The office space of Nasir Curtis Investigations was just a secondary apartment they rented together. They lived in the suburbs in a nice house with a garden and a fence, along with as many protective magical wards as they needed by being so close to a dimensional rift to the Astral Wyldes.  

Most of the time, just junk slipped through, someone’s hair brush, left sock, or the TV remote. It kept things interesting. Every block in suburbia had a rift to a different plane of the Astral Wyldes. It was why Nasir Curtis Investigations was more than enough income for two young paranormal best friends and roommates in this modern-day economy.

And some days promised more interesting cases than others. Like Halloween. Thin veil Samhain night always provided the best case of the year more times than not.

10:06 PM Nasir Curtis Investigations - Downtown  - Day Before Halloween

Curtis walked into the office, carrying a bag and whistling a Gregorian chant to himself as he put the keys in the bowl near the door.  He made his way to the desk at the front office in the otherwise would-be apartment living room where Nasir was sitting.  The djinn had his feet on the table and a mug of chai in his palms as his tail curled around the back of the chair, tapping idly.

“Did you get it?” he greeted without looking up.

Curtis dropped the bag on the desk. 

Nostrils flaring, Nasir glanced at the bag and frowned. “You didn’t get what I asked for.”

“Of course I did. I'm an angel, not an idiot.”

Nasir took out an item.  “Then what is this?”

“Edamame.”

“I asked for scones!”  

The angel’s eyes went wide and he flustered in Light Language as he blinked, stalling for time until he could come up with a valid reason for how he got the two things mixed up.  

“Don’t just gawk, explain yourself, Curtis!”

“Uh… I’m thinking of your health. Edamame is healthier for you than scones.”

“Nice try.”

Nasir sighed as he slipped a hand under his veil to rub his forehead, trying to coax away the beginnings of a hunger headache.

“Ugh, my stomach hurts now,” Nasir groaned.

“Aren’t you glad I got you that edamame then?”

“No,” replied Nasir in a surly tone. “Scones are what I was preparing my palate for, not … whatever this is.”

“You may like it.”

“Not the point. I am prepped for scones and I have no scones. I don’t know how to prepare my body to eat a food that I don’t even know what it is.”

Curtis sighed. “Fine, give me more cash, I will go get the scones.”

“No. Give me my change and I will go get them myself. You already messed up shopping once. And then had the audacity to try to ask me for more money, like you think I don’t know you have my change in your pocket.”

Curtis dove a hand into his pocket and handed over the change, looking rather dejected about his failure. Nasir was counting said change, when there was a knock on the door.

Angel wings bristled. 

“It’s probably a client. Go answer the door,” Nasir said again without looking up.

Smoothing his hands over his hair, Curtis went over to answer the door, only to find a very tall woman standing at the door, holding her hat, looking sheepish. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. Are you with Curtis Nasir Investigations?” she asked, trying to see past Curtis’s figure into the space behind him to make sure she wasn’t taken for a fool that a place of business would be in this ordinary apartment building.

“Nasir Curtis Investigations, yes.”

“Why not Curtis Nasir, it's alphabetically in order?” she asked. 

The angel smirked. “I lost the coin toss, so his name got to go first. Come on in. Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” he asked as he stepped aside to let her walk past him into the office space.

She followed behind him, looking around at the modest décor. “No thank you, I'm alright.”

Seeing the new client enter the office, Nasir put his feet down from the desk and turned in his chair to look at her. “Welcome to Nasir Curtis Investigations,” he greeted, giving a slight nod. 

“Saw your advert in the paper. My name is Leslie Chryst. I live out west and I was wondering if you might help me find my partner who went missing about three days ago. I tried my best to find her myself, but no such luck. I figured I could reach out to get some professional help in finding her. She’s the love of my life. Please, I’ll pay anything, as long as you can help me find her.”

“Of course. Do you have a recent photo of her?”

“Sure do.” Leslie took out a photo from her purse and handed it to Curtis as he was standing closest. He accepted the photo and saw Leslie standing next to the most beautiful bicycle he’d ever seen. The triangular cushioned seat was the color of milk, as if it was made out of a cumulus cloud. It had handlebars that were proud and strong, akin to a gymnast’s dismount. There was a custom-made headlight—so that the road ahead in the night was rainbow-lit. The paint job helped her appear to be vintage-made. “She’s beautiful,” Curtis said and handed the photo to Nasir to examine.  

“What’s her name?”

“Lori Bea.”

“Did you have a POSIC+ Partner Commitment Ceremony?”

