Inspired by a tumblr ask. Spectra kidnaps Jazz at the end of spirit week.

.

.

.

Bad Counsel

.

It looked like a normal school office. Not a Casper High office, the colors were wrong, but an office nonetheless.

It wasn't.

The room was a façade, and the doorknob was smoking. As soon as she left, she'd be back to walking on coals.

Then she was there. Spectra. Penelope. The counselor. Black flames framed a perfect face and finely manicured nails. Jazz flinched at her sudden appearance and clenched her teeth as the ghost (or demon) laughed.

"So, Jasmine, tell me about your day," she purred. "Did you try to get out again?" She drummed her nails on her desk and picked up a pen, clicking the cap on the end just enough times to be aggravating. A pad of paper was in her other hand. She hadn't picked that up. "Why bother?" Spectra asked, gleefully. "You know you can't make it past the fires. Even if you did, where would you go? You're human, dear. You can't survive without someone to look after you."

Jazz looked away. She'd been standing for a while, now. The furniture did strange things if you used it for too long. Her legs were trembling with the rest of her.

"No? Well, how about I tell you about mine?" Her lips curled upwards. "I spoke to your brother today."

Spectra always knew what buttons to push, and although Jazz tried not to react, she couldn't help her small, sharp inhale.

"Oh, yes. Little Danny. He misses you, you know. Misses his big sister. He's still so torn up inside, even though he should have gotten over you like everyone else. Still thinks he could have saved you. Pathetic. As if someone like him could save anyone-

"Shut up!" shouted Jazz, loosing herself for a moment. "You leave him alone you soul sucking-" She cut herself off.

"No, no," said Spectra, leering and looming over her. "Tell me what you really think. Tell me what goes on behind that pretty face of yours. I can taste it of course-" the ghost reached down and drew a talon over the curve of Jazz's cheek, "-but that's not really the same."

Jazz pulled away, but Spectra seized her wrist.

"It's still there, dear. Whether you like it or not. Deep down, you know. The only one you have to blame for this situation is yourself. Because," the word was delicate, whispered almost lovingly in Jazz's ear, "you're just like me."

The ghost leaned back, donning the human guise she had worn when Jazz first met her, head tilted to one side. She looked satisfied. Satiated.

"And where would we be if we didn't help those like ourselves?"