In a fury, Melanie stormed through the halls with James desperately trying to keep up. She still had his hand in a vice grip, and was obviously not planning on letting go anytime soon.

"Where are we going?" James almost tripped over his feet.
"I don't know," Melanie snarled through her teeth. "Just….outside. I need air."

Reaching the foyer, she shoved the massive door open and sunlight flooded the room. Noises from the town floated up through the grounds, filling the air with the sound of voices and laughter. The fresh air seemed to have an instant calming effect on Melanie. She relaxed her grip on her fiancé's hand, though still holding onto it. She tugged his arm gently, and the couple started to walk across the grounds towards the town. They arrived on the dusty streets only a few minutes later, looking around curiously at the townspeople, who were still in the process of celebrating. Music poured out of the nearby saloon, and the streets were filled with ghosts, all walking around or talking cheerfully to others. A few of them approached Melanie and James, murmuring their congratulations and then moving on.

Suddenly, a sugary, sweet voice rang out over the buzz of conversation. "Jiiiiimmy!"

A young woman was walking towards the pair, smiling at James in a coy manner. A large feather boa hung from her shoulders, and her brown hair was pilled on her head with a pink feather sticking out. She was dressed in a pink and gold dress with a low neckline, which was covered with gaudy fake jewels. Melanie narrowed her eyes, taking an instant dislike for the woman approaching them. Beside her, James stiffened, and Melanie felt him shaking slightly.

"Er...um…h-hello Miss Rita…" he stammered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, Jimmy, I've missed you terribly," Rita said dramatically as she leaned closer to James. Melanie grabbed his arm and bit back a territorial growl. The two women glared at each other, but Rita quickly looked back to James. "Who's this?" she asked, her voice becoming harsh.

"My…uh…my fiancé," James was still stuttering, nervous in Rita's presence. He backed up a step as she moved in closer, and Melanie's grip broke for a moment. That moment was all Rita needed. She snatched James' other arm and started to pull him towards her. "Come with me," She purred. "You don't need her."

Rita suddenly felt her head being yanked back painfully by her hair and let out a yelp. She was suddenly staring up into Melanie's face, which bore an expression that was half snarl, half psychotic grin. "I've been locked away from my man for a very, very long time." She said, her eyes blazing with fury. "Some folks say that kind of isolation drives one mad. Is that true? I don't know. But just think of the fun we could have finding out!" A wild giggle escaped her, as Rita's expression turned to one of pure terror. Melanie let her go, and she broke into a run, tearing down the dusty street as though the devil himself was after her.

Melanie strode forward. "Shouldn't have let her go, but when I catch her again, I'll-"
"Hold it!" James grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her into his arms. "Ease off, darlin'. Now, you know nobody is going to take me away from you ever again, right?" He nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. She let out a gusty breath. "I know. I'm just so… I don't know. Possessive, I guess. I just don't want to lose you again." She put her forehead against his chest. "That was torture, being away from you for so long."

"It was for me, too." He kissed her brow. "I think we both need some refreshment. Let's head into the drug store and see if there's any sarsaparilla." He jerked his thumb towards the ramshackle little store across the street. She bumped her hip against his and they wrapped their arms around each other's waists. "Sounds like a great plan to me, Jimmy."

Before they could step into the shop, though, a scrawny figure zipped onto the porch, coming to a wobbling stop in front of the couple. With a tip of his green visor, the skeletal chap whipped two train tickets out of his vest pocket. "Hey, you two lovebirds look like you need a nice, relaxing vacation, am I right?"

"Well, we just wanted a fountain drink…" James started.

"Of course you do!" the corpse cut him off. "But why waste your hard earned money here in this dump when you could get an ice-cool island drink in the fabulous…" He put his hand behind his back and pulled out a creased and faded travel poster. "Bahamas! Huh, how's that look?"

James squinted his eyes and leaned close to the parchment. "Now, I ain't much of a readin' man, but I don't think that says 'Bahamas.' I think that says 'Third Circle of Hell.'" He tapped a picture of a demon. "And, I don't think people from the Bahamas have horns."

Zeke flicked his wrist and rolled the paper back up. "Okay, so it isn't the Bahamas. But neither is this ghost town, am I right? Look, they're both toasty and full of interesting people. I've got two tickets here, and my buddy Virgil is a great travel agent who'll cut ya a deal!"