“Yes, sir, we have been together for sixteen years. She’s my best girl. I’m lost without her. Please, can you help me find her?”

“We’ll do what we can, Mrs. Chryst.”

“Who officiated your ceremony?”

“Syomie Wilters. She’s the best Objectum Officiant in Town. Came highly recommended. You don’t think she’s behind this, do you?”

“We have to look at every angle, Mrs. Chryst.”

“I understand.”

Staring at the photo again, Curtis noticed, with his Celestial Sight, that there was someone in the window behind the glass of the building they were taking the selfie in front of. “Mrs. Chryst, what is this house you are standing in front of for this photo? Is it your home?”

“Yes, it's been in my family for generations. Why do you ask?”

Curtis gave Nasir a knowing glance before licking his lips nervously, “Mrs. Chryst, did anyone ever die in this house?”

She looked nervous and frowned pensively a moment before nodding. “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“As you well know, Mrs. Chryst, it is Halloween. The time of the year when the Veil between Worlds is thinnest.  Spirits from the Astral Wyldes can wander into the Non-Astral World where they once lived. Those in the Realm of Death can visit us here in the Living Realm, and perhaps leave messages, provide closure. But some may cross the Veil, to cause mischief, or trouble in some way,”  Nasir said in a calm tone. 

Leslie was starting to feel nervous in a way she hadn’t before. “You sayin' some ghost stole my wife?”

“Well did any, who are now departed, disapprove of your marriage or your Objectum and POSIC+ identity?”

Something solemn slid over Leslie’s expression that made it blank as stone. “Yes.”

“Did they die in your house?”

“Yes.”

Curtis and Nasir shared an eloquent glance and the angel rolled his shoulders as he felt a shiver down his wings that disturbed the feathers.   

“How far do you live?” Curtis asked, breaking the glance with Nasir to look at her.

“And would you consent to a Spirit Board being used in your house to contact the Astral Wyldes to communicate with the Departed who died in your house to perhaps investigate and find out if they have any details as to what happened to your wife?”  he added after a moment. 

“Only an hour away by bus or train, and yes, I consent to whatever you need to do to get my Lori Bea back to me.”

“For the subject of payment…” Nasir drawled and before he could even finish his sentence, Leslie took out a plastic bag of loose change and set it down on the desk. 

Nasir arched a brow and looked at the bag then looked up at her.

“That's all I got.” 

Curtis stepped up and placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “It’s more than enough. We’ll take the case,” he said. Smiling as she exhaled her relief, Curtis kept his focus on her, giving her as much reassurance as she needed to avoid confronting what he could feel was Nasir’s admonishing glare staring his displeased energy into his back.

11:23 PM - Outskirts of Suburbia Seven, West of Downtown 

The three of them were silent the whole bus ride there. Many riders were out tonight, with their bicycles like they were every night. On Halloween, however, more people commuted to this bicycle town, for what was called The Midnight Ride.  It was something that happened every holiday in this town. But the one on Halloween was sometimes called the Wild Ride, in an attempt to pay homage to its unique connection to the Astral Wyldes.

“It has to be hard on you to have lost your bicycle so soon before Halloween,” Curtis said with sympathy in his voice meant to soothe Mrs. Chyrst.  

She glanced at him and gave a shrug and a bit of a shaky nod as she looked away. “Never missed a ride… till now.”

“Well, we may find her with time enough for you to join the Wild Ride, Mrs. Chryst.”

“I certainly hope so.”

The bus stopped two blocks from her house and the walk there was quiet as well. Nasir carried the spirit board and Curtis carried the pendulum. They had learned the hard way that keeping the items separate while walking to do a summoning was better, smarter, and perhaps wiser than one person carrying both of them. Especially if that person held the spiritual gift of being able to conduit, channel, or had some aptitude with spirit work at all. Nasir still had nightmares of the time Curtis got hijacked by a particularly angry spirit that happened to just be floating by when they were en route to another client’s house for another case several months back during a different season. 

For those in tune with the spirit world, the veil was always thin. Always. Not just on Halloween. 

The house was ranch-style with a big window in front, and lots of land that was well-cared for. It was an off-white brick that was starting to yellow with time and age. And a big red door with a metal screen in front of it with elaborate wrought iron fleur-de-lis curly loops all over it. She led the way and ascended the small ramp going toward the door which had big bristly spruce shrubs spilling over and covering the rail to the ramp. The angel and the djinn followed her up and then Curtis held the door for Nasir as she walked inside first, and took off her hat; trusting the two of them to follow after her.  

