Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mumbo had an assignment due at the end of the month. Which wasn’t really that difficult of an assignment, of course, because it was a report detailing the different types of ghosts in the world and how to identify and catch them. Mumbo may not have been the legs of the ghost hunting operation his roommate was running with their other friends, but he was their guy in the chair, the person they turned to when they had questions, and the person they handed captured ghosts to, purely for his experiments. They did this without questioning what he was doing (as Mumbo often didn’t know himself), and so Mumbo provided them with the equipment they needed to find and catch ghosts.

It was a perfect system, one that gave Mumbo what he needed to further ghost-proof his PC, and for the other projects he was submitting to Dr. SV, his electronics professor. 

Of course, last summer, Jimmy had to go and find a ghost that had retained enough of his consciousness to sit down with him and ask if Jimmy would help him figure out how he died. And, since Jimmy Solidarity was a bleeding heart who couldn’t muster any sort of ill will towards anyone who was even slightly polite to him, he decided to let Tango follow him around until they were able to find the truth.

The truth behind Tango’s death also involved a traumatic experience that Jimmy shared with Mumbo’s roommate, Grian, and his twin sister, Pearl, as well as their other friend Martyn. Mumbo had joined them and the rest of Jimmy’s ghost hunting team (Lizzie, Jimmy’s younger sister, and Joel, who only recently had stopped turning red every time she looked in his direction, even though they’d been dating for months) in chasing down the ghost at the root of it all, and in finding the person Tango had been searching for over the course of sixteen years. 

They had succeeded in solving the mystery, but only after Jimmy had nearly joined Tango in the afterlife.

And then Tango had burned the church that held all of their bad memories down until there was nothing left in it, sparing everyone except for The Watcher and Bdubs, who had escaped justice until that moment. Tango's restless spirit was finally satisfied after he'd gotten his revenge.

Mumbo had helped bury one of the ghosts responsible for the mess surrounding Tango’s death after everything was over, and now he was back to his usual routine. Which was greatly appreciated, because Grian was finally having less panic attacks and both of them were actually getting proper amounts of sleep. 

Of course, finals were coming up, so that period of getting a proper amount of sleep was coming to an end. As demonstrated by Mumbo now, with no more frost on his window and leaves budding on the trees outside, hunched over his keyboard and squinting at his monitor in the hopes that the text would stop blurring itself every time he forced his tired eyes to reread it. It was completely dark outside and in his room, aside from the faint orange of the street lamps and the harsh blue light coming from his computer screen. 

Mumbo moved his mouse, selecting the words he wanted to read, thinking that perhaps he would be able to read it better if the text was highlighted a different color, and bumped into one of several empty cans on his desk, knocking it to the floor.

“This is pants,” Mumbo said to himself, leaning down from his chair to pick it up. “I should have asked Grian to get more of these when he came back from the store yesterday.”

Mumbo’s eyes drifted to the clock at the right side of his taskbar, and he winced. It was 4:38 AM. Mumbo had promised Grian he’d be asleep at 2 AM, shortly after Grian had gotten home from a successful ghost hunt and handed him one of Mumbo’s traps, which held a Banshee that wouldn’t leave Lizzie alone. Joel had successfully managed to punch it, apparently. He'd gotten much better at telling when ghosts were solid, and he didn't even break any of his fingers this time.

Since Mumbo had not gone on this ghost hunt to witness it, he was pretty sure Grian wouldn’t buy Mumbo more energy drinks if he knew Mumbo had used them at ungodly hours of the night to do something as boring as homework. (“This is ghost hunting juice, Mumbo, we can't waste this much caffeine on an English paper.”)

Mumbo set the empty can next to the others.

He stretched, feeling the tension between his shoulders loosen somewhat, but it was still very clear to him that he needed to lay down and sleep in his bed, or else he would fall asleep on his keyboard again and wake up with horrible neck and back pain that would distract him from literally everything in his morning classes.

But he was almost done with the reading. Mumbo debated attempting to finish it before he went to sleep, looking back at the screen.

The letters were blurred beyond comprehension again.

Mumbo decided it was not worth trying to navigate that mess when he had no more caffeine to do it.

He turned off his computer (making sure to save his progress, of course) and walked across his room and to his bed. He flopped down face-first into his mattress and was out like a light before his head even hit the pillow.

It had only felt like a few seconds had passed before Grian was shaking him awake.

“Mumbo,” Grian said, frantically.

Mumbo brushed his hands off of his back, before he blearily attempted to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“What on earth are you doing, Grian?” he asked, looking over at his alarm clock and seeing it was 6:30 AM. “Don’t your classes start at eight?”

“One of your traps isn’t working anymore.” 

Mumbo shot up, and if he had been able to get underneath his blankets before falling asleep, he would have cast them to the side in his hurry. 

“Which one? Did any ghosts get out?” He demanded, just as panicked as someone who got two hours of sleep and was rudely awakened by their equally panicked roommate would be.

“The banshee,” Grian said. “He went back into the trap just now, but a minute ago, he hovered over my bed and screamed at me.”

“What the hell,” Mumbo said, rubbing his eyes again. Grian wasn't in any immediate danger, but the fact a ghost had managed to get out of a trap at all was alarming. “How on earth did it escape?”

“I don't know! You're the expert here!” Grian squeaked at him, much like a dog's chew toy. “Do you have any idea why it got out?”

“No,” Mumbo said, truthfully. “I'll bring the trap into class today, so I can look over it with Dr. SV. If I miss something then he'll see it.”

“But what about the banshee?” Grian asked.

“I'll put it in one of the empty ones.” Mumbo rubbed his eyes again. “None of the other ghosts in my collection have gotten out of their traps, so hopefully this is a one-time issue.”

“And if it isn't?” 

Mumbo stared at him. Grian wasn't one to be fully-functioning from the moment he woke up, but whatever Mumbo had missed had clearly been enough of a shock to send Grian's brain into hyperdrive immediately. He had anxiety. Of course something like a banshee scream would wake him up completely. He definitely wouldn't be going back to sleep before his actual alarm would go off, anyway.

“I'll have to pack all of the traps into the van, then,” Mumbo said, already dreading how busy his day had just gotten even though it hadn’t started yet. “Dr. SV probably won't mind helping me look through them in the lab at the university.”

“That's a lot of traps,” Grian said. “Will you need help with checking through them?”

“It's electronics,” Mumbo said, flatly. He appreciated the offer, but Grian was banned from the laboratories in the university for a reason. This reason didn’t involve ghosts, strangely. Grian was a menace, and that was all. “You'll definitely push a button you aren't supposed to and cause another incident. I think we won't be in need of your assistance.”

“That's true,” Grian agreed. “What about Tim? Or Lizzie or Joel? They're better about not pushing buttons and they can handle ghosts.”

“Jimmy would break the trap accidentally, and I don't think anything good would come from asking Joel to help me work on delicate electronics while Lizzie is in the same room as him. And she has finals this week, so we shouldn’t distract her,” Mumbo said. “We'll be alright, Grian. Trust me.”

“Okay.” Grian let out a sigh that might have been relieved, or was at least less stressed than he had been when he first shook Mumbo awake. “Sorry for waking you up so early.”

“Don't worry about it, mate,” Mumbo said, yawning. “I've definitely gotten a decent amount of sleep.”

“How many hours?”

“Two? Maybe?”

“Mumbo.”

“We may need more energy drinks.”

“Mumbo.”

“In my defense, that paper is fifty pages long and the text is size 8.”

“I can't believe you drank all of my ghost hunting juice so you could do homework.”

“I figured you would say something like that.” Mumbo stifled another yawn and decided to stand up. 

He also had classes at eight AM. He might as well get up and eat breakfast. Maybe he’d get a cup of tea to go with it. Tea was a good idea. 

Mumbo ran his hands through his hair, trying to tame it just a little bit. Normally it behaved the way he wanted it to, but today it was cooperating like Grian’s hair did. Which is, to say, not at all.

Of course, worrying about his appearance also came with realizing he’d passed out while still wearing his suit. And he’d somehow not noticed until after he'd woken up.

“We’re a mess,” Grian said, because he'd definitely noticed the wrinkled suit Mumbo had fallen asleep in before Mumbo did. “I just want finals to be over. And then we can both just crash on our couch and sleep for forty-eight hours straight without worrying about anything at all.”

“What a dream to have,” Mumbo agreed. “I'll take you up on that.”

“Good.”

Grian gave the ghost traps in the corner of Mumbo’s room another suspicious glare.

“Let’s get breakfast from the café. I’m working this afternoon, but we should tell Tim about what happened with the banshee as soon as possible.”

“If more of my traps end up malfunctioning, it’d be best for him and the others to be aware of it,” Mumbo agreed. “I also will not say no to free food.”

“You would be stupid to refuse that. Especially since Gem’s making croissants today.”

“Ooh!” Gem notoriously hated baking croissants, so something important must have happened for her to go through all of the steps to make them for the café today. And for her to tell Grian that she was making them, because Grian would steal them from behind the counter even before he started working there. Mumbo, who often received the stolen pastries from Grian, could confirm they were always incredibly delicious. “What’s the occasion?”

“She’s helping me convince Scar to come on our next ghost hunt,” Grian explained. “Tim’s convinced someone north of town to let us investigate their house tomorrow, and Joel and Lizzie have a reservation at some fancy restaurant, so they can’t come with us. And since it’s literally only three of us, we need another set of hands. Scar owes me one for getting him the notes for one of last week’s classes since he had a swim meet he couldn’t miss, but Gem thinks we should bribe him with croissants before we resort to blackmail.”

“I’ll come on this ghost hunt, too,” Mumbo said. “If something really has gone wrong with my traps, then I should check and see if the issue lies within the method of capture. You and Jimmy aren’t exactly the most graceful of individuals when it comes to electronics. But if the issue is somewhere else, Scar should have a safety net of some kind, or he might end up getting hurt because of something we could have easily prevented.”

“You are being surprisingly coherent for only getting two hours of sleep,” Grian said, impressed.

“You as well, Mister Four Hours,” Mumbo returned. “Now, get out of my room so I can get dressed.”

----

Mumbo seriously lamented not adding wheels to his traps until the day Grian, Lizzie, and Pearl had dragged one of them through a window while a very powerful, very violent ghost was hunting. Carrying every single trap he’d ever made down the stairs of the Victorian house-turned-apartment he shared with Grian and hoisting them into the back of his blue van was incredibly difficult. Especially since they were heavier when ghosts were actually in them. Even when they were empty, they still required two people to carry them. Grian was not very happy about getting roped into helping Mumbo pack all of the traps into his van, but Mumbo was also going to drive the both of them to the Southlands Café for breakfast and then to the university without asking for gas money. So Grian couldn’t complain too much. At least it wasn’t raining, because if it was raining, he’d have to worry about water damage on top of everything else.

After checking to make sure their front door was locked, Mumbo picked up his bag, gently placed it in one of the back seats (inside of this bag was his very expensive PC that he’d been building and customizing and ghost-proofing for the entire time he’d been studying at the university) and then secured it with one of the seat belts (one could never be too safe when Grian was in the immediate vicinity of literally any electronics). Grian climbed into the passenger seat, stifling a yawn, which made Mumbo want to yawn, and closed the door behind him.

Mumbo started the engine, and they set off to start their day in the world outside of their house.

“I think we’ll put Scar on spirit box duty tomorrow,” Grian said, thoughtfully. Mumbo’s eyes were on the road, so he couldn’t look over and see Grian’s expression, but he knew there was definitely some sort of sadistic smirk on his face. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“A rite of passage that might get you punched in the face,” Mumbo replied, turning left. They were nearly at the café. “I’m glad you didn’t try that on Joel, because he most certainly would have broken something.”

“I may only have two brain cells, Mumbo, but I’m not an idiot.” Grian scoffed at him, like he hadn’t ever done anything stupid in his life. Which was a lie. “Joel’s first experience with us was when we caught Cabinet Ghost.”

“And he broke two of his fingers,” Mumbo said. “I don’t want to think about what he would have done if he’d been given the spirit box back then.”

“He’d probably have broken more furniture than the cabinet,” Grian said, amused. “Honestly, if he’d gotten a response from the spirit box on his first ghost hunt, he would have thrown it through the window and caused even more damage. Both to the house and to your equipment. Maybe to himself.”

“That does sound like something Joel would do,” Mumbo agreed. He pulled into the café’s parking lot, and parked his van into one of the empty spaces. 

“Exactly! And Scar isn’t going to break anything if the ghost says hello to him on the spirit box, he’ll just squeal a bit!” Grian said. “It’s gonna be hilarious!”

“It is very entertaining to sneak up on Scar,” Mumbo said, because it was true. He’d walked behind him on campus one time without Scar noticing and when Scar turned around and saw him, he’d jumped and yelled “VAMPIRE- Oh, it’s just Mumbo,” and then he and Mumbo had both lost it laughing. They were both late to class that day. “I’m glad I will be there to witness him using the spirit box.”

“Even with your assignment?” Grian asked, skeptical.

“It's not due until the end of the week,” Mumbo said. “It's Wednesday. And I'll bring my computer with me and do the rest of the assignment as I watch what's happening from the cameras. It's ghost-proof.”

“I can't believe you're stealing my spot in the truck,” Grian complained. He opened his door and climbed out faster than Mumbo did, and, when Mumbo followed him, opened the café's front doors with his keys to let them both inside.

The Southlands Café wasn't open yet, but it was warm and cozy (like cafés usually were) and somehow incredibly energetic (like American diners were, considering the café was a diner that had been converted into a coffee shop) despite the lack of customers. Jimmy Solidarity and Scott Smajor were both behind the counter, preparing for the day to start. They both turned and waved at Grian and Mumbo's approach. 

“You look like hell,” Scott said, because he wasn't very subtle about his opinions on things. He’d pinned his hair (Which had recently been dyed blue again, as it was incredibly vibrant. Mumbo was pretty sure if he stared too long he would get a headache, but it was impossible to look away.) to the sides of his head with hair clips that had glittery stars decorating them, but his bangs weren’t long enough to be pinned, so they were hanging into his face slightly. “Did something happen?”

“Homework?” Mumbo said, to describe the cause of his current stress, but it came out as more of a question, because it wasn't just homework that was stressing him out at the moment.

“This idiot only got two hours of sleep because he drank all of our ghost hunting juice to work on his English paper,” Grian said. “We need coffee.”

“Well, that's definitely within our capabilities!” Jimmy said, cheerfully. 

He'd taken up wearing shirts with high collars lately, because they were professional enough for him to properly look like the supervisor of the café, but his reasons for wearing them were actually so their patrons didn't have to see the jagged scar on his neck. Mumbo had seen patrons who didn't know any better asking about it while it was still healing, and Jimmy had spectacularly failed at trying to change the subject every time. It had been a painful experience for everyone involved.

Thankfully, he'd healed nicely, and he was actually happy now, if the faded pink dye in his hair had anything to say about it.

As Jimmy cheerfully brewed Mumbo and Grian's coffees, Mumbo was already regretting what he was about to say to him, because it would likely ruin Jimmy's day just as much as it had ruined Mumbo's. Thankfully, he had the thought to let Jimmy put their cups on the table before he spoke, because from his reaction, he would have dropped them otherwise.

“The banshee your team caught for me yesterday got out of its trap,” Mumbo said, and Jimmy somehow stumbled upon hearing his words despite the floor behind the counter being completely flat. 

“It what?!” 

“It went back in, but something might be wrong with the parts I used for the trap, because that shouldn't have happened,” Mumbo explained. “I'm going to be checking every ghost trap I've made today with Dr. SV just to see if it was an issue exclusive to the trap you all were using yesterday. If not… I might have to make a new design. Which will be very difficult. And tedious. I'm not looking forward to it in the slightest.”

Scott pushed two croissants across the counter in Mumbo's direction, and handed a third to Grian, who looked somewhat offended to see Mumbo receiving twice the amount of croissants as him.

“He needs the extra energy more than you,” Scott said. “Don't complain, you're still getting free food.”

“All of our food is free with the employee discount. I want another.”

“No. Save some to bribe Scar with later this afternoon.”

“Ugh,” Grian groaned, but he took his singular croissant from the counter without any further protest. “Fine.”

“Good.” Scott was satisfied with that. “Gem doesn’t want to make any more croissants than she absolutely has to today.”

“I can’t believe that banshee got out,” Jimmy said, still struggling to process what he’d been told, but no longer in any danger of tripping on a flat surface. “I mean, we always hand ghosts off to Mumbo, and then Mumbo deals with them, and we never see them again.”

“That is how it usually goes,” Grian said, though his mouth was full of croissant, so it came out more like, “‘ab ith ‘ow ib yewsh ‘oth.” Somehow, Jimmy still understood what Grian was saying, because he nodded, agreeing with him. (Of course, Mumbo was also able to understand Grian, though that was unrelated to the current situation.) Grian swallowed his bite of food, cleared his throat, and continued. “Mumbo’s gonna figure out how to fix this, too.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Jimmy said, because he genuinely seemed to believe it. “We need to be ready for the ghost hunt tomorrow, after all, if Scar’s coming along.”

“I’m coming, too,” Mumbo said. “So it won’t just be the four of you.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Jimmy relaxed, visibly letting his shoulders sag from the stiff pose he’d been holding ever since Mumbo had dropped the news that the traps they used to catch ghosts might have stopped working. “We’ll have tech support with us in case anything goes wrong.”

“Exactly,” Mumbo said, taking a swig of his coffee. It was too hot, so it burned his tongue, but he was too tired to care. When he put his mug down, the tip of his tongue was tingling somewhat painfully. But the caffeine was settling in, so it was worth the burn just for the sudden alertness he was suddenly feeling. Which was concerning, because he’d just driven here, and being unaware while on the road was dangerous. “I don’t need anyone getting hurt because of a mistake I made. Especially Scar.”

“We’re still giving Scar the spirit box,” Grian said, thankfully without his mouth full of croissant this time.

Jimmy scoffed. “Obviously. He’s new. I’m going to rub this in Joel’s and Lizzie’s faces for ages.”

The door to the kitchen opened, then, and Gem, holding a very full tray of pastries, carefully pushed her way up to the front counter. Jimmy slid the glass open and stood to the side, allowing Gem to place the pan on the counter and then add the pastries to the ones on display. There was flour in her hair, but Mumbo was very aware he was in no position to talk about hair problems this morning, so he didn’t point it out to her. 

“Are we supposed to let non-paying customers in before we open?” Gem asked, somewhat mischievously, because while Grian was a fellow employee, Mumbo was not. 

“I didn’t see anything like a customer here,” Jimmy, the supervisor, said, despite the fact he was the one to hand Mumbo the coffee that he was currently drinking. “Did you see anything, Scott?”

“Nope.” Scott was on his phone. “There’s a Pikachu in here, though.”

“Make sure you’re not playing Pokémon on the clock,” Gem said, amused. She was done with the pastries, so she picked up her tray.

“Mhm.”

“Jimmy will fire you.”

“No he won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’re supposed to disapprove of this behavior,” Gem tutted at him, shaking her head in exasperation.

“And deny the people who come here asking for the barista with blue hair to make their drink?!” Jimmy was genuinely alarmed by the suggestion. “That’s, like, a crime!”

“Jimmy, your hair is pink. You’re also a barista with dyed hair,” Gem said. “So we don’t need Scott.”

“Pink isn’t blue! It’s entirely different!” Jimmy argued.

“Aw, foiled again.” Gem laughed, because she actually didn’t want Scott gone. This was some sort of inside joke Mumbo wasn’t aware of, and, honestly, since he had a nice cup of coffee, was also less important than what he was doing at the moment. Which was drinking coffee. And eating one of the croissants he had been given. 

Scott looked up from his phone to where Grian and Mumbo were finishing their coffees and wrapping their last croissant in some napkins, and he frowned, confused. “Don’t the two of you have class at eight?”

“Yeah?” Grian confirmed, but it came out as a question.

“It’s seven-thirty?”

The resulting mad dash for the door involved Mumbo tripping over Grian’s foot, spilling both of their mostly-empty cups onto the former diner's checkerboard floor, and then Mumbo having to run back to the counter to grab the croissant he’d forgotten, before the both of them finally ran outside and jumped back into Mumbo’s van before zooming away at a speed that was probably illegal.

Jimmy, still inside of the café, sighed as the front door slammed shut with a cheerful jingle. He walked past Gem and Scott, still behind the counter and very clearly unused to his friends’ specific brand of chaos, and grabbed a mop. 

Chapter Text

Mumbo dropped Grian off at the main building of the university, because that was where the architecture wing was located. He sincerely hoped that Grian's sprint to class got him there on time. And that he hadn’t forgotten anything in the van. Mumbo had been known to both forget important documents and fail to get to class on time. And while Grian was older than him, he would still pick up on Mumbo’s bad habits. Sometimes. 

Which was, of course, why Mumbo was also running late, carrying his bag that had his PC and pulling one of his ghost traps behind him as he rushed towards the laboratory that Dr. SV had commandeered for his students. It was a very dramatic story, apparently, and one that he’d gotten his friends Zedaph and Skizzleman to help him complete. And since Zed had nearly killed several people (including Mumbo) with an elevator that met absolutely zero safety regulations, and he had some sort of rivalry with the people the city sent to perform inspections, it was a story that was most certainly forbidden by the board of directors to tell. Dr. SV, however, was incredibly mischievous, and so he told his students about it anyway, after bribing them with snacks and making them promise not to repeat anything he’d just said.

It started when the university had hired him, a few years before Mumbo had started going there. The board of directors told Dr. SV that his lab was going to be a tiny room in the back of the main building, because the laboratory he’d been studying in for his entire time at the university was being remodeled. Into some court dedicated to a sport no one cared about. Mumbo didn’t remember what it was, because it wasn’t actually that important. When Dr. SV had gone to eat dinner with his friends that night, it was Etho who suggested they take over the lab until the board agreed to let him use it as his classroom. The budget was horribly unbalanced anyway, to destroy a perfectly good computer lab for the sake of something as boring as sports. (Etho was biased. He’d also graduated after studying in that lab.) 

Unfortunately, Etho hadn’t been able to join Zedaph and Skizzleman in aiding Dr. SV’s quest, as he was moving. (He’d met a kid with two dogs who either didn’t know that one of Etho’s closest friends had vanished from this house and never came back, or he knew and didn’t care. One of the dogs had bitten him. Etho liked Chihuahuas, though, so it didn’t stop him from agreeing to let the kid rent his old place.) But when the three of them asked for advice, Etho was constantly giving them ideas. 

Dr. SV had taken over the computer lab with the help of a crazy American (Dr. SV was also a crazy American, but Skizz’s hinges were much looser) and an even crazier mad scientist (That was actually Zedaph’s title. For his job. Mumbo had checked.). By this, of course, Dr. SV had explained through fits of giggles, the three of them had pranked the board directors who were pushing for the renovation over and over. He wasn’t fired, because the rest of the board thought it was hilarious. 

After one too many glitter bombs had somehow gone off exactly where those people were standing after several other people had passed by, they had given up and given in to Dr. SV’s demands. Afterwards, they threw a party in the laboratory they’d successfully claimed from their enemies. There was alcohol involved. Skizzleman had thrown the punch bowl through one of the walls. The bowl had been fine. The wall needed to be repaired. There was still a weird patch of paint over where there was once a bowl-shaped hole, evidence that Dr. SV was not exaggerating at all about his story. It was unnerving, because the area around the patch was still stained slightly red. 

“It’s a shame the war ended so soon,” Dr. SV had said, when he originally told the story to Mumbo, like it wasn’t the most insane thing he’d ever heard in his life, and his roommate hunted ghosts for fun. “We hadn’t even gotten to the PA system. Skizz made a playlist that we were gonna blast over all of the speakers in the building.”

“Was it mostly fart noises?” Mumbo had asked. Dr. SV had talked about Skizzleman a lot in his time teaching Mumbo. They were very close, and so Mumbo understood some of what he found humorous, as a spectator from the outside, despite never meeting Skizzleman himself. 

“No, it was a bunch of pop songs covered by Waluigi impersonators,” Dr. SV had said, because that was an entirely normal thing to make a playlist out of. “And maybe three hours of fart noises.”

Mumbo had learned, that day, that maybe his teacher wasn’t the most stable of individuals. After properly meeting Zedaph and nearly dying in his elevator, he had the unfortunate realization that Dr. SV had been the normal one out of the three of them.

Wasn’t that something.

Today, though, Dr. SV didn’t actually have any students in the lab. Their classwork for the day had all been online, but he’d told them that they could come in if they needed help. And Mumbo most certainly needed help. Just… Not with classwork. 

“Hey, Mumbo, good to see you,” he’d said, cheerfully. He was, of course, happy to see Mumbo, but he was definitely puzzled as he looked him over. 

“Hi, Dr. SV,” Mumbo said. “There, um. We might have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. SV asked, alarmed. “Can I help?”

“The banshee that Jimmy and his team caught for me yesterday got out,” Mumbo explained, gesturing to the trap he’d been pulling behind him like a suitcase. Past him really was a genius for adding wheels to these things, because they were very heavy. “It went back in, of course, but I want to see if something delicate got knocked out of place.”

“Do you have a place to put that banshee while we look at the trap?” Dr. SV asked, because he hadn’t left his last two brain cells in the coffee shop like Mumbo clearly did. 

“I brought all of my traps,” Mumbo said, setting his bag with his PC in it down on one of the tables in the laboratory that didn’t have computers on it. “They’re in my van. Grian thinks something might go wrong with all of them, since they’re all built the same way, so I told him I would check to see if it was just the one trap that wasn’t working.”

“Alright,” Dr. SV said. Because he definitely didn’t have anything better to do in the empty classroom than help a student wrangle ghosts that could destroy everything he’d worked for if either one of them messed up even a little bit. Ignoring the stack of ungraded tests on his desk, anyway. And Dr. SV clearly didn’t want to grade them just as much as his students didn’t want to know their scores. So a distraction, even one as dangerous as what Mumbo had dragged in behind him, was welcome. “How many traps are we looking at, exactly?”

“Erm… Twenty. But only nine of them actually have ghosts inside!” Mumbo didn’t stutter. He was nervous, of course, because who wouldn’t be nervous when dealing with something that could kill them? But he didn’t stutter, and that was the important part.

“Great!” Dr. SV grinned, rubbing his hands together as though he’d just been given a present and he was preparing to unwrap it (Though, Mumbo supposed his trap was somewhat like a present, because Dr. SV was the sort of person who liked taking things apart and putting them back together. He also liked ghosts. It was a double win for him.). “I was getting kinda bored of being here by myself.”

And that was how Mumbo found himself hauling all of his stuff from his van into Dr. SV’s lab. Dr. SV helped him carry it in, talking the entire time about Zedaph’s latest experiment, or how his friend Skizz had managed to get transferred to a better-paying job that also let him come back overseas, for good this time, and that the board of directors wouldn’t see what was coming until it was far too late. Mumbo didn't ask for more details. He just hoped he wouldn’t be a victim in the upcoming prank war.

“It's a little bit, uh, messed up, but Bdubs’ old house went on sale last year after… You know,” Dr. SV explained, hesitantly, as they carried the last trap into the lab. “Skizz is, uh, he’s moving in next week. I mean, I know Tango's not walking around the street anymore, but is there a chance that place is haunted?”

“No, probably not,” Mumbo said. They set the last trap next to the other empty ones. The traps with ghosts in them were next to the table where he’d left his bag with his PC. Normally, most people were a bit more paranoid about their belongings, but Mumbo’s computer was built to withstand ghosts. It would be fine if he left it there while they checked the traps. “No one's died in there, so it's just a house. If strange things start happening, though, Grian and the others wouldn't mind investigating.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dr. SV said. “Alrighty, let’s move that banshee.”

The banshee did not appreciate being moved from one box to another. Mumbo and Dr. SV did appreciate the fact Dr. SV kept earplugs nearby, a habit from when he was still in band that never went away. Because of this, the both of them were able to spare their eardrums from the piercing wail the banshee let out as they moved him. Dr. SV’s coworkers were used to the strange noises that followed Mumbo into the building, but even they couldn’t ignore the sound the banshee had made. 

The mechanical engineering professor, who was only known to the student body as Doc, poked his head in to see what was up, and, when he made eye contact with Mumbo and Dr. SV, he just shook his head and walked away, muttering something in German under his breath. Mumbo did not speak German, but he guessed Doc was saying something along the lines of, “It’s too early in the morning for this.” Doc only taught afternoon classes, so this was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make. Mumbo definitely thought it was too early to be screamed at by an agitated ghost. Though that might have just been because he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

With the banshee moved into a different trap, Mumbo and Dr. SV started taking the broken one apart to look at the guts to see what was wrong with it. The controls for the different types of ghosts and the capturing mechanisms were fine. Nothing had been damaged. But the containment device that projected the electromagnetic field to keep the ghosts in the box had been almost entirely fried. Dr. SV had popped the cover off of that section and immediately been hit with a puff of smoke.

“So the issue was with the containment,” Mumbo commented, observing the state of the circuit board and the wires that had melted together into a once-functional heap. “I guess that explains why Grian saw it this morning.”

“What could have melted the containment device, though?” Dr. SV questioned. “The protections specific to ghosts weren’t affected at all, since those are up next to the capturing device. You specifically designed it so that nothing could break it once it was inside, because there were fail-safes in both the containment device and the ghost selector.”

“It wasn’t overloaded. The capturing device was completely unaffected, and they’re programmed to work together. So it was made to look like the containment device was overloaded, even though it wasn’t,” Mumbo explained. He paused for a moment. “The banshee was only able to get out for a second, and then it was safely back inside of the trap. So the trap was still working, even after the containment device got fried.”

“What do you think happened?” Dr. SV asked. 

“I’m not sure. Grian and his friends would have noticed if there was a second ghost at that location, but so far, it looks like… Outside interference. Like another ghost snuck up on us and tried to sabotage the trap.” 

“So- the banshee was alone when your friends were hunting it. The banshee was successfully identified and trapped. Grian went home with the trap, without any interference. And then, the banshee gets out, just for a second, earlier this morning,” Dr. SV said, thinking. “If there was a chance for another ghost to try and sabotage the trap, it would have been while you were both asleep, so it could do it unnoticed.”

“That narrows the window of opportunity down to about two hours, then.” Mumbo agreed with Dr. SV’s assessment. He and Grian had just as much experience hunting ghosts as the rest of Jimmy’s team, so they would have noticed if one of them had gotten out, as well. “Let’s check the other traps. Something may have been damaged in them, too.”

  “Two- Mumbo, did you only get two hours of sleep?”

“I’ll nap when I get home. It’s fine. You can yell at me once we figure out what happened.”

“That’s not- Okay,” Dr. SV said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’m not going to yell, Mumbo, I’m just concerned for your health.”

“I know,” Mumbo said. “And I’m concerned about my English grade. But that’s irrelevant to the ghost that managed to break my trap.”

“Fair enough,” Dr. SV said. “Let’s take the others apart and check on them.”

----

The rest of the traps weren’t affected the same way the first one was. In fact, they hadn’t been affected at all.

Mumbo suspected that whatever managed to break the first trap couldn’t risk letting any other ghosts out, because the banshee had immediately screamed, waking up Grian, who woke up Mumbo, who was the reason they were all in traps in the first place. So they didn’t risk following the banshee. The banshee himself went back into his trap, despite the containment device being broken. And he’d been cooperative ever since, even if he had complained when Mumbo moved him into a different trap.

Tango had been right about Mumbo. Tango was easily the strongest ghost Mumbo had ever encountered- aside from The Watcher, maybe- and Tango had been scared of him.

So maybe this new ghost was also scared of him, and that was why it hadn’t shown itself.

It was annoying, though. 

“So, even Cabinet Ghost is scared of you,” Dr. SV commented, not quite sure what to say. He’d already come up with a viable theory, but there were still pieces missing from the puzzle. “What kind of ghost could get in without you noticing, and damage your equipment? You’ve ghost-proofed pretty much everything you’ve built.”

“I’m not sure what we’re dealing with,” Mumbo said, truthfully. “I’ll have to get Grian and his friends to check around my house, I think. Maybe there’s something I’ve missed, since I haven’t been- I haven’t been in top form.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Dr. SV said, patting Mumbo gently on the shoulder. “Now, I’m going to go and get lunch, since it is almost three o’clock. Do you want anything?”

Mumbo waved him off. “I have a croissant that I picked up from the café this morning.”

“Okay… But I’m getting some stuff from the pasta place that just opened downtown,” Dr. SV said. “And a croissant is not enough calories to be an entire meal.”

And so Mumbo was successfully bribed into eating a very delicious lunch of fettuccini alfredo and a room temperature croissant in the laboratory, surrounded by ghosts that were scared of him. And his teacher. Who wasn’t scared of Mumbo, but was very worried about his sleeping habits.

“How’s your report coming along?” Dr. SV asked, before taking a bite of his lunch. “Is it as interesting as you promised?”

“It should be,” Mumbo said. “I’m fairly close to the final draft. Grian says I wrote too much, but I think twenty-four pages is a perfectly acceptable length. I just- I have to get it down to twenty-four.”

“I see,” Dr. SV said, thoughtfully. “Well, I personally wouldn’t mind reading a thirty-page report on ghosts, but, if you’d like, I could take a look at what you have so far? If it is too long, I might be able to give you some pointers on what to cut.”

“That would be- That would be very helpful, thank you.” Mumbo’s fettuccini forgotten, he pulled his PC out of the bag he’d carried in that morning, before all of the traps had been taken apart and put back together. Aside from the one that had the roasted containment device. That one hadn’t been fixed, but it was empty. Mumbo would fix it later. “If I could just- borrow a monitor and a mouse and keyboard, then we can go over it right now.”

“Well, luckily for you, we’re in a computer lab. Pick a spot, we can get you set up.” Dr. SV laughed, because he thought Mumbo asking permission after multiple years of teaching him was funny. Mumbo was a respectful guy, though, so he was always going to ask for permission to do something, even if it was already implied that he had it. 

But now that he had permission, Mumbo unplugged one of the lab computers from its monitor and keyboard, instead hooking his own PC up to them and then turning it on. It booted up as quickly as usual, and once Mumbo signed in, went to his desktop. Mumbo wasn't the sort of person who could leave random files on his desktop, so it was much more organized than it could have been. It was definitely more organized than Grian’s desktop. So at least there was that.

Though, there was something odd in his files.

Mumbo’s most recent opened file wasn’t any of his homework. In fact, it wasn’t a file he’d ever seen before. Which was probably because the text had either completely corrupted to the point it was unreadable. Or maybe it was new. Mumbo honestly couldn’t remember. Maybe he’d accidentally downloaded it from a sketchy site while he was looking for more people talking about ghosts. 

Ẉ̶̧͓͈͇̱̞̫͉̭͈̭̻̈̅͗̉͠h̸̞̜̓̈̄͌e̵̻̥̝̐̎̌̌̈́͌͛̕͝͠͠ṛ̶̨̱̲̞̜̮̗̮͙̋̆͗̂ͅe̴̛̪̰̦̜͍͓͊̉̓̄͆͛̃̀̈́̔̕͘ ̸̡̹̱͕̳̻̝̦̬͌͠a̷̡͓͎̖̩͎͇̭̋͒m̴̡̤̦̯̱̝̬̥̩͔̻̠̩̲̆̕ ̶̯̦̗̯̰͚̖͈̍͆͋͜Î̸̧͙̰̌͐͗̚ͅ?̴͕̭̹͕̹̰͚̦͖͖̜̰͋͌̍͗̈́̄̈́͜͝ͅ was a slightly ominous name, in Mumbo’s completely honest opinion. 

Right below it in the queue of recent files was ‘Final-FINAL-34-last-one-asjghsk.word’, which was the report he’d spent the last month finalizing.

“Huh,” Dr. SV said, as he looked at the corrupted file. “Is that normal?”

“I, uh. Maybe? I might just be getting trolled- Some of these websites I visit looking for information are run by people messing around,” Mumbo explained, sheepishly. “You know- It’s the types of people who think spooking others is funny. If Grian could make a website, he would do the same. It’s not really that convenient for me, since I was looking for something useful, but I guess I should have expected to be trolled.”

“That makes sense,” Dr. SV said. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

Mumbo clicked on his report.

The report should have opened, of course. There was no reason why it shouldn’t have. 

But the mouse, despite the icon hovering over the report, opened the document with the corrupted text. 

Mumbo hadn’t noticed it at the time, and Dr. SV hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him before he clicked the left mouse button, but the mouse moved without Mumbo’s input. 

And because of that simple movement- barely a few centimeters- enough that Mumbo hadn’t noticed, everything went wrong.

The screen froze. Mumbo moved the mouse around and clicked it, just a couple of times, to confirm it. The mouse icon didn’t move, and nothing else happened.

“That’s weird,” Mumbo said.

“Did you click on the wrong document?” Dr. SV asked, confused.

“Uh- Maybe? Oh, gosh, I hope I didn’t just put a virus on my computer.”

As soon as Mumbo said something about a virus, the screen unfroze itself. But it didn’t go back to normal. Several windows to a variety of sites- All random things, like the ghost site Mumbo had visited yesterday, a landscaper’s website, the Google Search result page for ‘moss’, and even a news article about how oddly warm it was for February- opened all at once, stacking next to each other. The windows were all small enough to zoom in on specific letters.

They formed a message.

“‘Who are you?’” Dr. SV quoted, as Mumbo had jumped as soon as the screen started doing things on its own. “Was this part of that website’s weirdness?”

“No,” Mumbo said. “This is- I don’t know what this is.”

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves?” Dr. SV asked.

“To the computer?” Mumbo asked.

“I mean, it’s the polite thing to do, right?”

“Whatever this is, it’s not polite.”

“Hi,” Dr. SV said to the computer, giving it a short wave. “I’m Impulse.”

The windows all closed at once. Then, more of them opened, to more random websites, and created another message.

“‘Hello Impulse’,” Mumbo said, reading the next message they formed. “Oh, I don’t like this.”

“Don’t mind my student, here, he’s not feeling well,” Dr. SV said, still to the computer. “We’re trying to look at one of his assignments, if you wouldn’t mind backing up a bit.”

The windows didn’t budge. Hello Impulse still decorated the screen.

Mumbo didn’t bother closing the windows. He simply clicked on the file explorer on his taskbar to finally get to what he was looking for.

His most recently opened file was the one with the corrupted text.

Below it, right where his final report had been two minutes ago, was a completely blank space.

As though the report had never existed in the first place.

“Oh!” Dr. SV’s normally cheerful expression turned into something forced. “That’s not good!”

Mumbo, however, reacted in a much more dignified manner upon realizing a month’s worth of homework had completely disappeared right in front of his eyes. None of his previous drafts or backup copies were in his files. Indeed, Mumbo was a gentleman, and he always reacted like a gentleman would.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Chapter Text

“Well, these croissants are absolutely wonderful, but-”

“Scar, it’ll be fine-”

“You didn’t need to try and bribe me into joining you on your silly adventures! You’re my friends! I like hanging out with you!”

Grian started laughing. And after he started laughing, Jimmy joined in, though he was much more unsure about it. He likely hadn’t realized Scar’s answer to, 'Hey, do you want to go ghost hunting with us tomorrow?’ would be an instant ‘Yes, of course!’ 

Then again, Grian knew Scar better than Jimmy did. And after everything that happened last summer, Jimmy was understandably anxious about most things. He refused to get officially diagnosed, since he’d recovered from his injuries and he knew for a fact that he was safe, but Grian saw himself in the way Jimmy had started to question his worth. Obviously, he knew his close friends trusted him, but his friends who didn’t know him as well as the others did- Jimmy doubted them. Just enough to make it very difficult to figure out their actual intentions. Scar was the sort of person who lied for fun. He wasn’t a very good liar, of course, but the way he spoke and the types of jokes he told were enough for Jimmy to doubt him. Just a bit. He clearly wanted to trust Scar, because Grian trusted Scar, and he probably knew it was silly to have those thoughts. Someday, Grian would convince him to speak to a professional. For now, there wasn’t much he could do other than be there for him in the moments where the doubt crept in.

Grian was pretty high-maintenance himself. But that was irrelevant. He'd crashed on Scar's couch plenty of times when Mumbo was exploding ghosts in their house. Or whatever it was he actually did with them. Tango had said he exploded them. And Grian trusted Tango’s judgment on that. Tango had always been up-front with what he was after, and he wouldn’t have lied to them. That was one of the reasons Jimmy had trusted him, too. 