"No thanks, Zeke." Melanie patted his bald head, grimacing when a bit of yellowed skin stuck to her palm. She tried to shake it off. After whipping her hand back and forth several seconds she wiped it on her dress. "But, um, good luck!"

"Thanks Melanie." Undaunted, he was off again, trying to sell tickets to Mexico to a couple of frantic bank robbers with a stubborn mule.

"We sure do live in a bizarre little town, Mellie." Putting his hand on her back, James led her into the shop.

Inside, the jars of ointments, pills, and creams on the shelves connected to one another via a cobweb trail. A display of liquors was safely stowed behind locked glass doors. Against one wall was an assortment of jars filled with faded, rock hard candies. There was a rack next to the cashier's counter marked DISCOUNT containing denture cream and canned prunes. Behind the counter a man stood mixing up concoctions in test tubes.

"Ah." He looked up as a dinging bell announced their arrival. His spectacles were scratched and smudged from years of neglect. "What can I do for you lovely young people this fine evening?"

"Evenin', Doc!" James sat on a spinning bar stool at the counter. Squeaking from side to side, he looked over the array of half-filled soda bottles shelved along the back wall. Most were being used by spiders for spelunking. "I'd like a sarsaparilla and Mellie wants a…" He paused and spun around. "What do you want, honey?"

She put back some beeswax lip gloss and sat next to James. "Root beer float, please."
"Coming right up. Of course, the vanilla ice cream might be a bit out of date." He shuffled away from the counter and disappeared into a back room.

"Doc Banner's the best darn drink mixer in the county," James said.

"Why do you call him Doc?'"

"'Cause he's a doctor. He's the town's physician when he's not working here."

Had she ever visited the doctor as a child? Or was she always tended to by her nurse at home? Did she ever leave home, except to run messages to her father at the mine? She stared at the counter top, the thoughts making her uncomfortable. "This town's smaller than I remember."

"Alright you two love birds." Doc Banner swept into the room, two full and not very clean mugs in his hands. "Here are your drinks." After putting them down, he plopped straws down through the frothing tops. "Enjoy!"

Melanie swiveled the straw, watching as foam quickly took over the brief trail of brown soda left in the tube's wake. Still staring down into the mug, she said, "Do you think people can truly change, Dr. Banner, or do they just go right back to how they were?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from drying a glass using a filthy dishrag.

James had one eye shut while the other squinted into his pop. "There's a maggot on the bottom…"

"In my experience, young lady," Banner spit in the glass and scrubbed it, "everyone has another side to them, a portion of personality that just needs a little encouragement to come out. Or trauma can help. A good whack on the head can do wonders."

"Um, nothing that extreme, sir."

"Ah, a quick and easy fix you want, is it?" His eyes darted from side to side and he lowered his voice to an anxious whisper. "I have just the thing! Been working on it for years." He ducked down and then popped right back up again. In his hands he held a test tube rack. "With this concoction, I can become super human!" He mixed the contents of two vials until it glowed bright green and fizzed. Then he chugged it back.

"Hit the deck!" James grabbed Melanie and pulled her to the floor. Ignoring the snorts and snarls behind them, they ran for the exit. "Good gracious, Mellie, your daddy might not be the weirdest one in the bunch after all."

As they ran out into the street, they bumped into a bearded man in a purple suit. He tipped his hat and his head came off with it. "Be sure to re-elect me, Mayor Higgenbluff, when you're at the polls!" He pushed pamphlets into their hands. "Tough on crime and low on taxes."

"Which is why there's a man robbing a bank down the road…"

"Beg pardon, missy?"

"Nevermind." She took James' hand. "Let's go someplace a little less…hectic."

"Maybe we should head back." James jerked his head towards the manor. "I think we've had enough craziness for a while."

"But-"Melanie began to protest, but stopped. They couldn't stay down in the town forever, and it was cowardly to hide down here. She sighed and reluctantly followed her fiancée up to their home.

Once inside, the two found the manor bustling with activity. Servants were moving in every given direction, yet somehow not bumping into each other. They were making an effort to clean the manor from top to bottom, starting with the foyer. Glancing upwards, Melanie noticed that the chandelier had been cleared of all cobwebs and the dim candles had been relit, so that they cast a warm glow throughout the room. A young maid ran up to Melanie, looking slightly flustered.