There was gold shag carpet all over the floor, mostly white walls with a big piece of abstract Pollock-style splatter art behind a giant black leather couch that had a floofy green Afghan across the arm. It was a dim house, most of the furniture was old but maintained and tended to with love. The windows were blocked. Either with dusty curtains and drapes like that front one or with some sort of shelf in front of it so the light could not reach the rest of the room for the tall bit of wood in front of it. 

“Get you anything to drink? I got some sodas in the ice box that should still be good. I hardly have company over,” she said. 

Curtis’s wings tightened to his body as he breathed in the stale air of the house. “Uhm, water maybe?”

Leslie stopped and turned toward the angel who had spoken and gave him an uneasy expression. “Didn’t pay the bill. I only have soda, as that keeps cool in the ice box.”

“You haven’t paid your water bill?”

“Don’t drink much water, so figured I’d cut my expenses.”

Nasir looked around at the place as well, and his tail swished anxiously. “No living being can survive without water,” he said. 

“That’s true. But they use water to make soda.”

“Do you bathe in soda?” Curtis asked, cheekily.

“I will not be judged in my own house. Are you gonna set up your board to help me find my wife or not?”

“Right… Do you mind if we use this dining table?” Nasir asked, wanting to focus on the point of their visit.

“Not at all, help yourselves.” Leslie replied easily.

They set the spirit board on the table and then took out some tea-light candles that one of them had in his pockets. Then the angel took out the pendulum. He brought it to his lips to pray over it. The prayer would charge it with his intentions and give him the guidance of upper celestial energies to keep his Sight true and focused. Nasir lit the candles and then took out the list of questions.  

As soon as the prayer was finished, energy breezed through the house.  

“Curtis, did you begin already?”

“No I --”

The pendulum flew from his hand and started moving along the spirit board on its own, rapid-spelling words, similar to someone talking really fast, but thankfully Nasir’s djinn eyes were able to keep up.  

He followed where it pointed letter by letter, stringing the letters into words and the words into sentences, and didn’t let himself breathe till the pendulum went still. Curtis looked at Nasir with a question etched on his brow, but without asking it aloud at all. Nasir lowered his veil so that his horns were visible. He turned to look at Leslie who stood in the room motionless and silent the whole time. 

To the commoner’s eye, she was just a butch lesbian that dressed for her comfort rather than trying to meet some beauty standard. She had a youthfulness to her face that was obscured with what could only be make-up. And her hair was too ruddy, like stained straw. She blinked at both of them. “Well?” she prompted nervously.

“How long did you live in this house again, remind me?”  Nasir asked.

“My whole life.” Leslie answered.

“And how long is that?” Nasir continued,  tilting his head. 

“Did that board say anything about my bike?”

“You mean your wife?” Nasir clarified. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“No. It wasn’t.” The djinn shook his head slowly. And he watched her face close down again.

Curtis glanced down as the pendulum started to slide fast across the board. Saying the same thing over and over and over again. One word.

Run.

Leslie Chyrst noticed this as well. 

And grinned slowly.

Catching the sight of the sharp fangs as her eyes turned dark as old blood, Nasir held up a hand toward her, starting incantations that were a cross between banishing magic and exorcism chants. The being in front of them, obviously vampiric, from the Astral Wyldes started to screech a deep horrifying sound. Curtis watched the spirit board shout at them to run over and over again, but he couldn’t leave Nasir here to fight this thing alone. He looked around the house for more clues as to what could help them at this moment.. 

It was an old, dusty house.  He saw family photos of a young woman, with a bicycle, and there were photos of her with other bicycles all around the house. The shelves of books were all about bicycles: how to care for them, maintain them, build them, and their history. The art on the walls was very Warhol-esque if he had taken photos of bicycles instead of soup cans. There was the same signature on all of them, just the letters LBC.  

Nasir kept chanting to banish the vampiric spirit possessing this woman. The more the spirit screamed, the more the djinn knew she was losing control and would soon be cast out of the body and into the Astral Wyldes. And all that would be left to do was to cleanse this house, bury the woman who was clearly dead and had been for some time, and then ward it up to prevent any further incidents. 

Leslie gave one final screech that was so profound it shook the foundation of the house as she was cast out, and Nasir made a sigil gesture in the air that sealed whatever domain gateway had opened to receive her and then the candles extinguished themselves—offering their very light to help seal the portal. 

