“How are you even here?” Rima’s words came out hoarse. “This building was built in the seventies!”
“My home is buried under the foundations. Venonae, it was called.”
“A ruin is enough to keep you here?”
“For now.”
Rima shook her head. Leah – her best friend – was two thousand years old. Even Claudia had lived for millennia. They had been here during the Roman invasion of Britain. The collapse of the Roman Empire. The Dark Ages. The Tudors. The English Civil War. She’d seen everything. Leah must have been through so many unimaginable, horrific things throughout history. It was amazing she was functioning at all.
And she’d listened to Rima babble on about The X-Files for decades.
It made sense that there were older ghosts here though. A few years after her death, Rima had gone exploring Mulcture Hall as a mouse, slipping into crevices under floorboards and down the sides of radiators. She’d found all sorts of lost things – tiny ceramic models, buttons, letters from old students stuck down the sides of their beds before they moved out, Polaroids, jewellery, even some money – but all of the things she found were relatively modern. The building hadn’t been there for a few decades before she’d died. But dozens of generations of people must have lived and died here before that. There must be so much hidden under the ground.
Leah being Roman felt right, in some bizarre, inevitable way. She was dressed in a white linen dress, knotted around her waist. It could be an old, old shift of some kind.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t disintegrate centuries ago. How have you never run out of energy?”
Leah shrugged. “There never used to be any rules against taking energy from other ghosts. That’s a modern phenomenon. For centuries, it was kill or be killed. So to speak. I had the advantage on any attacking ghosts – I used my power to see what attacks were coming.”
This was so surreal. Leah was some kind of warrior ghost. Why had she been content to spend the last few decades just play-fighting with Rima? No wonder she seemed so utterly bored all the time.
“You must be the oldest ghost in the building. Older than the Tricksters, even.”
At the words, Claudia let out a tiny wail. Her eyes bored into Rima like she was trying to convey a message.
Rima shivered, breaking eye contact with the baby.
What could Claudia be thinking? What had she seen over the last two thousand years? How could she stand it? Never ageing beyond a child, or expressing the thoughts that were clearly trapped inside her mind. She was begging to be understood, and – unlike with Cody and other animals – Rima had no way of hearing her.
Rima swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s not right, that you’re both running out of energy after surviving centuries.”
She wasn’t ready to lose her. Not now. Not ever.
Leah squeezed her elbow. “It’s time.”
“It’s not! There must be something we can do.”
“If we did, we’d be no better than Harriet, Rima. You know that.”
Rima bit her lip, looking away. “I can’t imagine this place without you, Leah.”
There were three ghosts watching from the far end of the corridor. She twisted, so that they couldn’t see that she was crying. Everyone was always waiting now, hoping for more drama and gossip. They made her skin crawl. No wonder Felix had hidden himself away.
“Hey,” Leah said softly, and wiped away her tears. “I’m not going anywhere yet. And my only regret is that I didn’t tell enough people to piss off while I had the chance.”
Rima snorted, and wiped her face on her sleeve. “There’s still time.”
Leah grinned, and turned to yell “Piss off!” at the ghosts watching them. Rima’s tears turned into helpless giggles.
“Feel better?”
“Much.” Rima pulled Leah and Claudia into a hug. “I love you so much, Aeliana.”
Leah held her tightly. “I love you, too. In fact…” She pulled a Best Friends Forever necklace out of her pocket – the one Rima had given her, years ago.
Rima touched the other half of the locket, which hung around her neck. “You kept it? All this time?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m totally chill, promise! I actually don’t care whether you wear it or not!” Rima had to physically bite down on the corners of her lips to hide her grin as Leah put on the necklace.
Leah hummed in disbelief. “Now, let’s go find the boys. If I’m disintegrating soon, then you better bet that I’m taking Harriet bloody Stoker with me.”
I don’t remember being alive. I died too young. But I’ve looked back at our lives. I’ve seen what it was like in the Roman fort where we lived. It was nice there – muddy and full of people, but a lot cleaner than some of the buildings that came later.
Leah grew up in a town full of Roman soldiers, caught in constant battle with the Celts near by. She had a speckled cat who ate out of her hands. She sang constantly. She was happy. By the time I was born, she’d lost all of those things. And by the time she died, I was all she had left at all.
Honestly, I prefer being dead to any life I could have had among the living. It’s so much less messy, being a ghost. There are fewer expectations on a girl here.
I enjoy how much people underestimate me. They happily spill all their secrets in front of a baby, showing their true loyalties. I’m not saying that I’d choose to be like this if I had another option. But I’ve made the most out of a bad situation.
The most frustrating part about being so young is that I can’t tell my mother any of the things I see happening in the future. That never used to be a problem, because Leah could see the future herself. But since she stopped using her power, I’m the only one who can see what’s coming. I’ve got no way to warn her.
I’ve known about Harriet since the English Civil War. Leah and I saw out the war in style. This site was being used as an encampment for a troop of Roundheads. They all died like locusts. Honestly, you’ve never seen such poor hygiene.
For a season, we feasted on newborn ghosts all day and night, until we couldn’t do anything but lie around and dream, swollen with energy. Too much energy sends ghosts wild and crazed, destroying them from the inside out. The white hair is an early warning sign, an indication to cut back on your indulgences. We all had it, back then.
It was around that time that I started testing how far into the future I could look. It was just a way to burn up the excess energy, at first.
A decade into the future, I saw a vision of my father learning to knit with the wool from a sheep spirit who’d died before a shearing. It was a hobby he continued for many years. It would have been endearing if he wasn’t using two human fingers as knitting needles, taken from a ghost who’d upset him.
Fifty years away, the old barn had been burnt to the ground, and we were all huddled together under the charcoal remains of the wooden frame.
A hundred years, and we were pale and weak Shells, floating around a few stray stones on the ground.
I should have stopped looking, then. It was already too dangerous, trying to see that far ahead. Time becomes unstable. Just looking could affect things – a little stray energy could cause chaos if it slipped through time.