“Well, I guess that settles it,” Grian said, feeling rather proud of himself. “Make sure you tell Gem that the croissants were good before you leave today.”

“Oh, of course!” Scar said, biting into another croissant taken from the plate Grian had carried out to him. “I'll hunt all of the ghosts you want for more croissants!”

“Good,” Grian said, standing up so he could exit the booth.

Then, this was when a very sullen Mumbo Jumbo pushed his way into the café, wrapped up in his coat and carrying his bag that he kept his PC in with an odd lack of his usual care. The door slammed shut behind him with a cheerful jingle. Mumbo himself looked as though someone had spat in his coffee. And Mumbo was the type of person who never showed discomfort until it was genuinely unbearable. So to see him glaring daggers into space was alarming, to say the least.

“Mumbo!” Grian waved him over to the booth he'd just vacated. “Are you alright?”

“Well!” Mumbo said, sliding into the booth with a painfully forced smile on his face. “I have good news and I have bad news! About what I was looking into!”

“What happened?” Scar asked, because he genuinely had no idea what Grian had asked of Mumbo that morning.

“All of the traps are still working,” Mumbo began to explain, “It was only the banshee's trap that got messed with, and it was still able to contain the banshee even after it had been sabotaged. We moved the banshee, and that trap is in the lab so we can repair it later. Everything else is fine.”

“W- Okay, so what's the bad news?” Grian asked. Everything Mumbo had said so far had been good. Great, even! If the traps were all functioning, then the ghost hunt they were bringing Scar along for would proceed without any issues.

“Well!” Mumbo said. “I don't know how else to explain this. But! There appears to be a ghost! Inside of my very ghost-proof PC!”

“What on earth?” Grian asked. “No way. Nothing's ever gotten in there. You're- You're lying.”

“I sincerely wish I was lying about that.” Mumbo groaned, leaning onto the table face-first like some sort of dead fish. “It deleted my final report for Dr. SV's class right before he could review it. And all of my backups and previous drafts. They’re all gone.”

Grian’s head snapped over to the counter, making direct eye contact with Jimmy, who had been minding his own business until he noticed the sudden movement near the booth.

“Jimmy. Emergency. We need coffee here.”

“Oh! How bad?” Jimmy asked, instantly. Grian had used his real name, instead of a variation of ‘Tim’, so he knew it was serious. 

“Deleted finals bad.”

“I’m on it.”

As Jimmy set to making Mumbo a cup of coffee, Grian slid into the booth next to Mumbo, who was still hunched over the table, unmoving. He gently patted Mumbo on the back, and Scar put a croissant in one of Mumbo's empty hands.

“Well, at least the ghost won't stay long,” Grian said, in an attempt to be optimistic. “I think I might actually watch you explode it, just for the satisfaction.”

“I can't do that. I'm a spoon,” Mumbo groaned, though he was muffled by the fact his face was firmly held against the table. “I made my PC immune to exorcisms. I have to find another way.”

Grian was not going to ask how on earth Mumbo had managed that. 

There were a lot of things that Mumbo had done that were better off not questioned. 

“Well!” Scar said, not having any context for why Mumbo had decided to slam his face into the table other than Grian saying ‘deleted finals’. “Maybe you can look at curses instead of exorcisms!”

Mumbo shot up into a proper sitting position just as Jimmy approached with his coffee. Jimmy was startled by the sudden movement, nearly spilling the coffee, but he managed to save it before he did. So he set it next to Mumbo and returned to the counter, where he then pretended he wasn’t eavesdropping. Horribly. Jimmy wasn’t a very good actor. Mumbo, however, was very distracted by what Scar had just told him, and so he didn’t notice.

“How on earth do you know about curses?” 

Scar shrugged. “Gem lent me the notebook with all of those different types of ghosts in it a couple days ago. There’s a note near the mor- More-Ray that talks about a curse.”

“Moroi,” Grian corrected him. He poked Mumbo’s arm. “Do you think a moroi could curse your computer so you could get that other ghost out?”

Mumbo rubbed at his chin, thinking. “If I knew how that ghost got into my computer in the first place, it’d be easier to get rid of it. I’m not sure if a moroi’s curse could- Could do it. But… There is something else I might be able to do.”

“And what’s that?” Grian asked.

“Well- I could try to curse it myself,” Mumbo said, giving the bag that held his PC a suspicious glare. “It’s really quite a simple process. I would just have to find a cursed item and I would be able to do it.”

Grian decided then and there that Mumbo should take a nap before he decided to curse his computer for deleting his homework. Of course, he completely understood why Mumbo was willing to go that far (his paper had been nearly forty pages long, the last time Grian had seen it), but Mumbo also hadn’t gotten nearly enough rest to make a decision that important without thinking about the consequences.

And if Grian was thinking about something like consequences, then the situation truly was dire.

“Perhaps we can come back to that discussion tomorrow, after you’ve gotten more than two hours of sleep,” Grian said.

Mumbo blinked. He only seemed to notice the coffee in front of him after Grian had pointed out his lack of sleep, despite the fact Jimmy hadn’t been stealthy at all in handing the coffee over. He also only now noticed the croissant Scar had given him right when he’d first arrived. He’d been holding it this entire time. Grian could almost see the gears turning in his brain as he figured out where and when the croissant had gotten there. 

“That’s- Probably a good idea,” Mumbo agreed, before nibbling at the croissant. “I’ll come with you guys tomorrow. I can probably explain myself better, then, too.”

“Yeah, take a nap before you actually join the Dark Side,” Scar said, only slightly concerned about how easily Mumbo had brought up the fact he knew how to cast curses. Or something like that. Grian wasn’t entirely sure what Mumbo was talking about. Mumbo had never mentioned curses outside of what a moroi did to those who spoke to it. Scar, however, didn't have the context for this, and so he didn't realize this was an abnormal thing for Mumbo to say. “Or you could at least bring me with you when you do it! I want to see how it works!”

“I have made the executive decision that Scar is no longer allowed to talk about curses,” Grian said, flatly. Whatever Mumbo was thinking of was clearly a bad idea, and he didn't need Scar's cluelessness to encourage Mumbo to actually do it. That would be a recipe for certain disaster. And Grian was stressed enough about finals. He didn’t need certain disaster on top of everything else he was dealing with. “All he would do with them is try to Force choke us. For fun.”

“Hey!” Scar said, offended. “You’re right, but that’s rude!”

“I'll sleep on it,” Mumbo agreed, though there was something in his expression that showed he was seriously considering it, despite it being a terrible idea. “We don't actually have any cursed items, anyway. So I wouldn't be able to do it right now.”

“Grian, can you come up here and help me with this customer?” Jimmy asked, though there was only one customer at the counter. Grian gave him a confused look, because Jimmy definitely had it handled, but he left Mumbo and Scar in the booth and went behind the counter anyway.

Jimmy handed the customer their coffee. And then, once they had left, he leaned in close to Grian’s ear so that Mumbo and Scar couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Has he ever told you about curses before now?” Jimmy whispered.

“No,” Grian whispered back. “This is the first time I’m hearing about them.”

Jimmy winced. “It’s not something he should be messing with, even if the ghost in his computer deleted his assignment.”

“Hang on. How do you know about this and I don’t?” Grian asked. 

“Okay, so- Listen. Lizzie and I found- We found a summoning circle on our first ghost hunt. You know, a painted circle of blood and a pentagram and candles. That sort of thing. This was right after she’d just moved to Tanglewood so we could reconnect, before I introduced her to you,” Jimmy explained. “And since we didn’t know what we were doing other than messing around in a place we heard was haunted, we lit the candles. It was incredibly stupid of us, but we didn’t know any better. The ghost appeared in the circle and instantly hunted us, and then we had to jump a fence in order to get away.”

“How does this relate to curses?” Grian asked, because while it was a strange story, he didn’t understand how it was relevant to Mumbo’s sudden determination to cast a curse on his computer.

“Right after we lit the candles, we felt something change. And not in the way that the temperature drops when we get close to a ghost. I can’t really- It’s not something I can really describe other than it was different and wrong, and even after we were long gone, it’s like we were still being chased,” Jimmy continued. “When we first met Mumbo, when we first actually caught a ghost that hunted us, it was different. I asked him about it- If it was just adrenaline, or if something was actually different. And he said that we’d caused a cursed hunt by lighting those candles. Which is different from a regular hunt, because the ghost won’t get tired of chasing you in a cursed hunt. We were lucky we got out of there alive.”

Grian hadn’t heard this story before, but Jimmy was being completely serious. Grian hadn’t joined him and Lizzie for a ghost hunt until after they’d gone out on their own, and he’d been right to think they’d get into serious trouble without him. Honestly! 

“Mumbo also said there’s other stuff than the summoning circle that could cause a ghost to go nuts like that. Lizzie and I agreed we shouldn’t mess with that stuff anymore, since we were able to find and catch ghosts without it. So we didn’t tell anyone else,” Jimmy finished, looking extremely guilty. His expression resembled one of those memes of the dogs who had gotten caught misbehaving. It wasn’t really his fault, though. Lizzie had agreed to keep it a secret as well, and she was the sibling who had the most brain cells between the two of them. 

“So, you agree with me that Mumbo shouldn’t mess with it?” Grian asked. As much as he wanted to call Jimmy an idiot, Jimmy hadn’t done it again, so he’d learned his lesson. And now he was warning Grian before Mumbo did something he would regret. 

“Exactly.” Jimmy nodded, frantically. “Even if he is- Is super smart about all things ghost related, he told us he hasn’t experienced anything like that for himself yet. Those curses aren’t something to be taken lightly. He’d just be putting himself and all of us in danger.”

“It’d be much simpler to rewrite the document that got deleted,” Grian said. “Or to just- Break his computer to get the ghost out, and then fix it after he does the exorcism. Or whatever it is he does to get rid of them.”

“Or he could talk to this ghost and ask them politely if they could return his document to him,” Jimmy suggested. “They’re probably lonely. And if he’s constantly trying to exorcize or curse them, they won’t be willing to cooperate.”

“I’m not sure if he’ll listen,” Grian said, glancing over to the booth, where Mumbo had fully passed out on the table, croissant half-eaten and coffee cup empty. “I’ll see if I can convince him to try other methods of fixing his ghost problem before resorting to curses, though.”

“Good.” Jimmy patted Grian’s shoulder, somewhat awkwardly. He wasn’t whispering anymore. Mumbo was asleep, so there was no point. “You should probably get him home. We aren’t supposed to let people sleep in here.”

“He’s with Scar, it’s fine.” Grian brushed Jimmy’s hand away. “Mumbo needs this, anyway. I’ll wake him up when I clock out.”

“If you’re sure,” Jimmy said, but he didn’t seem sure of it, himself.

----

The next morning, Grian didn’t say anything about curses to Mumbo as they went about their routines and went to class. He spoke, of course, about the far safer alternatives he and Jimmy had discussed yesterday, and Mumbo was maybe only halfway listening. 

He’d actually managed to get a full night’s sleep, but the bags under his eyes remained. Those wouldn’t go away until finals were over, most likely. 

And Mumbo himself was… Not happy, exactly, but he wasn’t freaking out anymore, either. Grian wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in his head, because while Mumbo may not have said anything further about his plan to cast a curse on his computer, Grian could tell he was coming up with something, purely because Mumbo was alert, and quiet. And when Mumbo was alert and quiet this early in the morning, without responding to what Grian was telling him, he was clearly thinking too hard to bother pretending like he was listening. The way he kept looking at his bag (his PC’s second home) like it was a puzzle he was trying to solve didn’t help, either. 

Grian could count on Dr. SV to have a normal reaction to Mumbo’s suggestion of cursing his computer, but he was still worried when they went their separate ways on campus. Because Mumbo had that look about him, and Dr. SV was a similar sort of person- Grian could trust him to have a normal reaction when Mumbo initially proposed casting a curse, but he couldn’t trust Dr. SV to stop Mumbo after Mumbo explained what information he might get from it. 

Dr. SV had let Grian and his friends experience Zedaph’s death machine elevator without warning them that they were walking into a death machine, after all. Inside of it, Jimmy had nearly fallen onto his face, almost immediately after Joel had broken his nose. Dr. SV could have warned Jimmy, at least, if he wanted to mess with the other students, but he didn’t. So Grian’s concerns about Mumbo’s health and safety in this situation were definitely warranted. 

Scar noticed Grian was extra jittery as they sat down together for class. He didn’t say anything, because their professor was coming into the classroom, and she did not appreciate being interrupted, but he did slip a packet of fruit gummies into one of Grian’s pockets. 

The fruit gummies may not have been the answer to Grian’s current dilemma, but he did appreciate them. At least, until Scar asked for them back, because he’d apparently forgotten his lunch (Grian could see his HotGuy lunchbox inside of his backpack, so he knew this was a lie). Grian had just handed him the empty wrapper and then giggled at the affronted expression on Scar’s face.

It did make him feel better, though.

So when class was over, and once Grian was done with his afternoon shift at the café (It was uneventful, until Pearl joined him at the front counter, and she and Scott got into an argument over Pokémon Go. Grian hadn’t really been paying attention as he was being a good employee and serving a customer, but he’d heard from Joel that Pearl had apparently been in control of the gym at the café and Scott had taken over and kicked her out during his break. Pearl did not appreciate being kicked out. Scott had basically told her, “You snooze, you lose,” and then had to dodge a towel Pearl had thrown at him. So they’d taken the fight to the back and forced Joel to stop putting the delivery away and to come up to the counter so he could get away from them.), he went home, so he could prepare himself for the ghost hunt later that evening.

Grian also bought more ghost hunting juice, though, this time, he stashed it in his room so Mumbo couldn’t steal it. He was going to bring a can on the ghost hunt tonight, but he wasn’t going to tell Mumbo. Grian wasn’t in a particularly sharing mood when it came to his precious caffeinated drinks. 

Eventually, Mumbo rolled up to their house in his blue van (Joel wasn’t available, so all of their equipment was going to be stashed in the back of Mumbo’s van, and instead of the custom setup with multiple monitors he’d personally screwed to the inside of Joel’s truck, Mumbo was going to have multiple windows checking ghost activity and the cameras open on Grian’s laptop. Grian had allowed this, but he had told Mumbo to avoid deleting any of his assignments, too. Just to be safe, Grian had made backups and put them on a flash drive that was kept very far away from Mumbo’s haunted PC.) with Scar in the passenger seat and Britney Spears blasting through his speakers. 

“This doesn’t seem like your sort of style,” Grian greeted Mumbo when he rolled down his window. 

Mumbo glowered at him. “We haven’t even done anything to Scar and he’s already trying to get revenge.”

“Well, we are putting him on spirit box duty,” Grian said.

“Hey, I still don’t know what’s up with that,” Scar said, leaning over so Grian could see him. “What does the spirit box even do?”

“Don’t worry about it, Scar,” Grian said to him. “You guys should come and help me take all of this equipment from Mumbo’s room to the van. And then we’ll meet up with Gem and Timmy at the house.”

“Can we get McDonald’s?” Scar asked, as he climbed out of the van. Mumbo turned down the volume on his speakers as he left, though Scar didn’t seem to notice.

“After the ghost hunt. And only if you behave,” Grian answered him.

“Aw… Fine, fine, I’ll be good.” 

And so Grian and Scar successfully hauled one of the traps (one that Mumbo had cleared as safe, of course) and an appropriate amount of ghost hunting equipment down the stairs without slipping and falling to their deaths. Which would have made their ghost hunt fairly difficult. Thankfully, they didn’t need to worry about it.

Grian stole the passenger seat from Scar when they got back in, and changed the music to something far more appropriate (The Majora’s Mask OST) that would make him and his friends much calmer (Both Scar and Mumbo appeared very concerned for Grian’s mental health) before they spent their evening risking their lives to evict a ghost from someone’s house.

But since Grian was in the passenger seat, he was in charge of the music. So they couldn’t do anything about it. Even though Majora’s Mask was a fairly dark game (not quite on the level of edginess as Twilight Princess, but still one of the more depressing games in the series), it was Grian’s first Zelda game, and it was his favorite as well. 

The house they arrived to was one of those cookie-cutter suburban homes in the southeast side of the city that were more expensive than those on the western side of the city, where Dr. SV lived (of course, Dr. SV’s house was nice, these houses were just ridiculously expensive for looking almost exactly the same as each other). The landscaping and the porch were both neat, and undisturbed. Mumbo’s thirty-year-old van and the small car Gem had parked in the driveway to the house were horribly out of place in a neighborhood that was kept so pristine. 

Jimmy and Gem were waiting for them in the driveway, and Mumbo backed in, before parking the van. Grian and Scar climbed out and Mumbo followed them. He hadn’t brought his bag with him, instead opting to keep his haunted PC very far away from any sources of power by leaving it in the bathtub. Grian hadn’t seen him do it, but he was fairly certain Mumbo had threatened the PC with the faucets in order to get the ghost to behave. It was the sort of thing he’d do, anyway.

But that wasn’t important right now.

“Hey, guys,” Jimmy said, waving to them in greeting. “The owners gave me the key and told me to just do what we needed to do without breaking anything and then locking the door behind us when we left. So we don’t need to worry about taking our shoes off at the door, or whatever the people who live here do in houses as nice as this.”

“Well, then I’m glad we did not bring Joel,” Grian said. 

“I was told we could get McDonald’s if I behaved, so I won’t break anything, either,” Scar said, helpfully reminding Grian that yes, he did owe Scar a trip to McDonald’s if he behaved.

“I want McDonald’s!” Gem said. “And I always behave!”

“Same,” Jimmy agreed.

“Tim, you’re lying. Shut up.”

“No I’m not.”

“Fine, we can get McDonald’s after we catch the ghost.” Grian turned to his left, where a certain someone was grinning for no good reason. “Scar. This does not mean you have permission to break things now.”

“Dangit!”

----

The inside of the house was beige. And horribly minimalistic. Grian wasn’t trying to judge too harshly, but minimalist styles and the color beige were two of his least favorite things in the world. Because a space could have so much character in the shapes and furniture that was in it, but the lack of trinkets and knick knacks on their beautiful arched shelves, combined with the fact someone had painted over the original wood with white was just sad. 

He had the EMF reader, though since it wasn’t beeping at him, he wasn’t paying much attention to anything that could point him to a ghost. Jimmy was walking past him, holding the thermometer and scowling.

“Tim, what sort of people live here?” Grian asked him, before he could leave the room.

“I’m not sure. They seemed nice when I talked to them,” Jimmy said. He gave Grian a worried look. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“No, it’s just- I’m judging them. Harshly. Minimalism is so boring,” Grian explained.

“Oh, so it’s like that,” Jimmy said. He joined Grian in frowning at the wall and the lack of decorations on it. Though Grian was looking at the shelves, and Jimmy was looking at the wall itself. “Is that a mirror? Or is it just- a solid black oval they hung up there and decided was art?”

Grian looked up. To see it was, in fact, something solidly black. But it was surrounded by a metal trim, and not in the way a piece of wood that had been stained (or painted, which was more likely) would be  if it was framed. So it was definitely a mirror, but it wasn’t showing his or Jimmy’s reflections.

“That’s weird,” Grian said. Something about it rubbed him the wrong way. “I think we should look in a different room for this ghost.”

“Ghost is in the upstairs bathroom,” Gem’s voice came over the radio. “The temperature is dropping, but it’s not freezing yet. Mumbo, how’s the angle of the camera?”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Mumbo said. He was still in the van, probably hunched over Grian’s laptop like a shrimp so he could check for activity. “Who has the DOTS?”

“That’d be me,” Grian said, making sure the others heard him over their radios. “I’ll be up in a second.”

“Be quick, I want to hear Scar do the spirit box,” Gem said, amused.

“- and I still don’t know what the spirit box does!” Scar seemed to finally realize no one had heard him until he actually pushed the button for his walkie-talkie. 

Upstairs was just as beige as the rest of the house, but the bathroom was pink. And actually had some sort of life to it. There was a kids bath mat next to the tub, and a cartoon pony on the towel hung on the bar next to the tub. As Grian entered the room, a pink rubber duck was thrown at him, and his EMF reader started beeping.

“We’ve got EMF 2,” Grian said, into the radio. “It threw a duck at me.”

“Be careful of the shampoo, Grian,” Gem reminded him. Because Jimmy and Joel were menaces who told their coworkers about the poltergeist who threw shampoo at Grian’s face almost immediately after it happened.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Grian replied to her.

He placed the DOTS projector on the wall next to the light switch. A net of green lights filled the room, and Grian set the EMF reader next to the sink (where Gem had put her camera) before he stepped outside.

Scar was being pushed by Gem, who looked just as mischievous as Grian felt as their plan to get Scar to talk to the ghost finally fell into place.

She shoved him into the room and then closed the door after he stumbled inside. And then she set a crucifix down next to the door. Grian had forgotten to get one, since that was usually Joel’s job. 

“Guys?” Scar asked, sounding muffled and pitiful from the inside. “What do I do?”

“You talk to the ghost!” Grian called to him. “Ask them questions like ‘Where are you’, or ‘Are you here’, or ‘How old are you’, just that sort of thing.”

“Um… Okay,” Scar said, still sounding somewhat pitiful, and then the static noise of the spirit box filled the room. “Where are you?”

“I’m behind you,” answered a voice from within the static.

And Scar shrieked- “OOOOOOOOHHHHH NOOOOOOOO! Nohohohoho nooooooooo!”- while Grian and Gem started cackling. Gem opened the door, to find Scar precariously balanced on the top of the toilet with his back firmly against the wall, and the spirit box itself dropped carelessly in the sink, still producing static.

“We got spirit box!” Gem cheerfully said into her radio.

“Thank you,” Mumbo said.

And then a figure illuminated the room, passing by Scar and moving towards the door, an invisible person being lit up and revealed by the DOTS projector on the wall. Scar shouted in surprise again, but Grian and Gem both just watched as the figure vanished as soon as it got to the door.

“We got DOTS too,” Gem said, calmly. 

“Oh, goodness,” Mumbo said, sounding the complete opposite of calm yet somehow maintaining his composure. “With these two pieces of evidence- This very well could be a Deogen.”

Grian grimaced, because while it was fairly simple to escape from a Deogen, his last experience with one wasn’t a particularly pleasant memory. Thankfully, the figure within the DOTS had been a humanoid shape, instead of an endless fog with human eyes hidden inside of it, so at least he wouldn’t be reliving that sort of trauma.

“Do we need to get a book?” Gem asked.

“Jimmy has the book,” Mumbo said.

“Tim, get up here,” Grian hissed into his radio. “You missed Scar getting a response from the spirit box!”

Jimmy did not respond. Grian had to think for a second to realize Jimmy hadn’t responded to anything that had been said after he’d been left in the living room with that mirror and the shelves with arches that had no knick knacks. 

“That’s weird,” Gem said, and Grian didn’t stick around to hear what else she had to say, since he dashed down the stairs and through the hallway to the living room.

It was the same as ever. Jimmy was still there, frowning up at the mirror the same way he had been when Grian had left him. 

“Tim!” Grian said to him, annoyed. “What are you doing?!”

“Did you notice?” Jimmy asked, quietly. His eyes didn’t leave the mirror on the wall, almost like he was falling asleep. Something was wrong with him, and Grian didn’t know what it was. “Look. It’s a mirror, but there’s no reflection.”

Grian looked.

Jimmy was right.

What he should have seen in the mirror was himself, just as handsome as always, and Jimmy, who was still in a trance, standing in a beige room with minimal furniture.

What Grian saw instead was pink. A pink bathroom, with a kids bath mat, and a towel that had a cartoon pony on it hung up next to the tub. There was a camera on the sink. A DOTS projector on the wall. And Scar and Gem, leaving the room.

“What on earth…?” Grian could barely ask what was going on before the mirror suddenly cracked, a spiderweb of purple crossing the glass and the image of the pink room suddenly fading until there was no reflection in the mirror at all.

Whatever was up with Jimmy suddenly stopped, too.

The front door slammed shut.

And the lights in the house started to flicker.

“HUNT! HUNT! It’s hunting-” Mumbo’s voice over their radios turned to garbled static.

Both Jimmy and Grian ducked behind the couch.

If this ghost was a Deogen, they’d be able to run circles around it here. In theory, anyway. Mumbo had told them they should be faster than a Deogen. Gem and Scar were both upstairs still. They should also be okay, Grian figured, since Gem had also gotten very good at telling when a ghost was solid.

His prayers were answered when Gem also flew down the stairs, dragging Scar behind her, as a ghost that was much faster than a Deogen trailed behind them, right on their heels. The ghost was a child, with a large wound in her chest that was still bleeding. She was wearing striped pajama pants and a shirt that had a unicorn on it, and if she wasn’t currently trying to kill his friends, Grian would be absolutely devastated at what he was seeing.

Jimmy, who had apparently thought ahead, lit a smudge stick and ran towards them. The smoke made the ghost stop walking, and Gem took the opportunity with her sudden blindness to drag Scar into the closet under the stairs and close the door, while Jimmy dropped his smudge stick on the ground and leapt over the couch to hide behind it. Grian dragged him close, purely so that the ghost would not be able to see him.

And then the ghost walked by, circling the kitchen, walking past the couch, and then, from the sound of things, completely ignoring the four of them as she went back upstairs. The lights stopped flickering. The sound of footsteps stopped echoing. Grian risked sitting up and peeking over the couch.

The coast was clear.

“It’s over!” Grian called out to Gem and Scar.

“Is everyone alright?” Mumbo’s voice came over their radios. 

“It’s not a Deogen,” Grian replied. “We’re alright.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was worried.”

“Okay, out, out, out,” Gem said, pushing Scar (who looked pale, and was shaking slightly- Grian had never seen him like this, so it stuck with him as something that was wrong, just like Jimmy’s trance when he was looking at that mirror) out of the front door. “We’re leaving the rest of this to the guys who can handle a ghost that’s hunting even though I put a crucifix up there.”

“Okay,” Scar said.

“And after they catch it, we’re going to McDonald’s.”

“Okay.”

Grian waited until the both of them were gone to turn to Jimmy, who had pulled his thermometer out of his pocket. 

“So we can both agree that ghost hunted because the mirror broke, right?”

“It’s the same as when Lizzie and I lit the candles on that circle. The mirror was cursed,” Jimmy said, uncharacteristically bitter. “And I fell for it.”

“Listen, Jimmy, there’s no way you could have known that. This place is a minimalist hell. How were any of us supposed to expect a cursed mirror when everything is boring and beige?” Grian patted his arm. Jimmy needed to be cheered up. “After the mirror broke, you saved Gem and Scar. They might have gotten hurt if you hadn’t lit that smudge stick.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “We aren’t telling Mumbo about this.”

“Obviously.” 

“Okay. Good. Let’s get upstairs to get that last piece of evidence.”

Jimmy moved quickly, and Grian struggled to follow him. The bathroom was unchanged from the last time they’d been inside.

Jimmy held up the thermometer, and watched the mercury drop.

“We have freezing temperatures,” Jimmy announced to the group. “Mumbo, what ghost is it?”

“Moroi,” Mumbo’s voice came from the radio. “No wonder Scar isn’t feeling well. The Moroi cursed him.”

“Will he be alright?” Jimmy asked, like he hadn’t been in a trance caused by a cursed mirror just a few minutes ago.

“He’ll need rest. And maybe some food,” Mumbo said. “Since he’s not near the ghost anymore, the curse will go away eventually.”

“Sorry this happened on your first ghost hunt, Scar,” Grian said, over the radio. “I promise they’re usually fun.”

“Oh, no, it was fun! Especially when Good Guy Jimmy jumped over the couch when he saved us! It’s just like that episode of HotGuy where-”

“I turned off his radio,” Gem interrupted the sudden silence. “Let them catch the ghost before you tell them about that show!” The second thing she said was not directed at Jimmy or Grian, but Gem was letting them hear her anyway.

“Sorry.” Scar’s voice, much fainter than it had been when his radio was still on, came through with Gem, who huffed, and then turned it off.

“Let’s get the trap and carry it up here,” Grian said to Jimmy.

“Right.”

----

With the Moroi in Mumbo’s trap and carefully packed in the back of his van and the door to the house locked, both cars rolled up to the drive-thru at the closest McDonald’s. And then they parked next to each other in the lot. They didn’t roll the windows down to talk to each other (Even if it was oddly warm for February, it was still February) , but they did have walkie-talkies in each vehicle, so they could continue their conversations.

“Mumbo, are you going to convince this ghost to curse your PC?” Grian asked. His mouth was full of burger, but Mumbo still understood what he was saying.

“Probably,” Mumbo said, picking at his french fries.

“Have you tried to talk to the ghost that’s haunting your computer yet?” Jimmy asked. “It’s probably a good idea to try it before you try to curse them.”

“I did,” Mumbo said. “Well, I put my PC in the bathtub and threatened to turn on the faucets if it misbehaved.”

“Jesus Christ, Mumbo,” Gem said. “For someone so smart you really are dumb sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you shouldn’t start with violence when you’re meeting someone new! Even if they’re a ghost!”

“Gem! You literally beat a guy up in the parking lot three days ago!”

“He was being an asshole! You with your shrimp spine and noodle arms should know better than to follow my example!”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll try to talk to the ghost in my computer.” Mumbo admitted defeat. “But if it tries to delete anything else! I’m going to blow it up!”

Grian and Scar shared a look in the back seat. Neither of them had figured out whether he was talking about his computer or the ghost, it seemed. But they both knew better than to ask.

“So, anyway,” Grian said, no longer chewing on his burger, “Scar. What were you saying about HotGuy and Tim?”

“Oh, well, you see, there’s an episode of HotGuy before the introduction of CuteGuy where he had a sidekick called Good Guy!” Scar said, eyes gleaming. In order to lighten the mood, Grian had to give him permission to ramble. And it was nice, to hear Scar’s thoughts. Even if he did tend to monologue. “Good Guy was super cool. And Jimmy jumped over the couch just like Good Guy jumped over a rock the villains threw at him so he could save HotGuy. But, uh, instead of dropping incense on the ground, Good Guy gave HotGuy his bow. And then there was a fight scene where they escaped. I was just thinking Jimmy was super cool when he saved us, kind of like Good Guy.”

“Aw, stop it,” Jimmy’s voice came from the radio. “You’re making me blush.”

“It’s sad Good Guy isn’t canon,” Scar continued. “He really is an interesting character-”

Grian tuned him out. Mumbo had calmed down, and was listening quietly as Scar rambled about his comic book heroes. He was still considering something, but he wasn’t about to go off and start flinging curses around.

Grian was probably good to sleep in his own bed tonight. Without the risk of a ghost waking him up again. Or Mumbo cursing him accidentally.

Then again. If the ghost in Mumbo’s computer refused to cooperate, he wasn’t going to try peace again.

Before Grian could deliberate further on whether or not there would be explosions in his house that night, his phone vibrated in his hand. Joel was calling him.

He picked up.

“What’s up?”

“How did the ghost hunt go?” Joel asked, from the other end. He sounded concerned, but also like he was playing it off as not being concerned. Which was probably warranted, honestly, since he’d heard about Mumbo’s situation. Maybe Jimmy had told him about the curses, too, but that was a conversation for later.

“It went well,” Grian said. “Scar got a response on the spirit box.”

“Aw, dammit. Did he squeal?” 

“Of course he did.” Grian paused, checking the time on his phone. “Aren’t you and Lizzie supposed to be on a date right now?”

“We’re done eating,” Joel explained. “And with, uh, Scar and Mumbo both going with you, we were… Worried.”

“We all got out okay, Joel,” Grian assured him. “Listen, I’ll tell you the details later, alright?”

Joel seemed to pick up on the fact Grian had something to say to him that no one else could hear, judging by the way he huffed. “Fine. Tell Mumbo I said hello. And tell Scar he’s a wimp.”

“I will,” Grian promised him. “See you.”

Click.

Scar hadn’t even noticed that Grian had been talking to someone, but Mumbo gave Grian a confused look.

“Joel says hello,” Grian explained. He looked at Scar, who had realized Grian was talking now and paused his conversation to hear it. “He says you’re a wimp.”

Mumbo started giggling, and Scar gasped, offended. 

“Let him do the spirit box next time, then! I was super brave!”

“On his first hunt, Joel punched a ghost so hard he broke his fingers,” Grian said, completely ignoring the fact Joel had in fact punched a cabinet and not a ghost. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

Scar took a deep breath. Because he definitely knew Grian was lying to him. Cabinet Ghost was one of their favorite stories. “He punched a cabinet!”

Mumbo started laughing harder.

Worth it.

----

The restaurant Joel had picked for the date was just as nice as he’d heard. It was the sort of place you dressed up to go to, and the sort of place he’d be worried for his wallet by eating at if he hadn’t asked Jimmy to give him more hours at the café specifically so he could have this nice dinner. There were candles and flowers at every table, along with elegant tablecloths, and only a few other people, just as dressed up as he was, talking amongst each other in hushed voices.

Lizzie’s hands had wrapped around his arm as they were led to their table by a waitress who had tattoos on her neck and was wearing a suit, and Joel was fairly certain she could feel the way his heart was hammering out of his chest. 

Of course, she had also dressed up, in a lavender dress with a ruffled skirt and sleeves that were far more appropriate for summer than February. Joel had draped his blazer over her shoulders when he’d first realized she was definitely cold and she’d just smiled up at him with genuine stars in her eyes. She was still wearing his blazer as they were seated at their table, and she was still smiling at him.

In the candlelight, she looked almost angelic. The sparkle in her eyes and jewelry had completely captivated him, and he was fairly certain he stopped breathing when she reached a gentle hand across the table to touch his bangs.

“Aw, the green is fading,” Lizzie said, as though Joel wasn’t having a religious experience while her hand was brushing against his face. Her smile twitched into something similar to a smirk, so completely confident and comfortable and natural to her that Joel had to wonder what sort of incredibly kind deed he did in a past life to deserve being with her in this moment. “I’ll have to fix that soon.”

“Pretty...”

Lizzie giggled. Joel’s brain completely shut off. 

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” the waitress from earlier, with the tattoos and the suit, had returned, holding a notepad.

“Ah, right,” Lizzie said, removing her hand from Joel’s face, and then placing her order. It may have just been a trick of the light, but Joel could have sworn her face was slightly pink.

Joel definitely stumbled over his words, but he also placed his order. Probably. Whatever he said, the waitress had picked up on it and then left. 

As their drinks and then their food arrived, Joel and Lizzie started a conversation.

First it was small talk, mainly about work- Lizzie had laughed a lot when Joel recounted the events of Scott and Pearl’s fight that afternoon- and the dogs, and Lizzie’s finals, and how a break was good for the both of them. 

And then the conversation turned to the one thing they were missing by being here.

“So, how do you think Jimmy’s ghost hunt with Scar and Grian and Gem is going?” Joel asked.

Lizzie paused. She had to think about her response before she answered, which didn’t inspire Joel’s confidence nearly as much as it should have.

“Well, they’re with Mumbo. So I’m sure they’re fine.”

Joel stared at her.

Lizzie stared back.

Joel continued to stare. 

Lizzie grimaced, sucking in air between her teeth. 

“I'll call Jimmy after we're done eating.”

“I'll check in with Grian.”

Chapter Text

The Moroi- the child- had been cooperating with him. Of course she had. Mumbo hadn’t been threatening her, and- according to her, anyway, she hadn’t meant to try and hurt anyone. Even when she was still alive. The hunt had confused her, and she’d been terrified the entire time. She just wanted the people who were there to leave. She wanted to be somewhere she was actually safe. Most ghosts didn’t think Mumbo’s house was safe. 

Judging from the blood on her chest and this reaction to being in a place that definitely was not safe for ghosts, Mumbo had Jimmy contact the police and ask them to investigate the owners of that house. He hadn’t yet learned if they were behind their child’s death, but the investigation was still ongoing. He’d get news eventually. 

After letting the ghost child out of the trap and conversing with her through one of his spirit boxes without feeling sick, like what had happened to Scar, Mumbo figured she really meant it when she said she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She’d found the gadgets on his desk interesting, and had laughed whenever she poked the EMF reader and it started beeping.

Something must have happened in the house that forced her to try to hunt his friends, and no one has told Mumbo what it was. 

Which was odd, because his friends usually told him about strange things that had happened to them in the houses they’ve investigated. Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure why they’d decided to stay completely silent- Even when Mumbo had asked Grian if there was something strange in the house, Grian had just scowled and said, “Minimalism,” with the most passionate hatred for a decorative style Mumbo had ever heard. He didn’t ask Grian again.

But he’d heard Gem talking about how the ghost hunted despite the fact she’d placed a crucifix outside of the bathroom when Scar used the spirit box. So the only assumption Mumbo could make was that his friends weren’t telling him what happened on purpose.

As a result, he hadn’t gotten any useful information. And now there was a child in his house playing with his sensitive ghost hunting equipment.

And Mumbo had been considering asking her to curse his computer. 

“Can I- Can I ask you to do something for me?” Mumbo asked.

The ghost child stopped playing (Mumbo was pretty sure she was making one of the EMF readers and a DOTS projector get married on his desk, but he wasn’t certain) and looked at him, confused. 

“Maybe.” Her voice came from the spirit box. 

“I just- I- There’s… There’s someone hiding in my computer.” Mumbo stumbled over his words. “I want to talk to them. But they’re shy, I think.” They’re not shy. They talked to Dr. SV without hiding.

“Did they take one of your toys?” The ghost asked.

“Yes,” Mumbo said. His finals were important to him. Just like toys were important to the child. “I want it back, but they aren’t talking to me.” I probably shouldn’t have threatened them with the faucet.

“Do you want me to get your toy back?”

“I-” I just don’t want them to get violent. “I don’t need you to get it for me. I just want to ask them. If they could give it back. If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Even if Mumbo had been angry with the ghost that deleted his finals, he wasn’t going to force a dead child to curse them. Even though his friends had been- They’d been weird. Around him. When he first told them that cursing his computer might help. If the ghost had been an adult- Well, Mumbo wasn’t going to think about it right now. He’d think about that if his friends were able to find an adult Moroi. And- Well, there were always other options that didn’t make him feel like a terrible person.

“I didn’t get to have many toys before I died,” the ghost muses. “Okay. I’ll ask them to talk to you.”

Wow.

Jimmy’s advice had actually worked.

Which was a rarity, because Jimmy’s advice often involved unnecessary danger. Usually to himself. He was a magnet for that sort of thing.

Tango hadn’t been dangerous, though. At least- Not to Jimmy. 

Tango had been an exception to a lot of the rules of the paranormal, though. No other Yurei had the same abilities he did. Mumbo was fairly certain that had been the Watcher’s fault, but Tango had gotten rid of the Watcher last summer. And then he’d gotten his revenge against those who had left him for dead, so he was finally able to rest. Mumbo had been itching to ask him questions, but Tango had been unwilling to put himself through that. There were far more important matters to focus on at that point, anyway. Like discussing the twelve different locations Mumbo had come up with where they could successfully hide the body of Tango’s killer.

It hadn’t been necessary to utilize those places, however, as Tango had handled it himself. While also burning down a stone church. (Mumbo hadn’t been taken unwillingly to that church at any point, but Grian and Pearl and Jimmy and Martyn had all gone back there. Grian had been crying when he returned to the house, but he was happy. It wasn’t Mumbo’s business to know what the four of them did to overcome the bad memories that place had held for them.) 

Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure why he was thinking about Tango and the events of last summer now, after all of this time. Perhaps he was curious about what Tango would have thought about the ghost in his computer, and the child ghost they’d removed from a house that didn’t seem to care for her. Maybe Jimmy’s advice had just reminded him of that situation, and the incredible stress he and his friends had all been put under. 

The ghost child handed Mumbo his EMF reader and the DOTS projector, setting them both in his lap before he could ask what she was doing. “Mrs. Dots and Mrs. E can wait here until I come back.” And then she walked out of his room.

Thankfully, Grian wasn’t home- He said he was spending the night at Joel’s, since Mumbo was going to be experimenting (He’d sounded slightly off when he’d said it, but Grian crashing on other people’s couches when Mumbo was dealing with ghosts was normal, so Mumbo didn’t think much of it)- so there was no need to worry about waking him up as the child walked to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

She’d told Mumbo to stay put, by setting his equipment (Which was definitely married now. Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to explain that to his friends without them thinking he’d gone mad) in his lap and declaring that she was going to come back.