"Miss Ravenswood? Could I get your opinion on something?" she asked, timidly.

"Of course, Kira. You don't mind, do you Jimmy? I'll be back in a minute."

James smiled. " 'Course not." He kissed her briefly before allowing Kira to pull Melanie away towards the ballroom.

By now the sun had set and gray-tinted clouds ambled over the moon. The Phantom kept pace with the cumulonimbus, paying little attention to the few townsfolk on Boot Hill Cemetery who were now heading for shelter. One man had actually left a bouquet of flowers for himself. Henry scoffed and flicked up his high collar. It felt good to sneer at the pathetic townsfolk, especially when so many uncomfortable thoughts were going through his mind. He did not like being confused. It made him angry. Although, on reflection, being angry was fun, but not when it was from confusion, because when he was confused he didn't know who to be angry at. Walking outside had brought uncomfortable thoughts and feelings.

He stopped and gazed out at the peaks of Thunder Mesa. A train whistle sounded. It was the kind that used to haul gold from his mines. Grubby, exhausted, and often missing limbs, his employees had ridden those trains day and night. Their skin, sweat, and blood had gone into the work, he'd seen to that. There was always one, though, one cheerful wretch who'd come out whole and managed to tear his fragile daughter away from him….

A snapping noise made him look down. He'd balled his fist so tightly that he broke the tip of a finger bone against his palm.

"Ow." He plucked up the fragment. "My beloved finger!" He clutched it to his purple silk vest.

The boy! Yes, he could be mad at… whatever his name was. The boy. That always fixed things.

"Curse you, boy," he yelled to the dark heavens. The pines swayed in the wind and a duet of thunder and lightning cued his echo. "You shall pay for what you've done to my delicate digit!" He added a fist shake for good measure. "What a terrible day this has been." He was used to speaking out loud. For over a century, he was the only person he had to talk to. It'd kept him from going…well…a smidgen more insane, at least.

Wait… He had one friend in this God-forsaken place, an old pal he'd almost forgotten about. Reaching into his cloak he pulled out a tiny bronze bell and rang it. The tinny "gling-gling" couldn't possibly have been heard over the shrieking rumbles of thunder by the ears of anything living.

Paws padded up above and Henry spotted a gray form glaring down at him from the roof of a crypt. Its red eyes were narrowed and its furless muzzle was curled back in a permanent snarl. Despite the night, Henry could make out the bone-only back legs, sharp haunches, and pale ribs sticking out through the creature's sides.

"Sparky!" He held his arms out and the beast leapt into them. "I missed you, boy." Half a gray tongue that was currently being chewed on by maggots licked Henry's cheek. Sparky's tail wagged and broke off.

"Oh, don't worry, boy. Daddy'll fix that for you. Now give me kisses! Who's a good boy? You is! Yes you is!" He scratched the dog's back; it was lumpy from the protruding spine. Even though parts of him were nothing but bone, the gray fur he had left were tangled patches, or some pieces were missing all together, Henry saw only the obedient terrier he'd trained since puppyhood.

When Sparky whined, Henry put him down. "What's wrong, Sparky?" The dead dog barked and from out behind the crypt came a ghostly coyote and a litter of the ugliest puppies Henry had ever seen. There were five of them, walking in almost single file behind their nervous mother. Some had full tails, others bones, and one completely lacked the appendage. Their fur was a mangy mix of gray and brown, shaggy on some and thin on others, although not one had a coat without bald patches. Two had their father's red eyes while three had the gold irises of their mother, and one of those three was missing an eye. Maggots picked at the skin on their exposed bones and on the organs inside their bellies.

"Oh, Sparky, they're just…"

One of the pups coughed up a worm wrapped around a gob of something slimy and black.

"Uh, they're…adorable." Henry picked up one of the puppies and it licked his face a few times before its tongue fell out. The other pups gathered around his feet, pawing at his ankles and chewing on his laces. He couldn't stop himself from laughing and petting all of the hideous hounds. Within minutes, he was laying on his back in the dirt, covered in barking and licking puppies. Between giggles, he managed to shriek, "Stop! Stop! It tickles!"

