The next morning begins with packing up and heading back to town, with a quick stop at a dinner for breakfast, Amar of course not partaking. Amar, despite the disgusted expressions his friends wore, described the aftermath of his first meal as an undead, and subsequent… issues. Mercifully, the two had already finished eating before he began his tale. Though Greg desperately wished he could scrub that memory from his mind, and Taz considered how he would get back at Amar for the trauma inflicted upon him.
Having arrived back at their doorstep, Amar handed out two glasses cases, each containing a pair of glasses imbued with the essence of death and soaked in moonlight. Through them, one could peer past the veil of death and observe the world of spirits. A fancy way of saying that you could see ghosts through the lenses. Authors of magical texts loved to write vague crap like that. Plain language was a foreign concept to their craft. Riddles were their spirit animal, and they got off on giving people a hard time.
Exchanging goodbyes and promises of timeliness, Amar split off and disappeared into his apartment, Greg and Taz doing likewise.
---
Greg was a bit disappointed that the glasses hadn’t revealed any ghosts in the apartment. At least that means no one died here before we moved in, he thought. Small blessings.
A part of him wanted to immediately head out to the cemetery to try out the glasses. The responsible part of him reigned in the impulse. There would be plenty of time for ghost watching that night, and he would need as much rest as he could get. Despite the suddenness of the offer and the non-standard description, a job was a job, and he’d be damned if he half-assed it. Plus, he lived right next door to his boss, so he would rather avoid causing tension between them.
Taz was content to pig out and watch trashy tv, not needing the rest due to his physiology. Apparently. Greg didn’t know jack about demons, but he could tell his friend was half-bullshitting him. Nothing he could do about it, though, so Greg just shrugged and laid down for a nap.
---
Amar had headed out early, several hours before nightfall. The cemetery was easily reachable via public transportation and a bit of walking, so Greg and Taz left with time to spare.
“Hey Taz?” Greg looked up from his phone surfing as the bus made its way through town.
Taz had taken to people watching; the charmed bracelet kept anyone from noticing his staring. “Yeah?” he replied, giving Greg his full attention. He could tell his friend had a bout of anxiety.
“We never did ask, why is the pay so good?”
“What do you mean? I figured we were the only ones he knew of that had any experience with the unmundane; that we were the only ones for the job. Exclusivity, or something like that.”
Greg nodded hesitantly. “That’s true, but… I just have a gut feeling that there’s more to this. Or that something… I don’t know, maybe not bad, but the job will be more complicated than at first glance.”
“Probably. Look, it’ll be fine. Ghosts are harmless,” Taz said dismissively. Greg shot him a look, causing Taz to add, “Relatively.”
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Greg sighed. This was going to be a long night.
---
The cemetery, according to its website that Amar had texted him after exchanging numbers, took up roughly 12 acres, with an iron fence surrounding the property. Trees were planted strategically to obstruct line of sight into and out of the property, granting some measure of privacy and retreat from the outside world.
The main building was reserved in presentation, not standing out in any particular way, both good and bad. Past the double doors was the foyer, and Greg reconned it could comfortably house a gathering of thirty or so people. The décor was of an older style, but the make recent. Candelabras without tarnish or signs of wear, manufactured table coverings, lighting fixtures with energy-efficient bulbs.
Upon setting foot within the building, Greg felt a tension he did not know he had loosening within him. Turning to Taz, he saw the demon experience something similar. Greg raised a brow in question, and Taz simply shrugged, acknowledging that something was afoot, but whatever the cause, the effect was nothing to fret over.
Amar greeted the pair, welcoming them to his establishment, before leading them through the building, exiting at the far side and stepping out into the cemetery proper.
The grounds were well-maintained, the grass level and the tombstones free of grime. With the sun having set, the grounds were unlit, save for the ambient light pollution from the surrounding cityscape, a poor substitute for moonlight. Having been warned of this, Greg and Taz had made sure to pick up some flashlights on the way, along with some miscellaneous things Taz had said might of some use for the job.
Aamar had mentioned last night that there were several things he needed done, but that he would start the pair off with an easy shift. For tonight, Greg and Taz would patrol the grounds and introduce themselves to the lingering spirits. Getting to know the spirits and establishing a positive relationship with them played a critical role in maintaining the cemetery. Amar explained the importance of balance when it comes to burial grounds.
Death, both of the body and the passing of the spirit, leaves traces that pollute their surroundings. The disposition of the spirit is reflected in the effect on its environment. The ghost of the victim of a brutal murder negatively affects the site of their burial, turning the air stale, causing the flora to wither, and blanketing the area with an aura of negative emotions. Likewise, a content spirit will instill peace and serenity to their surroundings.
“Are spirits the same thing as ghosts? Are spirits souls?” Greg had asked while sitting around the campfire last night.
Taz had shaken his head at that. “No, spirits aren’t souls, but they are related. Spirits are what’s left of a being’s soul after it dies. They’re like an imprint left on reality by the culmination of a person’s life experiences. They are sentient, but not whole; they can talk and take in and process new information, but parts of their minds and memories are just gone, blurry, or different from reality.”
Greg had stared at the fire and had a minor existential crisis that quickly passed. He had nodded for Amar to continue.
“They can be exorcised, but that is a rare event. Most spirits have little to no impact on their surroundings, only when mundane affairs are threatened will an exorcism be needed, and even then, most religions have priests or their equivalent capable of performing them.”
Greg had interjected, “Are the priests in the know? As in, they know about the unmundane?” he had asked.
Amar spoke up. “I can answer that one, actually. No, they are unaware of the unmundane, at least, as far as I’ve seen. When a priest gets called on to do an exorcism, it’s usually done to calm and reassure a troubled follower. Most of the time the issues are mundane problems. More often than not, it’s just overly religious nutjobs blaming Satan for introducing their kids to vaping.”
If a cemetery was inhabited by good, happy spirits, visitors would feel more at peace when walking the grounds. Conversely, a pissed-off spirit kills radiates bad vibes, which is bad for business. Simple enough, though Greg was certain there was more to it than that, but it was what he needed to know for the job, so that’s what he left it at.