He waited a few minutes. And then she wandered back into his room and plucked the EMF and the DOTS out of his lap like nothing happened.

“He says he can’t talk with the box like I can,” she explained. “But he can talk with Luigi!”

“Luigi?” Mumbo asked.

“Like in Mario!”

Ah. She didn’t know what a Ouija board was. Still. The ghost was willing to talk to Mumbo through a Ouija board. That was better than nothing.

“You’ve been very helpful,” Mumbo said to the ghost child. “Thank you.”

She yawned.

“I’m sleepy now. Can I go to bed?”

Why did she feel the need to ask permission for something like that? 

“Of course you can,” Mumbo said. “You’re safe here.”

“Can you tuck Mrs. Dots and Mrs. E in, too?”

“I’ll give them a very nice blanket.”

“Good. They’re married, they should have a nice blanket.”

The child, still bleeding from a hole in her chest, gave Mumbo a very sleepy smile. And then she faded.

Mumbo blinked.

Apparently, giving the child some toys and a safe space for a while had been all that was needed for her soul to rest. 

And he didn’t even know her name. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. 

Despair? Crushing guilt? Anger?

It was a soup of something very unpleasant, whatever it was, and it settled in his stomach, making him feel more than a little bit ill.

Mumbo stood up.

He pulled a small blanket out of his closet, one that would have gone on his bed the next time he changed his sheets. And he tucked the EMF reader and the DOTS inside of the folds, tucking them in, as the ghost had requested.

As soon as they were safe, Mumbo walked down the hallway to the bathroom.

He pulled his PC out of the tub, and carried it back to his bedroom, where it had been before it was possessed.

“Sorry,” Mumbo said, as he set it down on his desk. 

He didn’t plug it in. 

The PC did not respond.

----

“Okay. Grian. What happened?”

Joel (who was missing a blazer, for some reason that wasn’t nearly as important as anything else that had happened this evening) sat at his kitchen table, across from Grian, with his arms crossed and a carefully blank expression that hid how worried he actually was. His dogs were both fed and asleep on the dog bed near the couch in the other room, so there would be no distractions from this conversation that Grian had been dreading all night.

“You’re caught up with what Mumbo’s been up to, right?” Grian asked.

“A ghost got into his computer and deleted his homework,” Joel said. “Jimmy told me what happened. And that Mumbo said something about curses. But he didn’t get into- Into detail on that.”

“Okay, so- Basically, Mumbo is trying to curse his computer,” Grian explained. “Except it’s like- That’s the first option he’s come up with. He hasn’t been listening to us when we keep telling him it’s a bad idea.”

“So all of this started because Mumbo made a bad decision?” Joel asked.

“Well, it started when that ghost got into his computer,” Grian said. “It was… Well, it let out the banshee that was bothering Lizzie a couple days ago. And then it deleted Mumbo’s homework when he started to investigate why the banshee had gotten out. So he’s not entirely at fault, since he’s reacting, just… He’s not doing it well.”

“Oh. I can understand where Mumbo is coming from, then,” Joel said, contemplating Grian’s words. “So what happened today that requires all of this secrecy?”

“We found a cursed mirror in the house with the ghost, and Tim and I both looked in it. We didn’t realize it was cursed at first, though it was weird. We looked for too long, and the mirror broke. The ghost hunted, even though Gem had put a crucifix in the area,” Grian said. Joel seemed very alarmed that there had been a hunt even though they should have been protected by the crucifix, but he stayed quiet as he waited for Grian to finish explaining. “Tim told me earlier today that, er, on his first time going ghost hunting with Lizzie, they encountered a curse like the one on the mirror and almost died. So he’s not feeling well about any of it.”

“Well- Lizzie’s with Jimmy back at their place, so he’ll probably be okay,” Joel said. “Does Mumbo know about the mirror?”

“No,” Grian said, firmly. “No, he doesn’t, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Alright,” Joel said, accepting it without questioning Grian’s reasons any further. Joel was a straightforward man, and he trusted Grian’s judgment. That was one of the reasons Grian was telling him about all of this, because Joel wouldn’t overthink it. He would just accept what had been handed to him and make the best out of it. “What do I need to do, then?”

“If you’re coming with us, the next time Tim gets us to go on a ghost hunt, and we encounter another cursed item, don’t talk about it. Don’t mention it, don’t use it, and don’t say ANYTHING to Mumbo.”

“Easy enough,” Joel said, like Grian wasn’t still so on edge he was basically already sliding downhill. He changed the subject to something much less stressful but still very pressing. “So, what are we going to do about the ghost in Mumbo’s computer? Is he going to let us try and get it out, or is it something he wants to handle himself?”

“I’m not sure,” Grian said, honestly. “Gem and Jimmy told Mumbo to try and talk to the ghost before resorting to violence, and I got Scar to start rambling about that TV show he likes, so that helped calm everyone down after everything that happened. I’m not sure if Mumbo’s going to listen to their advice or not, but he did look like he was considering it.”

Joel rubbed at his chin, absentmindedly. He didn’t really have much else to add in terms of advice, and both of them knew it. But he was still very aware of his friends and he knew how to support them wherever he was needed. “Well, whatever happens, Grian, I’ve got your back. I’ll do what I can to keep Mumbo from getting into too much trouble.”

“Thank you,” Grian said. For some reason, though, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly concerned with how vague Joel’s statement was. ‘Keeping Mumbo out of trouble’ could mean anything from ‘running a distraction while Grian and Jimmy hid the evidence’ to ‘Joel putting Mumbo in the hospital for his own safety’.

Grian decided not to ask. It’d be better for his mental health to not know if Joel was planning on knocking out his roommate so his roommate wouldn’t hurt himself. Because the consequences for letting Mumbo get away with cursing his computer would be much worse than a mild head injury. Mumbo would probably forgive them for conspiring against him. If he got killed because he was sure he could curse his computer without any negative effects, he wouldn’t be able to forgive at all. And Grian would be faced with a dead friend who he could have saved. He’d rather have Mumbo be angry at him than dead.

So he didn’t ask. Joel could be trusted to keep Mumbo from hurting himself. If that made Mumbo angry, then they could live with the consequences.

This is for the best, right?

----

Earlier that day:

Impulse wasn’t the sort of man to let anything stop him from getting what he wanted. He stood up to the challenges in his life and he dealt with his problems in a reasonably healthy manner.

Of course, that hadn’t always been the case- Just when he’d thought he’d healed from learning of Tango’s disappearance, Tango’s ghost had shown up outside of his window and stared him down, on a search for his killer. Who had been down the street from Impulse, the entire time he’d lived there. Which was an experience Impulse could confirm was not good for his heart- but it was better now than it had been. 

Impulse was a positive sort of person, an optimist at heart, even when his brain would tell him what he didn’t want to hear. And one of the good qualities his coworkers would say he had was that Impulse was both dependable and adaptable, no matter the situation. 

Doc in mechanical engineering had requested Impulse’s help multiple times, because ‘None of the other fools in the building could find their own email accounts, let alone help me run this system-breaking program.’ Administration often had Impulse cover classes when other professors called out sick, since he was a friendly face and the students liked him. He’d been in charge of multiple tests for classes he didn’t teach. 

Impulse’s own students were challenging, since they were working on their own projects that were honestly just as insane as Doc’s system-breaking codes and machines, and he was very proud of them (as was Doc, who had helped Impulse grade his assignments more than once over the years).

Mumbo Jumbo was arguably the most interesting out of all of them, however, as he both proved that ghosts were real, and that they could be captured and studied. 

Impulse was fascinated. The undead and the paranormal had all been a good story to tell around a campfire with some friends before Mumbo entered his classroom and asked if he was allowed to work on a personal project in the computer lab. Impulse had encouraged him to go for it, even helping him contain the ghosts Mumbo’s friends had dragged in. They had proven to him that ghosts weren’t a fantasy at all, which was something Impulse had never thought he would come up with himself. It was the sort of thing Zed or Skizz would have said after six cups of coffee. Well, Skizz would have said it after drinking that much coffee. Zedaph would say that without being under the influence of any substances whatsoever, because that was just how Zed’s brain worked.

Regarding Mumbo, though, Impulse couldn’t exactly grade him on his progress in his chosen subject of study, as Mumbo knew the material whereas Impulse only knew what Mumbo had told him. He could, however, grade him on how well his devices worked and the lab reports that came with them. When they weren’t being deleted by ghosts that had a grudge, anyway.

Okay, so maybe Impulse hadn’t read the situation correctly when Mumbo had dragged a malfunctioning (but not broken) ghost trap into the computer lab and the both of them had realized a ghost had made its way into Mumbo’s custom PC. Impulse had definitely introduced himself to it and then it had deleted Mumbo’s finals.

Which wasn’t a very nice thing to do.

Maybe that was why Mumbo had come back the next day with a scowl and Impulse hadn’t asked him about his plans.

Mumbo had told him anyway.

“I believe there is a solution for getting this ghost out of my computer,” Mumbo had said. “I built it to withstand most paranormal activity, but- I can curse it. And that can get the ghost out.”

“Are you sure?” Impulse had asked.

“Mostly,” Mumbo said. “It’s a simple process, really.”

And then he’d explained himself. He talked about cursed items and how they could be used, and how a Moroi’s curse might also work to get past the defenses Mumbo had built into the circuitry. 

And Impulse listened, just like he had when Mumbo’s friends had come to him and shattered his entire perception of the world when they asked if he’d ever known anyone named ‘Tango Tek’. 

The fact he wasn’t stopping Mumbo was something he felt as though he would regret, just as much as he regretted letting Tango leave that night, sixteen years ago. 

So he decided, once Mumbo left, that he wasn’t going to let him go off on his own to get hurt. Impulse had done everything he could to help find Tango’s killer. He could drop everything to help Mumbo fix his haunted computer and rewrite the report that had been lost.

And, if things got dangerous, Impulse could always use his own knowledge- all learned from Mumbo’s assignments- to handle it himself. Skizz, after he came back across the pond, would likely be willing to help him. He had a soft spot for the kids who helped Tango find peace. Zedaph, as well, though Zedaph was often busy doing… Whatever it was he did. 

‘Experiments,’ Zedaph would say. 

‘You mean unleashing horrors previously unknown to mankind,’ Skizz would reply.

For now, though, Impulse decided he would let Mumbo’s friends know what he’d been told.

Skizz wouldn’t be coming back to Tanglewood until next week. Zedaph was unlikely to drop everything in order to help one of Impulse’s students when Impulse himself was more than capable of doing it.

And the first step, of course, was to share information. Impulse had been given access to the information that had been gathered when Mumbo’s friends first started investigating Tango’s death, and he had their contact information because of it.

He sent a message to Grian first, because Grian lived with Mumbo. Grian responded very quickly, letting Impulse know that he was very aware of Mumbo’s knowledge, and that he had been making plans to keep him out of danger. Impulse could trust Grian with this, so he was sure to let Grian know he appreciated the help.

And then he sent the same message to Jimmy, because Jimmy wouldn’t appreciate being left in the dark. But there was a difference between the message that was sent to Grian and the one that was sent to Jimmy, because Impulse had an idea that Grian might not approve of.

Mumbo told me about curses.

Is it possible to join you on a ghost hunt in the future? I would like to know what to expect from curses, if only so I can keep Mumbo from hurting himself in the classroom.

-Impulse SV

“And now we wait,” Impulse said to himself.

Chapter Text

When Grian returned home, he was unsurprised to see Mumbo sitting in the living room with several lit candles (even though they technically weren’t supposed to have candles indoors, as stated on their lease), a pile of weirdly grey salt, and his PC on the floor next to their couch. 

This was hardly the strangest thing he’d seen Mumbo doing (The #1 spot had to go to the time Grian had come home and spotted Mumbo on his computer, while a massive window had popped up on his screen containing a picture of an anime girl with white skin and hair and absolutely massive breasts. The caption had said ‘RECENTLY DECEASED MILFS IN YOUR AREA’. Mumbo had scoffed, said, “This isn’t even what ghosts look like,” and then closed the window, moving on to other matters. Grian, who had been scarred for life upon witnessing that, decided then and there that he was buying Mumbo an ad blocker.), but it was a relief to see him going back to his normal level of strangeness, rather than the ‘I’m going to do something that might kill me and I’m not listening to any of your advice on the matter’ type of strange he had been over the past few days.

Because, of course, there was a significant difference between ‘eccentric fellow who likes ghosts and performs exorcisms in the living room on a weekly basis’ and ‘guy who has completely lost any sense of caution deciding to unleash horrors not meant to be witnessed by mankind’. 

Mumbo’s behavior right now was normal, and Grian was incredibly happy about it.

“Hey, Mumbo,” Grian said, and Mumbo startled, because he hadn’t noticed Grian coming in. That was why Grian had said something, because he knew Mumbo wouldn’t be paying much attention and didn’t want to startle him more by walking up behind him without any warning (Something that Mumbo hadn’t yet realized he should do. For someone as bloody tall as Mumbo was, he was extremely hard to notice in a crowd unless you were specifically looking for him.). “I’m back. What’re you up to?”

“Well, I took Jimmy’s advice,” Mumbo said, gesturing to the candles. “It was… Well, it was helpful.”

“Tim’s advice?” Grian asked, somewhat surprised Mumbo had been convinced to listen to Jimmy of all people. “What happened?”

“I let the Moroi you guys caught out of her trap, and- I played with her for a bit. The EMF reader and the DOTS projector are in a lesbian marriage now. But the main thing- Stop laughing, Grian- The main thing is that she managed to talk to the ghost that’s haunting my PC, and we figured out a way to talk to him, too.”

Mumbo sighed.

“The Moroi was able to rest afterwards. Just because she was finally in a safe space.”

“Oh,” Grian said. “Well, I’m glad things worked out for her. Are you talking with the computer ghost now?”

“I’ve been trying, but-” Mumbo grimaced, though Grian wasn’t sure why. “It seems the only way to talk to him is, um. With a cursed item. I was testing alternatives before you came home, and none of them have worked so far.”

With a cursed item?

Grian could appreciate that Mumbo was looking at alternative options first. Sometimes he forgot that Mumbo had skipped multiple grades to be here, so he clearly had the brain cells to think critically about something as dangerous as curses. Other times, Mumbo was more dense than a concrete wall.

Perhaps Grian had jumped to conclusions too quickly. 

He would hear Mumbo out, only because he’d taken Jimmy’s advice, and, if it turned out he was going to do something dangerous, he would shut him down before anyone got hurt.

“What kind of cursed item?” Grian asked.

“A Ouija board,” Mumbo said, rubbing his hand along his face and then gesturing towards a pile of what Grian had originally thought was salt, but was in fact ash, remnants from something that had been completely disintegrated by fire. Somehow, despite the pile of ashes next to where Mumbo was sitting, the floor hadn’t been damaged at all. “I tried with a store-bought one, and all I could say before it set itself on fire was ‘Hello’.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t good.

“So… You said hello to this ghost,” Grian said, thinking. “And… You weren’t given the chance to say goodbye. After using a Ouija board.”

“Yes. It’s a bit of a problem, isn’t it?” Mumbo gestured to the salt and the candles around the living room. “These are up for protection, but there’s not much I can do to stop a hunt from right here.”

“Do you have a crucifix nearby?” Grian asked, and Mumbo’s palm made firm contact with his forehead. He’d thought to see if there was an alternative option to curses, but he’d completely forgotten about his own safety. (Grian will give him some credit, even though Mumbo had been extra weird for the past few days. Mumbo clearly hadn’t expected his store-bought Ouija board to burst into flames, so he was well and truly stuck until he was able to say goodbye. He’d clearly been sitting there for a while.)

“Upstairs,” Mumbo said. “It’s next to the EMF reader and the DOTS.”

“The married ones?” 

“Grian.”

“Right, okay, I’m going.”

After setting the crucifix down next to Mumbo, Grian backed away, staring suspiciously at the haunted computer. Who knew what that ghost was planning, anyway? If it hadn’t gotten itself stuck in his computer, where would it be? Why had it deleted Mumbo’s finals and started this whole mess, too?

And- Grian hadn’t forgotten about the world’s worst alarm clock- the escaped banshee. Mumbo had said something about sabotage when he talked about the trap he and Dr. SV were fixing, and Grian was fairly certain it was the ghost in Mumbo’s computer who had broken the trap and let the banshee out. 

He had a score to settle, alright?

He’d been paying more attention to what Joel did on ghost hunts than he had before, and had developed a sense of timing to match Joel’s, so Grian was reasonably certain he could fight the ghost away from Mumbo if it decided to hunt. Well- Not with his fists. But there was a metal ladle in the drawer in the kitchen. Which was conveniently right next to where Grian had backed away to.

It was times like these that he seriously lamented the loss of his shovel in the fire last year.

The ladle would have to do if the ghost decided to hunt.

“Um,” Mumbo said, standing up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to speak with you. Goodbye.”

And then he ran for it, ducking behind Grian, who brandished the ladle towards the computer like it was a legitimate weapon and not a device for serving soup.

The computer remained exactly as it was on the floor.

Absolutely nothing had happened when Mumbo had left after the Ouija board self-destructed.

“I totally sat on the floor for two hours for no reason, didn’t I?” Mumbo lamented, upon realizing this.

Grian considered bopping him on the head with the ladle.

He didn’t actually do it, because Mumbo was his best friend, and he didn’t want to get the ladle dirty without even making soup first.

But he was sorely tempted to, because his best friend was a spoon.

----

“Hey, Grian,” Jimmy’s voice came over the phone. “What do you think about having someone else join us for our ghost hunts?”

Grian, who was sitting on his bed, in his room, with a pile of unfinished homework in front of him and Jimmy on speakerphone, decided he really shouldn’t have picked up when he called. But since it was Jimmy, it could have been something related to work (like if his schedule changed) or to ghost hunting (since they also got paid to evict the ghosts from their clients’ homes), and only one of those things was a reliable enough source of income to pay rent in an economy like this one.

It seemed Jimmy was considering bringing someone else in to help out. 

“Who are you thinking, Tim?” Grian asked, scowling at the math in front of him. 

“Well, you see, it was- Well, Mumbo told Impulse about curses,” Jimmy explained. “And Impulse has asked to join us so he can help keep Mumbo out of trouble.”

“Oh!” Grian said, completely forgetting about his homework. “I didn’t think Dr. SV would decide to help us- I thought for sure that Mumbo would have convinced him to help him curse his computer!”

“... So is that a ‘yes’ to letting him come with us?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Grian said. “He cares enough to ask, and he told you what Mumbo told him, even though he could have kept that knowledge a secret. We can bring him on a ghost hunt, and we can probably tell him what we’ve learned about curses and cursed hunts, too.”

“Are you sure, though?” Jimmy asked.

“He helped us a lot when we were figuring out everything with Tango,” Grian said. “I think, if he wants to come with us, we should let him. Plus, if Dr. SV knows how to handle ghosts and curses, then that’s another step towards keeping Mumbo from accidentally hurting himself.”

“Okay. I’ll find a place for us to go tomorrow- Or maybe the day after- And we can bring him with us,” Jimmy said. “If we find a cursed object, should we show it to Dr. SV?”

“Maybe,” Grian said. “Depending on what it is. We’ll figure it out then.”

“Alright, bud. Thank you.”

“Bye, Tim.”

Click.

Grian, now that Jimmy had hung up, went back to his homework.

In the other room, something exploded.

“Oh, gosh,” Mumbo said, though he was muffled by the wall. “Grian! I blew up another Ouija board!”

Grian sighed, hanging his head.

He was never going to get these problems done, was he?

Reluctantly, he stood up, picked up the ladle from where it now lived on his nightstand, and walked down the hall, off to go and save Mumbo once again.

----

Impulse was in a good mood.

For one thing, Jimmy had responded to his message with a solid ‘Yes, we’d love to have you on the team’, which was fantastic news. He was looking forward to the adventures they were going to have, and all of the things he would learn from participating in hands-on ghost extraction. The other, more important thing that had made Impulse smile all day to the point his cheeks were hurting, was that it was move-in day for his new neighbor.

“Hey, Dippledop!” Skizz said, waving as best he could with a very large box under one arm that was definitely going to fall out if he didn’t put his other arm around it to carry some of the weight. 

“Hey, Skizz!” Impulse returned the gesture. “It’s been a while!”

“I know!” Skizz laughed, and, just as Impulse had thought, dropped his box, which fell onto the driveway. Skizz started laughing harder, making no move to pick it up. “We’re gonna be neighbors, dude!”

Impulse picked up the box that had fallen. “Neighbors. It doesn’t feel real.”

“Well! Let’s get these boxes in here, and then maybe your brain will be convinced!” Skizz didn’t exactly slap Impulse on the back, but the cheerful gesture was made to convince him to hurry up and start moving the box indoors. Impulse did not stumble, since he was very used to Skizz’s antics. “We’ve got a lot to unpack! And you’ve gotta introduce me to the people around here- I wanna come with you to the next barbeque!”

“It’s February,” Impulse reminded him. “In England. Nobody’s gonna bust out the grill when it’s wet and cold all the time.”

“That’s why the unpacking comes first!” Skizz said, pulling another box out of the moving truck he’d rented. 

Impulse couldn’t exactly argue with that.

He was glad it wasn’t raining, for once, because rain and cardboard didn’t mix well. (It was still kind of yucky and grey, but it wasn’t raining.) Skizz was right, though. Unpacking and carrying his furniture inside was the most important thing to do right now.

Skizz was aware of who this house had previously belonged to. Impulse was also painfully aware of it, but maybe… Maybe once Skizz’s furniture was in place, it wouldn’t be the same as it was.

Just like how Joel had moved into Etho’s old house and the walls no longer had anime scrolls or shelves dedicated to figures of those ninjas he liked so much, perhaps Skizz’s influence on Bdubs’ old place would make it easier for Impulse to be here without being crushed by guilt.

He’d lived right down the street from the man responsible for making one of his best friends completely vanish for sixteen years.

But… Now Skizz was here.

Skizz, bright and happy and just a little bit crazy, would bring life back to the neighborhood. 

Impulse was very excited to introduce him to his other friends. They were gonna love him simply because Skizz was completely impossible to hate.

After setting the box down in the room closest to the entryway, Skizz set his box down next to it.

“One down, about fifty more and also a lot of large furniture to go,” Skizz said, proudly.

“Seems we have a lot of work ahead of us,” Impulse commented, and then he and Skizz ran back outside to gather their next boxes. 

After a few hours, all of the boxes and furniture were safely inside of the house, and both Impulse and Skizz were exhausted. Since they’d carried the couch inside through an incredibly complicated process of rotating it to a very specific angle so they could fit it through the door, they were now able to sit down on it to see their progress. The rest of the future living room was filled with boxes and a bookshelf that was laid on its side because it had no books in it. There were tables and other important furniture elsewhere. Impulse hadn’t checked to see if they’d gotten buried under boxes or if they were moved to a different room.

But, since there were boxes everywhere, it was already starting to look different in the house. And without any of the bad memories associated with it. Once Skizz was done unpacking, Impulse was sure the vibes indoors would be completely different than they were before.

“Let’s go get coffee, dude,” Skizz said, from where he’d crashed next to Impulse on the couch. “My coffee maker is… In a box somewhere. And I don’t have any food in here yet.”

“Coffee sounds like a good idea,” Impulse commented, because coffee was a good idea. “I know this really good coffee place that’s not too far away. The Southlands Café?”

“Do they have food?”

“They have baked stuff.”

“That’s good enough for me. Let’s go.”

----

When Impulse led Skizz into the café, he wasn’t sure if he’d recognize whoever was behind the counter, but he was pleasantly surprised when the Moon twins blinked at him with a matching set of grey eyes, slightly startled by Skizz’s presence (Impulse had only told Mumbo that Skizz was moving into Bdubs’ old place, now that he was thinking about it.), likely because the last time they’d seen Skizz, they were interviewing him to try and find a murderer.

Skizz hadn’t actually been to the café before, and he looked around the booths and the tiled floors with curiosity, before his gaze settled on the menu.

“Hi, Dr. SV,” Grian said, recovering before his sister did. “Are you here for coffee?”

“Yep, and I’m introducing Skizz to some of the best places around town,” Impulse replied. “He got promoted, so he’s moving back here for good this time.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Pearl said, clapping her hands together. “What can we get for you?”

“The sugariest, most caffeine-heavy drink you’ve got,” Skizz said, confidently. “And one of these cupcakes with the little bows on them, they’re super cute.”

“Just some black coffee for me,” Impulse said, laughing.

Grian and Pearl looked at each other.

“The sugariest? Surely he can’t mean-”

“He could. We could do it-”

“Only Joel can make it right, Pearl, Lizzie knows the difference-”

“But Skizz hasn’t tasted the real thing! We can- Oh, okay, fine, I’ll get Joel from the back so he can make it.”

The twins, now that their discussion was over, looked back to Impulse and Skizz like absolutely nothing had happened.

Impulse paid for their drinks. Grian handed him a receipt while Pearl vanished behind the doors to the back of the café. A few seconds later, Joel came out of the doors with a strangely haggard look, and started preparing a monstrosity of a drink (was that eighteen shots of espresso) while Grian gathered the cupcake and Impulse’s coffee.

Their drinks and the cupcake were handed over the counter at the same time, and Impulse just about had a heart attack looking at the amount of whipped cream in Skizz’s cup. Skizz, however, looked absolutely delighted. 

They sat down in one of the booths near a window, and Skizz dug into the cupcake while Impulse drank his coffee.

“So- This place was like, a proper American-style diner, right? With burgers and fries and stuff?” Skizz asked, as soon as his mouth wasn’t full. “When did it become a coffee shop?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Impulse said. He’d never asked about the history of the café when he’d visited before, but that was because there had been more important things to worry about at the time. “It was definitely after you left town, but before I started coming here for coffee. I’ll have to ask Jimmy the next time I see him, but he might not know either.”

“Does he work here, too?” Skizz asked.

“Yeah,” Impulse said. “I’m fairly certain most of the ghost hunting group he’s dealing with also works here- Except for his sister, she’s studying and doesn’t have time for ghost hunts and a job on top of school.”

“Ah.” Skizz nodded, as though he had some sort of actual wisdom to pass along into the conversation. “Well, I heard how everything went down with Tango, so I’m glad they’re still able to pursue their interests like that.”

“That’s true,” Impulse agreed. “I’m actually going to join them for a ghost hunt the next time they go.”

“What?!” Skizz didn’t yell, because yelling in a café was rude, but he certainly didn’t whisper, either. “Dude, you gotta bring me with you!”

“No way! You’ll just faint again.”

“Nuh uh! I’m super strong and I’ll definitely help catch ghosts!”

“Don’t just say ‘nuh uh’! There’s a very delicate process to it! And they have a lot of people already!”

“So just sneak me in, dude!”

Impulse took a deep breath. 

“Is this something you actually want to do?” he asked. “Like- You really want to look for ghosts?”

“Yeah!” Skizz said. “It’ll be fun!”

“Okay,” Impulse said. “I’ll see if I can get them to let you come along. But- When we’re there, you’ll pay attention and you won’t do anything you’re not supposed to do.”

“I’m great at following instructions, Dippledop, when have I ever been bad at them?” Skizz asked, innocently batting his eyes. 

“On accident or on purpose?” Impulse asked in return, raising an eyebrow.

Skizz glowered at him, though the image was ruined by the icing bow on his cupcake and the copious amounts of whipped cream in his drink. 

“Neither. Because I am a perfectly reasonable guy who has done no wrong, ever.”

“Uh huh,” Impulse said, dryly.

“Don’t be rude!” Skizz hissed at him. “I want to meet your students without being wrapped in another murder investigation!”

“You know… Most ghosts show up because of murders,” Impulse said. “At least, that’s what Mumbo has observed. This town is very haunted, apparently.”

“I mean. I blame the cult, honestly,” Skizz said, taking a drink from his pile of whipped cream. “Most towns don’t have cults.”

“Fair enough.” Impulse had to give him that point. He’d been there when that church burned down, and when Jimmy had been carried out by Etho and Grian, while the flames that consumed the stone inexplicably parted to let them escape. He’d seen Etho use his jacket to press into Jimmy’s neck, stopping the blood, and the bandage over the injury when Jimmy returned it to Etho at Impulse’s house. He wondered how badly it had scarred. “I’m glad they’re gone. A lot of people got hurt by them.”

“Yeah, same,” Skizz agreed. “Still, though, I want to keep those kids safe.”

“I do, too,” Impulse said, finishing his coffee. “I really do.”

Chapter Text

It was a very quiet evening in the neighborhood on Willow Street. Most of the homes lining the street had their lights off, save for a few that had families watching television, and for those eating a late dinner.

13 Willow Street was empty, and had been empty for a long time. Only recently had the residents of 14 Willow Street decided to contact someone to deal with the noises they heard from next door- Wailing, throwing plates, and other things that made them sure the woman who lived there had a very violent relationship with her lover. Except that woman had left that place months ago, and the inspector they’d contacted had come up with nothing. 

‘It had been pristine’, said the email Jimmy had received. ‘Nothing was out of place. We know what we heard, though, and we’ve seen enough horror movies that we’re a little paranoid about a ghost haunting our house next.’

“Well,” Jimmy said, from one of the back seats in Mumbo’s van, “There aren’t many clues to what this ghost could be in the email, but I think we should keep our eyes out for a poltergeist.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but polties aren’t usually wailing,” Grian said, from the passenger seat. He'd been on his phone (Jimmy could see that Pearl and Scott had finally convinced Grian to play that Pokémon game with them, except for the fact he'd joined a different team than both of them did, just so he could more effectively be a menace to society.), “I hope this isn’t another banshee.”

“We’ll have to see it for ourselves,” Mumbo said, pulling up to the road next to the street. 

“Are you coming in with us, Mumbo?” Grian asked.

“Just for setting up,” Mumbo said. “Dr. SV is here, so I should probably be seen actually doing something.”

“He’s seen you with the cameras before, though,” Grian pointed out, as he opened the passenger door. 

“Eh- That was when we let Cabinet Ghost out in Zedaph’s office,” Mumbo said. “We already knew he was a Revenant, so it doesn’t really count.”

“I hope this ghost isn’t a rev,” Jimmy muttered, exiting the van after Mumbo pushed his seat up close to the wheel in order to let him out. 

“I’ll punch it for you, Tim,” Grian assured him.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said, flatly. “I really appreciate it.”

“You need to work on your sarcasm,” Grian said, amused. 

“Can you maybe focus on being sarcastic later?” Mumbo asked, opening the back of his van and revealing the ghost hunting equipment he’d brought with him today. “Or at least wait until we know what the ghost is?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, mischievously. “I can wait, for sure.”

Mumbo paused, handing him the EMF reader and the ghost writing journal.

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic with me right now or if you’ve actually taken my advice.”

“Guess,” Grian said, because he was a menace who enjoyed tormenting his friends.

Mumbo glowered at him, unamused. 

“Hey, guys,” Impulse said, materializing out of nowhere and making Mumbo jump a full two feet higher into the air than most people could normally jump. Thankfully, he didn’t drop any of the sensitive equipment he’d been carrying.

“It’s Impulse!” Jimmy smiled at his arrival, waving at Mumbo’s teacher and then hesitating as a second face peered over his shoulder.

“Uh,” Impulse said, kind of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you guys, but- I brought Skizz.”

“Hey!” Skizzleman pouted, slouching so he was leaning on Impulse and forcing him to hold most of his weight. Impulse didn’t react, which meant this was a very common thing Skizz did. “Why’d you say it like that?!”

“You might get stuck outside while we have all the fun,” Grian said, raising an eyebrow. “This is Tim’s and Mumbo’s show. They’re the ones who get to decide your fate.”

“I don’t see why Skizz can’t learn how to hunt ghosts, too,” Jimmy said. 

He’d liked Skizzleman when he’d previously met him, even if he was a little bit strange. But considering Jimmy was currently on a ghost hunt with Grian and Mumbo, he didn’t really have room to speak. Skizz may be strange, but Impulse trusted him, so there wasn’t really a reason to keep Skizz from learning about ghosts.

“More hands on deck is always a good thing,” Mumbo said.

With that, the decision was made.

“Sweet! Thanks, guys!” Skizz said, grinning. “So! Teach me how to catch this thing!”

Grian then handed him the spirit box.

Jimmy and Mumbo shared a look.

This was a rite of passage for new people on the team, after all. 

Jimmy just hoped they wouldn’t end up taking Skizz to the emergency room for broken fingers. He did hope that Skizz got a response from the spirit box, though.

----

“Do you guys have the keys for this place?” Skizzleman asked, as the group of hunters gathered on the front porch. 

Mumbo shifted on his feet next to him and Dr. SV, nervously. Even though he was just coming inside to find the ghost room with the thermometer and then dropping the camera there, he hadn’t expected Dr. SV to bring Skizzleman with him, and since Mumbo knew how much chaos Skizzleman was capable of, he was rightfully concerned for everyone’s safety.

The lights were off inside of the house, so they couldn’t really see inside through the windows.

“No,” Grian said, as Jimmy crouched down in front of the doorknob and started twisting what was once a paperclip around inside of the keyhole with the precision of a man who had far too much practice doing such a thing. 

Within a few seconds, Jimmy stood up and then opened the door, as though nothing had happened. 

“It’s unlocked,” he said, nonchalantly.

Grian followed him inside, flicking light switches without the lights actually turning on as he went.

“How many times has he done that?” Skizzleman wondered. Mumbo didn't have an answer for him (He had no idea when Jimmy had first gotten into a building that was locked in the pursuit of a ghost, as he already had plenty of experience before Mumbo had provided his equipment), and neither did anyone else, it seemed, as the question was ignored by everyone except for Dr. SV.

“One of the many skills required for ghost hunting is breaking and entering,” Dr. SV replied, writing something into the small notebook where Mumbo had seen everything from grocery lists to sketches of incredibly intricate machinery.

“Alright, guess we’ve gotta get on that,” Skizzleman said.

“Just don’t get caught by the cops,” Grian said, from where he was in the living room.

“And always steal from corporations!” Jimmy yelled, from the doorway in the kitchen that led to the garage.

“Don’t get caught doing that, either,” Mumbo said to the hunters’ guests, finally entering the house as soon as the lights flickered on.

“That just seems like good life advice, which is completely unrelated to ghost hunting,” Skizzleman commented.

“These guys are the experts,” Impulse said, patting his best friend on the back. “I trust their judgment!”

----

“I have an EMF reading in the back bedroom,” Grian said, over the walkie-talkie. “It’s just a two at the moment, but that could change.” 

“The left or the right one?” Jimmy asked.

“Left,” Grian replied.

Mumbo, who was in the garage with the thermometer, decided he should probably get moving, just so he could drop the camera and the thermometer off with his friends and hurry back outside to his van. Despite what his friends might say, Mumbo was not built for ghost hunting. Sure, he enjoyed the hunt, but the reason he was doing all of this was because he wanted to study ghosts. In a controlled environment, not in an unfamiliar house with danger lurking around every innocent-looking corner.

Speaking of corners, Mumbo just had to peek around one of the corners in the garage. There was some sort of storage room in there, and he could see a shelf.

If things got dangerous, perhaps this would be an ideal place to hide.

Mumbo poked his head around the concrete wall, and was met with a washing machine and a dryer on the other side of the small room from the shelf.

And on top of those machines was a Ouija board.

Now, Mumbo wasn’t the sharpest knife in the crayon box, but even he knew that wasn’t normal.

Ouija boards didn’t just… Appear, like that.

And this one… There was something incredibly different about it than the other Ouija boards he’d been setting on fire back at his house. Mumbo would know. He’d been trying to talk to the ghost in his computer for the past two days, with varying results each time. Both times he’d come back to his house with a Ouija board he’d purchased from shops that branded themselves on providing authentic occult materials (This was where Mumbo had gotten the group’s crucifixes and salt, so he could confirm they knew what they were doing), it had burst into flames before the ghost could actually respond to his greetings. Not only was this Ouija board incredibly out of place on top of this washing machine, but it had a certain air around it that drew his gaze. Even if Mumbo could look away… He didn’t want to. 

Mumbo had grabbed it before he even realized what he was doing. 

He stopped by the entrance to the back left bedroom while Jimmy and Grian were setting up some salt and the DOTS projector- Grian was telling Jimmy about the DOTS and EMF being in a lesbian marriage, to which Jimmy was nodding very seriously- and while Dr. SV and Skizzleman observed their movements, asking questions when necessary. Mumbo set down the camera and the thermometer in the doorway while they weren’t really paying attention to him. Which was a very good thing, because Mumbo had just shoved a definitely-cursed Ouija board under his blazer and it was so obviously square-shaped that there was no way anyone wouldn’t notice it if they even glanced in his direction.

“So, what’s the purpose of the salt?” Skizzleman asked. “Is it, like, supposed to contain the ghost? Like in movies?”

“We’re trying to get the ghost to walk through it,” Grian explained. “Since Dr. SV has the ultraviolet light, when it passes through, we can see if it left footprints.”

“Oh! And that’s one of the pieces of evidence you need to identify the ghost!” The bottom of Skizz’s fist made contact with his empty palm as he understood. “I see!”

“Yeah! Oh, thanks for the camera, Mumbo,” Grian said, waving to Mumbo as he hurried away.

The others watched him go.

“Does he seem kind of stiff, or is that just me?” Skizz asked.

“Mumbo’s always like that,” Grian said, dismissively. He put the camera onto the desk in the room, facing it so it had a good view. “He’s not a ground worker like we are. So he stays in the van and tells us if there’s orbs or a hunt. He’s better off in there than out here, anyway.”

Grian rubbed his hands together, giving Jimmy one of his most mischievous smiles to date.

“Now, Skizz, allow me to explain how to use the spirit box.”

----

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”

“Oh, awesome, he got a response!” Grian said, far too cheerfully, from the hallway outside of the bedroom. 

Jimmy and Dr. SV were with him, both observing the closed door they’d left Skizz behind.

“Hey, Mumbo,” Grian said, into his walkie-talkie, “We got a spirit box response.”

“O-oh! That’s good! That’s- Yes, that’s very good!”

Mumbo was stuttering more than usual. Grian supposed the fact Skizzleman had shown up with Dr. SV had interrupted the expected routine Mumbo had for these sorts of things, so he was probably just nervous.

“What was THAT???!!!!!” Skizz yelled, slamming the door open and immediately coming face-to-face with Dr. SV and the others. “I just saw her!”

“There was also DOTS,” Mumbo said, apparently having heard Skizz through Grian’s radio. “The ghost showed up in the DOTS.”

“Oh, well that’s certainly-” Grian cut himself off as he realized something that could change the entire course of this ghost hunt. “Mumbo? What’s the third piece of evidence for a Deogen?”

“Writing,” Mumbo answered. “Both crucifixes are in the room, so there shouldn’t be too much of an issue- Is there anything else strange inside?”

Grian checked the room.

It was set up the same way the group had left it- Except for a shoe and a computer mouse that had been thrown from their original places. Even the salt on the floor was untouched… Which didn’t make sense, as it was directly next to the DOTS projector.

If Skizz and Mumbo had both seen the ghost appear on the DOTS projector, then it would have walked through the salt. That was the entire strategy behind leaving the salt in the center of the room next to the projector.

“It hasn’t walked in the salt,” Grian said, because that was strange.

“I wouldn’t count on this being a Deo, then,” Mumbo said, finally sounding sure of himself. Or, as sure as he got when on these hunts. He’d completely focused on the task at hand, most likely hunched over the laptop he kept in his van so he was keeping his eye on the camera in the room as well as the general ghost activity in the house. “Can you check with the EMF, Grian?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, stepping into the room with the EMF reader pointed in front of him.

As soon as he did, one of the crucifixes on the floor set on fire, burning the metal orange.

And the EMF reader reacted to it with a very loud beep.

“We have EMF five!” Grian announced. “And this ghost is trying to hunt, so I will be taking everyone outside now!”

“Looks like you’ve found a Wraith,” Mumbo explained, as Grian and Jimmy escorted Dr. SV and Skizzleman out of the house before the ghost attempted to hunt them again. “I thought something was strange. It’s a good thing you guys put salt in there, or we might have missed it.”

