“Hey.” Ash greeted. “You got a choice of chocolate vanilla cheesecake, or cookies and cream. The

fruit machine bust, so this was all they had. They did have mint, but I bloody hate mint flavours. I

mean, why not just drink toothpaste? Or like...yeah.” His gaze dropped shyly, likely aware of his

babbling.

I quickly moved myself behind Fizz, concentrating my energy into my right foot. Gently, I nudged

his behind with a little kick, until he rose up from the bed. Fizz took tentative steps towards Ash,

staring at the drinks. “What are they?”

“Frappe’s. Which one do you want?”

Fizz glanced up at him nervously. Indecision swirled through him, and the nerves choked his voice.

Goodness me. We would never get anywhere at this rate. I glided in behind Fizz, positioning my

hands under his left arm. Rather than actually touch the boy this time, I simply compressed the energy

underneath his arm which, in turn, forced it to rise. Fizz found himself pointing at one of the drinks.

Ash handed it to him. “Cool,” he said. Fizz stood there, now clutching his drink. An adorable blush

crept over his cheeks, perfectly visible on his pale skin. He stared down at the drink in his hands. Ash

watched him, a smile curving his lips. The air between them sparked and charged with energy, yet

neither boy said a word. I could hear their hearts thumping, and I reached my hands out, stroking

through their energy. I basked in the palpable tension, so strong, so heady…

“Oi, Ash!” a voice interrupted.

Irritation rippled through Ash. He turned to the doorway and glared. One of the other boys stood

there, a quizzical eyebrow raised. “What?” Ash said tightly.

“Aren’t you helping us get this shit together?”

“Do I have to?”

“Dee, leave it!” Ryan’s voice called out. “I told you, we’d be fine.”

“Nah, that’s hardly fair!” Dee called back along the hall. “If he’s slacking off, then I’m slacking

off.”

“All right, all right.” Ash gave in. He flashed an apologetic smile at Fizz, who had briefly glanced

up, only to look away again shyly. “See you later,” Ash said softly. He turned and left the room.

Out in the hall, he muttered under his breath.

Dee stared at the drink and demanded, “What’s that?”

“Frappe,” Ash replied.

“What?” Dee was incensed. “Ash, you nancy! You can’t drink those lame drinks and be in a punk

band. A Crappe is not punk rock.”

“Oh yeah?” Ash said. “Define punk rock.”

“What?”

“Define punk rock,” Ash repeated. There was humour in his voice.

Fizz crept closer to the door, silently watching them argue.

“Well, punk rock doesn’t come in fancy pants, corporate branded cups!” Dee huffed.

Ash took a long, noisy slurp through the straw. “Tastes pretty good though. I suppose you’d rather

we drank our own piss, or something like that?”

“What you’re drinking is piss.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

The energy between the warring boys was steadily building. Not wanting it to go to waste, I slipped

past Fizz, and into the hall.

“You don’t get it!” Dee snapped. “If anyone sees you drinking that shit, our rep’s ruined.”

“Rep?” Ash laughed, but the laugh had a hard edge to it. “What rep? Do me a favour.”

“Do yourself a favour!”

“Guys.” Ryan appeared between them. His aura was strong, calming, and immediately washed over

the two boys. “Chill out, yeah? It’s doesn’t matter.”

Ash shrugged, then took another slurp of his drink.

“Whatever, dude,” Dee snorted.

“Quite,” Ash said.

Ryan herded them back along the hall. “Awright, Fizz,” he called over his shoulder. Fizz quickly

ducked back into his room, still clutching his drink.

I grinned to myself, then followed Ryan’s boys.

* * *

After almost an hour setting up their various instruments and bickering with each other, Ryan and

his band spent another hour cranking their machines up high and drowning each other out. Electrical

currents surged through the room, and the air reeked of sweat, sweetly intoxicating. There was more

bickering over who sounded loudest, with no conclusion met. My head swam from the amount of

energy they had.

Of course, I had gently encouraged their irritations. The four of them were wound so tight anyway,

all I had to do was a gentle push here, a careful pull there. It was like conducting an orchestra of bratty

children. The way they expelled even more energy into their songs – albeit not exactly in time – was

breath taking.

As soon as they descended downstairs, unwittingly pulling me behind them, their irritable tempers

dispersed. “I felt like I had a headache before, but it’s gone now,” Ash commented.

“Yeah.” Dee frowned. “Me too. That room is really –”

“Stuffy?” Ash ventured. “Close?”

Ryan shivered, although no one noticed. I could feel the chill pass over his sensitive skin. “Let’s

just go have a drink, yeah?” he suggested. I followed them downstairs, through the bar, and into the

reasonably quiet ground floor. The bar maid, Rachel, and that young, obnoxiously loud boy, Sammy,

served them drinks.

Along the bar, I nodded to two spirits who sat amongst the living patrons, eyeing the drinks they’d

never be able to touch or taste. Fools. Why waste away, pining for alcohol, when the living had so

much energy to give?

Ryan and his friends took their drinks, and made their way outside. These days, smokers were

banished to the courtyard, at the mercy of the elements. Luckily for them it was a dry night. I followed

them outside, and caught a glimpse of Amelia, another spirit, in the farther end of the courtyard. It

would be pointless calling out to her; Amelia wandered as endlessly and silently as she’d done before.

Ryan and his boys huddled together against the wind, lighting their cigarettes. They congratulated

themselves on their first practise in the pub. The other boys commented how well it went, and asked

Ryan when the next one would be.

Poor Ryan looked aghast, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. He was certainly more in tune to his

surroundings than most people. I knew he could sense my presence at times. When he appeared to

relax some, I passed a hand through him gently. He shivered at my touch, and I barely held in a moan

at the sheer amount of nervous energy and tension stored up inside him.

Having Fizz here upset Ryan, that much was clear. Because it was Fizz who had stolen the

attentions of Ryan’s beautiful red-head. I smiled to myself. Where was Ginger, anyway? I moved

away from the boys, floating through the bar. I was high on their energy. As I passed through the

staff’s private entrance, I spotted that familiar piece of rumpled paper, squashed into the waste paper

basket. Or bin, as they were want to call it.

Making sure no one was looking, I focussed the energy in my hand so I could gently pick up the

paper. “Rebecca,” I called, slowly ascending the stairs. I had to walk, rather than project myself, if I

wanted Rebecca to find me.

Her light, skipping footsteps echoed from behind. I stopped, and turned to smile at the spirit of the

young girl who’d died in what were now the cellars, years before I was even born. “Hello, Rebecca. Do

you want to play hide the treasure map again?”

She looked at the paper I held, and nodded her head. “Good girl. Here you go.” I handed her the

paper, careful that she could take a hold of it. “Concentrate hard, hold onto it. That’s right, Rebecca.

Now, I want you to hide it in Sammy’s bedroom.”

She frowned in thought.

“Sammy’s bedroom is the third door from the bathroom,” I reminded her. “One, two, three. Third