Jon paused the video, and Eve stared at the image on screen, the prone body outlined by fabric.

Ezra took a tentative sip of his tea. “It’s a bit unsettling,” he said. Eve nodded. Seeing it made it more real, the fact that someone had died—been killed—in her apartment.

“Do you think that’s, like, how she died?” Eve asked. The table fell quiet as Donna approached with food.

Jon rubbed his face and wavered his hand as the waitress walked away. “Probably? She was likely reliving the moments surrounding her death. We only set up cameras in the living room, so it’s possible the actual, ah, event happened in the bedroom and the body and sheet were dragged out to the door.”

“Hold on,” Eve said. “If Chelsea reenacted her death, how did the sheet end up on me?” She tried not to think about that hollow shape in the sheet draping over her, but the image remained—Eve, waking up to Chelsea’s corpse over her, pressing her into the bed. Dead, water-heavy limbs, wet, stringy hair, and the smell that had stuck in her nose the rest of that day, the day she’d found Chelsea—Eve swallowed thickly and pretended it was just to get the taste of coffee out of her mouth.

“I have an answer to that,” Jon said. He pressed play on the video again, returning it to regular speed. The three of them ate while it played.

Harvey, who until now had been watching from on top of the fridge, waited until the paranormal activity was over. He jumped down and walked over to the sheet that lay flat on the ground. It was a purposeful walk, not the amble he normally moved around with. He bit one end of the sheet and moved across the room toward Eve, dragging it behind him. Jumping onto the couch, he dragged the sheet over her body, dropping it once it was situated.

Eve’s eyebrows shot up. “I feel like I should be buying more cat treats.”

“What does it mean though?” Ezra asked. “Why would she do—“ he gestured “—all of this?”

Jon moved back to his side of the table and took a sip of coffee. The vinyl squeaked as he got comfortable. “I have theories. Most of the spirit’s activity in the video is aimless, but the sheet was purposeful. Which is why I think it’s related to the moment of her death—that’s one of the most powerful moments for a spirit, and they can often manifest in clear and unpredictable ways when reliving it.”

“So she died at a bit after 3 AM,” Eve said

“It lends more credence to the Kyle theory,” Ezra said. “The apartment wasn’t broken into, and there are only two people who would have been there that late.” He paused and looked down at the table. “Kyle, and me.”

Eve looked over at him. He kept his eyes on a bubble in the laminate table and took another drink of tea. “Well,” she said. “Kyle is a fucker, so I’m zero percent surprised that he did it.”

Jon also looked at Ezra, his sunny smile not matching the curious, calculating look in his eyes. Eve wondered if the golden retriever thing was an act, or if he occasionally had moments of cunning amid the ditzy geniality.

Ezra finally looked up. “What now?” he asked, clearing his throat. His leg jiggled next to Eve’s.

“We should talk about Eve,” Jon said.

Eve scowled. “Whatever you’re about to say about cursed necklaces or me being dead, don’t bother. Chelsea is attached to the apartment, not me. Also, if I was dead I wouldn’t stick around to solve mysteries like a fucking cartoon character.”

Jon cracked a smile, and Ezra’s mouth dropped open in an offended O. “I don’t think that’s true,” said Jon. “About Chelsea, not about what you would do as a ghost. If you want to help her pass on, we’ll need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Ugh.” Eve crossed her arms and leaned back. “Okay, listening.”

Ezra laughed and pretended to be coughing when Eve turned toward him.

“It could be the apartment that’s allowing her to feed off of you,” Jon said. “If so, she wouldn’t be able to follow you to other locations. We could test if she’s able to draw energy from you and manifest in other significant locations. If she can, then…” he paused. “The only other way I know of for a ghost to become tethered to a person like this is if you crossed through her spirit right after death,” Jon said.

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“Chelsea’s time of death was before Eve moved here,” Ezra said. He’d pulled out his notepad at some point and now wrote something down. The table jiggled slightly as his hand moved.

“Then,” Jon said, “a curse, or a spell gone wrong, maybe. Are you a witch?”

Eve stared at him for a full two seconds. He didn’t even blink. “No. That’s not a real thing you can be.”

“Did you upset one?” asked Ezra, as if she hadn’t said that last part.

“Are we in fucking Halloween Town? No. Spells and curses are bullshit. And people who say they can give you either are grifting or delusional. Trust me. I do it and I’m full of shit.”

