that. I can even be happy for you. It's obvious you care about her, and I've seen the way she looks at you."
Jack sighed. He fixed his friend with a sincere gaze and shook his head. "We can't, Artie. You're still here to me. And Molly . . . I think she can sense that you're not really gone."
"But I am gone, Jack. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Molly knows it, too. It's pretty freaky that I have to be the one to tell you what any fool could see is happening with you two. Give it time, all right? See what develops. Don't let her end up with some jerk."
Jack took a deep breath and blew it out. "You're right about one thing. It's all pretty freaky. How the hell am I supposed to kiss her if I know you might be watching?"
The ghost shimmered, then flickered like the picture on a television set just before the power goes out. A sad look had come over Artie's features again.
"When you're right, you're right," he said. He floated toward Jack. "You've got my word that unless you see me, I'm not around. If I pop in and you guys are together, I'll bug out for a while."
"I really don't think you have anything to worry about," Jack told him. "Nothing's gonna happen with us. I'm telling you. We've got too much between us."
Artie grinned at that. "We'll see."
Jack sighed. "Look, you didn't come here to talk to me about this. What's going on?"
"The locals - the dead ones, anyway - they're talking about the Prowlers. We already know from those ghosts you passed on your way into town that there's a pack in the area. But I did some more digging. It looks like they use the town as a home base and hunt around here. The strange thing is, they only started killing people in town recently. It's over some book apparently. I talked to the ghost of that mailman, Garraty? Tried to get him to manifest so you could talk to him, but he's still pretty angry about being murdered and all, keeping mostly to himself. I'll see if I can find out anything else."
Jack scratched at his chin. "Yeah. Thanks for that. What about the other local victim? Martin or Marlin or whatever."
The ghost drifted backward, toward the window. The closer Artie came to the sunlight, the more gossamer-like he became, until it was almost as though his whole body had been woven out of spiderweb.
"I've asked about him, but no one seems to know. Some think it's possible he's gone on already."
"Gone where?" Jack asked.
"To wherever he's destined to go. Those of us still here, we're the lost ones, Jack, or the ones who refuse to leave. The ones who have something keeping them from resting. People who die violently usually hang around for a while, clinging to the old world. Looks like Foster Marlin was the exception."
Jack thought about that. No Marlin. But at least the ghost of that mailman was still around. And if he and Molly didn't work fast, there would be more.
"All right. Thanks. Let me know if you come up with anything else."
He looked up at Artie but the ghost was staring past him, a wistful smile on his spectral features. Jack blinked and turned to find Molly standing in the open bathroom door, wrapped only in a towel. Her hair was damp and hanging across her bare shoulders in tangled skeins. She looked nothing short of extraordinary.
"Hey," Molly said quietly.
"Hey," Jack replied.
"You talking to one of them?"
Jack nodded.
"Let me just grab my clothes," she said. Quickly, Molly went to the dresser and made a small pile of the items she wanted to wear before hurrying back into the bathroom and shutting the door.
Alone again, Jack glanced up at Artie, who had a broad grin on his face.
"Told you," the ghost said.
"Told me what?" Jack replied quickly.
Artie rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. She could have brought the clothes in with her in the first place, Jack. Were you always this slow on the uptake, or is this a special case?"
Then the ghost dissipated into nothing, like the momentary sheen of a rainbow in the spray of a backyard sprinkler. Artie was
Jack sighed. He fixed his friend with a sincere gaze and shook his head. "We can't, Artie. You're still here to me. And Molly . . . I think she can sense that you're not really gone."
"But I am gone, Jack. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Molly knows it, too. It's pretty freaky that I have to be the one to tell you what any fool could see is happening with you two. Give it time, all right? See what develops. Don't let her end up with some jerk."
Jack took a deep breath and blew it out. "You're right about one thing. It's all pretty freaky. How the hell am I supposed to kiss her if I know you might be watching?"
The ghost shimmered, then flickered like the picture on a television set just before the power goes out. A sad look had come over Artie's features again.
"When you're right, you're right," he said. He floated toward Jack. "You've got my word that unless you see me, I'm not around. If I pop in and you guys are together, I'll bug out for a while."
"I really don't think you have anything to worry about," Jack told him. "Nothing's gonna happen with us. I'm telling you. We've got too much between us."
Artie grinned at that. "We'll see."
Jack sighed. "Look, you didn't come here to talk to me about this. What's going on?"
"The locals - the dead ones, anyway - they're talking about the Prowlers. We already know from those ghosts you passed on your way into town that there's a pack in the area. But I did some more digging. It looks like they use the town as a home base and hunt around here. The strange thing is, they only started killing people in town recently. It's over some book apparently. I talked to the ghost of that mailman, Garraty? Tried to get him to manifest so you could talk to him, but he's still pretty angry about being murdered and all, keeping mostly to himself. I'll see if I can find out anything else."
Jack scratched at his chin. "Yeah. Thanks for that. What about the other local victim? Martin or Marlin or whatever."
The ghost drifted backward, toward the window. The closer Artie came to the sunlight, the more gossamer-like he became, until it was almost as though his whole body had been woven out of spiderweb.
"I've asked about him, but no one seems to know. Some think it's possible he's gone on already."
"Gone where?" Jack asked.
"To wherever he's destined to go. Those of us still here, we're the lost ones, Jack, or the ones who refuse to leave. The ones who have something keeping them from resting. People who die violently usually hang around for a while, clinging to the old world. Looks like Foster Marlin was the exception."
Jack thought about that. No Marlin. But at least the ghost of that mailman was still around. And if he and Molly didn't work fast, there would be more.
"All right. Thanks. Let me know if you come up with anything else."
He looked up at Artie but the ghost was staring past him, a wistful smile on his spectral features. Jack blinked and turned to find Molly standing in the open bathroom door, wrapped only in a towel. Her hair was damp and hanging across her bare shoulders in tangled skeins. She looked nothing short of extraordinary.
"Hey," Molly said quietly.
"Hey," Jack replied.
"You talking to one of them?"
Jack nodded.
"Let me just grab my clothes," she said. Quickly, Molly went to the dresser and made a small pile of the items she wanted to wear before hurrying back into the bathroom and shutting the door.
Alone again, Jack glanced up at Artie, who had a broad grin on his face.
"Told you," the ghost said.
"Told me what?" Jack replied quickly.
Artie rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. She could have brought the clothes in with her in the first place, Jack. Were you always this slow on the uptake, or is this a special case?"
Then the ghost dissipated into nothing, like the momentary sheen of a rainbow in the spray of a backyard sprinkler. Artie was
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