Bryony Pearce - The Weight of Souls

As his hand went through the cushion he lost his balance and fell forward. His forearm appeared above my lap and I caught his clenched fist in mine.

Justin yelped and tried to pull away but I kept hold of him, forcing him to look at his arm as it vanished through the chair-back.

“I-it’s a trick of some sort. The seat isn’t there, it’s a… a projection.”

Wordlessly I knocked on the metal rim.

“It’s a trick .” He yanked and I had to let him go. The whites were showing in his eyes and he scooted back against the window. He cradled his hand as if I’d burned it and he was shaking. I was getting through.

“Justin, you’re a ghost.”

He licked his lips. “You touched me, you held my fist.”

“I’m the only one who can touch you. For the same reason I’m the only one who can see you.”

“I’m ending this.” Justin leaped to his feet and addressed the air. “This isn’t funny any more.” He strode down the juddering bus until he reached an art student who was sitting near the sliding doors.

“Hey, pal.” He waved his hand in front of the guy’s face. “I don't know who you are, but the joke’s over.”

The student rubbed his cheek and settled lower in the seat.

“Idiot.” Justin kicked out viciously and his foot connected with the art case that stuck out from the seat opposite. It rocked and fell to the floor with a thud.

Justin stared at his foot and the student swore and reached for his case. His arm went right through Justin’s leg.

Justin yelled and jerked back as the student checked his artwork with a relieved sigh.

I watched Justin desperately patting his leg. It looked like he was on fire. Finally he ran back to me. “Did you see that?”

“You’re a ghost . I’ve seen it before.”

He stared at his legs then slumped into the seat next to me. “It doesn’t make sense,” he whispered.

“You’re dead,” I growled without looking at him.

“Not that. How did that guy’s arm go through my leg after I was able to kick his case? How come I can sit on the bus?”

Surprise pulled my eyebrows upwards; I hadn’t expected him to be able to think clearly about his situation. “I’m not sure how it works exactly. I know you can’t touch anything living, attached to a living thing, or that a living thing is touching directly. The art case was on another seat, that guy wasn’t touching it.” I gestured towards the student, who’d gone back into stasis. “You can sit on your seat, but you can’t touch mine while I’m sitting here. You can’t affect the living in any way. Mum thought it was something to do with resonances. I don’t know.”

“So I could pick up a knife, but not stab someone with it.”

“You don’t have any substance, Hargreaves. You can feel yourself touch things, even knock things over. But you can’t pick anything up; people would notice stuff floating around.”

He frowned. “OK. You’re touching this bus. Shouldn’t I fall through the floor?”

“Everyone on the bus is wearing shoes, Hargreaves. No one is touching the floor directly. You won’t fall through it.”

Tentatively he reached for the back of my seat again. His hand continued through wood and plastic until he groped my shoulder.

“Get off,” I hissed and shrugged him away.

Justin stared at his hands. “You’re the only one I can touch. Ever?”

“Sorry.” I loaded my voice with sarcasm. “Look, once I’ve found your killer and transferred this Mark you left on my hand, you can move on and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“But…” Justin looked up and his eyes swam with tears. “But I never…” his voice trailed off. His hands dropped to his lap. “I’m going travelling after A-levels. I thought I’d go back to Dubai for a bit. I’m applying to do engineering at Cambridge next year.” His voice broke. “Tammy and I…”

I saw his throat move like he was trying to swallow a huge lump. “I never did anything.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry,” I said and I actually was. “If you can tell me how it happened, we can… OK, we can’t make it right but I can avenge you. It’s what I do.”

Justin looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “This is bull.” He hurled himself from his seat and lunged for the back of the bus.

“Come back.” I grabbed for his jacket, but missed.

Ignoring me, he leaped off the bus and onto the Hammersmith overpass, dodged through the traffic and disappeared from view.

Stunned, I stood and wobbled with the movement of the vehicle. “Dammit.” I examined my hands, one clean, the other stained with a blemish that screamed murder. The Darkness was coming. And without Justin, I had no way of getting rid of the Mark before it came for the one carrying it.

Dad holds my hand as I squirm. His new wheelchair digs into my side, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. I’m supposed to be looking at the coffin, or maybe the priest, but there’s a man striding towards us across the graveyard.

He’s wearing a white coat: a doctor’s uniform. A stethoscope bangs against his chest as he nears. Why would a doctor be coming to the funeral? Even if I recognised him, or if he was one of Dad’s new friends, wouldn’t he have dressed in black like everyone else? The signs are there: he’s a ghost.

I try to pull free of Dad’s fingers and he leans across to put his mouth to my ear. “Stop it,” he hisses. His anger heats my face.

“But–”

“This is your mother’s funeral, have the grace to stand still.”

“There’s a g–”

He shakes my arm. “Your Mum’s being buried, Taylor. Stand still.”

Frozen by Dad’s anger I watch him approach. Tears blind me and when I can refocus his face looms above mine. I can’t stop myself flinching when he grabs my hand. Ice spikes into my arm and I jerk.

He shows teeth like tombstones. “That was easy.”

I stare at my hand where a black stain has splashed me to the wrist. Dad gives me another shake and wordlessly I raise my arm to show him the Mark.

His shoulders shudder then he fixes his gaze back on Mum’s grave.

“Mum says the Darkness will come for me.”

“Your Mum isn’t here, I am and I’m not having my daughter going out and approaching strange people.”

“But what if the Darkness comes?”

“It won’t.”

“Look at my hand.” Over the last couple of days the Mark has darkened. Now it looks like a hole through my palm.

“It’s just a skin condition.” Dad won’t meet my eyes. “You’ll be fine. If I have to lock you in your room I will.”

“You have to let me out. It’s school tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.” Dad rolls awkwardly in his chair towards the living room.

I lie in bed and stare at my hand. I can’t take my eyes off it. The Mark seems to grow every time I look away.

I know the ghost is waiting outside. I’ve seen him. At least when Dad lets me out he’ll be right there. But I’m afraid it might be too late by then.

A compilation CD is playing on a loop. My ears are tuned into the sound rather than the song. I’m terrified that the noise will suddenly cut out. I know that means the Darkness is coming.

I hear the mechanical rumble of Dad’s stair lift. Then it falls silent. My heart stops.

It’s here!

No, my music is still thumping loud as ever.

My heart stutters back to life and I clutch my chest as the stair lift coughs and continues to climb.

Finally Dad rolls into my room. I lie with my back to him and refuse to turn.

“Taylor, it’s time to get up.”

“A-are you going to let me out?” Hope trembles in my voice.

“No.” The carpet shushes as Dad comes nearer. His hand falls on my back. “This is for your own good, when you see there’s no Darkness coming, you’ll be able to get better.” In the periphery of my vision I see him pick up The Tale of Oh-Fa and remove it from my bedside.