Chapter Text
Rhiannon slid through her bedroom door--which was closed.
At Fenton’s indignant knock, the ghost sighed. She cast back a motive glance—opening the door for the mortal.
Fenton huffed. "You usually remember."
"I'm tired, okay ?"
Ree hated being insubstantial anyway. It’s not like she’d ever asked for it. Besides, since death she'd been always hungry.
Fen let the ghost possess him to glom down a tube of sticky little corner-store frosted donuts he’d snagged—her favorite.
The sugar revived Ree: "What did Daddy want with you?"
Not a word to the ladies, Fen recalled Gethin saying.
Fenton had been flattered by the old ghost’s man-to-man respect and had sworn secrecy--but suddenly felt two feet tall in his friendship with Ree.
"He wanted to get to know me." Fenton laughed off Geth's talk. True enough--isn’t it ?
"What did he want to know?"
Fen never could invent anything very fast, so he chose to tell his ghost girlfriend the less-dangerous part. He lowered his voice: "He asked me if I loved you and when we'd get married."
Ree scoffed. "Since when does my dad want to marry me off ? Of all the people I'd have thought to accuse of still living in the 1700s !"
"Ree—does that mean people actually marry ghosts? Since I’m living, I mean--is it possible to marry somebody dead ? "
Ree’s arms folded. "Nobody gets married after they've died. Forget 'till Death do us part'--you just part. Maybe he assumes since you're a breather, you want to marry me. That'd be such a mortal thing to do: Mortals are always trying to put a lock on 'forever.'" The ghost turned away—choosing not to register his crestfallen look.
Ree squinted at the knob on her ancient boxy TV. Pop, the dark old unit glowed to life—almost sentient. Watching.
Alas, this was not a night for ecto--the potion Fenton could drink that had been making their love life possible: With her dad Gethin now close by--in the bedroom on the other side of Ree's wall--no ecto for Fenton tonight. Ree probably didn't even care.
Without ecto, Fen's arm wouldn't rest on her shoulder—gliding through the ghost. She got annoyed, so he parked it on the pillow behind her.
Fen knew, having kept the secret so far for Gethin, he was therefore at the same time keeping it from Ree. Could Fenton’s silence cost Ree her cozy haunt ?
For the couple days since Gethin returned, Fen had seen father and daughter ghost get along—but in Fenton's own life he’d seen family devolve into mean squabbles and had heard about family fights over big stuff like cars and houses.
And always—in his house, at least—after a few days, house guests wore their welcome through: The bickering would start, old irritations got picked-at and disheveled, and suddenly people couldn’t stay under the same roof.
Unfortunately—if things got that way—the real owner of Ree's big house was Gethin.
Ten minutes later, Ree had realized she was the only one doing bad lip reading over the movie. "You've been breathing funny. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine."
"You're tense too."
"It's been a long day. Maybe I should get back home."
Ree sighed as though feeling cheated.
"Ree, I've been thinking. I need to tell you something."
Fen hadn't meant to be dramatic--but Ree sat up into a hover, dreading he might say he was just done with ghost weirdness, and wanted to break up. She looked at the mortal, waiting.
"Maybe the place I tell you shouldn't even be here." He'd whispered--thumbing at the wall, in her dad's direction.
Ree could have phased through a wall and glid down to the lawn below—but tagging along next to her favorite mortal had become habit. Sometimes Fen just needed help.
Ree squinted, prompting her bedroom door open for Fenton—it announced them with an awful SKREEK in the silent house. They waited, listening. The elder ghost in the next room was dead quiet.
Ree began to waft down the stairs. Fenton navigated the dry steps that creaked and groaned under his sneakers--monsters in the dark.