Once it was sealed, Nasir collapsed to his knees, having exerted himself by doing the banishing. Curtis went to his side and wrapped his arms and wings around him, holding his head to his chest and murmuring prayers of healing and rejuvenation for his friend. 

In the corner of his eye, in all the ruckus, there was the glint of a rainbow light, coming from the ajar door of a nearby closet.

2:31 PM - Downtown - Nasir Curtis Investigations Office - Halloween Day 

“Nasir?” Curtis asked softly. The djinn winced at the mere whisper of his voice, but grunted in acknowledgement. 

“What did the spirit board say? When it was going so fast, I couldn’t catch the words, but you always can. What did it say?”

Nasir exhaled a slow breath, closing his eyes, as he set the glass of ice water he’d been holding to his temple down on the coaster that was on the desk. “It was Leslie’s spirit, speaking through the board, trying to tell us as quickly as possible that her body was just a puppet, animated by a vampiric entity that had slipped in through the Rift. She said to banish the spirit and put her body at rest if we could, but don’t lose our lives to it like she did.”

Exhaling slowly, Curtis rolled his shoulders and a loose feather fell from his wings. Leaning down to pick it up at the same time Nasir stood up from behind the desk. 

“I need to call the next of kin to let them know about Leslie Chryst’s death. See what they want done for her widow.”

“I saw her there, stashed in the closet. I saw the light, the rainbow light, shining so faintly.”

“She was probably there the whole time.  She was not missing at all. That entity possessing Leslie’s body was trying to lure us into a trap so that it could feed on us. It didn’t count on us being able to defeat it, or being good at what we do. We are based out of an apartment—it probably thought we were flakes trying to take people for a quick buck and therefore would be easy to exploit.”

“I don’t get why so many people think that! It’s just economical. Office buildings are so impersonal and drafty,” Curtis retorted.

“Mm, well, people think what they think. Can you do me a favor and call the next of kin? The number for the officiant is on the desk. Start with her, she’d know as good as anyone who Leslie’s surviving human family is. I need to take another boiling hot bath. I still have a lot of nerve pain from performing that banishing.”

“Of course, I can do that. Go soak,” Curtis said as he watched  Nasir make his way down the hall to the bathroom and then close the door. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of running water that he got up and went to sit behind the desk. 

Looking up and then dialing the number for the Objectum Officiant, she answered on the third ring. “Wilters Weddings, Syomie speaking can I help you?”

“Good afternoon Ms. Wilters, My name is Curtis, with Nasir Curtis Investigations. I was wondering if I could talk to you about someone you married sixteen years ago by the name of Leslie Chryst? Do you remember that name?”

“Of course, I do. How can I help you, Mr. Curtis?”

“Just Curtis is fine, thanks. Uhm, do you happen to know if Leslie has any family, meaning next of kin in the event of her death?”

There was an awkward silent pause.  “What happened?”

“We had her come in yesterday, needing help to find her wife, Lori Bea, who had gone missing. So my partner and I went to her estate to try to find answers, and it turned out that Leslie’s body had been hijacked by a vampiric spirit from the Astral Wyldes, and we’d been brought there in hopes to become a meal for the entity. We were able to banish the entity, but there is still a matter of burying the body of Leslie Chryst in a respectful way and if there are those of her next of kin that would like things done in a certain way, we were trying to cross the i’s and dot the t’s to wrap up the case.” Curtis explained as he twirled his fallen feather between his fingers as though it was some sort of writing quill. 

“Mm, well, we fell out of contact years ago. She’s one of the most renowned bicycle historians. It makes sense that she’d have a POSIC+ connection with them. It would be a shame to see all that history just lost.”

Curtis thought for a moment, “Well, her house is still standing, it will just take a bit of research but if you are the only person in her life, it should be pretty easy to draw up paperwork to have you be the ‘next of kin’ and then perhaps we can clean up her house and turn it into a Memorial Museum of sorts?”

“Mm, that is an idea. As long as  there are wards to keep the peace.”

“I agree.  Maybe you can drop by the office and we can talk about it with my business partner before the Midnight Ride?”

“Sure. I can do that. I can bring over some soul cakes. I make them every year, from an old family recipe.” 

“Soul cakes? What are those?”

“Oh they are kind of like scones. But mine are vegan and soy based, so they are a little on the savory side, since the soy I use for mine is a kind of homemade edamame paste.”

“Edamame scones?”

“Yep. Will that be a problem?”

“No, not a problem, sounds perfect.”