“We’re definitely lucky,” Grian said, from the front porch, where the group was resting. “Wraiths are- They’re the ones that can go through walls, right?”

“They can teleport, which is basically the same thing,” Mumbo said, as though that was supposed to be a comforting thought. “I’d like to test that out, if possible.”

“You are not letting a ghost teleport around our house,” Grian said to him.

“After finals, then,” Mumbo replied.

“Fine.” Grian rolled his eyes. He turned to Jimmy and the others. “Let’s get the trap and catch this ghost.”

“Are we- Actual Ghostbusters?” Skizz asked, eyes wide in awe. Whether that was because of the Wraith or the conversation Grian and Mumbo just had about letting ghosts loose in their house was a mystery.

“Yes,” Jimmy said, without elaborating further. 

Dr. SV scribbled something else into his tiny notebook. Grian could swear he heard him muttering something along the lines of ‘Do not bring marshmallows on a ghost hunt under any circumstances.’

----

“Hey, Grian,” Mumbo said, putting the milk back into the fridge.

Grian looked blearily up from his breakfast and cup of tea, to see that Mumbo looked far more composed than he had been over the past few days. He still looked like he would disintegrate if he stepped into sunlight, but it was clear that Mumbo was well-rested despite that.

“What's up?” Grian asked.

“Would you- I mean, you don't have to, but… Would you like to talk to the ghost in my computer with me?” Mumbo poured his cereal- Fruit Loops, for some reason- into the bowl of milk. “I think I've gotten a solution for my problem.”

“Sure,” Grian said. “Do you want Tim and the others to come, too?”

“That'd probably be for the best,” Mumbo said, finally taking a bite of his cereal. “It might be dangerous.”

“I hope not,” Grian said, shooting Jimmy a message.

Within seconds, he had a reply.

“Tim’s free to join us. He says Lizzie and Joel can make it, too,” Grian said, looking up at Mumbo… Who had finished his cereal much faster than Grian had thought possible.

“That’s good,” Mumbo said. “Let’s do it this evening, then, after everyone’s done for the day.”

“Great,” Grian said, sending Jimmy another message. “He says that’s good.”

Mumbo took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to say something deeply incriminating. Grian had been ignoring something that he’d been doing this entire time they’d been eating breakfast, so he already knew what Mumbo was about to say.

“Grian, I-”

“I don’t care that you put your milk before your cereal,” Grian said, before Mumbo could say it himself.

“What?” Mumbo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “No, I-”

He looked down at his bowl with a look of genuine horror dawning across his face.

“Did I really just do that?”

Perhaps Grian’s previous assessment had been wrong. Mumbo must only look like he’d rested.

“Perhaps you should take a nap before we talk to the ghost about getting your finals back,” Grian suggested.

“I… I think I will do that. Yes, I’ll- That’s a good idea. Thank you, Grian.”

----

“What on earth did you get your hands on, Mumbo?” Joel asked, leaning back on the couch in the living room and warily eyeing the insane amounts of salt and protective circles around the PC that had been set on the floor.

“I don’t think he’s paying attention,” Lizzie said, from where she was sitting next to Joel, and watching as Mumbo put together another intricate circle of salt around his computer. There was definitely more salt than floor visible, which meant that whatever he was doing must be incredibly dangerous, if Mumbo was the one making all of these precautions.

“I’m not sure if we should be scared or not,” Jimmy said, standing behind the couch, and not processing a single thing that Mumbo was doing.

“I… didn’t actually ask Mumbo what he was using to talk to this ghost,” Grian said, next to Jimmy. “I was more distracted by the fact he was eating cereal after pouring the milk first.”

“He what,” Jimmy said.

“Okay!” Mumbo stood up, looking both incredibly nervous and also very excited. It was a combination of pure desperation (for getting his finals back) and also fear (which must be why there were so many protections in place), and the ghost hunters in the room all felt something shift as he placed the final piece down next to the PC.

A Ouija board was set on the floor. There was something strange about it, but the ghost hunters weren’t able to identify it for what it was.

“It’s ready!” Mumbo said, sitting back down. 

“I hope we can get your finals back,” Grian said, sitting down next to him.

Lizzie and Joel shared a look, before joining them on the floor.

And Jimmy found himself thinking he’d seen that Ouija board before, somehow, but he also knew that he absolutely had not ever fucked with a Ouija board after the incident with the summoning circle. Just to be safe. But Mumbo and the others seemed to think it was safe, though, and with all of the protections on the floor, Jimmy figured it was probably nothing to worry about.

“Okay, so- We just put all of our hands on the planchette and say hello, right?” Grian asked.

“Yes,” Mumbo said. “And then the ghost will move it, and spell out the answers to what we ask. Once we get our answers, we have to say goodbye, otherwise the ghost will try to hunt us.”

“Which is why there’s so much salt here,” Joel said, looking to his left and his right to make sure he hadn’t disturbed any on accident. Satisfied with the lack of disturbances, he set his hand onto the planchette. “Well, I’m ready for this. Let’s go, guys.”

Jimmy put his hand on it next, followed by Grian and Lizzie, and then Mumbo.

Mumbo, who had organized this entire thing, would be the one asking the questions.

“Hello,” he said.

All five of the people sitting around this Ouija board felt the planchette move, slowly inching towards the spot on the board that said ‘Hello’.

“Oh, that is freaky,” Grian said, but he didn’t ask another question.

“Were you the one to delete my assignment?” Mumbo asked.

The planchette moved to ‘Yes’.

“Why?” Mumbo asked.

It moved back to the letters, a bit faster than the other times.

“A.. C… I… D… E… N… T,” Lizzie said. “Oh, he said it was an accident.”

“Well, I would have been a lot more upset if he’d done it on purpose,” Mumbo replied. He cleared his throat. “Can you please give it back? I really need it to pass one of my classes.”

The planchette moved back to ‘Yes’, and then spelled out the word ‘SORRY’.

“Well, then that’s sorted,” Grian said. “You’ll get your assignment back, and we can focus on our finals!”

“Yeah, but- That ghost is still very much in Mumbo’s computer,” Joel said. “Shouldn’t we find a more appropriate place for it?”

“That is true,” Jimmy said. “Who’s to say more important documents won’t get deleted if it stays in there? And he seems sorry, so maybe we should ask him if it’s okay to move him so it doesn’t happen again?”

Mumbo nodded. “That’s fair. Um, Mr. Ghost, can you also remove yourself from my computer? It’d be more convenient for all of us, and I’m sure there are nicer places to haunt.”

The planchette moved to ‘No’.

“Why?” Mumbo asked, distraught.

“S… T… U… C… K,” Lizzie read, as the planchette continued to move. “Mumbo, I think that ghost is not inside of your PC by choice.”

“That… Makes sense,” Grian said. “He must have tried to let that banshee out of its trap so it could help him get out and go somewhere else.”

“Then that means we should probably try to befriend this ghost,” Jimmy said. “If he’s stuck here, then he’ll probably help us figure out who he is and when he died. We can free him by helping him rest.”

“That’s a good plan,” Mumbo said. He looked back to the board. “And all friendships start with introductions, don’t they? So, um. Hello, Mr. Ghost. My name is Mumbo, and these are my friends, Grian, Joel, Lizzie, and Jimmy. What’s your name?”

The planchette moved.

“B… D… U… B… S,” Lizzie read, as the name of the ghost was revealed.

And the room fell silent.

Chapter Text

Joel was the first person to react, and also the fastest out of all of them.

“Goodbye!” he shouted. “Say ‘Goodbye’, Mumbo!”

“R-Right, let me just-” Mumbo stuttered, and the planchette hesitantly moved to ‘GOODBYE’, as though the ghost was confused on why the group had a sudden change in character. “Um! Sorry, Mr. Ghost, we just- We need a minute! To discuss how we’re going to help you!”

“Yeah!” Lizzie said, more than a little panicked, but playing it off by forcing herself to act cheerful. “You have a very unique name, so people, uh, might not believe us if we ask about you!”

She then grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders and heaved him away from the Ouija board, and away from the computer that held the ghost of a man they’d all thought to be long gone. Joel helped her support Jimmy as they exited the room- He’d frozen up, exactly like a deer in headlights, and it was best to get him away from there as quickly as possible.

Grian and Mumbo followed them into their kitchen, and helped Jimmy settle down into one of their chairs at the kitchen table.

The five of them stood in silence for a moment.

“So, Mumbo,” Joel said, flatly, very poorly masking his murderous expression. “When are we setting fire to your computer?”

“I- I’d rather you didn’t, but- If he’s the one trapped in it, I… Urgh, this is so frustrating!” Mumbo’s hands buried themselves into his hair, and if he’d gripped it any tighter, he’d be pulling it out in clumps. As he ranted, he paced around the kitchen like a caged animal. “I swear I didn’t know who he was! I didn’t mean for any of this to happen- I just wanted my assignment back! I’m so sorry, Jimmy!”

“It’s not your fault,” Jimmy said, quietly. He pressed a shaking hand up to his neck and rubbed at the collar of his shirt. 

“We need to get him out of your computer as soon as possible.” Grian spoke almost as quietly as Jimmy did, but there was a certain tone he used that meant Grian was plotting murder. “He didn’t recognize any of us, and he seems to think we have friendly intentions. We might be able to use that to convince him to fall for a trap.”

“That’s a good idea,” Joel admitted. He definitely hadn't been thinking about anything beyond ‘Get Jimmy out of there and also kill this guy again for what he did’. But that was why Joel was not the brains of their operation. “And then we can set the trap on fire without putting Mumbo’s computer through any more stress, since Mumbo will have his finals and his PC back.”

“Jimmy, you don’t have to stay here,” Mumbo said, gripping Jimmy's shoulders and staring directly at him. His grip wasn't nearly as tight as the grip he'd had on his own hair just moments ago, as it was firm and reassuring instead of vice-like and frustrated- Even though Mumbo definitely was frustrated by the current situation. He let go once he was sure he had Jimmy’s undivided attention. “I promise I will make this up to you somehow.”

“After everything that happened with Tango and- I didn’t think there would be anything else that would- Tango’s work had been done! There hadn’t been anything else to worry about!” Jimmy’s hands were definitely shaking now, and Joel put a comforting hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the area close to the scar on his neck. 

Jimmy shook his head.

“I can’t do it again, guys. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Lizzie said, harshly, though her anger was directed in the complete opposite direction of her brother. “Jimmy. Let us handle this for you. We’ll fix this problem.”

“Thank you, Lizzie. You guys,” Jimmy said, and it was clear that he’d relaxed, somewhat. 

“Go home and get some rest.” Grian spoke with a low tone, the same way his friends did when they supported him during his anxiety attacks. It was soothing for Grian, and it seemed to be soothing for Jimmy as well. “We’ll take over from here.”

Jimmy nodded in response. The group helped him pick up the things he’d left in the living room, since that was where the haunted computer and the Ouija board were, and then Joel insisted on driving him home.

“I’ll call in a bit to see what I missed,” Joel had said, after Jimmy had gotten settled in his truck. “Making sure Jim is okay is the most important thing right now.”

“We’ll tell you everything,” Grian assured him.

“You'd better. And if we are burning that computer or something else- I want in. Just let me know and I'll be there.” Joel clapped Grian on the shoulders as he said this.

“Take Tim home,” Grian said, brushing him off. “We’ll talk later.”

“Right.”

Joel picked up his keys, saluted everyone in the room, and then left, closing the door behind him.

Through the window, the group spotted him getting into his truck and then driving away.

They stood in silence for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“So, um… What… What are we going to say to Dr. SV? And… Everyone else who was involved in our investigation last summer?” Lizzie asked, quietly. “How do we explain that- That Tango’s work isn’t done?”

“We should… I think it’s a good idea to figure out what the ghost remembers,” Grian said, holding a hand up to his face and anxiously glancing over to the PC on the floor in the other room. “If he’s really stuck in Mumbo’s computer until we can get him to rest, we need to figure out what is keeping him here. And how we can get him out so we can exorcize him.”

“If he’s going to hurt people-” Lizzie started, alarmed, but she was interrupted.

“If the worst comes to worst and he’s the same as he was before he died, I’ll handle it,” Mumbo said, darkly. “This is more important than my grade. Dr. SV will understand.”

“Mumbo,” Lizzie said. “We’re going to handle this and we’re going to get your stuff back. We’re a team.”

“I… That is true. I shouldn't try to do this by myself, especially when…” Mumbo trailed off. 

“Let's take a break,” Grian suggested. “We need to make sure we don't accidentally reveal something- We know how he died. We know what he was involved with. We know who he was and what sort of people he was friends with. He might not know anything about his past.”

Grian paused.

“If that's the case, then I think he'll ask us to help him figure out what happened to him.”

“Like Tango did,” Mumbo noticed.

“Do we help him, then?” Lizzie asked.

“I don't know. On one hand, we can safely get him out of Mumbo’s computer if he trusts us. That's something we can take advantage of. On the other, he was part of a cult that did human sacrifice. Nothing good will happen if we let that loose on the city again.”

“We buried the ghost responsible for the cult, though,” Lizzie said. “They've been dismantled for good.”

“But does he know that?” Grian asked.

“Right. Thinking time now. We need a whiteboard or something- It'll help us keep track of things,” Mumbo said, clapping his hands so that he might refocus. “We can write down our plans, and then- I guess we’ll figure out the best way to go about this from there?”

Grian and Lizzie looked at each other.

“I'm calling Martyn,” Grian said. “If anyone's gonna be able to figure this out with us, it's him.”

“Tell him it's an emergency and to bring the conspiracy board from last summer's investigation,” Lizzie said. “It'll be useful.”

----

“‘Ello ‘ello,” Martyn's voice came over the receiver, as cheerful as ever.

“We have a situation,” Grian said, and Martyn must have heard the urgency in his voice, because he immediately straightened up and got serious.

“Don't move from where you are and don't call the cops. I know a VERY good lawyer who can keep you out of jail even if you're caught with blood on your-”

“Not that kind of situation,” Grian interrupted. “We didn't kill anyone- But this does involve someone who's dead.”

“Oh, I see. Do you need me to figure out this person's killer, too?”

“No,” Grian said, sucking in air between his teeth. “You see, er- The person who killed him was Tango.”

Silence came from the other end of the line as Martyn processed what Grian was saying.

After a moment, he finally spoke.

“Tell me everything. I'm on my way.”

“We're at my place,” Grian informed him. He took a deep breath before speaking next. “This all started out with Mumbo drinking all of my ghost hunting juice the night before I woke up to a banshee screaming in my face…”

----

“Let me get this straight,” Martyn said, examining the living room, sharp eyes observing the tremendous amounts of salt, the haunted PC, and the Ouija board sitting on the floor. “You've been plagued by a ghost that’s gotten stuck in your computer, who just so happens to be the murderer we were chasing down last summer. And all he did to get revenge was… To cause you some mild inconveniences.”

“Deleting a forty-page final is not what I would call a mild inconvenience!” Mumbo said, affronted. “And neither is the attempted sabotage of one of my ghost traps!”

“You're sure this is him?” Martyn asked, ignoring Mumbo's complaints and turning to Grian.

“He introduced himself,” Grian said. “I'm sure.”

“He didn't recognize us,” Lizzie added. “We think he has memory problems- Like Tango did.”

“And that's relevant because…” Martyn trailed off.

“Well, he doesn't appear to know what we do about him or his death,” Mumbo said. “And he's trapped in my PC. Everyone present currently wants him to be outside of my PC, so it's beneficial to him to try and befriend us, and beneficial to us to lure him out so we can trap him again- Preferably for an exorcism. Outside of my computer. Because I made my computer immune to exorcisms. Which was a good idea at the time but has been incredibly inconvenient since then.”

“I see,” Martyn said, sounding very much like he understood nothing at all. “Sorry, I just- Ouija boards aren't really reliable sources in investigations.”

“This one's different,” Mumbo said. “It's an authentic cursed object. You can trust me on-”

“Mumbo!” Grian whacked him on top of the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “You promised! Not to! Curse anyone!”

“Ow- Grian- Nothing else- Worked!”

“You could have killed us!”

“That's what all the protective circles were for!”

“That! Doesn’t! Help!”

“Grian-”

“After everything we argued about-”

“Guys!” Lizzie stepped between the both of them, shoving them apart. “Can you stop fighting for two seconds?!”

“He’s the one smacking me!” Mumbo had to dodge as Grian attempted to hit him with the newspaper once again, completely ignoring Lizzie. “And we’ve been perfectly fine! It’s completely safe!”

“Cursed hunts ignore crucifixes! I don't have a reason to think your circles are any different!” Grian tossed the newspaper aside, and Mumbo blinked, trying to process this new information.

“Sorry?” Martyn asked, confused. Even with the explanation Grian had given him earlier, he was still very lost. Martyn's expertise was not in ghosts, after all. He had no idea what Grian was rambling about half of the time, and if even Mumbo looked confused, it was unlikely Martyn would be able to catch up anytime soon.

Grian scuffed his shoe on the kitchen's floor, unable to stand still.

“We- Tim and I looked in a cursed mirror. On accident. When we found that Moroi in beige hell last week. The mirror broke and the ghost hunted, even though there was a crucifix next to the room. Gem and Scar almost died.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Mumbo asked. “I could have helped!”

“Tim told me how dangerous curses were!” Grian answered. “And you weren't in your right mind when you were talking about cursing your computer! You completely disregarded our safety- And your own safety, too! We decided to keep it from you so no one got hurt!”

“Guys!” Lizzie attempted to once again get their attention. “You can deal with that later! Figure out what to do with the guy who nearly murdered my brother now!”

“Yeah, this definitely sounds like it's important, but I don't think I'm supposed to be a part of that conversation,” Martyn said. “I brought the conspiracy board, so why don't we set that up somewhere that… Isn't covered in salt?”

Grian blinked.

Mumbo blinked.

“Right,” Grian said, turning away so that he might be able to help Martyn with the board.

“Yeah,” Mumbo said, avoiding eye contact with everyone except for the floor. “Let's do that.”

----

With Martyn's help, the group managed to come up with a solid plan.

They would not-so-subtly ask the ghost what he remembered about his life, but they would be subtle about what they referred to. They wouldn't reveal that they knew who Bdubs’ friends were, nor would they reveal that most of them were witnesses to his death. They would figure out what he remembered, and they would make sure he believed that they had his best interests at heart.

After they could help him get out of Mumbo's PC, they could get in contact with Dr. SV and inform him of the developments. Because while Dr. SV was a great actor, he would need time to process learning who had been with Mumbo nearly every day since he'd been discovered. Dropping this on him right now wouldn’t help them with the current situation.

“Don't say anything about Dawn, either,” Martyn said, writing another note on the board. “That should be obvious, considering everything we went through because of them, but… If Dawn is somehow involved again, it'd be best for Bdubs to bring it up himself, not for us to ask him what he knows about it.”

“Well, Dawn’s only involvement in his death was the fact he was trying to kill Jimmy for them. And that Tango killed him in order to save Jimmy,” Lizzie said. “I don't think there's… Well, there were those other ghosts there. But we sealed the Boogeyman away, and the Watcher is gone. There shouldn't have been anything strange about it. We saw how he died.”

“Figuring out why he's still in this world is a priority, then,” Martyn said. “That should be one of the first questions we ask him. Based on his response, we'll be able to tell if he knows who you are. And then we can proceed accordingly.”

“And… What do we do if he does know who we are?” Grian asked.

“I'll handle it,” Mumbo said. “If he remembers who we are, then he's too dangerous to keep around. I can speak with Dr. SV about my grade. He’d give me extra time, at least, to redo my assignments.”

“Why didn't you try to get extra time in the first place?” Lizzie asked.

“I worked hard on those forty pages,” Mumbo pouted. “And I thought I could handle this myself. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Obviously.”

“You don't have to be mean about it, Grian.”

“I'm sorry, I guess I'm still upset that you went behind our backs to use a cursed object without telling us.”

“Ouch.”

“I told you two already. Save this for later.” Lizzie glared at them, and both Grian and Mumbo shrunk back. 

Martyn cleared his throat.

“Um. Moving on. You’re gonna have to show me how to use the Ouija board, but. The first question we ask should be something along the lines of ‘Do you remember how you died?’- A yes or no answer will determine what we do next. He’s definitely more likely to say ‘No’ than ‘Yes’, but… Well, we have a plan.”

“We do have a plan. It’s probably not going to stick, but…” Mumbo trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“We’re going to lure him out of your computer. And then exorcize him. Hopefully in the most painful way you know how,” Lizzie said, like she hadn’t just casually suggested subjecting the ghost to torture.

“That is entirely possible,” Mumbo said. “However. Getting him out of my computer will be… Difficult. I’m going to have to take it apart and redo… Most of the runes in the circuits.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what we have to focus on right now, though. I can show you how to use the Ouija board, Martyn, it’s really quite simple-”

“Okay,” Martyn interrupted. “Remember: There are several things we cannot reveal to him at any cost. Do not mention them once we’re talking to him again.”

“Let’s go,” Grian said, leading the way back into the living room. 

He carefully stepped over the salt circles and settled back in his spot in front of the board. Mumbo, Lizzie, and Martyn joined him, going back to their spots (Martyn was sitting where Joel had been, previously) and putting their hands on the planchette when Mumbo directed them to.

“Hello, Mr. Ghost. Er, uh- Mr. Bdubs,” Mumbo said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Are you still here? We’ve had a chance to discuss, and- We’ve decided to try and help you.”

The planchette started to move.

“T… H… A… N… K… S,” Lizzie read out the letters as they were spelled out. “He’s grateful.”

“We just have a couple of questions, if that’s alright,” Mumbo continued. “Er… Do you remember how you died?”

The planchette moved to ‘NO’. The entire group nearly let go of the tension they’d been holding since they left the kitchen, but when the planchette moved again, they all watched it intensely.

“F… I… R… E,” Lizzie read out, like she was discovering this information for the first time and wasn’t inside of the church as it was burning down. “So… He died in a fire, but… He doesn’t remember any details besides that?”

The planchette moved to ‘YES’. And then to ‘NO’. And then it sort of shifted into the middle of the board, as though it was hesitating.

“Okay, it might be hard for him to make his point like this,” Grian said. “I’ll make it easier- Mumbo’s gonna try and get you out of his computer as quickly as possible, so we’ll be able to talk face-to-face soon. But, for now, just answer a couple of questions, okay?”

The planchette then spelled out ‘OK’, giving Grian the opportunity to speak.

“Were there other people present when you died?” Grian asked.

‘YES’.

“Do you remember who they were?”

‘NO’.

“Do you know why you’re still in this world?”

‘YES’. And then the board spelled out the words, ‘TO APOLOGIZE’.

Grian hesitated before he asked his next question.

“Do you remember who you need to apologize to?”

‘NO’.

“Okay… Not a lot to work with just yet,” Martyn muttered to himself so the ghost could hear him. “How long ago did you die?”

The planchette moved to the numbers, and then to the letters.

“Seven,” Lizzie said. “M… O… N… T… H… S.”

“That’s fairly recent,” Martyn said. “I think we have a good place to start looking for clues!”

“Right,” Mumbo agreed. “Goodbye. I’ll try to get you out of that computer in a bit.”

The planchette moved to ‘GOODBYE’ without any hesitation this time. Apparently the ghost had fallen for it.

The four people sitting in front of the Ouija board all stood up, careful to avoid disturbing the salt, and then retreated once again to the kitchen.

“He doesn’t know a thing,” Martyn said, almost giddy with delight. His plan had worked, after all, and the ghost suspected nothing about their involvement. “We’ll have him out of your computer within a few days, you’ll do your exorcism, and then all of your problems will be solved!”

“This… Really has turned out to be simple,” Mumbo said. He furrowed his brow, frowning. “Why on earth did his need to apologize make him… Stay here, in the world of the living?”

“Maybe he finally felt guilty about what he did when Tango was killing him?” Grian suggested. “It’s a bit late for that, if you ask me.”

“He is late,” Lizzie pointed out. “He’s dead. That’s about as late as you can get.”

“Puns aside, he… Really made no effort to try and escape when we cornered him in the church,” Grian said, thinking. “I don’t understand, though! Why did it take him nearly seventeen years to finally feel guilty about leaving one of his closest friends to die?”

“Unless you want to spend time interrogating him, it’s unlikely that we’re going to get those answers,” Martyn said. “It’s probably a load of bullshit anyway.”

Mumbo sighed.

“I’m gonna figure out how to fit all of this information into an email- Dr. SV deserves to know what we’ve found out today.”

“I’ll call Joel while you’re doing that,” Lizzie said. 

“I’ll check in with Tim,” Grian said. “I hope he’s okay.”

“I’ll… Go home, I guess,” Martyn said. “Until you guys require my services again, anyway.”

----

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Ghost in PC

Hello Dr. SV,

We managed to make contact with the ghost that deleted my report today. He has promised to return it, so hopefully you’ll be able to read it over soon.

We also managed to confirm the identity of this ghost, as he introduced himself to us as ‘Bdubs’. Based on the information we gathered aside from his name, we’ve figured out that he is in fact the same Bdubs involved in last summer’s investigation of Tango’s murder. 

He does not remember who we are, or what happened around the time of his death. We have a plan to deal with him, but I figured I should tell you what we’ve learned today so that we don’t have any nasty surprises when I return to class tomorrow.

Mumbo Jumbo

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

(No Subject)

what the fuck

Sent from my iPhone

Chapter Text

“You have four new messages.”

Jimmy waited to hear them. He’d managed to get some sleep (After a significant struggle, and even then, it wasn’t much) and he’d woken up in time to go to work. If he wanted to. He really didn’t have the energy to talk to many people today, so he might call in sick. The others would understand… Hopefully.

“Hey, Tim,” said Grian’s voice. “Sorry about what happened yesterday. We’ve made a plan, so we’ll be able to fix this soon. And… Whatever happens, we’ve got your back, alright?”

Click.

“New message,” said the automated voice of his phone.

“Don’t take any of that the wrong way, Tim. Once this is over I’m going to keep relentlessly bullying you.”

Click.

“Classic Grian,” Jimmy said to himself, feeling the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a small smile.

“New message.”

“Hey, big man,” Joel’s voice said. “I know you told me you were alright, but I know you better than that. I’ll cover your shift today if you need more time.”

A pause.

“And… Well, Grian and Mumbo are fighting, so they’re probably not good sources of information right now. Lizzie told me everything, though, and she says that you shouldn’t have to be burdened with knowing what they’ve learned… I just- Jim, you shouldn’t be kept in the dark. If things get dangerous again, you should at least be aware of what’s going on.”

Joel paused again.

“Call or text me when you can. We’ll talk about it.”

Click.

Joel didn’t have to do that for him, but he’d chosen to give Jimmy the option of taking some more time for himself, and for staying out of it. But he was also giving Jimmy the option of knowing what transpired after he’d left Grian and Mumbo’s home. 

Apparently they were fighting now.

Whatever had happened clearly hadn’t been good. 

“New message.”

“Hello, Mister, um, Solidarity,” an unfamiliar voice came from the receiver, and Jimmy prepared himself to hear about his car’s extended warranty for the fiftieth time. His finger hovered over the ‘delete’ button. “My name is Detective Wels Night, from the Tanglewood Police Department, and I’m calling you regarding a case you brought to our attention last week.”

Oh. That was… Different. From what he was expecting. 

“Corey and Karen McKinnon have admitted to murdering their eight-year-old daughter, Amy McKinnon. I am aware that you were in contact with them last week, and that you were the one to inform us about their suspicious behavior. The investigation would have ended there, but they spoke about something called ‘Dawn’ and Officer Xisuma directed me towards you, as you were one of the main names in a case regarding them last year. Please come to the station when you are next available for consultation. Thank you.”

Click.

Jimmy blinked. And then he blinked again.

“To replay this message, press 1. To-”

Jimmy saved the message. And then he fell out of his bed and scrambled to his feet, dialing Martyn as he struggled to take off his pajama pants and find regular pants in his dresser. Or from one of the piles on the floor. He wasn’t thinking clearly enough to really care about the difference right now. 

“Timmy? How are you?” Martyn’s voice came from the speaker. Jimmy tripped over a pile of clothing, as he was hopping on one foot trying to pull on a pair of jeans.

“Martyn, the police called me,” Jimmy explained, finally able to stand up with a pair of pants on. “The people who lived in Beige Hell murdered their daughter and then mentioned Dawn after admitting they did it. I’m supposed to go to the station to give- To talk about them. I’m freaking out a bit.”

“Do you want me to go instead?”

“It’s probably not a good idea when I was specifically requested,” Jimmy said, lifting another pile of clothes to try and find a pair of shoes that matched. This was proving to be a more difficult task than he’d anticipated. He should probably clean soon. “I think you should come with me, though.”

“Okay. Do you want anyone else to come, too?”

“No. They’re busy with- Well, you’re also… I just- I don’t know. I genuinely have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and you’re smarter than most of us.”

“Most of you?”

“Well, we are friends with Mumbo.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Martyn had to agree with him there. And Jimmy finally found his second shoe. “But to be completely honest, he’s not been acting very smart lately.”

Jimmy pulled his shoes on. “Joel said he and Grian were fighting. Is it bad?”

“It was very uncomfortable in their house when I left yesterday.”

“That’s bad.”

“I don’t understand entirely- I don’t really know the details of why they’re fighting. But they’re both making rash decisions influenced by the presence of the ghost in Mumbo’s computer. I imagine things will blow over as soon as that’s dealt with.”

“I sure hope so,” Jimmy said, grabbing his jacket from where it had been haphazardly thrown on his dresser. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the station in about half an hour, Martyn.”

“See you there.”

Click.

----

Joel woke up that morning with both of his dogs curled in bed with him. They were awake, though, expectantly waiting for Joel to get up and give them their breakfast before letting them outside. As was their usual morning routine.

A bit groggy, Joel picked up his phone from his nightstand. 

There was a message from Jimmy and a few other notifications on the lock screen, so Joel sat up and started checking them in order of importance.

From: Babygirl Jim

hey joel i have to talk to the police today can you cover my shift

thanks

Jimmy

What

??????

I'll do it I just need context

Do I need to call Martyn to bail you out

Jimmy

Hello??

…

“Well, that's not concerning at all,” Joel grumbled to himself. 

Jimmy was… Probably okay. He'd managed to get a message to Joel, after all, and if something happened, Joel knew exactly where he would need to look this time. 

Joel would have to tell him to provide more information in his texts from this point forward. Then again, Jimmy was probably in a rush and hadn't thought about it before telling Joel where he was going.

That didn’t mean Joel wasn’t worried, though.

He sent Jimmy one more message.

Stay safe and tell me what happened later xx

Apparently no longer in the mood for Joel to wait around until he finally decided when it was breakfast time, Joel’s Chihuahua, Donkey, decided to jump off of his bed and bark at him. He would keep barking until Joel finally got up and fed him.

It was a very effective way to get someone out of bed, because Joel was in fact getting out of his blankets and putting on his house slippers so he could go downstairs.

His other dog, Shrek, a shaggy mix no one had ever been able to properly identify, also got up from the bed and lumbered down the stairs with them.

As Joel ate his own breakfast, he considered what his day was going to be like. Probably busy. Things always ended up being ridiculously busy whenever Jimmy wasn’t there. It was like a curse, if the curse was middle-aged white women who were upset that the café didn’t sell pumpkin spice lattes in late February. Joel could honestly say he would prefer to light the candles on a summoning circle and fistfight a ghost that was hunting than to resign himself to politely explaining to Karen #578 that the Valentine’s Day special was over. 

Joel couldn’t fistfight Karen, though. There were these little things called “laws” that said he couldn’t.

This was fine, though, as he would go to the gym later this evening to work out his aggression on a punching bag. Maybe he should bring Grian with him. God knows Grian needed some sort of stress relief after what’s been happening at his place for the past couple of weeks, otherwise he was going to snap, big time. And it wouldn't be pretty.

Joel frowned, as an image of Grian smacking a punching bag that had a doodle of a guy with a mustache taped to it appeared in his mind. Grian was hitting it particularly hard, and even though the paper was paper and therefore did not have the capacity to feel emotions, it had a very distinct expression of tragic betrayal on it.

Perhaps this wasn’t one of Joel’s better ideas. It was, however, cheaper than therapy.

----

Mumbo did not see Grian when he left their home that morning. There were clear signs that he’d been around, judging from the dishes in their sink and the sound of the washing machine as it cleaned a load of laundry. It wasn’t Mumbo’s turn to use the washing machine, so Grian had clearly put his clothes in while Mumbo was still sleeping.

This was fine. Mumbo didn’t really want to speak to Grian, either. 

When Mumbo left in his blue van with a ghost trap and his haunted PC, he decided that he’d get Bdubs out of there and dealt with before the day was over.

Then everything would go back to normal.

Mumbo entered the classroom pulling the trap on wheels behind him, and holding his PC in the bag he usually stored it in.

Dr. SV was there when Mumbo arrived, looking much more tired than usual. For some reason, Skizzleman was there, too, examining the weird patch on the wall where he’d once thrown a punch bowl through it. He rubbed at the off-color paint with one of his fingers, pretending that he wasn’t watching Mumbo like a hawk.

“Hey, Mumbo,” Dr. SV greeted him. He was definitely lacking his usual energy, and that made Mumbo concerned. “I got your email.”

“I saw it, too!” Skizzleman piped up. “And I went ahead and forwarded it to Etho, but Etho’s busy right now so he’ll come by later.”

“That’s… Well, good? I think? Maybe not good considering the circumstances, but good because I forgot to tell him?” Mumbo set his PC on one of the tables, after laying the ghost trap on the ground next to it. Both Dr. SV and Skizzleman eyed the computer suspiciously. “The ghost doesn’t remember anything except for his death- And that he’s still here because he needs to apologize to someone.”

“We’ll help you fix this,” Skizzleman assured him, poking Mumbo’s PC suspiciously with a plastic fork. Even though he only had one ghost hunt as experience in this field, Mumbo couldn’t help but relax a little at his words. “Trust me, we want him out of here just as much as you do.”

“Do you know who he needs to apologize to?” Dr. SV asked.

“I… Don't,” Mumbo said, even though he had a pretty good idea. He wasn't sure how much the ghost could hear from inside his computer, and Martyn had made it very clear that the group wasn't supposed to say anything that could reveal to Bdubs that they knew what had happened to him.

Dr. SV seemed to pick up on Mumbo’s hesitation, and considering he also knew who was inside of the PC, he understood that there were some things that couldn't be said yet.

“So, what are we doing?” Skizz asked, coming over to the table and looking at the box that was laying there.

“I need to break some of the runes,” Mumbo explained, popping the lid off of the computer so the three of them could see inside. “Without damaging the system itself. As that would be very painful for the ghost and all of my files would be irrecoverable. Which is not ideal.”

He looked up at Dr. SV.

“He promised to return my finals, so things should be alright after we get him out of there and put somewhere safe.”

“Do you know what type of ghost he is?” Skizz asked, holding up one of the copies of Mumbo’s lists of evidence. Mumbo had made several of them, scattered around the main places the ghost hunting team frequented. There was a copy at his and Grian's apartment, one in Lizzie and Jimmy's kitchen (on a clipboard hung on a nail in their wall next to their fridge), and two copies at Joel's, one in his truck and the other in his garage (nevermind the fact that his truck was often in the garage so the copies were very close together). There was a copy at the café, and, of course, one in Dr. SV's classroom, which Skizz was holding now.

“I have an idea,” Mumbo said, because he did. “I've only encountered one other ghost that affects electronics like this- But it wasn't nearly as strong as this one is.”

“Do you think it's the same sort of situation as the ghost you helped last summer?” Dr. SV asked, being very careful not to mention any names or details that could relate it to their current problem.

Mumbo winced.

Tango had been ridiculously strong. And he was the one who had killed Bdubs. Of course Bdubs would also be a ridiculously strong ghost.

Which meant that it was going to be very difficult to evict him from Mumbo's computer and to keep him in the ghost trap Mumbo had dragged in with him.

“It's possible,” Mumbo ended up saying, as he started examining the runes inside of the computer more closely. “Can you hand me the screwdriver?”

“Sure,” Dr. SV replied.

“And- Skizzleman, can you put some crucifixes down on the floor nearby?” 

“On it, boss.” Skizzleman saluted him and hopped to work.

All of the runes were working as Mumbo had designed them to. Which was great! They were supposed to be stable, and to provide protections against ghosts! But if he messed this step up, he'd either hurt the ghost who had gotten stuck in the PC (which wasn't much of a loss, but Martyn had been clear that they needed the ghost to trust them if they were going to be able to exorcize him, and purposefully being careless with his bindings was not going to earn Mumbo any points) or he'd hurt himself, Dr. SV, and Skizzleman in an explosion that also released the ghost that had been contained. Which would be bad, to say the least.

So Mumbo was very careful as he started pulling out the pieces of his computer and setting them on the table next to the box that previously contained an intact PC. Dr. SV had carefully arranged each piece so that the runes were visible.

As soon as Mumbo picked up the GPU so that he might open it further to get to the runes on the inside, he felt a strange tingling on the back of his neck.

“Ah,” Mumbo realized. “He's stuck in here.”

“That makes things complicated,” Dr. SV commented. “Be careful with the motherboard.”

I'll board YOUR mother, a grumbly voice whispered in the back of Mumbo’s mind.

And Mumbo jumped, because he wasn’t the one who had thought those words. He didn’t know who Dr. SV’s mother was, but he was sure she was a lovely woman!

Wait. You can hear me like thi-

He set the GPU down, and the tingling feeling went away, along with the voice.

“This ghost just said something very rude about your mother, Dr. SV,” Mumbo said.

Skizzleman started cackling, and Dr. SV blinked, frowned at Skizzleman, and then decided to respond only by sighing heavily.

“Let’s get him out of there sooner rather than later,” he said. “I’d like to tell him to please insult someone else’s mother.”

“You mean Skizzleman’s?” Mumbo suggested, noticing the pointed way his teacher was staring at his best friend.

“Exactly.”

“Hey!”

----

Jimmy hadn’t ever been to the police station before (Even though he had run from the cops on multiple occasions) but Martyn had. So had most of his friends. Jimmy probably would have been with them, back when they were there together, but he was a little busy being kidnapped at the time. So Martyn led the way inside, up to the receptionist in the front room. Who looked eerily similar to the receptionist in Zedaph’s office building, only they had pink hair and a tooth gap. They looked approvingly at the faded dye in Jimmy’s hair before calling for a different officer and having Jimmy and Martyn escorted to a different section of the station where there were more computers set up at varying desks. Some of the people working looked up to see them as they passed by. Officer Xisuma waved to them, and since Jimmy and Martyn recognized him, they waved back.

And then they were inside of an office that had walls, and face-to-face with the detective who had called Jimmy earlier. He and Martyn sat down in the chairs on the other side of the desk.

“Hello,” Jimmy said, to start.

“Hi,” said the detective in response. “My name’s Wels. But you can call me Detective Wels or Detective Night, if you want. This isn’t supposed to be an interrogation, so let me know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need a break. Now, which one of you is Mr. Solidarity?”

“That’s me,” Jimmy replied.

Wels turned to look at Martyn and raised an eyebrow.

“Martyn Littlewood, private investigator.” Martyn offered his hand out for a handshake. “I was also involved in the case involving Timmy and Dawn last summer, and the case involving four missing children being found in a burning church about seventeen years ago.”

“Weren’t you also with the group that trashed the archives about seven months ago?” Wels asked, taking his hand, and Martyn smiled, sheepishly.

“Perhaps. I hope it wasn’t too much of a mess, we really didn’t have time to pick up when we were trying to save Timmy.”

“Tell me about that,” Wels said. “What is Dawn, and why were they so obsessed with you guys?”

Jimmy and Martyn shared a look.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Detective Night?” Jimmy asked.

“I have no opinion on them,” Wels replied. “I’ve never seen anything to prove their existence, and most of the people who blame their crimes on the supernatural are lying. But I’ve also had that feeling of someone watching me whenever nothing is there, so they may exist.”

“I’m part of a group of ghost hunters,” Jimmy started to explain. “We have a service of, er, finding ghosts and removing them from where they’ve been haunting. About seven months ago, we encountered a ghost who called himself Tango Tek. And he politely asked us to help him figure out how he died, so that he might be able to rest.”

