Chapter 11: The Thirteenth Hour

"Five bucks says he doesn't make it," Ezra leaned down and hissed into Gus's ear.

"You're on," the bearded ghost replied as they bumped fists.

Adam, Phineas, Gus, and Ezra were standing in front of the large, sliding door that led to the gallery. Adam bobbed from one foot to the other, shaking out his hands, and pointlessly taking short, quick breaths. "I can do this," he repeated to himself over and over. "I am one with the wall."

"Oh, he's gonna be one with the wall," Ezra snickered.

"You can do it, champ," Phineas encouraged him. "Just don't tense up like before."

"Um," Adam mumbled nervously, "couldn't we just open the door?"

"That's not the way we do things around here." Adam stared at the plump phantom and waited for an explanation. He didn't get one. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go!"

The young spirit gritted his jaw in determination. Letting out a not-so-manly battle cry of "GAAAHHH!" he ran as fast as he could...

...And went through the door.

"Wha' do ya know?" Ezra said, a look of surprise on his face. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill and then handed it to Gus. Cackling, the short spook hugged it to his chest and then pranced into the gallery.

Phineas turned to Ezra. "You honestly didn't think the kid could do it?"

"Oh, I had faith in him. But the little bets make Gus so happy."

"What would a ghost do with five dollars anyway?"

From within the gallery, a high-pitched, scratchy voice called out, "I'm gonna buy me the Eiffel Tower!"

Ezra and Phineas just shot odd looks to each other and shrugged.

Stepping into the octagonal chamber, they discovered that Adam had not only gone through the door, but had failed to properly stop and was now stuck with the front half of his body in the wall opposite from his entrance. Feet pathetically scrambling at the carpet, he called out a muffled, "Little help?"

Rolling their eyes, the transparent trio grabbed his shoes and tugged. Finally, they pulled him out, getting knocked to the floor in the process. Lying on his back, Adam stared up at the ceiling.

And screamed.

Hanging from the rafters, he could see his corpse gently swaying. The eyes--his eyes!--were bugged out and his lips were blue. The tip of his gray tongue was sticking out just slightly.

And still he screamed. "That's me! Oh my God, that's me! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod..."

"Kinda makes you feel sick every time you watch someone go through that, doesn't it?" Phineas asked.

Ezra and Gus just nodded and pulled Adam up into a sitting position. Gus grabbed the shocked spirit's shoulder and gently shook him. "You gotta snap out of it."

Adam stopped shrieking and a shudder ran through his transparent form. "I just didn't think I'd look that bad," he whispered.

"Yeah, what were you thinking when you got that haircut?" Phineas joked. With a smile, he said, "Look, I know it's tough to see yourself dead. Trust me. At least you weren't run over by a train. That was messy."

Swallowing back his nausea, Adam stood up. "We've got some work to do."

Dustin stared from Clarisse to George. The mortal had definitely quickened her pace. Every few seconds, she called out, "Adam?" George was lingering behind, hands thrust into his pockets, a scowl on his face.

Dustin had led a fairly short mortal existence, only about thirty years, and his life experiences had not been great or memorable ones. For the most part, he had been timid and shy,(except when it came to a trio of certain individuals who always got on his nerves). But being the wallflower that he was, he had learned to observe people. It didn't take an expert in reading body language to know that George Gracey, the normally proud and collected master of the mansion, was angry and frustrated. This whole Clarisse thing had him really riled.

Falling into step with the aristocrat, the coachman asked tentatively, "You like her, don't you?"

George looked from the thin, bespectacled man to the curvy redhead. With a wistful sigh, he smiled dreamily. "I think I'm in love. She's everything I've ever wanted. Pretty, strong, take-charge..."

"Don't forget married and alive," Dustin interjected. "And you just don't seem to have the best luck with--" He promptly shut his mouth.

"What?" George demanded with a glare.

Faltering under the scowl, Dustin said nervously, "You just don't have the best luck with women. There was the...uh..." He held his left pointer finger straight out and walked his right pointer and middle fingers along it like legs. Then he mimed the shape of snapping jaws with his left hand and made the right fingers fall into it. "And then there's..." He pointed upwards. George glared at him, and Dustin felt as if the blazing blue eyes were shooting holes in him. Unable to stop himself, he continued to babble. "And...There was that little girl...in the graveyard...the one that said she was your..."

"That's not true," George snapped. His features softened. "At least, I don't think it is." When Dustin stared at him with a quizzical arched eyebrow, he continued. "I don't remember much of the last few years of my life. But I would think something like that would have stuck with me." He watched as Clarisse power walked ahead of him. Changing the subject back, he said, "Do you think I have a chance with her?"

"Sir, to be perfectly honest, no. She came here to find her husband. She loves him and he loves her. Adam's a fine chap and Clarisse has a good head on her shoulders."

