layers of clothes and hooded tops, but now, he only wore a thin t-shirt, same as Ryan. He turned to

Ryan, a grin on his face. “Busy, isn’t it?”

Ryan’s eyes swept over the thoroughfare; cars, buses and cyclists, all zooming by as fast as they

could without having an accident. “Mm-hm,” he agreed. “That’s Brighton for you.”

Fizz grinned like Ryan had made the funniest joke in the world. Ryan was bemused. Someone was

in a good mood, he thought.

He led the way, walking down the path that ran alongside the main road, toward the Pavilion. As

they reached the end of the path, and the arched side gate of the Pavilion, he noticed Fizz staring up at

it in wonder. Had Fizz been round Brighton on foot? Ryan didn’t think so. In the month or so he’d

been living at the pub, he’d only set foot outside to go into the beer garden.

Ryan wasn’t sure if that near death experience had changed Fizz somehow, but he hoped maybe

Fizz could start to enjoy life a little more. He tried not to feel resentful for what had happened, for that

spirit or whatever he was, leaving Ryan with all those memories.

“Come on, Fizz,” Ryan said, nudging the boy. “Newsagent’s this way.”

They got Fizz’s phone credit, and Ryan also picked up cigarettes and a chocolate bar. Nicotine and

sugar were definitely the order of the day. Fizz was delighted with his phone credit, and immediately

started topping up his phone. Ryan made sure they crossed the road safely, then started back toward

the pub.

“Uh, Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

Fizz looked down, shy again.

“What’s up?” Ryan asked.

“Do you have Ash’s number? I just want to, you know, check he’s all right,” Fizz said, all in a rush.

“His dad seemed pretty mad.”

Ryan nodded, and felt his pockets for his phone. Of course Fizz wanted to talk to Ash. Since their

discharge from the hospital, Mr. Singh had reappeared and, along with a few stern words for Ryan, had

taken Ash home. As he’d been dragged away by his father, Ash had thrown them an apologetic look,

but there wasn’t much he could do. He had texted Ryan since, to ask how everyone was getting on.

They’d been texting each other regularly, but Ryan had known who it was Ash would rather be texting.

Ryan got out his phone. “You’d better give me your number, too, Fizz.” He had a feeling Fizz

wasn’t going to be as pub-bound any more.

“Oh, yeah. No problem.” Fizz recited his number, and Ryan copied it in.

“All right, got it. I can send you Ash’s number...” One glance at Fizz’s eager face had Ryan

rethinking his decision. “You coming back to the pub with me now?”

Fizz blinked in surprise.

Busted, Ryan thought. Yeah, he’d have to watch this one. Ginger would hit the roof if Fizz went

missing. Not to mention what Mr. Singh would say.

“Um, ye-es?” Fizz said, unsure.

Ryan sighed. “Mate, do me a favour? Talk to Ginger before you go anywhere. He’ll be mad at me if

I let you go off now.”

Fizz’s expression turned to one of quiet amusement. “Ryan, I’m not a child.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to be surprised. That knowing look, and the tone of voice, threw him. For a

moment, he panicked this wasn’t Fizz. He could feel the fear, the memory from two nights past,

trickle through his veins, grip his chest in panic.

Fizz frowned, concerned. “Ryan? Are you all right?”

He swallowed. “Yeah...yeah, I – I’m fine.” Get a grip, Ryan. Calm down. Two can play awkward,

after all. “You want Ash’s number?” he asked, forcing a smile. “Guess you’ll have to come back to

the pub with me then.”

Fizz smiled back at him. “All right. You win.”

Ryan nodded, and turned back to the pub. He’d won, but only this round. Why did he suddenly feel

like the unwitting mother to a sneaky teenager?

* * *

With his newly topped up phone and Ash’s number, Fizz disappeared out into the beer garden. The

smile on his face was sweet and sly all at once. Ryan really wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing,

but...

But, there it was.

Young love. How nice for some.

Oh, shut up, Ryan. He tried not to let resentment bubble up inside him, and told himself to do some

work. It was looking to be a nice day after all. The black clouds receded in the sky, and the sun blazed

down hot. Ryan stayed in the bar, to be near Fizz, and opened all the windows. The back doors to the

beer garden were already propped open. Fresh air breezed in. Along with the odd muted chuckle and

conversation from Fizz, who was probably talking to Ash right now. Ryan tried not to roll his eyes.

A little later, as he was cleaning down the bar, someone knocked on the window next to the front

door. A face peeped in. Ryan saw warm a smile, and a blonde head of hair.

Beth.

He unlocked the door, letting her in. “Hey,” he said quietly, locking the door after her. Seeing Beth

again, Ryan felt the weariness of all that had happened weigh on him.

Beth held his eyes, squeezing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Ryan.” Her eyes rested on his chest, to

where the wooden pendant hung, hidden under his t-shirt. Ryan swallowed, suddenly uneasy.

“Do...do you want it back?”

Beth smiled at him. “No, hon. You keep it for now. I’m going to find you an even better one as soon

as I can.”

“Um, better?”

“Yes. Think of them like...good luck charms.” Beth patted his arm, then glanced around the pub.

“There’s still some unrest here. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to cleanse the air. It’s a good

thing I caught you alone.”

“Um, Fizz is in the garden,” Ryan said quickly.

Beth shrugged. “Don’t worry.” She opened her handbag of brightly coloured, woven wool, and

brought out a small wad of stemmed herbs. “I’m going to burn sage and, when I’m done, it should feel

a lot better in here.”

“Um...” Ryan wasn’t sure what to say. Beth didn’t wait for him, however, and moved through the

bar. She flipped out a zippo lighter, and used it to light her herb bundle.

“Um,” Ryan said again, glancing up at the smoke alarms and sprinkler system on the ceiling. He

hoped nothing would go off.

Beth must have noticed him panicking. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Not a lot of smoke comes from

this, but it’s enough. This is blessed white sage.”

“Uh, oh-kay.” Ryan conceded to let Beth do whatever she needed to do. In a way, her presence

calmed him. He tried not to think about the last time he’d seen her, when Beth had burst into the

pigeon loft in the midst of that terrible night. The way her blonde hair had lit up all white was burned

into his memory. Sheila had explained to him and Matt about spirits and visions. So, was Beth able to

cast visions too?

Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to know, not right now.

He watched Beth move around the bar, waving her bundle of lightly smoking sage. She hummed

under her breath, a soft tune Ryan didn’t recognise. The smell of sage reached his nose. Ryan knew

that if any of the others were here, they’d roll their eyes and make snide remarks.

Well, maybe not Matt, not now. As for himself, Ryan wasn’t sure what to believe.

Beth came behind the bar, wafting sage around. She approached the cellar door, and Ryan opened

his mouth to warn her not to go down there.

Beth smiled at him calmly. “Can you open the door for me?”

“I – I don’t think...”

“Ryan. It’s fine. Nothing down there will hurt me, or you.”

Flushing, his hands almost shaking, Ryan got his keys and unlocked the cellar door. Beth went in,

wisps of sage smoke trailing behind her. Ryan flipped on the light switch, and the lights blinked on,

illuminated the stairwell. Beth descended the stairs, rounded the corner, and disappeared out of sight.