“Tango Tek… I remember a case involving him. He disappeared about twenty years ago,” Wels said.

“Seventeen years ago,” Martyn corrected. “On the exact same day that four kids were taken from their homes and dragged to a church by the cult known as Dawn.”

Wels leaned forwards in his seat. Martyn took this as his cue to continue.

“Tango was killed in our place that night,” Martyn continued. “And his body was removed from the premises before the police arrived to stop the fire. If you’ll recall the conversation you had with Officer Symmetry about our case, she spoke about how all four of us had seen eyes.”

“I do remember that,” Wels said. “How does this relate to Dawn?”

“Well, Dawn killed Tango. There is no question that he was ritualistically sacrificed by that cult,” Martyn explained. “Tango also made a deal with the ghost we saw that night, the one with the eyes. They were called ‘The Watcher’. They’re the one who removed any trace of Tango from the church before the police arrived- They used his body as a host until they were dealt with.”

Martyn handed Wels a flash drive. “I have footage of the Watcher here, in case you don’t believe me. As well as several other files that were relevant to the investigation last summer.”

Wels accepted the flash drive, and then motioned for Martyn and Jimmy to continue.

“Dawn was founded by a ghost like Tango, who had made a deal with the Watcher for power,” Jimmy said. “The Watcher took souls from the undead to get stronger, but this other ghost, the Boogeyman, decided to go after living people. So that they might get strong enough to destroy the Watcher and keep their soul.”

“And… These ghosts, what happened to them?” Wels asked.

“Well, after Timmy was kidnapped and nearly killed, Tango got his revenge on the Watcher and on his killer. I’m not sure where the Boogeyman is now, but they were captured and hidden somewhere so that they couldn’t hurt anyone else,” Martyn finished up.

“Interesting,” Wels said. “And- Do you know why Corey and Karen McKinnon killed their daughter, then? You two have both been targeted by Dawn, as was Tango Tek, according to your story.”

“It’s an incredibly stupid reason for a cult to pick someone to kill, but every single person Dawn has targeted has had blonde hair,” Martyn explained. “It was something about the color that was kind of like the sun. You’d have to ask BigB for more details about the cult’s history and their beliefs- I can give you his contact information if you want.”

“Please.” Wels nodded. “Any information on this cult is useful in saving lives.”

“We are aware,” Martyn said, scribbling something on a Post-It note and passing it over the desk to Wels. “I’m assuming you think a branch of Dawn is still active?”

“Considering we have a confession from the parents and a dead eight-year-old girl to find,” Wels replied, “Yes.”

----

The café was not busy. Joel found himself behind the counter with Gem and Scott, patiently waiting for anything to happen. There had been a decent amount of people in the morning, the regulars who came to them to get a cup to go and then went off to their jobs or something. But the afternoon was uncharacteristically quiet, as even the writer who hid away in the corner booth next to a window until their hot chocolate turned cold wasn’t there with their laptop. Gem and Pearl were the ones who knew what they were writing, some sort of fantasy story about the sun and moon being lovers. Joel wasn’t interested, but the writer often passionately updated them on how their story was going up at the counter.

“When do you think we’ll go on another ghost hunt?” Gem asked, out of the blue. “This is boring.”

“Grian and Mumbo are fighting,” Joel said. “It might be a while.”

“Are they breaking up?” Scott asked, in the way he always did when he was feeling particularly nosy.

“They’re not together,” Gem said. “Mumbo’s like, still a minor. I think. I don’t actually know when his birthday is, but he was seventeen last summer.”

Scott’s expression turned to disgust. “Pretend I didn’t say that. So, why are they fighting?”

“A ghost got into Mumbo’s computer and deleted his finals, and he went batshit and started looking to curse it so he could get rid of the ghost. And Grian went batshit and decided to go behind Mumbo’s back to try and stop him from hurting himself. Mumbo ended up with a cursed Ouija board without Grian knowing, we used it to talk to the ghost- Which is a whole other pile of drama, considering we only found out who he was when we used the Ouija board- and then Grian found out,” Joel summarized. He looked between Gem and Scott’s bewildered expressions. “It didn’t go well.”

“Yeesh,” Gem said, wincing in sympathy. “I see why they’re fighting.”

“I understood some of those words,” Scott said. “What about the other drama? Can you say anything about that?”

“You remember Tango?” Joel asked.

Scott nodded.

“The ghost in Mumbo’s computer is the guy who killed him and also kidnapped Jim last summer,” Joel said. “So there’s an extra layer as to why they’re not happy.”

“Jesus,” Scott replied, because he didn’t have anything else to say to something like that.

“Wow,” Gem said, raising her eyebrows. “Do you think they’ll find a way to exorcize that guy?”

“Lizzie told Mumbo to make it painful,” Joel said, and both Gem and Scott nodded in approval.

As they should. Both Joel and Lizzie were avid supporters of violence against people who made the mistake of hurting their friends.

“It sounds like things will calm down after the ghost is gone,” Gem said. “Is that when I can go ghost hunting with you guys again?”

“I don’t know,” Joel said. “Grian and Jim are the ones in charge of that. And neither of them are really…”

“I see,” Gem said. “Well, whenever they’re feeling better, I want to go on a ghost hunt again.”

“I’ll make sure they know that,” Joel assured her.

----

Mumbo was careful with removing the runes in the motherboard. Dr. SV was careful in removing the runes from his hard drive. Skizzleman was sitting on the floor, because he was banned from even attempting to help them.

Mumbo did not know why, but Dr. SV did, and he trusted Dr. SV’s judgment on matters like these.

The runes needed to be removed in a very specific order so that the ghost inside wouldn’t be hurt, and also so that the computer itself wouldn’t explode in their faces.

After Bdubs was let out, Mumbo could focus on repairs. He’d been promised his finals. He was going to turn in forty pages of work, word counts be damned. Grian was the one who was complaining about it in the first place, anyway. And what did he know? He just caught the ghosts. He wasn’t interested in the science behind them.

Mumbo took a deep breath. Getting angry was not going to help him get the ghost out of his computer, and removing the runes was incredibly delicate work. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

“I’m starting to feel kind of tingly,” Dr. SV commented, still staying focused on his work. 

“We’re getting close,” Mumbo replied, carefully removing another rune. “I think- We should be good after about two more here on the motherboard.”

“Should we get the trap ready?” Dr. SV asked.

“Yes. Set it to ‘Raiju’.”

“On it, bossman,” Skizzleman said, getting up from the floor and saluting Mumbo once again.

He and Dr. SV wheeled the trap closer to the table, flipping the correct switches for the ghost that was close to being freed.

Mumbo removed the last rune in his prediction, and, immediately, the motherboard shocked him with a burst of static electricity. That should have fried the CPU, but didn’t, as it seemed perfectly fine.

A presence hovered over the table and the three people around it, and, with a couple more sparks (that better not have destroyed anything important, or Mumbo was going to be very cross) finally appeared in its full form.

Both Dr. SV and Skizzleman hesitated as the ghost appeared. Mumbo also hesitated to say anything, because Bdubs’ appearance was awfully close to what he looked like in life.

Tango had been made of black fire, with no easily noticed facial features, aside from his eyes, two glowing orbs of light in what was otherwise a body of complete shadow.

Bdubs, on the other hand, had a distinct body. He had skin- Some bits were melted. Other bits had completely burned away, leaving only bones. Half of his face was gone, but he’d tied a red bandanna around his head in a makeshift eyepatch, so the only evidence of the damage was the way bits of his skull peeked out on the left side of his face. His left arm, as well, was only bones. And he was wearing pants that had holes in the knees, so Mumbo could see that his left leg had also been burned away until only bones were left. Bdubs’ jacket hung loosely around his frame, and he blinked as he examined his surroundings, narrowing his visible eye when he looked at Dr. SV and Skizzleman.

“You guys look kinda familiar,” he said, and they both flinched.

Bdubs frowned, even though the left side of his skull seemed to be stuck in a permanent grin. “Oh, come on, I’m not that scary!”

“You kinda are,” Skizzleman said, because he clearly didn’t care about his life.

“That’s rude! You’re being rude to me!”

“C- Calm down, please,” Mumbo said, because a spark of electricity had nearly hit one of the pieces of his PC on the table Bdubs was floating over.

Bdubs seemed to realize this.

“Aw, shoot, sorry. I managed to get your paper back, but- I didn’t mean to break anything.”

“Do you mind being, um, put somewhere else while I fix my computer?” Mumbo asked, trying his hardest to stay polite. He sincerely hoped his eye wasn’t twitching. “It’ll just be for a little while, so that, um. That doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Bdubs said, nodding. “I haven’t figured out how these sparks work yet. But- You are gonna help me figure out what I need to do, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Mumbo nodded frantically. “We’ll figure out what happened to you, and we’ll help you find who you need to apologize to.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Bdubs said. He turned over to face Dr. SV and Skizzleman. “Do whatever you’ve gotta do, then.”

Dr. SV didn’t say anything as he pushed the button that activated the trap.

Bdubs didn’t resist as he was sucked in, and nothing happened as the trap stopped, switching the light to the one that signaled that it did contain a ghost.

“Whoa,” Skizzleman said, poking a part of the trap that didn’t have any buttons on it. “How’d you figure out he was a Raiju without using your testing equipment?”

“Raijus affect electronics,” Mumbo explained, starting to put his PC back together. He’d need to redo the runes, but it should still function as an actual computer without them. The runes were a project for later. “He was stuck in my computer, and he managed to sabotage one of my ghost traps despite being stuck. The way he talked to us before deleting my finals was also odd, with all of the windows that popped up. So it was- A hunch that ended up being correct.”

“Okay,” Dr. SV said. “This makes sense. But- Is that trap really going to contain him? He’s broken one before, and that was when he was still inside of your extremely ghost-proof computer.”

Mumbo grimaced.

“I sure hope so. I don’t want to deal with him for any longer than I have to.”

“So- What will you do, then, if he does manage to get out?” Skizzleman asked.

“If the exorcism doesn’t work,” Mumbo said, thinking, “then the only option left is to do what he asked and help him figure out who he was when he was alive.”

Both Dr. SV and Skizzleman seemed troubled by the suggestion.

“I hope, for all of our sakes, that this doesn't go wrong,” Dr. SV said, sounding much older than he actually was.

Mumbo and Skizzleman definitely agreed with him.

Chapter Text

Lizzie was doing her homework in the café. This was not an uncommon occurrence, because she knew everyone who worked at the café, and the booth at the window that was next to the door had an outlet at a perfect spot for her to plug in her laptop. Lizzie was not the only student rushing to complete homework or finals in the café on this dreary, rainy evening, but she was certainly one of the more panicked ones.

Which had nothing to do with her homework, actually. She’d finished what she’d planned to do shortly after she’d arrived (once class was over) and then done the next week’s work after Joel had told her where Jimmy had gone that morning as he handed her one of her favorite drinks. He was in the back, doing what he normally did back there, and also covering for Jimmy.

Lizzie was very productive when she was stressed. This wasn’t a good thing. Even if her grades were better than they had any right to be when she consistently put things off and panic-finished them the night before they were due.

But now she didn’t need to worry about her homework for another week at least. However, she was definitely still worried about her brother. And she couldn’t do anything to keep herself from worrying about him- Jimmy wasn’t like homework. 

He’d said he wanted to stay out of it, ever since the group had uncovered the truth behind the identity of the ghost in Mumbo’s computer. And now he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter. At least he hadn’t gone alone, as Lizzie had received a message from Martyn a little while ago that said he was going to drop Jimmy off at the café after they’d gotten something to eat and taken some time to calm down. 

Which was only slightly reassuring. But until Jimmy was actually there, Lizzie would still be worried about him (She was going to be worried about him even after he showed up, but that wasn’t the point right now.). 

There weren’t many other people in the café at this hour, so Lizzie found it strange when someone slid into the seat across the booth from her. She looked up from her laptop screen and made eye contact with Pearl, who was definitely supposed to be working up at the counter, but apparently she was allowed to sit down for a bit because Grian had things covered and there were no customers waiting.

“You seem worried,” Pearl said, placing one of Lizzie’s custom drink orders in front of her. Lizzie hadn’t realized her first one was almost empty. “Talk to me.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said, accepting the drink, because she didn’t want to be rude. It was made exactly the way she liked it, so she was pretty sure Pearl had gotten Joel to make it for her before she sat down. It was a very thoughtful gesture, and Lizzie found herself smiling despite everything. She had such good people who cared about her. “I am stressed. This whole… Situation. It’s not good.”

“I wasn’t there to see any of the drama for myself,” Pearl said. She hadn’t been present for the cursed hunt, the Ouija board, or Grian’s fight with Mumbo, but Lizzie had seen it. She’d been there. “Grian’s been keeping me updated, though- Did Mumbo actually try to curse…”

“He did,” Lizzie confirmed.

“Damn,” Pearl said, glancing back at the counter, where Grian was playing a game on his phone and not paying attention to them. “I thought that he was just being a bit dramatic over the whole thing- He tends to do that when things are unexpected- But this time, I think he’s actually reacting appropriately. This isn’t something to be taken lightly, right?”

“Curses are nothing to play with like that. I’m not sure what the details are for- For Grian’s fight with Mumbo,” Lizzie said. “There’s more to it than just the ghost in the computer and the curses. I also… It’s not my business. I’m more worried about Jimmy. He got called to the police station today, since they apparently… Well, all Martyn told me was that the police asked for Jimmy to consult on his experiences with Dawn. Right after he learned that the ghost in Mumbo’s computer was… You know.”

“That’s entirely understandable,” Pearl said, because she had been there, seven months ago. She wasn’t a ghost hunter, so she didn’t know much about chasing ghosts or how to communicate with ghosts that have gotten stuck inside of ghost-proof computers, but she had been with Lizzie inside of the burning church, witnessing with her own eyes the death of a murderer and the ghost that had started it all. It was Pearl and Lizzie who had trapped the Boogeyman, in the chaos, and they had helped bury them so they would never return.

The front door to the café opened with a cheerful jingle, and Lizzie turned around, craning her neck so she might see who it was.

Martyn had said he was going to be bringing Jimmy here, after all, so Lizzie was expecting to see them.

But the person who entered was not Jimmy Solidarity.

Instead, Mumbo Jumbo was standing in the entryway, bundled up in a trench coat that made him look even more like a vampire than usual, and slightly damp, because he didn’t have an umbrella with him. He’d frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, because he was making direct eye contact with Grian, up at the counter.

Grian scowled at him, and then turned so he would leave- Walking into the kitchen or the storage room would get him away from the person he was currently fighting with, so it was a fairly reasonable way of getting away from conflict.

“Grian,” Mumbo said, apparently over his shock, and he walked directly up to the counter, coat flowing dramatically behind him as he did it. “I’m-”

“Drink prices are on the menu.” Grian cut him off, sharply. “If you want a pastry, the prices are in the display.”

“No, I’m not here for-”

“If you’re not buying anything, you can leave.”

“Grian-”

Mumbo took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Grian hissed, like something inhuman. “You made your choice. None of this could have been worth that stupid paper. I hope you’re happy.”

“Grian!” Mumbo shouted, much louder than he normally would speak, and making Grian stop in his tracks, startled. A couple of patrons looked up from their computers at the noise, watching the argument just like Lizzie was. “I got the ghost out of my computer!”

“What?” Grian asked, shocked.

“He’s out. I got my paper back,” Mumbo explained, slowly. “I thought Jimmy was supposed to be here tonight, so I was going to ask him to pass a message along to you, but- You’re here. So I’m telling you.”

“Jimmy wasn’t feeling well after yesterday,” Joel said, poking his head out of the door to the back. He’d clearly heard the argument and decided he should intervene. “What’s going on?”

“Mumbo’s here,” Grian said, still not happy at all about it, but he also wasn't fleeing to the kitchen. So… He was going to be hearing him out. Grian could still leave at any point, but he was staying for the moment. Lizzie didn’t think she would have to intervene again, but she prepared herself regardless. Pearl seemed to have a similar idea, as she was also closely watching her brother’s actions.

Joel frowned at Mumbo, who didn’t move from where he was standing at the counter. He stepped out so that he was next to Grian, and he crossed his arms, making himself look larger. More intimidating. 

“Alright, tell us why you’re here,” Joel said, sounding calm, even though he was absolutely threatening Mumbo. 

Mumbo wasn’t phased at all, despite the fact he was always slightly terrified. Lizzie and Pearl shared a glance. If Mumbo wasn’t intimidated, then he clearly had something important to say.

“I-”

The door jingled as it opened again, and, this time, Lizzie saw both Martyn and Jimmy coming inside, a bit more damp than Mumbo was, but just as stressed as she felt. Lizzie recognized the way Jimmy’s jaw was clenched too tightly, and in the way Martyn was carefully observing his surroundings as he came inside, a bit too suspicious of others to pretend he wasn’t anxious about their presence. The way he was standing behind Jimmy, too, trailing him like a protective shadow, was eerily familiar. Lizzie half-expected the air around him to turn cold.

“Oh, hi, Mumbo,” Jimmy said, giving him a weak wave, and completely oblivious to the fact the three people at the counter were all about two seconds away from starting a bar fight. Which was a little bit ridiculous, because this was a café. That didn’t mean much, but Lizzie didn’t particularly want her friends to start punching each other for being idiots. Jimmy’s presence had distracted them, though, and that was a good thing. “Grian. Thanks for covering for me, Joel.”

“Of course,” Joel said, relaxing and letting his arms back down to his sides. “Are you feeling better?”

“Not really,” Jimmy said, giving him a pained smile. “Thank you for asking, though.”

“We were talking to the police,” Martyn said, explaining where they’d been. He still seemed somewhat shifty, but now that the situation had somewhat deescalated, he could talk freely. “We… Don’t have good news. Sorry.”

“What kind of ‘not good’ is it?” Grian asked.

“The ‘An active branch of Dawn killed someone and you guys found the ghost again’ kind,” Martyn answered. 

“Oh,” Grian said. “That’s not good.”

“Is that- The child ghost that cursed Scar?” Mumbo asked. “The Moroi? Did Dawn kill her?”

“The one from Beige Hell, yes,” Jimmy confirmed. “Her parents confessed. They killed her. There’s probably more… More people like them. Still out there.”

“That ghost passed on,” Mumbo said. At Grian’s concerned stare, he added, “Peacefully. She wanted to go to sleep. I told her it was okay. And then she moved on.”

“So… No asking her about her parents, then,” Martyn said to himself. “And that means we have nothing else to add to that investigation.”

“Well,” Mumbo said. “Fuck. Do you all want to exorcize the guy who nearly killed Jimmy last year? It’ll probably help make you feel better about this.”

“Wh- Wait, what do you mean?” Grian asked. “What are you talking about, Mumbo?”

Mumbo blinked. “I tried to tell you, but you kept cutting me off. I got my finals back. And I got the ghost out of my computer and into a trap. He’s ready for an exorcism. I came here to ask if you wanted to join me.”

Mumbo rubbed at the back of his head, awkwardly looking away as he collected his thoughts.

“And- I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t think about how this affected everyone else. And… I don’t like arguing with you, Grian. You’re my friend. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”

Grian looked at Joel. Joel raised an eyebrow at him. They seemed to come to an agreement.

Grian proceeded to exit the area behind the counter and march directly up to Mumbo.

And then he was pulling Mumbo into a tight hug, absolutely squeezing the life out of his tall friend. Lizzie found herself ‘awww’-ing at the display, and Pearl had joined her. The patrons who had been watching the argument had gone back to whatever they were doing beforehand, no longer interested now that the drama had been resolved.

“I didn’t like arguing with you, either. Just don't ignore us again,” Grian said, into Mumbo’s coat, so it was muffled. “I would love to exorcize that ghost with you.”

“Count us in as well,” Martyn said, hiding his camera behind his back. Lizzie hadn’t seen him taking a picture of the hug, but Jimmy did, judging by his grin. Lizzie would have to ask for a copy so she could put it on the wall of Joel’s van. And so she could frame it and keep it in her apartment. “Exploding that ghost would certainly make this day better.”

“We’re coming, too,” Lizzie said, gesturing between herself, Joel, and Pearl. “Obviously.”

“That’s wonderful.” Mumbo grinned. “When is the best time for everyone? It’s not a good idea to do this in the rain, since my equipment and the sigils for the exorcism would be messed up by the water, but- I want to make sure that he’s gone. The fireworks are not going to be small.”

“As soon as conditions are right,” Jimmy said, immediately. “We can close the café for something like this.”

“I’ll gladly skip class to be there,” Lizzie added. “I did all of my homework for the next week while I was waiting for Jimmy.”

“Same,” Pearl said. “I’m sure Grian can get away from the architecture teacher, too.”

“Scar can give me his notes,” Grian agreed. “Our finals aren’t due for a few more weeks, anyway.”

“I’ll send all of you a message when conditions are good, then,” Mumbo decided. “I think Dr. SV, Skizzleman, and Etho will want to be there, too. They deserve closure just as much as we do.”

“Can we have a party afterwards?” Lizzie asked. “Since, well, everything will be dealt with? You got your report back, that ghost will be out of our lives, and you and Grian aren’t fighting anymore. I think this calls for Exorcism Cake, honestly.”

“That’s a great idea!” Pearl cheered, because she was a gremlin who would never deny free food. “What’s an Exorcism Cake?”

“A secret.” Lizzie shrugged, because she wasn’t entirely sure, herself. She could probably consult Gem for some baking tips. It’d be a girl’s night, complete with plots for murder!

“I think Exorcism Cake is a great idea,” Jimmy said, and that sealed the deal. The rest of the group shared a look, and it was decided that there would be cake. Jimmy was the one who nearly got murdered by this ghost. He would get cake if he asked for it.

“How does everyone feel about a sleepover at mine?” Joel suggested. “It’ll be like last summer, only better, because it’ll be cold enough for me to bring out the blankets.”

This was a very clever suggestion, actually. Jimmy had clearly had a rough day, and so had everyone else in their group. Joel knew it probably wasn’t a great idea to leave Jimmy by himself (This was why Martyn had been with him all day, so he could keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe), and Grian’s friendship with Mumbo was freshly repaired. A sleepover was a perfect opportunity to keep a close eye on all of them, and Joel was the one who had enough space to host everyone, especially now that he actually had a bed in his guest bedroom (This was not the case for a while, but was quickly fixed after he and Lizzie had started going out and she started spending nights at his place. He decided she shouldn’t have to crash on his couch, and so he got a second bed.). 

Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure if her boyfriend knew how clever this was, or if he was acting on his instincts. Either way, she was very pleased that everyone had agreed a sleepover was a good idea, and that they would meet up at his house later that evening, once the café closed and they were free. 

Lizzie closed her laptop, finally relaxed enough to simply enjoy the company of the people around her.

Things were getting better.

Nothing was back to normal yet, and the situation she and her friends were in wasn’t exactly good, but it was getting better.

And, honestly? Right now, that was the most important thing in the world.

Chapter Text

It took two days for the weather to clear up and for messages to be passed around to all of those who had been involved with the investigation seven months ago. The Southlands Café was closed, as the majority of the people who worked there suddenly had business out of town, and there were a few completely unrelated absences in class at Tanglewood’s university. The electronics professor, who hadn’t called out sick in any of his years of teaching unless it was a legitimately dire emergency, had asked the board for a day off. They had given it to him, and then regretted that decision as soon as his good friend Zedaph came in to substitute for him while he was gone. (Zedaph had heard of where Dr. SV was going. He wasn’t interested in following him, even though he was also involved in the investigation that was finally coming to a close.)

And, just outside of town, in an empty field where a forest and church once stood, a group of friends all prepared themselves for a massive explosion.

Mumbo was creating a very impressive salt circle, with complicated runes in it, and assisted by Grian, who wasn’t saying much as he passed Mumbo the black salts every time Mumbo ran out, and setting the empty containers outside of the circle where Pearl was collecting them without disturbing the runes. She was very passionate about not littering.

The mood from everyone else who had gathered here was somber, as they watched the preparations. 

Mumbo had decided this location, one that held a lot of history for this group, was the perfect place to end things. The others had agreed. It was secluded, quiet, and far enough away from civilization that they could all get away before the police arrived. 

Someone had reported the first fire that had started here. They didn’t call for the second one, but that was because the police had already arrived by the time the fire would have been noticed. It was best for the group to be done before they felt it necessary to call a third time. Considering Mumbo had said the fireworks were going to be massive, the group had already worked out an escape plan for when that inevitably happened.

“Do you think the ghost will recognize this place?” Lizzie asked Etho, because Etho had finally been told what was happening, and he had come to watch what was essentially an execution. He hadn’t been present until now, and he watched the clearing with a distinct level of caution. Lizzie noticed Etho was wearing the same jacket he’d given to Jimmy to stop the bleeding on his neck when he was injured seven months ago. She didn't know if he owned another jacket or not. She might have to get him a new jacket as thanks for helping her brother (Lizzie had already thanked Etho for risking his life to help Jimmy. She hadn’t gotten him a gift or anything, but he knew she was grateful.). Maybe he would appreciate a jacket that had one of the ninjas from that show he liked on it. 

“He might,” Etho said, because out of everyone present, he was the one who had known Bdubs the best. He also had some incredibly complicated feelings about the whole thing, though he didn’t voice them. Lizzie hoped this send-off would help him as much as it would help her brother. “I don’t think it’ll matter very much, though. It looks like Mumbo is going all-out.”

Lizzie looked back towards the clearing where a church used to be, and towards the massive circle of black salt that couldn’t have been cheap. The team usually used pink salt in their investigations, because it was reliable and black salt was far more corrosive towards the undead (And since Mumbo needed the ghosts for his projects in one piece, the group usually used pink salt. To see him using black salt now was a testament to how determined Mumbo was to getting rid of this ghost, once and for all). Mumbo was more focused than she’d seen him in the past few days, entirely oblivious to the world around him as he made intricate symbols out of the salt next to the patchy grass. Grian was quietly talking, but Mumbo either couldn't hear him or he wasn't paying enough attention to properly react to what Grian was saying.

“I’m giving Mumbo extra credit, even if this goes wrong somehow,” Dr. SV said, with Skizzleman standing cautiously beside him. Dr. SV had positioned himself so he was standing next to Etho, and Skizzleman was standing between them, like some sort of bodyguard. Funnily enough, it seemed like he was also protecting Lizzie, as she was standing near their group. “I don’t want it to go wrong, obviously, but I also don’t want Mumbo to worry about his grade.”

“You’re too soft on him,” Etho said, though it was clear he didn’t mean it.

“Dippledop hasn't ever trusted easily,” Skizzleman commented. “If he’s being soft, it’s because he thinks Mumbo deserves it.”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” Lizzie agreed, looking over to where Jimmy was having a quiet conversation with Joel, Gem, and Martyn. Gem had a cooler with her, so they were probably discussing picnic plans. Lizzie had helped her make the cake inside of that cooler, after all. (It turned out Exorcism Cake was in fact red velvet cake, complete with buttercream icing, but Gem had also made a berry sauce to go with it. It looked somewhat like blood, but darker.) Once this was over, the group was going to a park near the city, so they could cut the cake and eat it there. “If anything does happen, I’ll keep them safe.”

“Is your brother alright?” Etho asked.

“He’ll be okay once this is over,” Lizzie answered. “He’s stronger than he thinks. And he’s not alone. We’ve all got his back.”

“That’s true,” Skizzleman said. “I don't think we'll ever be able to thank you guys enough for helping us learn the truth of what happened to Tango. And for helping us again, with Bdubs. If you need anything from us, we've got your backs, too.”

“That’s good,” Lizzie said, because she didn’t have much else to say to that. “I appreciate it.”

“I think they’re done,” Dr. SV said, bringing their attention back to Mumbo. He was checking the circle, instead of adding details to it, and he eventually nodded, satisfied.

Martyn and Joel carried the ghost trap towards him, carefully avoiding stepping in the salt, and they set the trap down in the center of the circle. Gem stepped aside, but she stayed near Jimmy and her cooler. Jimmy watched the movement of his friends as things went into their proper places with a somewhat blank expression. Pearl, done with carrying empty containers, stood next to the two of them, before pulling out her phone and taking a video. 

“You’re right,” Lizzie said. She wasn’t visibly excited to watch this, but she’d been vengeful for a long time. Once this was over, things would go back to normal. Her brother would no longer be tormented by his past. 

Grian, Joel, and Martyn all left the circle, carefully stepping around the salt and joining the rest of the group outside of it. 

It was only Mumbo and the ghost trap on the inside now.

Lizzie watched as Mumbo started pacing, muttering as he did it. He circled the ghost trap, and she shivered as the breeze suddenly picked up. It was still February, so everyone was wearing jackets appropriate for the weather. Which was warmer than it usually was in February, so the sudden chill in the air seemed odd. Foreign.

Whatever Mumbo was doing was doing this, but Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure what that was. No one had actually seen him do an exorcism before today (aside from his teachers, maybe) because they’d all agreed it was better to not know what was happening.

There had been a reason Tango was scared of Mumbo, though.

Seeing Mumbo now, taking this as seriously as he possibly could, Lizzie finally understood why that was.

And then the circle of black salt suddenly turned orange. Mumbo flipped the switch on the ghost trap. Lightning sparked from the device, but Mumbo kept doing his muttering, stepping out of the way as the orange suddenly turned white with heat.

There was a blast of hot air and wind, and Lizzie watched as the place where the ghost trap- Now open, since Mumbo had flipped the switch- burst into flame.

Mumbo sprinted out of the way when the rest of the circle joined it, and the flames shot up, obscuring the group’s view of the trap and towering over them.

Mumbo had said the explosion would be big. Lizzie had requested that he made this exorcism as painful as possible. He’d used black salt, which corroded ghosts to the point they could barely be tested on, and he’d set it on fire. This… This execution was the equivalent of death via burning acid.

As Lizzie watched the fires in awe, she felt it was appropriate.

She wasn’t sure the others felt the same, as there were more than a few fearful looks in Mumbo’s direction (Gem, in particular, who was really only here because she and Lizzie had made cake, looked slightly terrified. She hadn’t known what the group was truly capable of until now, even if she had come on multiple ghost hunts with them. Jimmy also seemed somewhat faint, as he was pressing a hand into his neck, where the scar Bdubs had given him was.), but Lizzie couldn’t find it within herself to feel remorseful for it. She managed to make eye contact with Mumbo, and they shared a look. She gave him an approving nod, and he blinked and looked back at the fires.

“Wow,” Etho commented, finally breaking the silence. Other than his raised eyebrows, his expression was carefully blank. “I guess that’s that, then.”

“I trust Mumbo,” Lizzie said.

“Do you think the police have been called yet?” Dr. SV asked.

“We’ve got some time before they get here,” Skizz replied.

“Why don’t we go over to join the others,” Lizzie suggested, leading the way towards the rest of the group. “We’ll all figure out where we go from here.”

“Okie-doke,” Skizz said, happily following along. Etho and Dr. SV trailed behind him, lost in thought.

The flames went down. The salt was gone, burned completely away, and leaving scars in the earth and patchy grass. The ghost trap was still smoking.

Lizzie decided that was a good sign.

Mumbo peeled off from the group as soon as the flames went down, so he could investigate the damage. Perhaps he was trying to see if he could salvage the ghost trap. He didn’t have an infinite supply, after all, and this exorcism had been particularly destructive.

Lizzie paid him no mind as she approached her brother and her friends. They had to discuss their plans for the cake! 

Lizzie had priorities, okay?

----

“It didn’t work.”

Mumbo was quiet as he said this, intensely staring at the light on the ghost trap that only stayed on whenever there was a ghost inside of it. The ghost trap was still smoking. By all means, there shouldn’t be a ghost in there. He didn’t blink as he continued to stare at the light, like it would go away if he dared to move an inch. Mumbo was the only one who went back inside of the circle, and Grian, who was the closest to him, startled as he heard what Mumbo had to say.

“It didn’t work,” Mumbo repeated. 

What had gone wrong? He’d set this up perfectly, and there had been an explosion. Just like there should be. 

So why was the ghost light still on?

“Mumbo?” Grian’s voice was quiet, too, and he approached his roommate with caution.

Which made sense, considering the swirling emotions under Mumbo’s skin. Rage, fear, frustration, and despair all whirled in his stomach, weighing him down and rooting him to the spot. Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure what his expression looked like. Judging from Grian’s reaction, it wasn’t pretty.

The light flickered. Mumbo held his breath.

And then the trap burst open.

“Hey!” said Bdubs, who was still here, despite the fact Mumbo was sure he’d exorcized him. “What the heck! That hurt!”

All of the movement outside of the circle immediately halted. 

“I’ve done this dozens of times,” Mumbo said, still not quite sure what he was feeling or what he should or should not say. The fact the ghost had survived the exorcism was unprecedented. “You shouldn’t still be here. You should be… Beyond. Wherever ghosts go when they move on from the world of the living.”

“I nearly exploded!” Bdubs shouted, sounding surprisingly betrayed. “That’s not cool!”

“Maybe you deserved it,” Grian muttered, though he wasn’t as quiet as he should have been, as Bdubs’ visible eye started twitching as he definitely heard the comment.

“How would you know if I deserved it?!” Bdubs demanded. “I haven’t done anything to you!”

It was here that something flashed in Grian’s eyes, and all of the frustrations he’d been keeping to himself ever since a Banshee had screamed him awake in the early hours of the morning after a ghost hunt came pouring out. The dam had broken, and Grian was done pretending to be fine.

“You tried to kill my best friend!” 

Bdubs was taken aback, but he obviously had no idea what Grian was talking about. Ever since they’d realized he was present, Bdubs had never tried to hunt anyone. Confused, he yelled back, “I just deleted some stuff on his computer! And I already fixed that!”

“What the f- No! When you were still alive! You nearly stabbed Jimmy to death!” Grian pointed an accusing finger at him. “You left Tango here to die! We spent all summer hunting you down for his sake! You don’t get to come back and pretend that nothing happened!”

Oh. Well, the cat was out of the bag. This was less than ideal, but Mumbo was too busy panicking to figure out a way to stop it from getting worse. Especially because of the absolutely bewildered expression on the half of Bdubs’ face that still had skin and muscle on it.

“What are you talking about?” Bdubs wailed. No one had been openly hostile to him since Mumbo had threatened his computer with a faucet. Until now. Grian’s rage was a spectacular thing to witness, but it came with a cost.

“You-”

“Grian,” Mumbo hissed, finally acting to try and stop him. “Sit down.”

“But- He-!”

Mumbo placed both of his hands on Grian’s shoulders, grounding him and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“Grian, I couldn’t exorcize him. We need a new plan, and you’re-”

  Mumbo took a deep breath.

“You’re being careless.”

“Am I?!” Grian asked, shoving Mumbo’s hands away. “Weren’t you also-”

“This is not the time-”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?!” Bdubs demanded.

“No,” Grian snapped, just as Mumbo hissed, “Go back in the box.”

“Oh.” Bdubs wilted. “Okay.”

He returned to the smoking ghost trap without any further complaints. It sparked, once, when he made contact with it, but it still seemed to work.

Mumbo’s palm hit his forehead.

“I’m a bloody spoon, of course he could survive if he was inside of something that ran on bloody electricity!”

“What happened?” Dr. SV asked, finally approaching the two of them, and looking between Mumbo and the ghost trap, confused. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Mumbo declared, digging his hands into his scalp and tugging on his hair. “I completely blew our only chance of fixing this!”

“I’m sure it’s not-”

“Grian spilled everything that happened last summer! Bdubs knows we’re not trying to help him anymore!” 

“You messed this up first, Mumbo!” Grian shouted. “If we hadn’t been so worried about you trying to kill yourself with cursed items, maybe we could have come up with a better plan sooner!”

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“You were! You have no regard for safety!”

“Calm down,” Etho commanded, icily. 

Both Grian and Mumbo froze. They’d been arguing in front of everyone, so the others had heard everything they said. And Etho had every right to be angry with Mumbo- Mumbo had promised that he could deal with Bdubs, and he’d failed to deliver. Mumbo backed away, making eye contact with the ground. He wasn’t sure if he could look any of his friends in the eye now.

“We need to get out of here before the police arrive,” Skizz added, from the sidelines. “You can argue later, but nothing’s gonna get solved if you’re in a jail cell facing arson charges.”

Grian shuffled next to him, and then walked away from Mumbo without another word, joining their friends outside of the intricately burned scar in the earth. He didn’t look back at any point.

“Come on,” Dr. SV said, gently putting a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder and pushing him in the direction of the cars the group had taken to this location. “We can figure this out. No one’s hurt.”

“I ruined everything,” Mumbo mumbled.

“You did everything you could to fix this,” Dr. SV said. “It might not have worked this time, but you can always try again.”

He couldn’t.

Dr. SV didn’t understand.

Bdubs had survived an explosion like this, which was designed to completely disintegrate him. Now that he knew the group wasn’t trying to help him anymore, and that staying in the ghost trap would keep him alive even in the most extreme of exorcisms, it would be impossible to convince him to come out again.

If he didn’t leave the box, then he wouldn’t be exorcized. 

Bdubs wasn’t going to go along with their schemes any longer. 

The group was well and truly fucked.

Chapter Text

“There are two main problems we have to deal with now.” Martyn gestured vaguely towards his whiteboard, which was covered with scribbles and chicken-scratch. Next to him, Gem sadly adjusted the container of cupcakes she'd brought with her, all of them untouched and uneaten, despite how appetizing they might have been earlier that afternoon.

The group was at a picnic table at a park near the outskirts of town, far enough away from the place they’d previously gathered to avoid being questioned by the police. Mumbo wasn’t entirely sure why Martyn had a whiteboard with him, but he didn’t ask. Considering how useful it was in keeping track of his thoughts, it was obviously an important part of Martyn's investigative process. 

“Our first problem is Dawn,” Martyn explained. “I haven’t made any progress into my investigation on their other branch, but we know they’ve been doing the same human-sacrificey stuff that we got rid of last year. We also already know that four of us fit the criteria for being one of those sacrifices.”

“So, what do we do about that?” Etho asked, casually, leaning further over the table so Martyn might see him around the others. “Do we need to get you guys some disguises or something?”

“I can dye your hair,” Lizzie offered, since she was sitting across from him. “I do mine. And Jimmy’s. You don’t have to go pink like him or purple like me, though. I can do natural colors, too.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Other than that, we need a buddy system,” Martyn continued, scribbling something else down on his whiteboard. “No one who’s been targeted before should go off on their own until we’re absolutely certain that this other branch of Dawn is gone.”

“We can do that,” Grian said, from the other side of Dr. SV and Skizzleman, so Mumbo couldn't see him. “We can have one of those location sharing apps on all of our phones, too.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” Martyn continued. “I’m not sure what else we can do until we get another break in the case. The Watcher’s not gonna deliver evidence to my doorstep again, so I’ll need to figure this out myself.”

Dr. SV seemed hesitant, but he raised his hand, so he could make a suggestion.

“Is it possible that Bdubs might have some information about Dawn? He was a member, after all.”

Martyn winced, glancing between Grian and Mumbo, almost too quickly to be noticed. 

“We’re not asking Bdubs,” Martyn decided, and that was the end of that discussion. 

“So what’s the second problem?” Gem asked. She was starting to understand what was going on, and she was involved now. At some point, she should get filled in on the details of what happened last summer, but that wasn't as important as figuring things out in the present.

“Well… Bdubs,” Martyn answered her, gesturing to the slightly-melted ghost trap they’d left on the grass far enough away from the picnic table so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “He survived the exorcism. Which, if I understand correctly, was because he stayed in the ghost trap?”

Mumbo felt eyes turn in his direction and he shifted in place on the bench, uncomfortable.

“Bdubs is a Raiju,” Mumbo said, quietly. “His power comes from electricity. If he’d been any other type of ghost, that explosion would have completely obliterated him.”

“Is there still a way to get rid of him?” Martyn asked.

“Well…” Mumbo already hated the words that were coming out of his mouth next. “Certain cursed items might do it.”

“No,” Grian said, not even looking at him.

And that was all that needed to be said about the subject.

“Then your only option is helping him learn what his past was so he can move on,” Jimmy said, finally speaking up from his place next to Lizzie. “Grian already talked about what happened last summer. You might as well tell him the rest.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Grian said to Jimmy, quietly. “I was angry.”

“I know,” Jimmy replied, somewhat curtly. He wasn't any happier about this than Grian was. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“Is that still an option, Mumbo?” Martyn asked.

