A field trip. Set post Proven Guilty.
"Listen to them — children of the night," I quoted in a dramatic whisper as a car rolled by the cemetery, the bass beat of some electronic dance music thumping through the midnight air. "What music they make."
My apprentice opened one eye and glared. She sat cross-legged in a clearing in Bachelor's Grove, as she attempted to commune with the spirits. I knew there were a few benign specters that lurked around the grounds. Molly had yet to spot one, though she could sense the ones I couldn't see. I had seen a black dog about ten minutes ago, a pair of little girls playing hopscotch in the dead grass near a broken marker.
...But then, I had more practice seeing ghosts than most.
"Stoker?" a voice questioned, barely louder than the breeze, touched by an Irish lilt and a hint of incredulity. From the corner of my eye, I saw her — a slight, pale young woman in a frilly, high-necked blouse and a dark skirt marred by chalky fingerprints. Cute, but a bit too transparent for my taste. She leaned a casual elbow against the opposite side of a tall granite memorial as me. "You can do better than that, Ichabod."
I put a hand over my heart. "Ouch."
"Your pupil," the shade asked, inclining her head toward Molly, who was still meditating.
I nodded.
"Well, then." The ghost studied her ink-stained fingernails, eyebrows climbing. "If the long black coat fits—"
"Oh, hush it, Catherine," I rolled my eyes. "See, I can do the Dark Romanticism jabs, too."
"Brontë, very good. But how is your Shelley?"
"Beware," quoted Molly. My apprentice cracked an eye open and grinned with a double thumbs-up in our direction. "For I am fearless and therefore powerful."
The spirit applauded politely before fading with a smile and a wistful sigh.
"Oh, I do miss teaching."
Next: Lantern