"And a pretty one, too."

Dustin ignored him. "They deserve each other. Did you honestly think you could break them up?" he asked insincerely. He chuckled. "It's not like in the old days, when a man won a woman's heart by beating his rival in a duel."

George suddenly stopped, his eyes alit with a plan. "That's a great idea!"

"What? What's a great idea?" Dustin asked worriedly.

Master Gracey didn't answer him. "I have to go to the ballroom. I'll meet you in the foyer!" He dashed through a wall.

With a sigh, Dustin glided up alongside the sprinting woman. "Just to let you know, he's going to do something stupid."

"Who?" asked Clarisse, not particularly caring as she turned a corner.

"George. He's got it in his head that he can win you."

"'Win' me?" she snarled. "What am I, a cupie doll at a shoot the duck booth? Who does he think he is!"

"There's no telling what's in the mind of an idiot."

The two came to the front room. Clarisse bolted to the hidden door and tugged on it as hard as she could. "Adam! Adam, are you in there?"

The four dead men sat on the beam that Adam's body swung from. "A bit of torn clothing, a strand of his hair...anything!" groaned Adam. He turned to Phineas. "Don't you have, like, a fingerprint dusting kit in that bag?"

"Do I look like the type of guy who would carry around useless stuff?"

Faintly from the other side of the room, came the cry of, "Adam!"

The young ghost paused and listened. "It couldn't be," he whispered to himself. "Clarisse?"

"Adam!"

"Clarisse!" Adam floated down from his perch and hit the floor running. He bolted through the door...and then through his waiting wife. With a sheepish grin, he turned around. "Sorry, I haven't gotten used to the whole ghost thing." They embraced tightly and cried and laughed at the sheer joy and relief of seeing each other again.

"I thought I'd lost you," Clarisse whispered into his ear.

"I've been here, hanging out with my new buddies." He smiled and nodded to the trio, who had followed him out. Gus waved shyly at Clarisse. Phineas took the two boxes of tissues out of his carpet bag, kept one, and handed the other to Ezra. They pretended to wipe a bit of dirt out of their eyes and they tried to hold back tears.

"They seem...nice, in a slightly insane sort of way. Does that one have a ball and chain?"

Adam chuckled. "I've missed you. And," the smile vanished, "I wish more than anything in the world right now that I could just go home with you."

Clarisse wiped away a few tears and grinned. "You can! George knows this woman, well, actually, she's more like a decapitated witch stuck in a paperweight, but that's not important, anyway, she can bring you back to life!"

Laughing, he hugged her again and kissed her. "Great, where is she?"

"George knows...wait, where did he go?"

It was at that moment that George Gracey materialized. In his hands he held two revolvers. "Adam, I know that you like Clarisse, but I realized that I'm in love with her."

"Oh, bloody hell," moaned Dustin.

"Anyway," George panted nervously, "I feel that we, as gentlemen, should settle this, as gentlemen. Adam Parker..." He stopped and searched through his pockets until he found a glove. He slapped Adam's face with it. "I challenge you to a duel!"

Adam rubbed his cheek. "What is your damage?" he yelled, shocked. "And who are you?"

"I," declared George with authority, "am Master George Gracey, the lord of this manor. Now, do you, Mr. Parker, accept my challenge?"

"This is stupid!" Clarisse cried. "You're both dead!"

Adam sneered. "I do." He snatched the glove from George's hand and slapped him. "That was for hitting me." He tucked the glove into the breast pocket of George's jacket and took a gun.

"Turn." They both turned. "Take ten paces...one...two...three..."

"Can't you talk some sense into him?" Clarisse asked Dustin.

"What do you think I tried to do earlier?"

She stared at the hitchhikers. Ezra was calling for bets. "I've got twenty on the newbie, fifteen on the master. Any more takers?"

"...eight...nine...ten. Turn and...FIRE!" But just as the two ghosts were about to pull the triggers, a loud sound suddenly rang through the mansion. It sounded like a deep chiming noise, like a giant grandfather clock. The hitchhikers, Clarisse and Adam looked around in confusion, but all of the color left in George's face suddenly drained.

"Adam, what time is it?" He asked as the chiming continued. Clarisse counted the times that the clock went off, trying to figure out what time it was.

Four…Five…Six…

"What good is that going to do?" Adam yelled over the noise, "It stopped working when I died!"

Seven…Eight…Nine…

"Just do it!"

Ten…Eleven…Twelve…

"Hey…" He said, looking down, "It's changed…and it says…thirteen."

…Thirteen?

All of a sudden, Adam collapsed on the ground, gasping. He seemed to be in pain, even though he was a ghost. Clarisse watched in confusion as a white whisp of smoke floated out of him and through the wall.

"Leota," George gasped.