Jon opened his mouth to take a bite of toast, registered what she’d said, and gaped at her. “Sorry, you sell spells and curses to people?”

“You said you did translation work,” Ezra said, betrayal coloring his voice.

Eve sighed. “I do. I translate fake magic for gullible idiots with too much money.”

Jon shook his head. “I wonder how many of your spells have gone through.”

“None,” Eve said, “because I’m not a fucking witch.”

Ezra stared at her still. “Eve!” he said. “You probably cursed people!”

“No, I always sneak a ‘not’ into the curses,” she insisted. “These people can never read the language they want to curse someone in, so it’s easy enough to add ‘except not really,’ and…” she shrugged.

“You don’t think any of that might explain the ghost that is haunting you specifically?” Jon asked.

“No, because we don’t know for sure that she is,” Eve said.

“Fine, let’s test it,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Fine."

Ezra glanced nervously back and forth between them. “Where?”

Jon paused. “Anywhere that is spiritually powerful. Ghosts need a connection to the location or something powerful, like a ley line, to manifest.”

‘Spiritually powerful,’ Eve muttered to herself. “Ley lines. Holy shit.”

Donna came by with the bill, and Eve swiped it before Ezra could do more than reach for it. The Terrible Thought from the night before poked its head up from hibernation.

“What about the henges?” Eve was horrified to hear emerge from her mouth. She pinched it into a frown as if she could cut off the words in the air, but Jon had already latched on to the idea.

A few minutes later, Eve drove to the North Henge park—the nearest henge to town—while Ezra stewed over something. He sat in the passenger seat of her car, long limbs primly folded up. Jon was somewhere behind them on his motorcycle, leaving Eve feeling agitated in the silence she normally loved.

“You’ve got a type, huh?” she said instead of thinking about the thing she was trying not to think about.

Ezra coughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Nice, big blondes? Catholic-adjacent?” Eve said. “I mean, I’m not into it, but…” She shrugged.

Ezra sighed and rubbed his face. “Am I that obvious?” He sounded so distraught that Eve almost felt bad for teasing him.

“No,” she said, sniffing and looking away. “I’m that perceptive.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment, and then he gathered his nerve to say the thing he’d been chewing on since they’d gotten into the car.

“You seem worried,” he said. Eve pulled into the parking lot. “But even if Chelsea is tethered to you, we can still find a way to fix it. I’ll help you two, no matter what.”

Eve looked out the windshield at the henge and the black lake behind it. “Thanks,” she said. She got out of the car and hurried over to the stones. She didn’t want sympathy, not from Ezra. Not when she’d barely given him the tiniest sliver of it over Chelsea. The thing about not giving a shit about other people was it felt bad when other people gave a shit about her.

It was golden hour, and the afternoon sun lit up all the little glimmering sparkles and bits in the henge. Light reflected off the lake in a patch of gold and shone on the pines that climbed thickly up the sides of the hills surrounding it. No other cars were in the lot, and the park was empty aside from her and the trees.

Jon pulled into the parking lot a moment later and parked next to Eve’s car. She could see Ezra having a heart attack inside as Jon got off his motorcycle and took off his helmet. He really had the aesthetic down, if not the attitude.

She waited by the henge, staring out at the water until they joined her.

“The center of the ring will be the most powerful,” Jon said as Eve turned to look at him. “If you could just stand right in the middle?”

Eve pressed her lips together as she stepped into the henge. Something like a buzzing started in her ears as soon as she crossed the boundary, and the closer she got to the central stone, the louder it became. The buzzing was moving up through her feet and into her body. As she reached out to touch the central stone and the spiraling henge runes engraved in it, a woman’s voice screamed inside the henge, long and agonized. The scream hit Eve like a blow, knocking the wind out of her, and lasted even after she snatched her hand away. She gasped, struggling to suck a breath into her empty lungs.

Eve whirled, eyes wide, to look at Jon and Ezra. They were both on their way into the henge, matching worried looks on their faces. Ezra glanced around briefly and then looked Eve over.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked. He scanned the henge, brows lowered. He looked significantly more intimidating without his seemingly constant smile.

Eve nodded, her breath caught tight in her chest.

“Was that you?” Ezra asked. Eve shook her head, and he frowned.

Jon's mouth thinned into a line. “I don’t think we need the EMF meter,” he said.

Eve said, “Fuck.”