“It’s unlikely Bdubs will think I have any further interest in helping him, when my first attempt nearly disintegrated him,” Mumbo said, flatly. “In fact, he may try to kill me for it.”

“Okay… Well, I’ll get back to that,” Martyn said, pulling a small notecard out of his jacket pocket, scribbling something on it, and then passing it to Mumbo.

There was a phone number written on the paper. And a note that said, ‘Update me?’.

“Moving on again,” Martyn said, thoroughly distracting the group from the fact he’d just given his phone number to Mumbo for no real reason. “We need to keep these two problems from combining into one much bigger problem. We cannot let Dawn know what we do about the Watcher or the Boogeyman. And we can’t let Bdubs go back to Dawn. That is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“So… How does Mumbo get Bdubs to learn his past without telling him about Dawn?” Pearl asked. She’d been taking notes, too, and she looked up from her phone towards the rest of the group. She blinked. “I mean, we don’t know much about him other than the attempted murder last year. And that he left Tango to the wolves before that.”

“Do you have any ideas, Mumbo?” Dr. SV asked. “We can work on them in the lab, if you’d like.”

“No,” Mumbo answered. “I can keep him contained, and that’s about it.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but I don’t want to be part of this,” Jimmy announced, standing up. “Lizzie, can we go home?”

“Yes, let’s go. Text us if you need anything- My offer for hair dying is still on the table, you know,” Lizzie said. She paused. “Actually, just text me. I'll still help out with the investigation, but Jimmy won't be involved.”

“I suppose I'll ask if I can pull off black hair,” Martyn said to himself, mostly, but Mumbo could still hear him. “Phil got to have an emo phase in his teens, so I guess it's my turn now.”

Lizzie choked on air, apparently also having heard Martyn's comment about his identical twin. “Yeah- Yeah, I can dye yours black. Do you also need jewelry to add to the look, or…”

“Nah.” Martyn stopped for a second, thinking. “Though considering we’re identical, and I’ve previously been a target, it’d be a good idea to warn him of what’s coming. I’ll take care of that, though, so you don't have to worry about it.”

“Okay. Just let me know,” Lizzie said, and then she and Jimmy left the park and drove away.

After a moment, Grian spoke up.

“Is there anything else we can actually do today, Martyn?”

Martyn looked at his whiteboard. And then he looked over at the ghost trap.

He shook his head. “I don’t have any other ideas. I’ll let you know if I figure anything else out, though.”

“Great,” Grian said. “Can you drop me off at Scar’s?”

Mumbo winced. Grian wasn’t going back home, and it was Mumbo’s fault. He’d failed to do what he’d promised, and now Grian was leaving. Grian had every right to be angry at him, so Mumbo didn’t say anything. 

“Sure,” Martyn chirped, either unaware of this conflict (unlikely, the man was an investigator and excelled at noticing details) or aware but pretending that everything was fine. “I’ve got space in my car.” 

“Thank you,” Grian said, standing up.

He and Martyn left the park together, and Mumbo didn’t watch them, but he heard the start of an engine and Martyn’s car driving away.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until there’s an actual plan,” Skizzleman said, to Etho and Dr. SV, but Mumbo still heard him. “I’m not happy about this, but if we’re needed again, I’m not backing down.”

“Says you,” Dr. SV said. “Etho, are you alright?”

“I thought I made my peace when I confronted him,” Etho said, quietly. He hunched further into his jacket- The same one Mumbo had seen being used to absorb Jimmy’s blood as Etho helped him get out of that church- and he didn’t look up at his friends. “But he’s back, and, according to the others, his reasoning is… Guilt. He feels guilt for what he did, and it made him stay.”

“Do you think the person he’s looking for- The one he wants to apologize to, I mean- is you, Etho?” Skizzleman suggested.

“I think he needs to apologize to multiple people,” Etho answered him. “I won’t deny that I’m likely one of them. But he really should be apologizing to Jimmy for what he did. And… He owes one to Tango, too.”

The three of them fell silent after that. 

Mumbo supposed that made sense. Bdubs had been killed by Tango, because Tango had sought revenge. Being confronted like that wasn’t something that didn’t leave a person unaffected, even if that person had the capacity to leave a close friend to die a horrible death. 

But Tango wasn’t here.

He moved on, seven months ago.

If he was the person Bdubs was looking for, then there was no way for Bdubs to apologize to him, and that meant Bdubs was stuck.  

“We’ll figure it out,” Skizzleman eventually broke the silence, gently. “These guys managed to get closure on what happened to Tango when no one else was able to. They can do it again.”

“I may not understand the technicalities of it all, but I can confirm none of us are going to give up,” Joel, who hadn’t really been contributing to the conversation while ideas were being tossed around, finally said something. Next to him on the bench, Pearl nodded along, agreeing with what he had to say. “Whatever happens, I’ve got their backs.”

“You have a compelling argument,” Dr. SV said. “You guys have our support, too.”

He patted Mumbo on the shoulder, finally bringing him into the conversation. Mumbo nearly flinched, because he really hadn’t expected it.

“The lab space is open whenever you need it,” Dr. SV informed him.

Mumbo really didn’t think it was a good idea to bring Bdubs back there. Using that space was asking for more trouble- Far more trouble than it was worth. 

He finally met Joel and Pearl’s eyes, though, since he was now looking up from the table. 

Pearl regarded him with something like understanding. She wasn’t angry at him like Grian was, as she didn’t know what they were fighting about. She wasn’t disappointed, though she honestly should have been. 

But Joel was aware of everything that had transpired over the past weeks. Whether that was because Grian had told him, or through his own observations, Joel knew the details behind why Grian and Mumbo weren't speaking again. Hell, just a few days ago, Joel had threatened Mumbo when he'd come to the café to inform the group that he was ready to perform the exorcism. Joel’s stance was clear- He was on Grian’s side in this, and so the withering glare directed towards Mumbo was not a surprise, though it still hurt. 

“Don't do anything stupid,” Joel said to him. And then he left, too, without another word.

Mumbo wished he could say for sure that he'd follow that advice.

----

“Your friends are mad at you.”

The ghost’s voice- clipped, and far more curt than it had been previously- came from behind Mumbo, and Mumbo didn’t jump. He’d been expecting this, and, honestly, he was angry, too. Not just at Bdubs, but at Grian- And maybe the others. Just a bit. But Bdubs shouldn't have his nose in Mumbo’s business. He shouldn't be comfortable after shoving himself into Mumbo’s life like this. 

“Like you’d care,” Mumbo said, giving Bdubs a sideways glance. He didn't have the energy to argue again today. “Go back in the ghost trap.”

“You can’t make me,” Bdubs replied, crossing his arms over his chest. His skeletal fingers tapped impatiently on his upper arm. For being so obviously agitated, Bdubs was demonstrating impressive control over his words. “Especially now that I know you’ve been hiding things from me about my past.”

“Even if I did know what you were like in life,” Mumbo said, turning to face him fully, “Why would I tell you?”

He had no intention of telling Bdubs anything. Everything he’d been dealing with for the past couple of weeks was his fault.

Why, out of all the places for Bdubs’ ghost to be stuck, did he end up in Mumbo’s computer? 

Bdubs considered his words. He didn’t seem too concerned about the threats, since the only time Mumbo had tried to get rid of him, he’d failed. 

“Well, you have the answers to my questions. And I can make your life even worse than it already is. It’d be easier for everybody if you just told me what I wanted to know.”

“Absolutely not,” Mumbo said, without a second of hesitation. He may be angry with Grian, but there was no way in hell he was going to betray his friends’ trust. He’d already failed them once. He wouldn't fail them again. He couldn’t fail again.

Telling Bdubs about his past meant telling him about Dawn.

Martyn had made it very clear that it was an incredibly bad idea to let them be connected again.

So Mumbo was left with no real ideas for how to fix this, only instructions to keep the situation from getting worse and escalating further out of his control.

Bdubs shrugged, irritably pleased with this turn of events. It made Mumbo want to hit him with his van, however useless it might be to try. “Suit yourself.”

“I’ll exorcize you,” Mumbo hissed, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Don’t try anything, or it’ll hurt even more than before.”

A spark of electricity flew from Bdubs’ bony finger as he jabbed back, mocking him.

“I don’t think I believe you,” Bdubs said, far too content with this turn of events. He looked down at Mumbo, from where he’d been floating, and then vanished, retreating back into the ghost trap without saying anything else.

Mumbo pulled his hand down his face, and was finally left alone to process everything. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling of his room, lost in thought.

Bdubs could leave at any point. He couldn’t be destroyed, as long as he had a place he could take shelter. In this modern era, where electricity was everywhere, Bdubs was not short on options for hiding spaces. In fact, the way he was sticking to Mumbo now was concerning, considering Bdubs was under no obligation to actually stay here. He could leave at any point, and there was nothing Mumbo could do about it, even if he wanted to.

There was really only one reason why Bdubs hadn’t run off to start his own investigation, and that was because Mumbo had answers for him.

Sticking around Mumbo was a risk Bdubs was apparently willing to take. 

Mumbo considered this.

He would also need to take risks, then, if he wanted to finally be rid of Bdubs. Nothing good would come out of it if Bdubs stayed with him and tried to learn about his involvement with Mumbo’s friends. This wasn’t like last summer, with Jimmy and Tango teaming up to confront the past and discovering a conspiracy. Tango hadn’t hurt anyone on purpose, and Jimmy still spoke fondly of him whenever he was brought up in conversation. 

Mumbo, in the present, could not think of a single nice thing to say about the ghost of the murderer in the room with him. From the sound of things, Bdubs was planning on tormenting him until he got his answers. 

“I can make your life even worse than it already is.” 

Those weren't the words of someone who was giving up. Mumbo dreaded what Bdubs could have in store for him- When he'd still been alive, Bdubs had led Tango to his death, and only seven months ago he'd almost made Jimmy meet the same fate. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he wanted Mumbo dead, but what sort of person could perform such cruel acts without batting an eye? What would someone like that do to someone they wanted alive?

Mumbo rubbed his eyes. It was far too late to be making rash decisions like this, but he’d been running on far too little sleep over the past few weeks anyway, so it didn’t really make a difference. 

Wondering if he was in danger wouldn't get him anywhere. Mumbo needed to be alive if Bdubs wanted answers, so Mumbo was fairly confident that his life was not at stake.

His friends, on the other hand…

Thinking about what could happen to them if things went wrong again, Mumbo eventually decided on the following:

1. Bdubs will never be told about Dawn or his past, no matter what he does in an attempt to convince Mumbo otherwise. It was too dangerous to let him learn what he’d done. Bdubs had chosen to attach himself to Mumbo, who did not fit the criteria to be a target of Dawn. This was lucky. Mumbo hadn't been inside of the church when Bdubs died, and since he wasn't going to be a target, Bdubs’ continued presence in Mumbo’s life wasn't as much of a disaster as it could have been. (If Bdubs had stuck himself to Grian or Jimmy, they'd be singing a far different tune. There would be a much higher risk of the past being discovered. Thankfully, since Bdubs had chosen Mumbo, it was unlikely that he'd remember anything important.) 

2. Bdubs needed to be moved to a location without any electricity and exorcized properly. The safe options for this went out of the window as soon as it was made clear that the ghost trap was protecting Bdubs just as much as it was containing him. Mumbo would need to ensure the circle he created next included the runes for containment. Yes, this may backfire horribly, but it had a far higher chance of working than if he attempted to exorcize Bdubs while he was still in a ghost trap

3. If the exorcism didn’t work again, Mumbo would have to take much more drastic measures to be rid of this pest. Bdubs wasn’t aware of curses. That argument had been resolved before he’d escaped being exorcized, and no one had brought them up again when he was nearby, because it was still a sensitive topic. If this next attempt at an exorcism didn’t work, then Mumbo would have no other options. This was a last resort. And it was something he was never going to tell anyone about. Especially Grian. 

So Mumbo had… Well, it was the bare-bones basic outline of a plan. But considering he had absolutely nothing before now, it was a good start. He'd need to change it, of course, because Bdubs definitely wasn't going to just hold still and let Mumbo exorcize him, but Mumbo would cross that bridge once he got to it. Or he'd burn that bridge before he even got there, and he'd be back at square one. In which case, he'd need to find a cursed item on his own.

Mumbo decided that he should go to bed and sleep on it. Maybe he’d be able to come up with something more substantial after he got some rest. Maybe he'd realize his plan was awful, and he could rethink it.

Before Mumbo rested, though, he carefully forced the other ghosts in his collection to stay put. Even if the mechanisms in their traps suddenly allowed them to leave, they knew better than to purposefully disturb him. Bdubs was the only exception he'd encountered when it came to his ghost traps, and so Mumbo was confident in his security.

Bdubs had been the one to let out the banshee that woke up Grian, after all, and he'd sworn to cause Mumbo problems as well.

In telling the other ghosts (including the banshee) to stay put, Mumbo was preventing Bdubs from using that same tactic on him. 

As Mumbo got undressed, the piece of paper Martyn had given him when the group was discussing what to do after the exorcism failed fell out of his pocket and slowly drifted to the floor.

Martyn had told Mumbo to keep him updated. Grian and the others were perfectly content in letting Mumbo deal with this himself (Mumbo didn’t blame them, since they were all victims in this- More than he was, anyway. Mumbo also had a reliable track record in getting rid of the ghosts they delivered to him, so his friends were obviously leaving this in his hands despite his initial failure.), but Martyn had specifically told Mumbo to keep in touch.

Mumbo considered this. He considered his plan, and he considered Martyn’s awkward position in this entire affair. 

Martyn knew more about Dawn than anyone else in the group, since he was in regular contact with someone who researched cults and things for fun, and he was investigating their new branch now. 

Martyn also fit the criteria for one of Dawn’s targets. 

…

No.

He couldn’t involve Martyn in this. 

Martyn’s expertise was in investigation, not in ghosts, and Bdubs’ past was only a secret to Bdubs. There wasn’t anything further to investigate regarding Bdubs, and Mumbo was the only one who knew how to end his existence on this plane of reality. Involving Martyn in this would just make him even more of a target.

Mumbo had a plan. He had a plan, and involving others might get them hurt. Especially those who had been targeted in the past.

So Mumbo set the paper aside, on his dresser, and he finished changing into his pajamas, no longer thinking about it.

And then he set an alarm on his phone. Mumbo didn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow (Tomorrow was a Saturday, after all), but he wanted to have enough time to finish coming up with the details for his plans. Salt circles and runes, potential places in the countryside that lacked electric wires, and apologies all circled in his head as he laid down in bed, and they all faded when his head hit the pillow.

Mumbo went out like a light, and the ghosts in his home shifted in their traps, but they did not dare disturb him.

Chapter Text

After waking up, Mumbo thought about his ideas from the previous night, now that he was somewhat more rested than he was when he made them.

After deliberating over his breakfast, Mumbo decided that what he had was good enough… For now. If anything came up, he would need to adapt. But that was okay. Mumbo was under pressure, so he’d just need to be careful with what he was doing. More careful than usual, anyway.

He left the ghost trap behind when he left to go to class that morning. If Bdubs wanted to follow him (which was likely, considering Mumbo had basically confirmed he had the information Bdubs was after), he would need to leave the safety of the ghost trap in order to do so. And since Mumbo had a container of black salt with him, he would be able to either weaken Bdubs' spirit with its corrosive properties, or he could attempt another exorcism.

Classes passed as normally as they usually did, except Mumbo ate lunch in Dr. SV’s classroom and he only saw Grian once in the hallway. Grian didn’t even look in his direction, when they usually ate lunch together with their friends. Dr. SV said he didn’t mind letting Mumbo stay to eat lunch- As long as he was eating something. Truthfully, without the reminder, Mumbo would have forgotten to. Even with the reminder, he didn’t eat much. He wasn’t very hungry.

After class, when Mumbo went home and found that Grian still wasn’t back yet, he decided to check on the ghost trap.

Flipping the switch didn't do anything but make one of the lights flicker, and then Bdubs' head appeared through the wall before Mumbo could panic about leaving him unsupervised. Bdubs hadn't followed him, it seemed.

"You're in the wall," Mumbo said, more than a little concerned about the way the rest of his body was on the other side of the wall to the kitchen.

"I was hungry," Bdubs replied, despite not having a stomach. "What were you up to today?"

"Classes. Finals are coming up," Mumbo said, flatly. "Did you do anything today?"

Bdubs just smirked at him, before vanishing from sight. Like there was something he knew that Mumbo didn't. It was alarming, because Bdubs could leave at any point- The ghost trap was a shelter for him, after all, not a trap- but despite the fact he'd definitely gone out and done something while Mumbo was gone, he'd also come back to the house.

And now Mumbo was going to be scrambling to figure out what that something was for the rest of the evening.

What a dick move.

So, Mumbo checked his other ghost traps, and found them to be unchanged. This was concerning, but not particularly surprising, since Bdubs had already pulled something like this in the past. He wouldn't let out the other ghosts for no reason- It wouldn't benefit him in any way to make this house even more haunted than it already was. And Bdubs seemed to enjoy being the only ghost that Mumbo was worried about. Besides, the other ghosts knew better than to listen to someone like Bdubs when they weren't immune to Mumbo's wrath.

After looking through the entire house's electronics twice, Mumbo came to the conclusion that Bdubs hadn't actually done anything to his place of residence. Which meant that whatever he did, it had been someplace that wasn't the house. And Mumbo was definitely going to be worrying about what that was for the next several business days.

"You seem stressed," Bdubs commented, floating in the air above Mumbo and checking his nails on his non-skeletal hand. "You should take a break."

"Considering you are the main source of my stress right now, I will not be doing that," Mumbo replied, closing the refrigerator and opening the string cheese he'd just retrieved from its depths with far more force than was actually necessary. He took a violent bite out of his string cheese and then jabbed it in Bdubs' direction. "I will find a way to get rid of you."

"Sure you will." Bdubs was not convinced. "And you'll be willing to tell me why I died."

"I have the answer to that question, and that is why you're continuing to bother me," Mumbo reasoned, taking another bite of his string cheese. "I can't tell you, though. No matter what you do to me, I won't sell out my information."

Bdubs' visible eye narrowed.

"I remembered something today," he said, sounding suspicious. "About a house on Cherry Street."

Cherry Street… That's where Joel lives. And where Etho used to live. And it was the last place Tango was seen before he was taken to his death.

Oh, no.

"What about it?" Mumbo asked, keeping his face neutral. It was… Very difficult to try and keep calm, but he ate another bite of cheese, and coolly threw away the wrapper while Bdubs observed him.

"Who was the guy with white hair at the park?" Bdubs asked. "I know him."

"Not telling," Mumbo said.

So he must have recognized the house as having belonged to Etho.

Bdubs must have also gone there to try and speak with Etho, but hadn't found Etho there. And if he had stuck around, Joel would have noticed him. Since Joel is a very capable ghost hunter, sticking around for very long to try and gather information was a bad idea.

Well.

At least Mumbo now knew what Bdubs had been up to while he was at class.

While it was concerning that he apparently remembered enough to recognize Etho and Etho's old house, he hadn't remembered anything about Dawn or Tango. And those were the most important things to keep secret. 

"You know him, then?" Bdubs assumed.

"No, not really," Mumbo said, and it was the truth. He really didn't know as much about Etho as his teacher did, or as much as Joel did. Most of what he did know came from Dr. SV's stories of their time together as classmates.

"Hm," Bdubs hummed, apparently unhappy that Mumbo had figured him out and wasn't affected by it.

That was Bdubs' fault for deciding to stick himself to someone who was smarter than he was. Mumbo may be a fool when it came to self-preservation or social interactions, but he wasn't stupid.

There was a reason he was much younger than his peers in a doctorate program, and why his friends still turned to his expertise when it came to all sorts of situations, not just the ones that involved ghosts. 

He had more information than Bdubs did about Dawn, Tango's death, and the investigation last summer. Mumbo was at a significant advantage in this situation, even if he didn't yet have the means to finally be rid of Bdubs.

So… Bdubs going to Joel's house and remembering Etho's existence (but not his name!) wasn't the end of the world.

"You're lying to me," Bdubs said, pouting as much as he could, considering half of his face was bone. It was honestly disturbing to look at, but Mumbo wasn't going to be turned away or convinced to change his mind by something like this. Not when he'd also witnessed the likes of The Watcher, using Tango's corpse as a puppet. 

"Maybe I am," Mumbo said, returning the same type of smirk Bdubs had worn earlier. The one that made it clear that he knew something Bdubs didn't. "You can't do anything about that, though, can you?"

This was not one of Mumbo's better ideas. Goading Bdubs into possibly attacking him could end very poorly. But if Bdubs needed Mumbo alive, to answer his questions, there really wasn't anything he could do to stop Mumbo from being a bit of a prick to him.

He'd had a very rough couple of weeks, alright? And Bdubs had started it! This was something he deserved!

Mumbo held no sympathy for him. Not after what he'd seen during the investigation into Tango's murder.

"I can do something, actually," Bdubs said, and then he vanished, turning invisible and going… Somewhere. He was no longer visible, and he had no need to touch the floor, so Mumbo was left with no information about where he was going.

Mumbo smacked himself in the face.

He really shouldn't have said anything- Bdubs was a troublesome ghost, and he didn't need to physically attack Mumbo to hurt him. Mumbo should have expected this, as his mental state had definitely been affected by Bdubs' presence before today. But since Mumbo wasn't good at social interactions (Mumbo was actually a spoon when it came to these things, which Grian had vehemently agreed with… When he was still talking to Mumbo, anyway.), he'd convinced Bdubs to do something that would actually cause him some problems.

This didn't bode well.

----

Mumbo spent his evening alone, doing homework and worrying about what Bdubs was up to, because he didn't know where he had gone after they had spoken last. Previous patterns indicated that Bdubs would come back to bother him again, as Mumbo was the one with the answers he was after, so Mumbo was stuck. Simply waiting for bad news. It wasn't a good feeling.

Mumbo also forgot to eat dinner and then breakfast, but he wouldn't realize it until Dr. SV sat him down and made Mumbo eat lunch with him in his office again. 

Dr. SV was the only person Mumbo properly spoke to that day, and that was only because he'd been made to sit down and eat with him.

Mumbo briefly saw Grian again in the halls of the university, laughing at something Scar was saying, and he decided it would be a bad idea to approach and ruin the mood.

At least Grian seemed to be alright, even though he hadn't been home for multiple days now.

…

Mumbo spent that evening researching. There had to be someplace nearby where there was absolutely zero electricity. Preferably, that location would be near the ocean, so that the ghost trap could be completely destroyed and unusable, leaving Bdubs with nowhere to hide from Mumbo's next attempt to exorcize him.

It was during this research that he received a phone call from Joel, who had threatened him the last time they'd spoken- Mumbo didn't blame him at all for it, since he had made a grave error- and who was apparently the only one out of the friend group who was still willing to reach out.

Mumbo picked up, eyes focused on memorizing the map he was currently looking at on his computer screen.

"Hello?"

"Where was Bdubs today?" Joel asked, impatiently. He sounded genuinely angry, and Mumbo felt dread pooling in his stomach.

"I don't know," Mumbo admitted, and silence came from the other end of the line. 

Mumbo spoke the truth. He hadn't seen Bdubs or noticed anything off since the previous day, when Bdubs had assured him that he was capable of making Mumbo’s life more difficult even without physically attacking him.

"He broke all of the ghost hunting equipment in the garage," Joel eventually said. 

"All of it?!" Mumbo yelped.

"Yes, you blummin' idiot, ALL of it! Every single thing! It's all completely unusable!"

Why…

Oh, fuck.

Bdubs knew where Joel lived. 

Joel's house was where the ghost hunting crew stored their equipment. 

Mumbo's place was where the ghost traps were kept, since he was the one who was studying the ghosts that had been contained, but things like EMF readers and ultraviolet flashlights were kept in Joel's garage, because he was the person in the group who had the space for them.

Bdubs had already proven himself to be capable of breaking a ghost trap. Breaking something like a flashlight or a DOTS projector wouldn't take nearly as much effort as that.

Without their tools, the ghost hunting group would be unable to continue their work.

Bdubs, because he had the ability to sabotage electronics, had completely crippled their entire setup.

All because Mumbo had baited him into it.

"I'll- I can get replacements sent to you," Mumbo said to Joel, hurriedly. "I'm- I'm so sorry!"

"Fine! And you need to keep a better eye on that prick! You're supposed to be capable of that much!"

Click.

Joel hung up before Mumbo could explain himself further.

Mumbo sighed, leaning back in his desk chair, and letting the hand that held his phone come to rest on one of the chair's arms, dangling as uselessly as the rest of him, in that moment.

His friends now had another reason to be angry with him, and it was his own damn fault, once again.

----

The next day, Mumbo had ordered replacements for the broken equipment, and set the delivery address for Joel's home. Showing up in person was probably not a good idea, considering Joel was angry with him, and Mumbo hadn't yet been able to solve the Bdubs problem. The new equipment should only take a couple of days to be delivered, and Mumbo informed Joel as such, but he was left on read.

Speaking of the Bdubs problem, Bdubs actually followed him to the university instead of staying hidden, like he had the past two days. He probably thought he was being sneaky, considering he'd never explicitly made himself known to Mumbo after Mumbo had left the house, but the light in the corner of Dr. SV's classroom was flickering, and Mumbo's nerves were strung tighter than ever, because of Bdubs' presence.

So, when Dr. SV asked him, "Would you like to eat with me today?" Mumbo replied, "Maybe later."

Dr. SV had seemed somewhat upset by this, but Mumbo didn't stick around long enough to find out for certain.

And, of course, he ended up spending his lunch period on the opposite side of the building, too busy watching the lights flicker to actually eat anything, even though Dr. SV had managed to slip a packet of Goldfish into Mumbo's bag when he wasn't looking.

Mumbo went home after classes were over and done with. Grian still hadn't returned, but when Mumbo checked his room, some of his things had been disturbed. He must have come back at some point (or had someone else come back for him) to gather some clothes and other necessities for an extended stay on Scar's couch.

Which was… It was fair, considering Mumbo still hadn't managed to solve the issues with Bdubs, but it still stung to have clear evidence that Grian had gone out of his way to avoid him. 

Sulking, Mumbo handled his homework and then resumed his research, hunching over his desk with one hand tugging at his hair while the other flew through the motions of typing and moving his mouse. He'd found a few places already, but they were a bit too crowded for what he was planning to do. Exorcisms were best done in private, where someone wouldn't call the police and get him arrested for arson charges.

Around two o'clock in the morning, Mumbo found a location that might work, and so he bookmarked it… Right before the power went out, and his computer screen turned off. 

In the pitch-black of his room, Mumbo used his phone screen as a flashlight as he stumbled to his bed. For some reason, standing up made him feel rather faint, so it was a bad idea to try and go down the stairs to check on the breaker. He'd probably fall and crack his head open, and, since Grian wasn't here, he'd bleed out and die in a rather pathetic manner.

No, this was something Mumbo would deal with after he'd gotten some sleep.

Mumbo set his alarm and left his phone on his bedside table.

Dr. SV would let him charge his phone in his classroom tomorrow, so he wasn't too worried about the battery on it- The last time he'd checked, it had been on 60 percent. It would survive until the morning.

Mumbo closed his eyes.

What felt like a few seconds later, Mumbo was startled awake by the sound of his alarm.

He fumbled for his phone and followed the motions to turn it off.

But… The clock wasn't showing that it was six o'clock, which had been the time Mumbo was planning on waking up.

It was three-thirty. He'd barely slept for an hour before his alarm had gone off. 

"Whatever you're trying to do, stop it," Mumbo hissed, to his empty room. He was too tired to think about how Bdubs had managed to change the time his alarm had been set to, but the details didn't matter when he knew that Bdubs had done it.

Since he'd turned off the alarm and given Bdubs a warning, Mumbo laid back down and pulled his pillow over his head, covering his ears and going back to sleep.

Once again, he was startled awake by his alarm, which was loud enough to get through the pillow.

Once again, Mumbo fumbled around to grab his phone, and he turned the alarm off, stopping the noise.

It was four-thirty.

This was still not the time he'd set his alarm to. 

Mumbo decided enough was enough, and he would deal with the consequences if he was late to class because he'd overslept. Mumbo powered his phone completely off, cradled it close to his chest, and then pulled his pillow over his head again. 

Finally, Mumbo's alarm went off a third time, once again startling him awake, even though he'd turned his phone all the way off. When he checked the time, he found that it was six o'clock, the original time he'd intended to wake up, and he wearily got out of bed.

He moved to turn on the lights in his room, only to find that they weren't turning on, even though he flipped the switch multiple times. Mumbo then remembered that the power had gone out last night, and he'd passed out in bed instead of risking falling down the stairs looking for the breaker at two in the morning.

So he was still in the dark, and he had several things he needed to do while being completely and utterly exhausted.

Today was not looking to be a good day.

----

REM sleep is the stage of unconsciousness in which someone is in their deepest sleep, and it is the stage of sleep often linked to dreams. A regular sleep cycle will put someone in REM sleep around every 90 minutes or so. Waking someone up while they are in the midst of REM sleep has been shown to have negative effects on their health.

This type of sleep deprivation is also classified as a form of torture.

Mumbo Jumbo, who had been woken up three times while in REM sleep after already lacking a healthy sleep schedule, was experiencing these negative effects in full force. 

When Mumbo was getting his breakfast (which consisted of a cup of tea heated up on his gas stove, and the Goldfish Dr. SV had stuck into his bag yesterday- Since the power was still out, he'd needed to use a match to start the stove, and it was a bad idea to open the fridge to get another string cheese. The food inside could expire, and the last thing Mumbo needed right now was food poisoning.), Bdubs appeared, looking far too pleased for how early it was in the morning.

"Good morning," Bdubs said to him, uncomfortably bright and chipper. "How did you sleep?"

Mumbo barely resisted the urge to throw his cup of tea at him. Bdubs wasn't tangible, so all that would succeed in doing was creating yet another mess to clean up. Besides, that tea had sweet, sweet caffeine in it. And that was the only thing keeping Mumbo sane after the night he'd had.

Instead, Mumbo's response was a mumbled, "Fuck off," as he held his tea closer to himself. 

"Come on, the day's just started!" Bdubs patted him on the shoulder, in a way that would be friendly if he had been anyone else. "Surely you've got things to do! Like eating lunch with Impulse! I love that guy!"

Mumbo's blood ran cold.

He remembers who Dr. SV is because he followed me to the university.

Dr. SV was a key part of the investigation into Tango's murder. It was through his connections that we were able to find the truth.

What else does Bdubs remember?

What else will he remember if I don't act now?

Mumbo had bookmarked a location that would fit his needs before the power had gone out. His phone still had some battery, so he would be able to get back to that bookmark, and, consequentially, to that location. 

It was hours away from the city of Tanglewood, and hours away from the people who held the knowledge that Mumbo was failing to keep Bdubs from remembering.

If he didn't do something, there was no way to keep it all a secret.

His mind was made up.

"I'm not going to class," Mumbo said, scowling at Bdubs. "I need to contact the city about getting the power fixed."

"Oh, fine. I'll turn it back on." Bdubs rolled his singular eye. "I want to talk to this professor of yours! He was real nice to me when we first met!"

"No, he wasn't," Mumbo said. He needed to say something- Something to keep Bdubs on his tail, rather than going off on his own to interrogate Dr. SV. "That was before we realized who you were."

"And?" Bdubs leaned in closer, eye wide.

"And nothing," Mumbo said, taking another drink of his tea. "There's a reason we've gone to extreme measures to try and get rid of you."

"And why your friends have abandoned you," Bdubs commented, unhelpfully.

"Once you're gone, everything will be fixed," Mumbo replied, setting his empty teacup on the counter. 

"And I'll be able to rest in peace after I find the person I'm looking for," Bdubs argued. "Really, you should be helping me!"

"No! Fuck, no!" Mumbo was yelling now. He was exhausted, and drained, and the source of his problems was looking to cause more, because he'd been so absolutely useless at keeping them contained. "You've been the single cause behind every single one of the things that have gone wrong for me this month!"

"And those things will stop going wrong if you use your brain and helped me remember who I was!" 

"Maybe I don't want to help a goddamn backstabbing cultist!" Mumbo shouted.

Bdubs froze.

Surely… Surely he hadn't remembered the truth from that.

Mumbo hadn't mentioned Tango at all.

But… He had spilled some information.

"What did you just call me?" Bdubs asked.

"No, no, I'm not- I'm not saying it again," Mumbo muttered, rinsing his teacup out in the sink.

Come on… Take the bait.

Follow me, not Dr. SV.

"No, you- You know the truth! Why can't you just tell me!" Bdubs sounded panicked now, pressing for more answers. 

"I said too much," Mumbo said, quietly. He sent a message on his phone, and then turned it off completely. "I can't- I won't tell you. No matter what."

"Hey-"

Mumbo ran up the stairs, to where Bdubs' ghost trap was set a careful distance away from the others. The other ghosts sensed Mumbo's agitation, and, wisely, decided not to bother him as he started to drag the trap out of the room and down the stairs.

"Where are you going with that?" Bdubs asked, sticking to Mumbo's side like glue the entire time he struggled to pull the weight of the trap along.

Mumbo couldn't answer him even if he wanted to- The trap was heavy, and Mumbo was more focused on breathing and trying not to drop the trap than he was on conversation.

He pulled the trap out to the stairs that led to the street, and where his van was waiting.

"Where do you plan on going with me?" Bdubs asked, watching Mumbo open the back of the van and struggle to heft the trap inside of it.

Usually, Joel was the one who carried the traps, as he was the group's 'muscle', but Mumbo was by himself, so he was stuck lifting it on his own. Thanks to sheer spite and what was probably fumes, Mumbo was able to push the ghost trap in completely.

He leaned on the side of his van to catch his breath, after he closed the back.

"Hey! Stop ignoring me, or I'll- I'll mess with the brakes of your car!"

"That won't do anything but make it easier to kill me, mate," Mumbo said, wiping his face with his sleeve. He'd passed out while wearing one of his suits again, he realized. "And I honestly might not care all that much anymore."

It was with this sentence that Bdubs finally backed off. He'd finally shut up, and Mumbo had ensured that Bdubs was going to go with him away from all of this.

Screw his finals. He wasn't going to make it that long with the rate things had been going for him.

Mumbo finished packing his things into his van. He plugged his phone into the console at the front of the van, so it was finally being charged, and he locked the door to his home before he left.

Mumbo drove into the street, finding that his brakes were, in fact, working, and he took himself, his van, and the ghost who had been terrorizing him for the past weeks out of the city of Tanglewood and into the countryside.

Mumbo had a destination in mind, about four hours away from town and far enough away from civilization that he could do what he needed to without interruption.

Mumbo grit his teeth.

He could do this. It would work this time.

----

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

(No Subject)

back soon. probably.

----

As soon as he received the email, Impulse knew something was horribly wrong.

For one thing, Mumbo hadn't used proper grammar or punctuation. He always used proper grammar in his emails, even though Impulse had told his students that they could be as casual with him as they wanted.

For another, Mumbo hadn't been looking well ever since the day at the park. He was already pale and thin, but he'd come into class each day since with a distant attitude and bags under his eyes that were the size of suitcases. Impulse was fairly certain he wasn't eating- And so he'd done his best to try and get Mumbo to eat with him.

And… Finally, Impulse had noticed… That he wasn't with any of his friends. They had left him to try and solve the Bdubs problem on his own. Which was either a really shitty move or a genuine act of trust in his abilities. But considering how haggard his student had been lately, Impulse was certain that leaving Mumbo to handle this on his own was a poor choice.

And now he had told Impulse, in three words, that he was leaving.

He was likely doing something drastic.

As his teacher, Impulse would never forgive himself if Mumbo ended up being hurt- And he would never forgive himself for allowing his own distrust of Bdubs to cloud his judgment of the situation until it had gotten as dire as this.

And… Even if Mumbo's friends were avoiding him, they were still his friends.

They needed to know what was going on.

Impulse decided to call. There was no way he was going to be able to figure out how to fit everything he wanted to say into a text message.

Grian picked up when he called.

"Dr. SV? Is something wrong?"

"Have you seen Mumbo lately?"

Grian paused.

"Only briefly. We haven't spoken since that day at the park."

"He's left," Impulse said, bluntly. "And- He hasn't been well. I just got an email from him that said, 'back soon, probably', and I'm more than a little worried about him."

"He- He contacted you about this first?" Grian seemed surprised. And then he was quiet for a moment. "Oh."

"I think he's- He's going to do something drastic. Do you know where he might have gone?" Impulse asked.

"He… He totally would, after we've left him like this," Grian said, confirming Impulse's worst fears. "I'm going to contact Martyn. He's probably put a tracker on Mumbo's phone- And then we can chase him down."

"Okay." Impulse could trust Martyn with this sort of thing- It was thanks to him that the truth behind Dawn and Tango's death was revealed. "Pass my message along to your other friends, alright? I'm gonna contact the police."

"I will. God, I've really screwed him over, haven't I?"

"Once we find him, you can apologize," Impulse assured him.

And then Grian hung up.

Chapter Text

By all means, finding someone like Mumbo Jumbo shouldn't have been very difficult. That man was six foot five, constantly dressed like an eighteenth century vampire, and he had a dapper mustache. Someone like him had a presence, even if he didn't seem to notice it. If Mumbo was separated from the group at an event, asking a bystander if they'd seen 'the really tall guy who looks like a vampire' usually got results. 

Martyn brushed his newly-black hair out of his eyes. It had been two days, and he still hadn't quite gotten used to it after Lizzie (who had finished dyeing her own hair red just a couple of hours beforehand) had attacked him with a bottle until he barely recognized himself. Martyn currently had more important things to do than to worry about the state of his hair, however. 

Grian had called him about ten minutes ago, in near hysterics, because Mumbo had vanished when everyone's backs were turned- And the only person he'd told about where he was going was Impulse. Who had appropriately reacted by passing his information along to Mumbo's friends and then calling the police, because Impulse was certain that Mumbo wasn't well and was likely going to hurt himself somehow.

Martyn couldn't help but blame himself a bit for this situation- If he'd been less distracted by his investigation, he likely would have been able to notice that something like this was happening right under his nose. Unfortunately, finding Dawn had taken priority, and Mumbo Jumbo had suffered because of it.

Currently, Grian and his friends were all out, checking on Mumbo's usual haunts, trying to find where he was, and Martyn, being an investigator, was in charge of tracking Mumbo's phone to give them a specific location.

Unfortunately for him, the phone's location function was currently off, and so Martyn was unable to follow Mumbo. 

Sitting in his car, with his laptop in his passenger seat, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel in agitation, Martyn couldn't help but be reminded of last summer's manhunt for Jimmy when he'd been taken away… Except for the fact that Mumbo had left of his own volition.

Which honestly felt worse than thinking he was kidnapped.

Suddenly, there was a ping, and Martyn realized the location of the phone had been turned on. Scrambling to pull his phone out of his jacket pocket, Martyn dialed Mumbo's phone number, now that he was certain he would notice that he was being called.

Mumbo picked up.

"Listen, this isn't a good time." Mumbo's voice was clipped, but there was an air of exhaustion behind his words that made Martyn's investigation senses tingle. "I'm a little busy here."

Martyn looked at his laptop screen. This was true, if the way his phone's location was speeding westward was any indication.

"Oh, I understand, but that's exactly the problem. Where are you right now?" Martyn asked, immediately informing Grian and Impulse that he had found Mumbo's location and that he was out of town and heading west. 

"On the road," Mumbo replied. And then, surprisingly, he actually explained why he'd left. "I've got Bdubs with me. He started remembering things that could be connected to You-Know-Who, so I've made the executive decision to get him the hell out of town before things get worse."

Ah. 'You-Know-Who' was Tango.

The exhaustion Martyn could hear from Mumbo's voice was definitely the fault of the ghost that had been left with him. And Mumbo was trying, in his own way, to keep that ghost from learning more- Apparently Bdubs had started remembering things, and Mumbo was struggling to keep them a secret. This was worth worrying about. Martyn could understand why this had happened, but it didn't make him any less worried about Mumbo's safety.

"That's fair." It really was, but it was also incredibly concerning. "Where are you going?"

Mumbo's response to this was even more clipped than his initial response to being called.

