flinched a bit. The teacup, Rami, had flown up to his side to squint at him. “Are you alright?”
Not at all. He pressed a hand back over his eyes. “Fine. Just… headache.”
He didn’t remove his eyes, even after it said something and flew away in a swish of displaced air. I’m sorry, he thought, desperately, hoping Ringlet could hear it somehow. I don’t-- I didn’t mean to, I swear, I…
No response, of course. He lowered his hand and put the bracelet back into his pocket. The snake said one last thing and shot a concerned look at him before she swished away, the teacup close behind, and Lyric waved off the cat-person and its companion. When the last spirit left, they looked at him with that opaque frown. “Are you alright?”
He nodded. “Where -- where did the spirit go? I didn’t see it.” That was a fair question, right? The light would’ve blinded him.
“It’s in here.” They tugged something from another pocket: a shot glass, battered and glowing black. “I’ll, uh, take care of it later.”
“You won’t kill it, right?”
He hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Before he could read the look on their face, he dropped his eyes back at the ground. The pile of glass shards had long since dissipated. “I’ll figure something out,” they finally said, uncertain. “Do you want it?”
He shook his head. He really shouldn’t have access to any tools, Ringlet’s included, but he didn’t say that. “I’ll just lose it.”
“So will I, by my track record,” they grumbled, but they tucked it into their pocket. They both looked up when thunder cracked through the air. The misting rain surged into a downpour. He winced and pulled his hood up; they grimaced and wiped their face with a sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”