Chapter 2: Ghosts, Jazz, and Ascension

Before I ascended, I once had what you might call a fleeting romance down here on earth!

Looking back, it sounds so casual—a fleeting romance! If by fleeting, you mean a slow-burn decades-long affair, the kind that would make a country songwriter run out of verses.

Well… if you can call several decades ‘fleeting’! Seriously, I’ve lived through entire presidential administrations that didn’t last as long as we did. And we weren’t exactly quiet about it, either.

Lucas was a fox shapeshifter with extraordinary talent—in every sense of the word! Lucas had a reputation that followed him like cologne—dangerous, wild, unpredictable, and too good-looking for anyone’s peace of mind. In every sense, as in: he could charm the pants off a preacher’s wife and get away with it.

I once accidentally saved him, and from then on, he stuck to me like glue! It wasn’t anything heroic, just one of those right-place, right-time moments. Saved his tail from a couple of angry werewolves in a back alley behind a Southern barbecue joint. After that, he decided I was his personal good luck charm, and he never let me forget it.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it, just treated him as another friend! Honestly, I thought he’d get bored and move on. I had no idea foxes could be so loyal—or so persistent. For a long while, he just hovered, more like an annoying shadow than a lover.

Later, I can’t remember after which wild night, Lucas asked if I wanted to try a new spiritual practice, saying his fox clan’s secret method could make my progress skyrocket! It was after a marathon party at a jazz club in New Orleans—a night that ended with us running through rain-soaked alleys, the city spinning. The air outside was thick with jazz and the smell of beignets, the kind of night where anything felt possible. He cornered me, eyes all mischief, whispering about his clan’s secret spiritual techniques like it was a dare.

That night, he held a flower branch, his looks and charm out of this world—like a rock star on stage—yet his smile was so tempting! He stood by the window with moonlight tangled in his hair, a battered magnolia blossom in hand. He looked like the lead singer of a band that played sold-out stadiums. The kind of man your mama warned you about. His grin had a way of making even the most practical promises sound like poetry.

I can’t say who reached out first. By the time I came to my senses, the bed was already a mess, totally unfit for sleeping! Memory’s a slippery thing. Maybe I made the first move, maybe he did—but by the end of it, the sheets were twisted, the lamp was knocked over, and I was pretty sure we’d broken at least one of the bedposts. Nothing about that night was fit for polite company.

Three days later, when I finally managed to get out of bed, holding my back, Lucas wrapped his tail around my leg and asked if I liked him! I’ll admit, it took me three days to even remember my own name. When I finally crawled out of that bed, my back aching in ways only a fox spirit can cause, he curled his tail around my calf and looked up at me like a puppy with a new bone. "So, do you like me?" he asked, with the innocent confidence of someone who already knows the answer.

I thought for a moment and said I did! It would’ve been a lie to say otherwise. I liked his laugh, his hands, the way he challenged me. And, okay, maybe I liked the rush that came with our so-called "spiritual practice." My cheeks heated as I answered honestly.

I liked his looks, liked his energy, and liked even more the progress from our spiritual practice together—equivalent to three months of meditation! Truthfully, I liked the way my powers jumped every time we tangled up. It was a cheat code for immortals, better than any meditation app or yoga retreat. And the way he’d look at me afterward, satisfied and a little smug… well, it grew on me.

How could that not be liking? It was impossible not to get swept up in it. I mean, who wouldn’t fall for that?

Having gotten his answer, Lucas was delighted, and even more passionate! He grinned wide enough to split his face, tail swishing. From that day, he was unstoppable—bolder, more affectionate, dragging me into adventures and trouble at every opportunity. We became the talk of the shapeshifter underworld and the envy of half the supernatural crowd.

Those years, thanks to Lucas’s efforts, my abilities soared! With him at my side, I broke through barriers I’d thought were permanent. It was like discovering a new gear, a secret superpower I never wanted to give up. My reputation grew, my confidence soared, and everywhere we went, people stared—some with awe, others with envy.

It was, indeed, a happy time! Honestly, I hadn’t known happiness could feel that easy, that wild. We road-tripped across the country in old Chevys, crashed at tiny diners, danced under the stars, and made every moment count. If that wasn’t happiness, I don’t know what is.

Unfortunately, just as I had one foot in the door to ascension, we finally learned the rules of the heavens! Of course, nothing gold can stay. Just as I was about to punch my ticket to the big leagues upstairs, the celestial authorities posted new rules—no shapeshifters allowed. Like someone moving the goalposts right as you’re about to score.

Shapeshifter bloodlines were considered impure and couldn’t ascend! Doesn’t matter how strong you are or how much you’ve grown—if your blood isn’t up to code, you’re out. In their eyes, Lucas was a liability. And by loving him, so was I.

Only humans who were heartless and detached could ascend! The irony was, the more you cared, the harder it was to get ahead. You had to be cold, untouchable—a machine, not a person. Typical, right?

The path to ascension was almost completely blocked. If you wanted to go up, you had to play by their rules! So, under Lucas’s stunned gaze, I mercilessly cut off my own bonds of affection and ascended right then as someone on the path of detachment!

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Lucas looked at me like I’d shot his dog. I didn’t give him a chance to beg or fight; I shut off my feelings like flipping a switch and made my exit. It was brutal, but the rules left me no choice—or so I told myself.

After sleeping with me for so many years, Lucas only found out that day that I was walking the path of the heartless! It must have felt like a punch to the gut. He’d given me everything, and I’d treated him like a rung on a ladder. No warning, no explanation—just cold ambition and a door slammed in his face.

He wiped away the blood at the corner of his mouth, his voice still so smooth: He never let his pride slip. Even hurt, bleeding from the heart, he managed to sound cool, his words rolling out like honey over gravel.

“Then what do all these years count for? What do I mean to you?” He sounded more curious than hurt, but I could see the pain flicker in his eyes. Still, he wanted an answer, as if I could explain away years with a single line.

Without looking back, I walked the path to ascension: I kept my back straight, my face blank, not daring to look over my shoulder. "Let’s just say we each got what we needed. Good friend, thank you!" It was the worst kind of goodbye—a lie dressed up as closure.