"Out of town. I'll be back once I'm done. You don't have to come after me."

So he wasn't going to tell Martyn where his destination was. That made things difficult. Martyn sighed.

He needed to find where Mumbo was headed. And Mumbo had said Bdubs was with him. Martyn would have to do this carefully- To buy some time and to maybe convince Mumbo to turn around and come back without exposing anything that needed to stay secret.

"You know that thing I'm investigating?"

There. Martyn truly had made progress on figuring out what was going on with Dawn- He'd spoken to the people who had murdered their daughter, and, after hearing that he was interested in their organization and that he wasn't a police officer, they had finally told him about Dawn's recruitment process, and Martyn… Well, he may have abused that knowledge for his own advantage. But since Bdubs was in the car with Mumbo, Martyn couldn't exactly explain this to him in detail. But Mumbo could figure out what he meant. He was smart enough to catch on.

"... I remember. What does that have to do with me, though?"

A lot more than you might think, Martyn doesn't say.

Instead, Martyn says, "I may have, uh, borrowed some files I want a ghost expert to look through- To see if there's any supernatural activity in them. I trust your judgment on these things, Mumbo, since you were the one who identified the type of ghost the Watcher ended up being."

This was true. He'd intended to get in contact with Mumbo today, but then Mumbo had decided to vanish, so these plans were forcefully put on hold.

Knowing about Dawn's recruitment was dangerous- But it wasn't currently Martyn that was in danger. His inside source had risked a lot while getting those files to him.

"I'm flattered, really, but I'm not coming back just yet." Mumbo outright refused. So whatever he was doing was really that important, then? Martyn was morbidly curious as to what Mumbo's plan might be- And he simultaneously felt a pool of dread growing in his stomach. "You should ask someone else on the team. They're all experienced enough to tell if there's anything like that in those documents."

Well. There was a slight problem with that plan. 

"I can't do that," Martyn said, checking his laptop again and finding that the others were all successfully receiving Mumbo's live location, "Because they're all busy looking for you."

Mumbo paused for a moment, on the other end of the line.

"I'm not in Tanglewood anymore," Mumbo eventually said, though he sounded more than a little distressed by Martyn's news. "There's no point. I'll come back once I'm done and no sooner."

Ah. Well, Impulse had been right to be concerned- Martyn had clear evidence being handed directly to him that Mumbo was certainly not okay.

Hopefully he kept his phone on after Martyn was done talking to him.

"...Fine," Martyn eventually said, receiving a message from Impulse that he was following the signal already. Joel was hot on his tail. Jimmy had updated him on Joel's location, surprisingly, having insisted on coming back and helping out as soon as Grian had passed the news of Mumbo's disappearance along. He was traveling with Joel and Lizzie, as he didn't have his own vehicle. "But you'd better help me with these files once you do."

"Okay. Bye."

And then Mumbo hung up, which would probably be considered a rude way to end the conversation, if you were a normal person in a normal situation. Considering Mumbo was not normal and was not experiencing normal things, Martyn couldn't blame him for his reactions. Especially when Mumbo's phone was still displaying his location afterwards. He'd kept it on.

Martyn dialed another number, left his phone on speaker, and then started to follow the fastest route towards Mumbo's location.

"This REALLY isn't a good time," Gem hissed, as soon as she picked up. She was likely in a secluded area, trying not to be heard by anyone else in the building. Which was to be expected, as she was deep in enemy territory. "We're expected in the hall in less than twenty minutes for a demonstration!"

"I wanted to let you know I'm gonna be out of Tanglewood this morning, so don't risk trying to send me anything else until after you get home today," Martyn said, turning left at the next intersection. "We're tracking down Mumbo."

"Oh, thank goodness. I saw Grian's message and was worried- But you guys can definitely find him. I'll keep my head down tonight, then."

"You're the only reason we've gotten as far as we have, Gem- I really owe you for this."

"I know. You can pay me back once I'm safely out of here."

And then Gem hung up, too. Martyn couldn't blame her, either.

It's not every day where someone who had spent most of their life in a relatively stable environment ended up being deeply undercover in a cult, after all.

Gem hadn't been involved with the case last summer. She just worked at the café, baking and decorating pastries, but she'd been there the day Jimmy had been taken away, and she had officially joined his crew of ghost hunters shortly after things had been resolved… Or so everyone had thought.

Gem and Scar had both been part of the team when they encountered the ghost of the child who had been murdered by her parents. Gem had also witnessed the failed exorcism on Bdubs in the park.

She had then decided that she wanted to help properly resolve things, and Martyn was the one who had given her that opportunity.

Gem had approached Martyn with an idea directly before Martyn had risked attempting to infiltrate Dawn himself. She was a natural redhead, and had never properly encountered Dawn before, so it was far less of a risk to have her get recruited than it was for Martyn to try and sneak in. 

And Gem had very sharp eyes, so it had definitely been worth it so far. She secretly took pictures of all sorts of hidden documents and sent them to Martyn, who then bribed BigB to tell him what they meant. 

BigB, who hadn't gotten his hands on anything about Dawn aside from information on the original branch (The one that had ended with Bdubs' death last summer), happily agreed to translate and research anything else Martyn needed, so long as he kept sending him interesting files. With Gem's keen eyes, Martyn wasn't going to be running out of material anytime soon. 

Martyn wasn't an expert ghost hunter, though, and Gem was still rather new to ghost hunting, so he truly did want Mumbo to look over the files, too. There was certainly information Mumbo could glean from them that none of Martyn's other connections could.

That wasn't nearly as important as ensuring Mumbo's immediate safety, however. Martyn could worry about what sort of supernatural activity the files presented later- After Mumbo was back at home.

----

When Dr. SV had called, Grian hadn't originally been worried. Since Mumbo was currently avoiding him, Grian wasn't aware of his progress on the Bdubs situation. Dr. SV and Mumbo were close, and they had previously worked together on Mumbo's PC, so Dr. SV could be expected to know what was going on.

However, when Dr. SV explained, very quickly and more than a little panicked, that Mumbo had left with almost no warning- And that he was likely going to hurt himself- Grian realized just how badly he'd messed up.

Sometimes he forgot that Mumbo was a fair bit younger than him and most of his friends- And that he wasn't incredibly traumatized like they were. Leaving him alone with the likes of Bdubs for any amount of time was a bad idea.

Grian hadn't been very rational when he'd decided to distance himself from their home. In his panic-addled brain, he'd come to the conclusion that since Bdubs had basically glued himself to Mumbo's side, he needed to get away from Mumbo as fast as possible, or else he might end up nearly getting killed. Again. 

Instead, Grian had left one of his closest friends completely alone at a point where he definitely, most certainly, should not have been.

Dr. SV had been right. Grian really needed to apologize to Mumbo. For… For more than just leaving him on his own. Grian had stopped trusting him sometime after the whole debacle with cursed items, but… 

All he really wanted was for everyone he cared about to be okay. And safe.

Was that too much to ask?

Grian shook his head. Dr. SV had called him first so that he could inform everyone else that Mumbo was missing. He couldn't keep wallowing in his own self-imposed misery if he wanted to bring Mumbo back home.

So, he picked up his phone again, and started calling his friends. Starting with someone who could definitely track Mumbo down.

"Martyn?" Grian's voice wavered- He hadn't calmed down nearly as much as he thought he had.

"Grian, what's going on? You sound upset."

"Mumbo's gone. Can you- Can you find him?"

"What? What do you mean, 'he's gone'?"

"Dr- Dr. SV just called, and-" Grian took a deep breath. "And he said that Mumbo had left without any warning. He's calling- He's calling the police, because he thinks Mumbo might hurt himself."

"I can track him down before that happens," Martyn assured him, and Grian dared to believe it. "I'm going to need your help, though. What's Mumbo's phone number?"

Grian distinctly remembered Martyn giving his own information to Mumbo, but since Martyn was asking, Mumbo clearly hadn't tried to get in contact after he'd received it.

Still, he listed off the digits for Martyn.

"Thanks, mate, I'll start tracking his phone. As soon as I get a ping on his location, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," Grian said, rubbing his face and realizing it was wet. "I've got to let the others know what happened."

"Alright. We'll get him back, Grian."

Martyn then hung up.

Grian took another deep breath. 

"Is something wrong, G?" Scar asked, poking his head in the room, and Grian jumped, not expecting his sudden appearance.

"Ah- No, I-" Grian said on instinct, and then paused, realizing that it wasn't the truth. "Yes. Something- Mumbo. Mumbo left town, and he's in danger."

"Okay," Scar said, accepting Grian's answers without questioning it further. "So when are we going to go and get him?"

Something about Scar's sudden acceptance and immediate willingness to help their friend get out of a bad situation made Grian able to completely refocus. Because even though Grian and Mumbo had been fighting for a while now, they were still friends, and their other friends were willing to help them out no matter the circumstance.

"As soon as Martyn calls me back," Grian said, dialing another number. "He's tracking Mumbo's location. I'm telling everyone else what's happening."

"Alright." Scar turned so that his head was in the hallway. "Cubby! Me 'n Grian are gonna go save Mumbo! Feed Jellie if we're late getting back!"

Distantly, Scar's roommate replied, "Okay."

Scar, now that his affairs were in order, fully entered the living room, and he flopped down on the couch next to Grian, right as the next person he contacted picked up.

"Hey, Lizzie," Grian said.

"This is unexpected," Lizzie replied. "Usually you send a text message whenever you want to tell me something."

"Er… Well, I need your help. That's why- Why I called."

Lizzie didn't hesitate.

"I'm sold. What can I do to help you?"

"Mumbo's missing, and- I've already got Martyn to start tracking him down, but- Dr. SV was the only one Mumbo said anything to before he left. He's sure that Mumbo might hurt himself."

"I'll start looking, too," Lizzie said, and then her voice went distant. "Jimmy! Joel! Mumbo's gone missing!"

Faintly, Grian could hear their voices asking Lizzie what was going on, to which she replied, "We're gonna track him down, obviously."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jimmy's voice echoed, suddenly louder. "Come on, let's get in the van and go!"

"We don't know where he is!" Joel countered. "And- You shouldn't go with us! That ghost is still with him! Even though Mumbo replaced our broken equipment, it's still too dangerous for you!"

"Why wouldn't I- Mumbo came to look for me last year! I don't care if this goes back to Dawn, I'm not gonna sit here and wait for you guys to find him when I can do something to help!"

"It seems like you've got all three of us on your side," Lizzie said, sounding rather determined. "You said Martyn is tracking his location?"

"That's what he said he was going to do," Grian said.

"Then we're gonna go out and check on some of the places he usually hangs out," Lizzie said. "Jimmy, text Martyn to keep you updated on Mumbo's location. Joel, grab your keys, we've got places to be."

"On it, boss."

"Yes, ma'am."

And then Lizzie hung up.

"Shouldn't we get going, too?" Scar asked. "You can call people from inside of my car while we look, too."

Apparently Scar had decided today was the day to start spitting actual wisdom instead of his usual nonsense. Or one of his rants about Star Wars or that one superhero TV show he liked. (Grian knew it was called The Adventures of Hotguy. He just pretended he didn't.)

Grian stood up from the couch.

"You're right. Let's go."

----

From what Impulse could tell, just about everyone who had been at the park to witness the failed exorcism was now out looking for Mumbo.

Martyn had gotten in contact with Impulse to give him access to Mumbo's live location, and now Impulse was rushing in that direction, probably breaking more than one speed limit as he went.

Impulse knew for sure that Jimmy, Lizzie, and Joel were all searching together, and that Grian had caught a ride with Scar. Martyn was on his own, Impulse was on his own, and Skizz (who Impulse had told before leaving the university) and Etho (who had immediately replied to Impulse's text asking to help) were also on their own, spread out across the city. 

They'd all mobilized as soon as they'd heard that something had happened. The hunt for Tango, seventeen years ago, had been just as desperate, and the search for Jimmy, just last summer, had been even more desperate, so to see everyone getting up and starting a search as soon as they'd received the news was… Both incredibly reassuring and also highly concerning, because they'd gotten far more practice at this sort of thing than most people did.

But there were other things to worry about right now. 

Currently, Impulse was the closest person to Mumbo's location, out of everyone in their search party. They were following the same road westward, out into the countryside, but he couldn't yet see his student's blue van.

Mumbo's destination remained unknown. Impulse hoped Mumbo knew what he was doing- And he hoped he would catch up before anything terrible happened to him. 

----

"Where are we going?" Bdubs asked.

Mumbo kept his eyes on the road, and elected to stay silent.

Bdubs groaned. "You could at least put on some music! I'm bored!"

"If you want music, you'll have to turn it on yourself," Mumbo said, following the road as it shifted and turned slightly left.

He'd taken his blue van and the ghost trap out of Tanglewood about thirty minutes ago now, so they were speeding through the countryside underneath a dreary grey sky. Mumbo had turned his phone off before he left, but it wouldn't surprise him if Dr. SV was trying to get into contact with him. His disappearance had been rather sudden, after all. Mumbo could hardly believe he was going through with this, himself. 

You see, his destination was absolutely haunted. There was an old lighthouse on the other side of the country, far from any civilization and perched on a rocky cliff. The research Mumbo had done had allowed him to study this place, Point Hope, and some of its history.

About a hundred years ago, two lovers used to live in a mansion near the lighthouse, apparently, and they had both fallen from the lighthouse down to the seas below, and their bodies had been washed away. It was named 'Point Hope' by their remaining family, as they had hoped to see the lovers again, even though they had been completely lost to the sea. It had initially attracted a small crowd, but they were driven off by the same things that usually drove people away from haunted locations, and so the lighthouse had been abandoned for at least fifty years. Likely more. Few ghost hunters had ever bothered entering the area. It was incredibly haunted, and since it was as far away from civilization as it was, trying to find those ghosts was not worth the risk- Not when the ghosts weren't threatening the peace of the general public. 

Mumbo was certain that these ghosts weren't going to bother him. If they did, well. He had black salt and other exorcism materials in his van. Hopefully, they had the sense to stay away while he handled his business with Bdubs. Who had just turned Mumbo's phone on and started playing music.

Which was promptly interrupted by a ringing noise, as Mumbo was being called.

He snatched his phone away from where Bdubs had settled in the passenger seat (For some reason) and picked up.

"Listen, this isn't a good time," Mumbo said. He hadn't bothered looking at the Caller ID. "I'm a little busy here."

"Oh, I understand, but that's exactly the problem. Where are you right now?" Martyn asked, because Dr. SV must have assembled Mumbo’s friends to try and track him down. Martyn was very direct with his question, and so Mumbo felt inclined to answer him truthfully.

"On the road," Mumbo replied. He figured he should also explain some things- Martyn would know what was up even if he left certain information out of his explanation. "I've got Bdubs with me. He started remembering things that could be connected to You-Know-Who, so I've made the executive decision to get him the hell out of town before things get worse."

"That's fair," Martyn said. And it was, because Martyn had witnessed the events of last summer and had also been present when Tango had been killed. He was the one who had made the decision to do whatever it takes to keep the existence of Dawn a secret from Bdubs, after all. "Where are you going?"

"Out of town," Mumbo answered, through grit teeth. Of course Martyn was trying to find him- Even though he'd told Dr. SV that he'd be back soon. "I'll be back once I'm done. You don't have to come after me."

Martyn sighed, heavily.

"You know that thing I'm investigating?"

…Yes. That would be the branch of Dawn that the group had apparently missed when they'd tracked down Bdubs last summer.

"I remember," Mumbo said, hesitantly. "What does that have to do with me, though?"

"I may have, uh, borrowed some files I want a ghost expert to look through- To see if there's any supernatural activity in them. I trust your judgment on these things, Mumbo, since you were the one who identified the type of ghost the Watcher ended up being."

That was… Well, it sounded interesting, but it wasn't what Mumbo should be focusing on right now. Maybe he'd be in a proper state to read through Dawn's information after Bdubs was gone, but until then…

"I'm flattered, really, but I'm not coming back just yet," Mumbo declined. He turned on his windshield wipers as soon as the dreary sky finally started letting water come down. "You should ask someone else on the team. They're all experienced enough to tell if there's anything like that in those documents."

"I can't do that," Martyn said, matter-of-factly, "Because they're all busy looking for you."

What?

Why… They'd trusted him to handle this on his own, and so he was handling it on his own! Why were they suddenly going back on their decision? 

"I'm not in Tanglewood anymore," Mumbo said. "There's no point. I'll come back once I'm done and no sooner."

"...Fine. But you'd better help me with these files once you do."

Martyn had sounded… Odd, at the last moment. He was hiding something, but Mumbo couldn't currently come up with an idea for what that might be.

"Okay. Bye."

Mumbo hung up.

He set his phone back next to the console. Bdubs picked it up and turned his music back on.

The ghost seemed thoughtful as he did it- And he hadn't interrupted the phone call at all.

"Don't look at me like that!" Bdubs flailed, when he realized Mumbo was looking in his direction, scrambling to change sitting positions in the passenger seat, before eventually putting his feet on the chair and wrapping his arms around his legs so he could rest his chin on his knees. 

It was odd behavior, but Mumbo wasn't worried about that.

"Then stop trying to get me to crash my van, bud," Mumbo said, focusing on the road again. It was raining pretty steadily, so driving while being as exhausted as he was could lead to certain disaster if his tires slipped. "I'll haunt you if I die here. And that won't be fun for either of us."

"If you die you can't tell me anything about who I was! Why do you think I would mess with your car?"

"Why would you break a ghost trap? Or the power in my house? Or my alarm this morning?" Mumbo questioned, irritated. "I'm not putting anything past you, mate."

"You break a guy's stuff one time and suddenly he doesn't trust you!" Bdubs huffed. "Frickin' jerk!"

"That was not a one-time thing," Mumbo replied. "I actually never trusted you, though. So you're only kind of correct."

"Why? What did I do to you before I died?" Bdubs asked. "I've been tryin' to figure this out all this time!"

"Not to me, specifically, but someone I care about a lot," Mumbo explained. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel, and trying to send his exhaustion away. "I can't tell you anything, or else you'll remember. And that would be bad."

"You called me a cultist," Bdubs said, unswayed by Mumbo's words. "Did that have anything to do with it?"

"It had everything to do with why I can't tell you anything at all," Mumbo said, flatly. 

Sensing that this was the end of the conversation, Bdubs turned away, so that he might look out of the window, out into the rain.

Music played from the speakers, rain pattered on his windshield, and Mumbo focused on the road. In only a few hours, he'd be at the lighthouse, and this could finally be resolved.

Chapter Text

My beloved,

I have missed you terribly while you have been away. Your work is important, I know, but I have been unable to sleep peacefully without your arms around me. 

Please make haste with your return.

My dearest,

I have been away too long. This conference has been utterly boring, to say the least, and I have spent my nights in the hotel laying awake, wondering if your health has improved. 

Has the sea been as lovely as we hoped?

I will rejoin you soon.

----

About halfway on his drive to Point Hope, Mumbo had to stop for gas. Which wasn't that surprising, as he hadn't prepared to take such a long trip until this morning, and that had been under extreme duress. 

The sky was still rather grey and dreary, but it had stopped raining about an hour ago, so Mumbo remained dry as he filled his gas tank. 

"I want a snack," Bdubs said, appearing behind Mumbo and pointing to the store.

"You don't have a stomach," Mumbo said, flatly.

"That may be true, but I still want one," Bdubs said, tilting his head slightly to the side. "I want a KitKat. And some chips."

"I'm not buying you food you can't eat." Mumbo paid for his gas, sighing in relief when his card was accepted. Bdubs hadn't messed with the machine, apparently realizing that the both of them would be stranded if the van had no gas. "Besides, we've got places to be."

"Oh, come on, you should get yourself something, too! You haven't eaten yet! And these places sell coffee, don't they?"

Coffee.

Mumbo hated to admit it, but Bdubs had a point. This time, at least. Caffeine was… A very good idea, if he didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel. And since drinking coffee on an empty stomach was one hundred percent a bad idea, Mumbo could get something to snack on, too. Gas stations were convenient like that.

"If you keep quiet for the rest of the trip, I'll buy you a KitKat," Mumbo said, before moving his van out of the way (even though the station was practically abandoned, as there were no other cars parked in the front lot).

Bdubs didn't disappear as the two of them entered the shop. Mumbo sincerely hoped the ghost's appearance wouldn't traumatize anyone working there too much.

To the right of the door, the cashier, a young woman with bright pink hair that had blue tips, was on her phone behind the counter, not paying any attention even when the door jingled as it opened.

The second cashier, who had a streak of red in their hair, noticed the duo and paled considerably. He did not say anything, however, just watching Mumbo as he picked up the snacks Bdubs wanted, filled the largest cup available with cheap gas station coffee, and then approached the counter.

The pink-haired cashier looked up from her phone, completely froze at the sight of Bdubs, and then met eyes with her coworker, as if saying, "Are you seeing this right now?"

The look her coworker returned was one that screamed, "Yes! Yes, I see this! I am looking directly at it!"

"Excuse me," Mumbo said, politely. "How much do I owe you for this?"

"Uh," said the red-streaked cashier, sweating. "Six?"

"Sa- Our manager is not gonna believe this," the pink-haired cashier said, before realizing that Mumbo had heard her, and cutting herself off before she said anyone's name. She and her coworker were not wearing name tags, which was probably a violation of some kind, but Mumbo literally could not care less about that when he was running on no sleep and he had other things to worry about than terrorizing the public. "Sorry, your friend is… Very scary."

"He's not my friend," Mumbo said, paying with his card again. The transaction went through, so he grabbed his purchases. "Thank you."

"You're being mean to me!" Bdubs complained, as Mumbo left the shop. The door jingled again as they exited. Much to the relief of the cashiers inside.

"I got you a KitKat. Please be quiet."

"Oh, well, don't mind if I do!"

Both cashiers lined up at the window, watching in horror as Bdubs unwrapped his KitKat, ate it, and then proceeded to leave chocolate crumbs everywhere, because he did not have a stomach, and the pieces of the KitKat fell directly through him. 

"Aw, dagnabbit, now I've got crumbs on my jacket!"

"What are you two doing?" the manager, back from her break, approached both cashiers, looking confused by their behavior. "I heard the bell from the door. Why aren't you helping the customers?"

Wordlessly, both cashiers gestured to the window they'd been staring out of and the KitKat murder scene outside.

"That's fucked up," their manager said, looking over both of them and making direct eye contact with the skeletal ghost. He waved at her while the goth-looking guy walked across the parking lot back to his van. "Nevermind, I understand now. Carry on."

----

My beloved,

The view of the sunrise over the sea is quite beautiful. My health has improved considerably, though I am still rather weak.

I haven't seen the sunset over the ocean yet. I'm saving it for your return. I know it's your favorite time of day.

My dearest,

I would love to watch the sunset with you.

Things have gotten complicated at the conference. There is talk of ghosts from the sponsors, and they are considering delaying our departure! I cannot believe these men are in charge of this event, falling for such foolish nonsense as the existence of ghosts!

I will return once they see reason.

----

Gemini Tay, known to all of her friends as 'Gem', was far out of her depth. 

The mansion she'd spent her morning in was old-ish, with white columns and pillars and multiple circular towers, making it look almost like a castle, instead of a mansion. The castles in this country were certainly older. There weren't many other people inside of the mansion, which had apparently been passed down to the person in a cloak with a sun emblem that she was following now, like a duck following its mother, but with none of the tenderness that came from motherhood.

In fact, the tenderness that came with following this person (who had introduced themself as Thirteen, instead of with a normal name, and had only ever talked about Dawn, and not their personal life. Gem wasn't sure what they looked like under their hood and robes, but overall they were incredibly mysterious and they held a high position in Dawn's hierarchy, so she had to stay on their good side.) felt closer to cooked meat than anything else. Perhaps Gem was a duck that was being led to the chopping block, directly before being tossed in a pan, instead of a duck following its mother.

She'd known that approaching Martyn Littlewood with the idea to infiltrate Dawn had been reckless and foolish, but it was far safer for her to do it than it was for Martyn to try it. He'd nearly been killed by the cult once. Gem had never encountered them before, so they wouldn't know who she was. It was far less dangerous for her to try and join them than it was for Martyn to join them.

Previously, on a ghost hunt just a few weeks ago, Gem had been with Jimmy, Grian, and Scar and almost died after a hunt had been triggered despite the presence of the crucifix she'd put near the ghost room. And then Scar had been cursed by the ghost, Grian and Jimmy had acted incredibly suspiciously afterwards… And then Grian and Mumbo had started fighting. Now they weren't even on speaking terms. Which was highly concerning, because they had previously been near-inseparable.

Gem hadn't witnessed much of their drama personally, but she'd also been around for long enough to have seen what happened last summer. So she knew how dangerous Dawn was. She also knew that sending Jimmy or Martyn (or any of the others who had previously nearly died because of Dawn) directly into their headquarters was a bad idea.

However, considering Gem's main skill sets were baking and decorating cupcakes, infiltrating a cult was not something she had ever considered attempting before. She had a normal life! She'd never once thought that she would willingly put herself in this kind of danger, and yet, here she was, deep inside of a cult's home base, pretending to be devoted to their cause, while secretly taking pictures of anything suspicious she found inside.

Everything inside of the mansion was suspicious to her. Gem really didn't know what she was looking for, so she just took as many pictures as she could. Apparently they'd all been useful, if Martyn's reactions to her photos were anything to go off of, but she was certain she'd missed a lot. She was still new to all of this.

"Gemini," Thirteen said, suddenly cutting off her train of thought. "What did you think of the demonstration this morning?"

Ah, right. There had been blood spilled on an altar in the main hall, shortly after Martyn had called her to let her know he was joining the others in hunting down Mumbo after he'd gone AWOL. She'd taken the call in one of the mansion's several bathrooms, and Martyn had told her to keep her head down, because he wasn't going to be available at all today. So, Gem had kept quiet and simply watched the demonstration, taking a single picture after the ceremony was done while Thirteen's back was turned. Gem didn't know how old the blood that had been poured onto the altar was, but Dawn had clearly collected it a while ago, purely for the sake of demonstrating the ritual to their newest recruits.

She sincerely hoped it had nothing to do with the child ghost she and the team had encountered before everything went to shit. But, with her friends' luck, that blood almost certainly belonged to the dead child. Which was why, even though Martyn had said she shouldn't risk anything, Gem had snuck one picture of the scene. 

"It was fascinating," Gem replied, praying she had a poker face good enough to fool Thirteen. She'd beaten her coworkers at the café in a lot of the card games they'd played when they weren't working, but Jimmy banned any gambling after an incident that led to Joel losing a bet to Scott and nearly flipping over a table that had been bolted to the floor. So they had never played poker in their time off. It was a safety hazard. They should have played it even without the ban- Gem didn't know if her face was properly schooled for the occasion, or if Thirteen could tell she was absolutely terrified of being found out. "I learned a lot."

"That's good," Thirteen said, completely oblivious. Gem tried not to let her relief show. "You have made a lot of progress ever since joining us, Gemini. Your understanding of our beliefs has been grasped so quickly… I can tell you are truly devoted to our cause."

Well. Gem had Martyn and BigB to thank for her extra knowledge. BigB was the one who knew the most explicit details about the cult, down to some of their most secretive rituals (Gem knew better than to ask why BigB knew these things- He'd apparently been Martyn's main contact for figuring out Dawn's motives and other location last summer), and Martyn, who was an expert on gathering information, helped her present just enough of their gathered knowledge to make it seem like she truly was eager to learn Dawn's teachings. It was a rather ingenious system, and it had clearly done well, for Thirteen to be praising her like this.

"Thank you," Gem said. 

"I've received word that we will host another demonstration this evening for our senior members," Thirteen said, and their head tilted slightly to the side, though Gem could not read their expression thanks to the hood on their robes. "Would you like to attend?"

A special demonstration for senior members? 

This… This sounds important. 

Even with Martyn being busy, I can still take pictures of whatever's happening. We need as much evidence as I can gather.

"I would love to go," Gem said, smiling up at Thirteen.

Thirteen didn't say anything in response, but Gem got the distinct sensation that they were incredibly pleased by her acceptance.

----

My beloved,

I have fallen ill once again. The doctors are unsure if I will ever recover completely.

I haven't been able to wake to watch the sunrise, nor have I been able to watch the sun set. 

I often feel like my head is splitting in two.

Please, return to our home. You have been away for so long, I fear I have forgotten what your face looks like.

My dearest,

The conference has fallen to pieces. The sponsors and other vendors are constantly arguing. A sense of paranoia has made its way into their hearts, and negotiations have come to a halt.

I have found myself jumping at shadows.

I fear I have spent too many nights alone. I am starting my journey back the day after I send this letter.

Expect me to be by your side soon. We will watch the sunset from the balcony together, and then we shall watch the sunrise after you spend the night in my arms.

It is your favorite part of the day, after all.

----

"Scar," Grian said, flatly. "You really shouldn't be focusing on playing music while we're trying to find our missing friend."

"I've been driving for three hours, Grian, I need to have some sound other than the engine and the road or I will go insane," Scar replied, turning Britney Spears up even louder. "We've been chasing him for this long, I'm not going to let him come back without driving up to him, rolling down the window, and saying 'It's Britney, bitch.' It's just not possible at this point."

"You have very skewed priorities," Grian said. He made no move to turn off the music.

He was honestly surprised Scar had lasted this long in what was almost absolute silence.

"I'm worried about Mumbo just as much as you are," Scar replied, thankfully keeping his eyes on the road. "We need to stop for gas soon, though."

"Damn." Grian looked at the dashboard, and noticed the fuel tank was, in fact, a bit closer to empty than he might like it to be. "Okay. Let's be fast. I'll let Martyn know we had to stop."

"Can we get snacks?" Scar asked, making Grian pause from drafting a text to look over at him.

"We don't need-"

"Humans need to eat or they'll starve!"

"We're already losing ground on Mumbo's location, we don't have time to-"

"I'm a proud American! Speed limits mean nothing to me!"

"What does that have to do with anything we were just talking about?!"

"It means I'm gonna put the pedal to the ground as soon as there's actually gas in my tank! We'll catch up to Mumbo's dinky van in no time at all!"

"... You concern me sometimes."

"You should be more concerned about how old that van is. Mumbo's gonna break down on the side of the road at the rate he's been pushing that thing."

"I don't think he will. He's put a lot of work into his electronics to make them more efficient, and that van is no exception."

"Ah, well… Oh, look, a gas station. Let's stop there."

Grian looked up from his phone, where he had just finished sending a text to Martyn, and Scar turned, pulling into a rather secluded petrol station that had no other buildings nearby, and no other cars parked in front of it. Frankly, the entire place was suspicious as hell, but the sooner he and Scar got back on the road, the better.

And… Well, Scar would be busy for a few minutes filling up the tank. Grian could use those minutes getting him a snack- So he could properly focus on the road again.

"I'll go inside," Grian said, opening his door after Scar pulled up to the meter. "What do you want?"

"Some chips, maybe a soda," Scar said, waving him off as he started filling the tank. 

That wasn't very specific, but Scar really didn't have specific tastes, so Grian would just grab whatever he knew Scar liked.

Grian approached the store, and then realized there was what appeared to be a chocolate crime scene directly outside of the door, so he stepped around the mess of crumbs to properly go inside. This place just kept getting more and more suspicious. 

The door jingled as he opened it, similarly to how the café's door would jingle as it opened, but this jingling was strained, sounding rather stretched and hollow. Which either meant that it was really old and had yet to be replaced, or the gas station was haunted.

Grian could handle it if the gas station was haunted. Probably. He didn't have any ghost hunting equipment with him- It was all in Joel's truck, which was somewhere between the gas station and Tanglewood, also on the way to hunt down Mumbo. 

To his right, at the counter, a cashier with brightly-dyed pink and blue hair stared at him suspiciously. She'd squinted at him, wary of his movements as he walked over to where the chips were stocked. The shelf was next to the counter, so Grian was very aware that he was being watched.

"Hello," Grian said, unsure of what he'd done to deserve such treatment.

"Hi," the cashier replied.

"Sorry about this," said another store worker, from where they were restocking the cups at the coffee machine around two meters away from where Grian was standing. Their hair was streaked with red. "We just had, uh, a really scary encounter? And the police thought we were trying to prank them. So we're, uh, closing. Soon."

"What happened?" Grian asked, alarmed. Was the gas station actually haunted?!

"Some goth guy came in a little while ago with a genuine demon or something floating behind him," the pink-haired cashier said, incredibly seriously. "He bought a KitKat and some other stuff. The demon thing ate the KitKat once they were outside and it fell through his stomach! I'm gonna have nightmares about KitKat murders!"

Oh. Mumbo had been here. And apparently he'd bought chocolate for Bdubs. That was good to know. Grian would tell Scar and then Martyn once they were on the road again.

"How long ago was this?" Grian asked, grabbing two bottles of soda and two packs of chips. He knew Scar would like what Grian preferred, and this information was more important than wasting time on picking out something more specific for him.

"Like, twenty to thirty minutes ago? They left after the demon thing made that mess outside," the cashier replied, shrugging as she punched in something on her register. "Your total is 5.99."

Grian paid for his items. "I see. I'd recommend calling an exorcist."

"Believe me, we're going to. Or we're going to quit," the cashier replied, with the air of someone who had stopped caring a long time ago, despite it only having been around thirty minutes since Mumbo and Bdubs had passed through. "Have a nice day."

----

My beloved,

Why do you watch me with such sadness in your eyes?

My condition isn't enough to warrant such a reaction. Have you been away for too long?

Why have we not yet seen the sunset together, despite your return nearly a fortnight ago? 

What is wrong?

My dearest,

To be completely transparent, I cast my gaze upon you and I can only see death.

I fear that the rumors of ghosts at the conference were true, and I have brought one back with me into our home. This ghost wears your face, haunts my dreams, and has invaded my every thought.

I often think about clawing my own eyes out, so I may never be plagued by its visage again.

I only refrain from doing so because I continue to gaze upon you, as you are, and not as a spectre wishes for me to view you.

It is difficult.

My beloved,

I am recovering well.

The doctors have decided I am strong enough to climb the lighthouse to its balcony.

Would you like to join me there, at sunset?

My dearest,

I will be there.

----

Two people were responsible for the creation of Dawn, according to the documents Gem had been sending Martyn ever since going undercover.

These unnamed people had lived together, in a mansion at Point Hope, on the western border of the country, and they had died together, as well. Their deaths were incredibly mysterious, and had likely led to the creation of ghosts.

Martyn was fairly certain he and his friends had encountered the ghost of one of those people last summer. The Boogeyman didn't introduce themself at all before trying to attack them, and Jimmy, Lizzie, Pearl, and Mumbo had handled them after they'd been captured in a ghost trap, so there was no chance to interview them. 

Not that Martyn was particularly interested in speaking to a murderous ghost who founded the cult that attempted to kill him when he was six, but. Still. He had questions.

And, if he had to guess, the other person had become The Watcher after they died. Tango had thoroughly obliterated them, though, so there was no chance of getting any answers from them, either. (They hadn't been very helpful last summer, so it was unlikely they would have been helpful in this situation, even if they were available for questioning.)

The reason Martyn was thinking about these ghosts and the people they used to be, however, was because Mumbo's location had stopped at Point Hope after several hours of moving westward at an incredibly quick pace. Oddly enough, Point Hope was where Dawn's current headquarters were- Though Martyn was certain Mumbo was completely oblivious to this fact… As were his other friends.

So, because this was pertinent information, Martyn decided to call Grian first.

"Is something wrong?" Grian asked, after picking up.

"Mumbo's stopped at Point Hope," Martyn said. "Which is, er, where Dawn's current headquarters are located."

"What."

"I think it's safe to say he doesn't know this," Martyn added. "But, you know, it's still concerning."

"Why do YOU know this, Martyn?!"

"From my investigation!" Martyn explained, hastily. "I was trying to handle getting rid of Dawn before Bdubs could get back to them! But now that Mumbo's there with Bdubs, things have gotten complicated!"

"Okay- I should have known that you've made progress. I'll be careful going in once we're there."

"Yes. I've got to tell Timmy and the others now- And I know you've got Scar with you, so let him know, too."

"Stay safe, Martyn," Grian said, and then he hung up.

Martyn called Impulse next, because he was the closest one to Mumbo's current location.

"Hey, so Mumbo has stopped at Point Hope."

"Isn't that, like, an abandoned lighthouse? Why would he go there?"

"I wish I knew the specifics, but there's, er- Something important you need to know about that location."

Impulse didn't hesitate. "Hit me with it."

"Dawn's headquarters is there."

"Oh. Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck."

Impulse paused.

"Okay. I have a gun."

…

You know what. 

That was fair. 

Martyn couldn't blame Impulse for it- Or for informing him this way. Last summer's events had messed them all up in one way or another, and Mumbo's decision to drive off with barely any warning had sparked a manhunt incredibly similar to the search for Jimmy when he'd been kidnapped. And now Dawn was about to be involved again. Out of all of the reactions he could have had, calmly informing Martyn that he was armed and willing to protect Mumbo was easily one of the better options.

"Just- Be careful." Martyn could at least ask this much of him. "I think Gem is still at the mansion, and I'd rather not have you shoot my mole when she's the reason I know any of this."

Impulse accepted this knowledge without complaint. 

"I'll try to avoid shooting anyone I recognize."

That… Shouldn't have been as reassuring as it was. Martyn had long accepted that his contacts and friends were a bit odd, so Impulse having a gun was the least of his concerns right now. In fact, it was quite useful, because if something bad happened at the mansion, Mumbo and the others wouldn't be defenseless.

"Alright. I'll meet you there soon. Good luck."

----

One

I am known as One. I believe I have a life away from this place, but I do not remember it, nor do I care to return to it. I am certain that it was quite a dull existence.

Dawn's instructions will return Them to this world, and I am the tool They are using to carry them out. The sacrifices in Their name will bind Them together once again.

I wish to witness Their brilliance, just like the sun's, even if it is only once.

I am honored by the opportunity They have given me, however…

I find myself feeling uneasy at times. 

Something is Watching me.

----

It was late afternoon when Mumbo finally arrived at the lighthouse. He'd navigated through several twisting roads in what was probably the closest thing to a proper jungle in England in early March. So, of course, there were lots of trees and shrubs lining the road as he descended downhill. It was raining again, so the sky was a bit darker than it normally would have been at this time of day.

Mumbo's coffee cup was empty, and he'd also eaten the snacks he'd gotten for himself back at the petrol station, and, as promised, Bdubs had stayed quiet during the rest of the trip- Watching the world pass by outside with a frown, as though he was looking at something he should recognize, the name at the tip of his tongue, but unable to actually recall what it was.

It didn't matter. Things were ending today, one way or another. 

Things continued to remain quiet as Mumbo's van finally came to a halt.

Bdubs floated behind him as he exited the vehicle.

"So. Why are we stopping?" Bdubs asked.

"Because," Mumbo said. He didn't elaborate further, because he was busy pulling the broken ghost trap out of the back of his van.

Bdubs had bound himself to it in order to survive the attempted exorcism. Dropping it into the ocean would either make it uninhabitable, severing the bond and giving Mumbo the opportunity to perform an exorcism without any disturbances, or it would trap Bdubs under the water, in which case, he would no longer be Mumbo's problem.

"Oh, come on." Bdubs groaned, watching Mumbo starting to walk towards the path that led to the lighthouse, pulling the trap behind him like a particularly unwieldy suitcase as he went. "Can you at least say where we are?"

Well, there was no reason not to.

"Point Hope," Mumbo said, approaching the top of the hill where the lighthouse actually stood. He'd climbed the hill far faster than he thought he was capable of- A ghost trap usually required two people to carry it, and he'd just gone up a hill while dragging it behind him- and now there was no turning back.

"Huh," Bdubs said, looking up at the brick structure before them. "Doesn't look very hopeful."

The lighthouse had been abandoned, a long time ago. Mumbo would be lucky if the stairs were in any sort of working order.

Thankfully, this was not the first time he'd walked into an abandoned building searching for ghosts. He knew what to look out for, and he knew that it was dangerous. If he'd been more prepared, he would have brought a proper respiratory device to keep himself from breathing in the mold that had certainly made its home in the lighthouse- It was built near the water, and it had been abandoned for more than fifty years, so of course there would be mold there. 

But Mumbo hadn't been thinking straight when he'd left his home that morning, so he would have to handle this quickly. 

