Chapter 2: Ghosts at My Doorstep

Is this how things work these days? Even ghosts form support groups now?

The thought almost made me laugh. I pictured a group therapy session for the dead, everyone clutching their unfinished business like bingo cards.

Not everyone turns into a ghost after dying. If they did, the world would be a mess.

Only folks who got a raw deal before they died—under just the right circumstances—stick around as ghosts.

It’s not about how you died—it’s about what you left behind. Regret, anger, love twisted into something darker. The rest just fade away, like smoke in the morning.

And after becoming a ghost, it’s not like people imagine, haunting everywhere and hurting others.

More often, they just wander near where they died, weighed down by unfinished business. To kill, certain triggers are needed.

Only when something stirs up their grievance will they be provoked to take revenge.

These two spirits in front of me acted just like living people.

They even smelled faintly of mothballs and old tobacco, the kind of scents that linger in the corners of an old farmhouse. Their hands shook as they pleaded, and the fear in their eyes was heartbreakingly real.

I sat in my chair, watching the two “people” beg over and over.

Their behavior overturned everything I thought I knew.

Ghosts shouldn’t be this sharp. I felt my skin prickle, unease sliding down my spine.

They rarely speak like humans, let alone kneel and plead.

Unless they’re those ancient spirits who’ve haunted for centuries—those things could wipe me out in a heartbeat.

There’s no reason for them to come beg me.

Did I see wrong?

No way. Even though my power is gone, my second sight remains. I can still tell people from ghosts, right?

I patted the flask at my waist. Allie’s voice inside: Yes, they really are ghosts.

Her voice was soft as a breeze, but it sent a chill right through me. Allie’s never been wrong before, not about this.

Now I was interested.

After all, I’m still an exorcist. Banishing demons, saving the world and its people—it’s in my bones.

Doesn’t matter what the situation is—if I can help, I should.

“You two, please get up.”

The two elders didn’t move, still bowing low.

Their fingers dug into the porch wood, knuckles white. Guilt twisted in my gut, but I held my ground.

“I’ve promised to come with you. Please get up and tell me what’s going on.” After they got up, I added, “But… I’ve lost my power, and my mentor has passed away. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to help.”

I pulled up a chair, poured some coffee, and let the steam warm my hands as I waited for them to speak.

The old man took a sip, then began to speak in a low voice.

I didn’t pay much attention to his first few sentences. Instead, I watched the old man’s state.

He actually drank the coffee. Swallowed it, too. That was... weird.

I watched the liquid disappear past his lips, not a drop spilled. Most ghosts can’t even hold a cup, let alone drink. I made a mental note to ask Allie about it later.

“My daughter, Emily Carson, is possessed by something. She won’t eat anything good, only rotten meat crawling with maggots, doesn’t recognize anyone. Anyone who gets close, she scratches and bites.”

“If she scratches you, the wound festers for three days, rots in a week—you have to cut it out, or it won’t stop. We’ve called in other exorcists, but none could help. Please, have mercy.”

The old man kept talking. The old woman just cried—real tears, too.

The sight of those tears shook me. They glistened on her cheeks, falling silently into her lap. Even in death, a parent’s grief doesn’t fade.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Almost a month now. My daughter’s always been frail. She must have gone to the woods to pick wildflowers and ran into something evil.”

His voice cracked on the word ‘frail,’ and I could picture a small, pale girl wandering the tree line, clutching a handful of daisies. The image made my chest ache.

I nodded. “Alright, you two wait for me to pack up. We’ll head out together.”

When I went outside, it was noon.

Sun was so bright, I could barely keep my eyes open.

The heat bounced off the cracked pavement, making the air shimmer. Cicadas buzzed in the trees, and somewhere, a dog barked at nothing. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath.

The two elders had no shadows. I checked again and again—they really were vengeful spirits.

Damn, this really is seeing a ghost. Ha. I shook my head, trying to process it all.

By the time we reached the town entrance, it was completely dark.

The sky had turned a deep blue, and the only light came from the scattered porch bulbs and the golden glow from kitchen windows. The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and frying onions.

I bent down to wipe my sweat. The two elders wanted to hurry me along but felt awkward, just looking at me, then at the faint porch lights in the town.

Their nervous glances darted from me to the houses ahead, as if afraid the darkness behind us might swallow us whole if we lingered too long.

“Your town’s pretty lively at night.”

By the glow from every house, I could see figures moving everywhere in the town. Normally, at this hour, the place should be quiet.

It was unsettling. Maple Hollow usually shuts down after sundown—folks here like their sleep. Seeing so many people—so many shapes—out and about made my skin crawl.

“Sir, sorry, sorry, it’s not that we don’t trust you, it’s just… for safety, there are others in town treating my daughter too.”

Oh, so they called in backup for me.