James folded his arms on the gazebo rail. Sitting with his chin resting on his wrist, he watched Henry play with the dogs. Boy howdy, I never thought I'd see the day old hateful Henry be nice to someone. Sure that someone is a dog, but it's a start. Maybe that crazy coot does have a soft side, and if he does, then perhaps I can appeal to it.

"Evenin' Mr. Ravenswood." With a light push, James vaulted himself over the rail. "How're you this fine night? I see you got yourself some critters. I like big dogs, myself." He got down on his knee and scratched behind the coyote's ears. "I had a blood hound when I was a youngin' named Blitz."

Henry stood up, towering above James. His sockets fixed on the young man; all he gave was a noncommittal grunt

James looked back up at Henry. "Blitz had asthma."

"I see…"

They watched one another for a moment, James blinking occasionally and Henry making quiet coughing noises into his fist. The coyote howled. Desperate to wade forward through the rough waters of awkward conversation, James got up and said, "I'm thinking of proposing to your daughter."

If he had any muscles, Henry would have gotten whiplash from turning his head so quickly. "Again?" The yellow orbs in his sockets were more like sparks than eyes. "I thought you learned your lesson last time you snot-nosed…snot-nosed…" the Phantom sputtered

Ever helpful, James piped up, "Wretch? Whelp? Wretch-whelp?"

"Yes, thank you… Snot-nosed wretch-whelp!"

"Mr. Ravenswood," James took off his hat and held it over his chest. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I feel like I'm trying to chit-chat with a diamondback with a toothache. Look, you're dead, Mel's dead, I'm dead. What's the point of carryin' on any grudges? We're obviously gonna be here for a long time, right? Why don't we learn to get along? I'm willin' to forgive you, Mr. Ravenswood, if you're willin' to accept me." He held out his hand and grinned. "I can assure you that I'll be the most carin', most lovin,' and most protective man Melanie could ever have."

Henry ground his back teeth together and tried to raise his right arm. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled his right hand up with his left and pressed it against James' palm. After a limp shake, he mumbled, "I suppose you're right. And being that I'm unable to kill you again, I suppose some sort of truce is in order. But you will be on trial, young man. I will be watching you."

James put his hat back on and gave the Phantom a friendly, if a smidgen too hard, pat on the back. Not hearing Henry's coughs, James pulled him into a bear hug. "I always dreamed we'd be best pals, like me and my pappy had been!"

"You have… great ambitions." Henry brushed any invisible James residue off of his coat.
"I like to aim high." James threw a bone-someone's thumb, he was pretty sure-and watched the puppies race after it. "Does your dog-"
"Sparky." Henry rubbed from the top of the dog's skull to midway down his lumpy spin. "His name is Sparky."
"Does Sparky do any tricks?"
"Oh," Henry waved a hand. "Just a couple of word triggered-commands. You know, it's been so long I can't even recall what they are." There was a flash of gold in his sockets and his grimace seemed happier somehow. "I must say James, you're not like any of the other…" He paused and glanced at Sparky. "…suitors who came to call on Melanie."

Sparky's ears perked up and he leapt at James, foam flying from his jaws.

After watching James scream and flail for a while, Henry pulled the dog away. "I am so sorry, James!" he gushed. "I just don't know what got into him. Bad boy! Bad!" He scratched behind Sparky's ears.

James pushed himself up. "No, it's okay," he panted. "I bet he just thought he was protectin' his master. Weren't ya?"

Sparky wagged his tail, tongue lolling out from the side of his decayed mouth.

Henry crossed an ankle over the other and leaned forward on his cane. "He's a good boy, just rambunctious. He never did care for Melanie's gentlemen callers." He reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a dusty, dry bone shaped dog biscuit. "All it takes is a little motivation and you can teach them anything. Even to, say, attack on command." He threw the biscuit to Sparky. "By the by, if this wedding were to take place, I hope you won't be wearing that silly hat and those boots."

"Oh no," James shook his head. "I want to look my most handsome for Mel. I think I'd have a suit or tux."

Again, Sparky's ears twitched and he lowered his head to growl.

"What?" James finally understood. "No, no!" He waved his hands. "I said 'suit or' not 'suitor!' Oh cow pies!"

Before Sparky's ectoplasmic drool could hit the ground, James was already running. "Melanie!"

Henry took out another biscuit and broke it up into little pieces. He watched the puppies fight over them as he shook his head. "Nice boy, just not very bright."