The door swung open with ease, which was odd, but maybe the ghosts that were rumored to reside here had decided to let him in. Or the lock had fallen apart. It was hard to tell, especially when this place hadn't been disturbed for many years.

Mumbo entered with caution. He and Bdubs were at the base of the lighthouse, so they hadn't quite reached the circular part of the building, as shown by the square bathroom to his left and the hallway that led to the lighthouse interior on his right. 

The lighthouse was furnished like a proper home- Which made sense, as Mumbo was fairly certain lighthouse keepers either lived in their lighthouses or in a structure nearby- and immediately inside of the front door was an old-fashioned living room. Everything inside of this living room was covered in dust and black mold, so even if the couch had been plush and comfortable at one point, Mumbo was fairly certain he'd end up with at least five different respiratory disorders if he sat down on it.

The stairs were on the other side of this living room, and they seemed to be in an acceptable condition to climb. So Mumbo pulled the ghost trap with him across the dusty floor of the living room, leaving footprints and wheel tracks on the previously undisturbed floor, and he slowly made his ascent up the spiral staircase.

The second floor was a kitchen. It was in a similar condition to the living room, but there was less mold obvious to the eye. Mumbo didn't waste time looking around, instead going to the next set of stairs and continuing his ascent.

This trend continued through the dining room, the games room, a second bathroom, the master bedroom, a second bedroom, and all the way up to the maintenance room and then the lantern room. 

The climb had worn Mumbo out- Nobody should be made to climb ten flights of suspiciously rickety stairs while dragging a heavy ghost trap behind them- but he was at the top now. The lantern room's stairs were in the center of the maintenance room, instead of at the wall like the previous floors' stairs had been, so Mumbo moved fairly slowly up the final flight of stairs to reach the top of the lighthouse.

The lantern itself was encased in metal and glass, and there was a circular balcony surrounding it that led to a view of the ocean. The sky was still rather dreary, but it had gotten darker and streaked with orange, as the sun was starting to set. Mumbo took a second to breathe, now that he was back out in the open, and to take in the view.

The rocks below Point Hope were jagged, and waves crashed into them, spraying the cliff with foam, but the sea wasn't rough.

"Who's that?" Bdubs asked, interrupting the blissful silence Mumbo had been appreciating for the past few seconds. "Is that why we're here? To talk to them?"

Mumbo looked to his left. There was a shadow floating next to him, staring out to the west, where the sun was starting to set. He couldn't see any distinct features on them, but through the rain, they appeared to be wearing mourning clothing that was last in fashion many, many years ago.

This was obviously one of the ghosts he'd read about before coming to Point Hope.

"Sorry for, er, disturbing you," Mumbo said, to the other ghost. "I will be on my way soon."

"That's fine," the ghost replied, still staring at the sunset. "I'm waiting for dusk."

"What does that mean?" Bdubs whispered, though he was really bad at whispering, so the other ghost had clearly heard him.

"Dusk? It's when the sun sets," Mumbo said, pulling the ghost trap with him as he moved to a different section of the balcony, closer to the edge of the cliff. "Let's not distract them. They're not hurting anybody by being here."

"So, uh… Why are we here?" Bdubs repeated, nervously looking down. "You're not gonna jump, are you?"

"No, I'm not going down there," Mumbo said, swiveling the ghost trap around so it was at the balcony railing, closer to the edge than he was. "You are, though."

"Wait- Hold on, I don't-" Bdubs flailed, grabbing onto the ghost trap as much as he could. Because he was mostly incorporeal and half of him was bones, Mumbo's grip was not budged. Panicked, Bdubs asked, "Can't you at least tell me why you hate me so much?"

"Grian said it quite simply," Mumbo said. There wasn't any harm in telling him now- Not so close to the end. "You nearly killed our friend when you were alive. Not only that, but you left one of your own friends for dead about seventeen years ago. He asked our friend for help, and we found you out. Your old friend is the one who killed you in that fire. I'm finishing the job here and now."

"My old- My friend?" Bdubs asked, suddenly sounding breathless. "Was it- Dawn?"

"No. His name was Tango."

With that, Mumbo pushed the ghost trap forwards, intending to send it tumbling over the edge and into the rocks below, where it would then be washed into the sea. However, he was interrupted by a hand on his throat, shoving him backwards into the glass of the lantern room.

The other ghost, who had been staring into the sunset the entire time Mumbo and Bdubs had been talking, had suddenly turned hostile, and Mumbo wheezed, struggling for air.

"Where did you hear that name?" they hissed.

"I-" Recognition flew over Bdubs' face- The half of it that wasn't bone. "I didn't! Let him go!"

"You. You know Dawn. You know me." The ghost didn't appear to be listening to a thing Bdubs was saying. "Where is dusk? Where are they?"

"I don't know! Isn't it when the sun-"

"Where is dusk?!"

Mumbo's right hand attempted to push the ghost's grip away from his neck. His left, however, dug into his suit jacket pocket, and procured a bottle of black salt.

"I don't know!" 

When Bdubs said 'know', an arc of electricity bounced from the ghost trap to the ghost currently grabbing Mumbo's neck, and they were shocked- Completely stunned by his attack, and, as a result, letting Mumbo go before he attempted to douse them in salt.

"I don't know anything!" Bdubs continued, suddenly physical enough to grab Mumbo's arm and strong enough to pull him away. "I've only just remembered things- Why do you care so much, anyway?!"

The other ghost roared.

"I am Dawn!"

Oh. 

Oh, shit.

Suddenly free from the effects of the electric shock that Bdubs had hit them with, the ghost- Dawn- charged towards him and Mumbo. No longer hesitating, Bdubs dragged Mumbo by the wrist towards the stairs, leaving the ghost trap behind.

Though Mumbo did not have time to worry about something like that when a very angry ghost who may or may not be related to the cult that had tried to kill his friends was now trying to kill him. They'd already gotten close, and then Bdubs of all people had saved him.

They both sprinted down the rickety, rotting stairs, and the other ghost, who (when Mumbo spared a glance to check what was behind him) was slowly becoming sharper, making it easier to see their details - They had no eyes, and a face that appeared human, except for the gaps in their cheeks where they had far too many teeth- Almost like something had torn into their face, removed their eyes, and then left extra teeth behind. Their limbs had gotten longer, too, and they scuttled down the stairs after Mumbo and Bdubs like a bug instead of chasing them on their feet. It was absolutely horrifying, to say the least, and it was far more horrifying to realize the only ghost trap in the general vicinity was up multiple flights of stairs and was also broken. 

So Mumbo's only chance of survival was to follow Bdubs down many flights of spiral stairs and out of the lighthouse. Which he wasn't happy about, but it was better than letting Dawn kill him.

In the games room, Bdubs flipped the pool table up and crashed it into Dawn when they charged towards him- They shattered it to pieces, scattering wood and bits of moldy felt everywhere- but it bought enough time for Mumbo to get across the dining room and down the stairs to the kitchen before they also tore through the dining room.

Bdubs continued to run with him, knocking over more furniture in an attempt to stall Dawn further- And, when Mumbo sprinted towards the front door on the first floor, Bdubs shoved it open, completely breaking the lock.

"Get to your car!" he yelled, slamming the door shut as soon as he and Mumbo were back outside. Dawn crashed into the door, and Bdubs briefly faltered, letting one of their shadows slowly ooze through the cracks. "We've gotta get outta here! This guy's bad news!"

Well, Mumbo was never one to turn down an opportunity to retreat. 

He flew down the path even faster than he'd gone up it, without tripping over his own feet, and he reached the parking lot without any issues. 

In his haste, Mumbo had forgotten to lock his van, which had been very good, because he started his car as soon as Dawn came into view on the path. Bdubs flickered into existence in the passenger seat, and Mumbo's foot pressed down on the gas pedal just before Dawn reached them.

Tearing into the forested roads nearby, Mumbo was forced to listen to Bdubs yelling at him- "Turn! Turn! There's- The mansion is that way!"

"Why do you know about the mansion?!" Mumbo shouted back. 

"That's Dawn!" Bdubs gestured wildly to the road behind them, where the ghost had grown in size- The limbs even longer, the teeth even sharper, and the lack of eyes even more apparent- and was still chasing them, despite the fact that Mumbo was speeding. "They get into people's heads! I remembered- I knew someone who got possessed, and-! You won't be able to run away! They're on a whole other level!"

I… Won't be able to run away?

This isn't Deo behavior, though! Deos are slow with their hunts, and I'm struggling to escape in a car!

Dawn is a completely different type of ghost- Like Tango, the Watcher, and the Boogeyman. 

Dawn has to be connected to them somehow.

Mumbo swerved onto a different road, the one that led to the road he'd taken to get here. "Why the mansion, then?!"

"It's got shelter! There's no other buildings nearby and they're catching up to your car!"

Dawn was getting closer. That was… Concerning. "Why are you suddenly being so helpful?! You-"

"I remember! I remember what I did!" Bdubs shouted. "I was twelve! They made me- Dawn made me into that, and-! That's why I accepted my death!"

"Wh- You were twelve years old?!"

"No! Number Twelve! The twelfth leader!" Bdubs continued. "The twelfth person to have that thing inside of their head!"

Mumbo looked away from the road for a second to try and process what Bdubs was telling him. There didn't appear to be any dishonesty in his expression, but Mumbo had been fooled by other people enough times- He genuinely couldn't tell if Bdubs was telling the truth, but he also didn't have a reason to lie. "Were you- Possessed by-"

Bdubs cut him off with a panicked screech, pointing in front of him, to the road ahead. 

"Tree!"

Just as he said, a tree soared through the air, scattering twigs and leaves and bits of bark and dirt onto Mumbo's car, before crashing into the road ahead and forming a complete block.

Mumbo swerved again, skidding across the litter-strewn concrete, as he was forced onto the road that led to the mansion. 

"They're throwin' another one!" Bdubs warned, and Mumbo knew that if this road was blocked, there was no escape. So he pressed the gas pedal to the floor of his van, and tore forwards at a speed that was highly ill-advised for driving through a winding road in a forest.

The maneuver worked, however, as the tree crashed behind the van. Dawn crawled over it, howling again as they continued to chase them.

"You're crazy!" Bdubs yelled, pressed completely into the passenger seat and holding onto the handle above the window for dear life. Or, well, as much life as a ghost could have when performing an action like that. "You're- You're Drivin' too fast! Slow down!"

A third tree crashed behind them.

Bdubs changed his mind immediately, gripping the handle even tighter.

"Stay fast! Stay fast!"

----

When Impulse and Martyn arrived at the small network of roads outside of the lighthouse that led to Point Hope, they had expected to find Mumbo by himself.

What they did not expect was to see Mumbo's blue van tearing past their intersection with a massive shadowy ghost throwing trees at him.

Impulse watched in horror as the back doors to the van opened, and Mumbo chucked a glass bottle at the ghost like it was a grenade, before closing the doors again and swerving onto a different road.

The ghost roared when the bottle collided with it, immediately shattering on impact- And Impulse saw pieces of the ghost start to dissolve as it made contact with whatever was inside of the bottle (Probably black salt, some part of his consciousness said, remembering a conversation he'd had with Grian and Jimmy when they'd taken Skizz on his first ghost hunt. Black salt damages ghosts.), but all Mumbo had succeeded in doing was making the ghost angrier.

Next to Impulse, Martyn rolled down his window.

"...Who was driving Mumbo's van just now?" Martyn asked, genuinely concerned.

He and Impulse stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

Then they both took off on the same road Mumbo's van and the angry ghost had taken.

----

Four

My predecessors have all failed in our mission. I have seen these failures for myself, and I intend to rectify them.

Some of the most level-headed men and women I've ever known have all collapsed under the pressure this position puts on us. I am sharing this burden with Five, Six, and Seven so that we may split the workload.

I am certain we will not fail like our previous leaders have.

Eight

Four, Five, Six, and Seven killed each other yesterday. 

Sharing the burden of leadership with others is impossible, as splitting Dawn's soul even further will only drive Them to complete madness.

I have accepted that I will also likely perish in this line of work, as it is all for the sake of Dawn's brilliance. I will gladly give up my life for our cause.

Until that time comes, I will be the leader that fixes the damage my predecessors have caused to us, and to Them by attempting to split half of Their soul into four fragments. 

Their voice comes through me now, and Their goals are my own, despite being shattered. 

Whoever is observing our operations has not yet interfered with them. We will not disturb Them as long as that remains the case.

----

The mansion had a parking lot. There were already cars in it. 

Mumbo didn't have time to worry about that, however, as he was currently fleeing for his life.

"That stuff hurts!" Bdubs complained, hitting the brakes as he pulled into a parking spot. "Why didn't it do anything to Dawn when you chucked it at them?"

"They're- Too strong," Mumbo said, forcing the back doors open again and climbing out. "Every other ghost who would be strong enough to deal with them is gone, and you're useless, so-"

"Hey! I saved your sorry butt back at the lighthouse!"

"We're right fucked if my friends aren't nearby," Mumbo finished, ignoring Bdubs and rushing up the steps to the mansion. 

"Fine! We can hide in here until they arrive!" Bdubs huffed. "Don't say I didn't warn you! Hiding from Dawn is impossible!"

"Their eyes are missing, mate!" Mumbo replied, opening the door.

Directly in the entrance hall, there were several robed individuals, chatting amongst themselves. All of them had the same sun emblem on their robes, and someone in more important-looking robes that had gold tassels on them stepped forwards- Obviously the leader of the cult meeting that Mumbo and Bdubs had just crashed. 

"Who might you be?" asked the important-looking person.

"Er," said Mumbo, elegantly, looking around wildly to try and find something to say. What would Grian do here? "I'm here on behalf of the… Mooners."

"Mooners?!" Bdubs hissed.

Grian's last name is Moon. It must have slipped out.

"Yes, the Mooners!" Mumbo was certain he looked rather crazed, and he definitely felt almost manic, so maybe he wouldn't be attacked by Dawn if he leaned into this act. "We love the moon and, er, everything she gives us."

"... Yes! The moon!" Bdubs joined in, creating a thumbs-up with his skeletal hand and flashing a toothy grin in their direction.

"And what, pray tell, do the Mooners… do?" asked the robed person who had spoken to them.

Fuck, what was that one game Grian really liked? The one with the big moon that had a creepy face-

"The moon will fall unto us one day!" Mumbo declared, and the people who had gathered in this hall all started murmuring amongst themselves. "We will all perish in the crash, save for those who love the moon like we do!"

"Gemini, do you believe what he is saying?" The robed person turned so that they could speak to someone behind them, and Mumbo made direct eye contact with Gem from the cafe- Grian and Jimmy and Joel's coworker and friend- wearing similarly important robes, though they weren't nearly as decorated as the other person's were.

She looked at him in alarm, but quickly schooled her expression.

"I think he's crazy, Thirteen," Gem said, sounding bored. "Can't we just kick him out?"

"There's- There's a problem with that," Bdubs said.

"What problem?" the other person- Thirteen- asked.

The door behind Mumbo and Bdubs suddenly shook as something thudded into it.

"The moon!" Mumbo yelled, taking off in a sprint past all of the robed people in the hall. "It is coming for us!"

Behind him, things erupted into chaos as the door was breached by an incredibly angry ghost.

Mumbo would normally feel bad about luring a ghost as powerful as Dawn into a room of living humans, but these people were all part of the cult that had attempted to kill his friends multiple times. He had no time to worry about being merciful when he was running for his life.

Ducking into one of several bedrooms inside of a maze of hallways, Mumbo sagged against the wall, catching his breath while Dawn rampaged elsewhere.

"Hey," Gem said, appearing out of nowhere. "What are you doing here?! You nearly compromised my mission?!"

"What mission?!" Mumbo asked, his voice going incredibly high-pitched due to alarm. "Why are you here in Dawn's headquarters?!"

"Martyn has me here as his mole," Gem explained, closing the door. "I've been helping him get evidence and learning about the cult's history- Stuff his usual contact for this type of thing couldn't get, you know?"

"I don't!" Mumbo replied.

"Listen- What type of ghost was that?" Gem asked. "What did you bring here?!"

"They're- One of the lovers! Who fell off of the lighthouse!" Mumbo explained, hastily. "They said their name was Dawn, tried to kill me, and then chased me all the way here!"

"You… Met Dawn?" Gem asked. "Like- Dawn Dawn?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, buddy, you met one of the founders," Gem said, opening her phone and shoving it in Mumbo's direction. "Read this- It's letters they've sent to the other founder, Dusk, shortly before they killed each other."

"Wait- They said they were waiting for Dusk," Bdubs said, interrupting as Mumbo read through them. "While we were at the lighthouse. Were they not waiting for the sunset?"

"No- Dusk clawed their own eyes out, and then Dawn's, too," Gem explained. "I think Dawn- They want revenge, from what I've seen. And-"

"They split," Mumbo realized, returning Gem's phone to her. "Dawn- Dawn is the Boogey, too. Something in the circumstances of their death made them split in half, so half of Dawn is what we ran into last summer, and the other half… Is here."

"What does that mean?" Gem asked. "You already know ghost stuff, Mumbo- You've gotta give me a proper explanation before I understand it."

"I mean- I mean exactly what I said," Mumbo explained. "It's simple. Dawn's soul split in half, and they sought revenge on Dusk, who stole their eyes. Their eyes, Gem. Dusk was the Watcher. Half of Dawn became the Boogey, who tried to kill our friends last summer, when Jimmy got kidnapped, and the other half was still at the lighthouse, waiting for Dusk's return."

"That makes no sense!" Bdubs complained.

"Neither does anything else that they've gotten involved with!" Mumbo exclaimed, fishing through his pockets until he procured his own phone. "Their body must have been torn in half when they landed on the rocks back near the lighthouse!"

The floor shook, suddenly, and Mumbo realized he, Gem, and Bdubs had all been saying Dawn's name while they were hunting. 

"They're headed for us. We need to find somewhere safe," Mumbo announced, getting to his feet and swiveling his head around, trying to find a hiding spot.

There wasn't one in this room. There was a bed, of course, but it had no space underneath it, and there were no closets or wardrobes to duck inside of, only a dresser with drawers and a bedside table that had a lamp and a deck of cards, for some reason.

"I know the inside of the mansion," Gem said, helpfully. "There's a basement with really heavy doors that we can lock. There's, uh, an altar down there, but- It's probably our best option right now."

"I don't care if there's an altar or a corpse or a whatever down there- We can't beat that other ghost," Bdubs said, surprisingly seriously.

Mumbo hesitated, but he pocketed the deck of cards before nodding in agreement.

Gem led the way through the hallways, back through a winding maze of hallways, lounges, and a kitchen, until the trio made it to a set of stairs behind heavy cellar doors. 

"Just go down there," Gem said, turning around so she could check behind them. "We don't…"

Mumbo turned around, too, and he realized Gem trailed off because Thirteen was directly behind her, standing eerily still and making no noise.

"Have… Time…" Gem finished. Her hands shook as she made eye contact with them.

A tendril of shadow made its way out of Thirteen's hood, and it hooked into Gem's robes at the neck.

"Gemini," Thirteen hissed, their voice layered with Dawn's, "You… Are the perfect host."

"What?" Gem asked, eyes wide. "Th- Thirteen, I can-"

"That's not your friend!" Bdubs yelled, shaking her out of her stupor. "That's- That's Dawn!"

"You will be… Fourteen," Dawn's voice said, before the shadows flooded out of every gap in Thirteen's elegant robes, converging on Gem.

She screamed- Mumbo and Bdubs were screaming, too, because anyone would in that situation- as they took hold of her body, and Thirteen collapsed into a pile of empty robes, as though there hadn't been a body in them the entire time.

Bdubs pushed Mumbo into the stairs- "Stop standing there! You'll die!"- and slammed the doors shut behind them, locking them both in the basement as Gem was left, alone, to deal with Dawn taking over her body.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Mumbo demanded, trying to push past Bdubs to go back up the stairs. "Why did you abandon her?! We can't just- We can't just leave her! She'll die!"

"You would have died!" Bdubs answered. "I've stuck myself to you, so that would be bad!"

"Why the- You did the exact same thing to Tango! I'm not going to leave Gem to-"

"We're locked down here! And I'm keeping you alive!" Bdubs yelled. "You could at least say 'Thank you'!"

"No!" Mumbo yelled back. "I'm not going to thank you for leaving one of my friends to die! Again!"

What was he supposed to do now? Mumbo was locked in the basement with the ghost of a murderer, while one of his friends was getting possessed by an incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous ghost just upstairs.

And all Mumbo had was his phone, his wits, and a deck of cards.

Only one of those things would be useful right now, and so Mumbo worked up his courage, unlocked his phone, and dialed a familiar number.

After a few rings, the other person picked up.

"Hey, Grian," Mumbo said, steeling himself for a vicious response. "I've run into a problem."

Grian didn't react anything like Mumbo expected him to. 

"What do you need?"

----

Twelve

I'm not sure how I came to inherit this position.

Eleven must have been killed last night. This journal showed up in my dorm room this morning, and it only passes on to the leaders of our group, which I apparently am, now. 

I'm not qualified in the slightest. Everyone who can actually do this job must be dead, too.

I still remember my name, unlike any of the previous leaders who were connected to Dawn, but… There are other blank spots in my memory.

I woke up this morning to the news of one of my friends missing. 

They must have claimed him. 

They claimed him, when They had previously claimed four children. Eleven said they were good lambs when making the initial selections, but we've never used children in our rituals before. 

My punishment for daring to question why we were using children this time was answered with my friend's death. 

I woke up with my clothes smelling of smoke and an empty bottle of poison in my pocket.

I don't know how it got there. I don't remember where I was yesterday.

As far as I know, I was asleep, but I must have been somewhere without knowing it.

I'm sure that my friend has died, and that it was my fault. 

…

Something is following me.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Grian." Mumbo's voice sounded absolutely drained, like he would accept any fate that was delivered to him at this instant, regardless of whether it was good or not. Grian had never heard this tone from him before, and so he was alarmed by it when Mumbo called. "I've run into a problem."

He was asking for help after days of radio silence. Grian couldn't ignore Mumbo even if he was still angry with him (Which he wasn't- He'd already forgiven Mumbo because everything that had happened was out of his control, and Mumbo had only been trying to help. Grian had been rather rude to Mumbo, and he could see that he was the one in the wrong in the end), so he answered calmly, because Mumbo was finally talking to him again, and from his tone, his circumstances sounded dire.

"What do you need?"

It was a simple question. No matter what Mumbo's answer might be, Grian was going to do everything in his power to help him solve this problem.

"Well- You see, I went to Point Hope to try and get rid of Bdubs, but- Shut up, I'm talking to Grian- We ran into a different ghost. And then- D-A-W-N." Mumbo spelled out the word 'Dawn', which was odd. "That- That's the ghost's name. They're half of the Boogeyman? From last summer, remember? And they also possessed Bdubs when he was still alive. And- And now they're possessing Gem. Who saved me from being hunted but now we're stuck."

"Are you safe?" Grian asked. This information was valuable, but Mumbo hadn't said anything about his own condition ever since calling, just explaining that he was in trouble, and Grian was highly concerned about his status. "We're all on the way to Point Hope- Dr. SV and Martyn are closer to you than me and Scar are, but- "

"Bdubs locked me in the basement of the mansion with him- The ghost can't get to us, but- They're on the same level as the Watcher and Tango and- You know." Mumbo's explanation was rather pointed. Grian could hear some indecipherable grumbling from Mumbo's side, so Bdubs had been listening in. "I'm more worried about Gem. Bdubs locked me in here just as that ghost took her over- So she's somewhere in the mansion, being forced to- It's- It's not good, Grian."

"We'll save Gem," Grian promised. "Tell Martyn and Dr. SV what you told me, and I'll tell Joel and the others that we need to chase down that ghost."

"Okay. Thank you, Grian- I really didn't think-"

"Just hang in there, alright?" Grian interrupted, before Mumbo could get any more existential on him. "We're going to rescue you!"

"... Alright."

Mumbo hung up. Hopefully he was going to inform Dr. SV or Martyn about his current circumstances. He was safe for now, but he was also very trapped, and there were two dangerous ghosts in the building with him. He'd said that Bdubs was with him, and that it was Bdubs who locked him in the basement- In doing so, he was keeping Mumbo safe from the other ghost, while leaving Gem to suffer alone. Grian was very conflicted by this information, but it was clear that Mumbo and Gem needed to be saved, and Grian and his friends were the only ones capable of doing it.

"Was that Mumbo Jumbolio?" Scar asked.

"Yes, and he's in far more trouble than we originally thought he would be," Grian answered.

Scar needed no further motivation to push the gas pedal of his car as far down as it could go, consequences be damned. 

Grian, trying his best not to panic at the sudden increase in speed and at the honestly horrifying circumstances Mumbo had somehow found himself in, not to mention the fact that Gem had gotten involved, too- 

He took a deep breath before he called Jimmy to explain what they were going to need to do.

"'Ello? Is everything alright?"

"Mumbo just called me, Tim. He's managed to get himself cornered by a powerful ghost. He says it's on Tango's level." 

"Joel's truck is loaded with new equipment!" Jimmy chirped, helpfully. "We even have a ghost trap! We can save Mumbo!"

"Not only that, but that ghost has possessed Gem, who has been helping Martyn with his investigation by pretending to be a member of Dawn for the past few weeks."

Jimmy didn't say anything for a second, processing what Grian was explaining to him, but he really didn't think about it for very long before reaching the same conclusion that he had for Mumbo.

"...So we'll save her, too."

"Okay." Jimmy really shouldn't have gotten involved, since he'd backed out from this entire situation when Bdubs' identity was revealed, but now that his friends were in danger, there was nothing anyone could do to keep him away. It was something rather honorable, Grian thought. And it was why he could trust Jimmy with his life. "I'll see you guys at the mansion. Scar is currently going about twice the speed limit, so. Joel should probably hurry up, too."

"Believe me, if Joel was driving any faster, we'd be airborne," Jimmy said. "We're on our way, Grian."

----

The weirdest part about being locked in a cult's basement was about how boring it was, aside from the altar Gem had talked about. The exposed ceiling wasn't particularly high, and the basement was practically bare, with concrete walls, a concrete floor, the altar covered in drying blood and a neat pile of red candles that were probably meant to be used in some cult activity, and a bare light bulb on the ceiling that only stayed on when Bdubs was floating near it. (Similarly, Mumbo's phone only had signal when Bdubs was next to him. Which was surprisingly convenient, since he was locked in a basement and the only people who were capable of handling what was outside of that basement were only reachable through a phone call. Whether the signal was spotty because he was in a basement in the middle of nowhere or because he was actively being hunted was a mystery, but it didn't really matter that much in the end.)

Mumbo looked up the stairs. The heavy cellar doors rattled as Dawn passed by again, following the sounds of footsteps and shrieking. The shrieking might have also been the other cultists failing to escape. Dawn was hunting, so all of the exits to the mansion were locked, and staying quiet and hidden was the best strategy to avoid being killed right now.

Unless the ghost that was hunting was a Deogen, but Dawn was definitely not a Deogen, so Mumbo waited for the ghost to pass and for the rattling to stop to make his next call. 

Bdubs floated away from the light bulb to look over Mumbo's shoulder. The signal returned to his phone just before he dialed Dr. SV's number.

"Mumbo? Are you alright? I saw you chucking a bottle of salt at a ghost on the road- Who was driving your car?" Dr. SV answered the phone with several rapid-fire questions. Mostly about Mumbo's safety and current state of being. It was a bit overwhelming to be hit by so many questions at once, but Mumbo wasn't going to waste any time. He didn't know how long those hinges would be able to keep Dawn out.

"Er- I'm in the basement of the mansion that's nearby?" Mumbo hadn't realized that Dr. SV had seen him throwing his only container of black salt at Dawn while Bdubs was speeding up the road (Bdubs couldn't throw it because it would damage him, so Mumbo had been forced to let him take the wheel in order to pull it off). It meant he was close, though, and Dr. SV was fairly experienced with ghost matters, so Mumbo wasn't too worried about him approaching the mansion. "A lot has happened, so I'll- Let me explain."

"Are you safe right now?"

"Yes! I'm- The ghost on the road has possessed Gem, and it's hunting inside of the mansion, chasing cultists? Probably? I'm in the basement with Bdubs, and that ghost can't get in here, so I'm- I'm safe for now."

Dr. SV, apparently satisfied with that explanation, moved on from the topic of Mumbo's safety to the current threat. "Martyn and I are the closest ones to the mansion at the moment. Is there anything we should know about the ghost before we go in?"

"They're- They're the other half of the Boogeyman," Mumbo explained. "And- They're strong. I'd say they're close to Tango's or the Watcher's level of strength. Grian said he was going to tell the others to prepare for a ghost hunt- So you shouldn't come in until they get here with a ghost trap."

"I saw the trees being thrown," Dr. SV said, so he must understand what Mumbo was saying. "You're sure you're alright for now?"

"Yes, I'm okay," Mumbo confirmed. "If- If you're with Martyn, can you tell him what happened to Gem?"

"I'll tell him." Dr. SV sounded rather grim when he said this. "I'll see you soon, Mumbo."

And then he hung up.

"Are your friends really able to handle something like that?" Bdubs asked, breaking his silence. 

He probably thought this was a valid question, considering Mumbo's struggle to keep him contained over the past few weeks. Bdubs was literally the only exception to this, and that was specifically because Raijus like him were able to break electronics. Bdubs was a powerful Raiju, so of course Mumbo was going to have difficulties keeping him inside of an electronic device.

This did not apply to any other ghosts. Bdubs didn't even know how lucky he was.

"We handled their other half just fine," Mumbo answered, shooting him a dirty look.

"I really don't believe you," Bdubs said.

"Believe what you want," Mumbo said, sitting down on the stairs, because there was literally nothing else to do now other than wait. "You didn't make it out of the fire last summer. My friends did."

Bdubs huffed, annoyed, but it was clear that Mumbo's point had been proven, so he didn't contest it further.

He did, however, float back over to the lightbulb, powering it on instead of allowing Mumbo's phone to continue to have a signal. That was fine. Mumbo had already passed any relevant information to his friends, and they were currently more prepared than he was to handle this situation. 

Absentmindedly, since his phone wasn't receiving a signal, Mumbo's hand went to his pocket, and to the deck of cards he'd picked up earlier, feeling the corners with his thumb.

It really wasn't an appropriate time to play Solitaire. And these weren't the sort of cards to play Solitaire with, anyway. So Mumbo pulled his hand away.

Somehow, the cards started to weigh heavier in his pocket.

The cellar doors rattled again as Dawn went past them. They'd probably heard Mumbo talking, and had been lured to the entrance.

Or the kitchen had become their favorite room. That wouldn't be very good, considering Mumbo was currently unable to escape, and his only route out was through the cellar doors into the kitchen.

His friends were nearby. Hopefully they arrived before Dawn rattled the cellar doors off of their hinges.

----

"Martyn," Impulse said, rolling down his window.

His and Martyn's cars were stuck behind a fallen tree on the road- One of several trees they'd witnessed a particularly angry ghost uprooting and chucking at Mumbo's blue van during an incredibly fast and dangerous chase. The two of them would have to move the tree themselves before they could get to the mansion where Mumbo and the ghost were waiting for them.

"I don't know where to start, here," Martyn said, also through his window. "Physics wasn't my strong suit in school."

"Really, we just need leverage in order to spin the tree out of the way, but-" Impulse cut himself off. "Mumbo just called? And he said some things that he wanted you to hear?"

"He has my number, he could have told me directly," Martyn grumbled. And then he refocused. "What did he say?"

"Uh, that the ghost that was chasing him is half of the Boogeyman?" Impulse explained. "And that it's possessing Gem now?" 

Martyn grew significantly paler after hearing this. He likely knew something Impulse didn't about this ghost- Or about Gem's situation, because Impulse was very surprised to hear that she was there with him. He did know, however, that Martyn had wanted Mumbo to collaborate with him for his investigation into Dawn, because Martyn had needed to know if there had been some sort of ghost activity that he hadn't seen for himself. Judging from what Mumbo had just told Impulse, it seemed that there had, in fact, been ghost activity mixed in with what Dawn had been up to, and he was dealing with said ghost activity as they spoke. 

(Which honestly shouldn't have been a surprise, considering the circumstances of Tango's death and the whole thing with The Watcher and The Boogeyman last summer.)

"Oh, fuck."

Impulse had to agree with these sentiments.

"He's managed to hide in the basement of the mansion, so he says he's safe for now, but we really should hurry," he explained, and Martyn nodded along.

"Yeah- Yeah, we do." Martyn got out of his car, and Impulse followed him. "Okay. Lead me through moving this tree out of the way."

Impulse did exactly that. 

There were splinters in his palms and his muscles were sore afterwards, but he and Martyn were able to push the tree out of the way so it laid parallel to the road. Shortly afterwards, they arrived in the parking area outside of the mansion.

Multiple cars had been clawed at or turned over, including Mumbo's van, which had been tossed completely to the other side of the clearing of forest that this mansion had been built in. It seemed the ghost had been particularly vengeful on that poor vehicle. 

"That's… A lot of damage," Martyn commented. 

"No kidding," Impulse agreed, noticing the front doors were shut. The windows, however, were all a reasonable size, unlike the ones in the church last summer. He'd be able to get inside, even though the ghost was hunting. "Do you think there's other people in there?"

"Cultists," Martyn said, simply. "The only people inside of that building that we need to bother with are Gem and Mumbo."

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on helping out anyone who willingly joined the cult that killed Tango," Impulse replied.

Before Impulse or Martyn could enter the building, guns blazing, another car drifted into the clearing, spraying mud and twigs and bits of leaves and grass everywhere behind it as the driver suddenly braked and came to a casual stop next to where Impulse and Martyn had parked their cars.

The passenger door opened, and Grian wobbled out, before proceeding to lose his lunch in the bushes nearby. For some reason, the inside of the car was playing Britney Spears at a ridiculous volume.

Scar rolled down the drivers' side window and made direct eye contact with Impulse.

"Well, hello there, Mumbo's teacher!" he said, with a figurative tip of his nonexistent hat. "We are here to save the day!"

"We-" Grian coughed, and Impulse suddenly felt like he should be patting Grian on the back, but Grian seemed to have recovered- And Impulse wasn't standing close enough to him to do something like that, anyway. "We need to wait for Joel and Lizzie and Tim, Scar. They have our materials."

Scar turned off his music and exited his vehicle, looking around the ruined cars scattered across the clearing, pausing when he saw Mumbo's van amongst the wreckage.

"What, uh, what sort of natural disaster did this?"

"The ghost that was chasing Mumbo down the road right before he got himself trapped in the basement," Martyn remarked. He picked at his jacket sleeve, where there was a hole for his thumb to poke through, as though he was disinterested in the topic, but Impulse knew better.

"Mumbo chucked a bottle of salt at it through the back doors of his van," Impulse added to the explanation. "Like a grenade. It threw a tree at him afterwards. We had to stop and move it out of the road, or else we would have gotten here sooner."

Grian needed a second to process this, wiping his mouth and staring directly at Impulse.

"He did WHAT," Grian finally said, as it finally sank in that Mumbo had pulled this stunt while his van was moving.

"Who was driving Mumbo's car?" Scar wondered aloud, and Grian suddenly looked like he was about to throw up again. Or faint. Maybe both.

Martyn looked as though he was trying to swallow an angry hornet. Impulse couldn't blame him, because they had definitely come to the same conclusion.

"Well, he didn't have anyone else with him except for…" Martyn hesitated. "Bdubs."

Grian decided to take the secret third option other than vomiting or fainting, and instead buried his face in his sweater sleeves, crouched down in the grass, and let out a guttural scream that resonated within all of the assembled group's very souls.

----

The rest of the entire group who had joined the search for Mumbo assembled in the clearing within five minutes. Joel's truck was parked directly next to the entrance, and Etho and Skizz had parked next to Martyn and Impulse's cars, forming an orderly line in what was otherwise chaos.

"So," Skizz said, looking up at the mansion, where the doors were still locked. "What's the plan?"

"Well," Martyn replied, pulling up his phone. "We have three objectives. One: We need to find and rescue Mumbo from where he's been locked in the basement. Two: We need to find and rescue Gem, because she's been possessed. And Three: We need to catch Dawn, the ghost that's causing all of these problems."

"So, we should split into three teams once we're inside, then?" Impulse suggested. "One group could focus on finding Mumbo, the other could focus on figuring out the ghost, and the third could focus on catching Gem without hurting her?"

"Not all of us have ghost hunting experience, so playing to our strengths is key, here," Martyn agreed. "Three teams should be able to do that. So, any volunteers?"

"I'd like to rescue Mumbo," Grian said, first to make a decision and completely prepared to go through with it. "As much as I could be useful in catching the ghost, I need to do this to help him. I really- I need to, alright?"

"Okay, Grian's on the team looking for Mumbo," Martyn said. "I'll join him there- Gem sent me a map of the mansion early on in her mission, so I can navigate to the basement where he's hiding."

"I'll be your third," Scar decided. "I'm not as experienced with chasing ghosts as the rest of you, and I can always toss Mumbo over my shoulder to carry him out if we're in trouble."

"Alright, that's one team down," Martyn said. "Ghost hunters?"

"Me, Jim, and Lizzie should focus on the ghost," Joel said, instantly. He received stares for this sudden declaration, but he simply shrugged in response to them. "Sorry, we just have the most experience out of all of you when it comes to this kind of thing."

"No offense taken," Impulse assured him. "I can help with trying to find and restrain Gem, along with Skizz and Etho."

"That… That'll work." Martyn nodded as the pieces fell together. 

"Here," Lizzie said, walking out of the back of the truck with three walkie-talkies. "Each team should have one, so we can keep each other updated."

"Is there anything else we need?" Skizz asked, frowning. "What about salt? Crucifixes?"

"I'm not sure how much protection we're gonna get from a crucifix if the ghost is already hunting," Lizzie said, looking to Joel.

"Not much," Joel replied. "If this ghost really is on Tango's level, a crucifix isn't going to be enough to stop it. We've got a trap, that's good enough."

"Black salt will damage the ghost too much for it to really be useful again, but I don't think Mumbo really wants to preserve this one," Grian said, thoughtfully. "Considering he apparently threw a bottle of it at this ghost while it was chasing him. From his car. While Bdubs was driving it."

"Okay, we should all have black salt, then," Skizz said, grinning. "It won't hurt Gemstone, since she's alive like us, but it will hurt the ghost, right?"

"It'll hurt enough to separate the ghost from Gem's body," Grian confirmed. "Hopefully."

"Once that happens, we can put it in the trap," Joel said, and Lizzie pulled the ghost trap up next to her like it was a stylish suitcase and not one of the tools they were going to be using to save the lives of the two people trapped in the cult's headquarters.

"If this ghost really is half of the Boogeyman, then it's probably a Yurei," Jimmy said, holding up a thermometer, a DOTS projector, and a video camera. "We don't have Mumbo in the van to keep an eye out for orbs, but we're still able to see them through the camera."

"Right. So we have a plan. How will we get inside if the front door's locked?" Etho said, accepting the walkie-talkie and shoving it into his jacket.

Impulse proceeded to pull his pistol from where he'd been carrying it, turned off the safety, and then shot the nearest window, which completely shattered, leaving an entrance wide enough for everyone to get through. 

Last summer, Joel had used Grian's old shovel to break a window for everyone to get inside. This time, Impulse had created an opening far more quickly. They couldn't just stand around brainstorming forever- Mumbo and Gem were in trouble! Excessive force was completely reasonable in this situation! 

"What," Grian said, hands over his ears, "The fuck."

"Ah, right, I forgot to tell you," Martyn said, unaffected. "Dr. SV brought a gun."

"Is that- Is he going to shoot Gem?" Scar asked, suddenly concerned.

"No," Impulse said, putting the gun away again. "Just cultists, if they get in the way."

Somehow, his words didn't seem to reassure anyone.

----

The teams focusing on figuring out the ghost type and on finding Gem entered the mansion together, because the ghost was possessing her. Their jobs would be completed in the same place. Still, having a distinction between their duties would keep them from getting split up and confused in the chaos.

"Right, so, our best bet is to go towards the noise," Lizzie said, continuing to pull the ghost trap behind her through the mansion's hallways, even with how heavy it was. She was barely affected by its weight, however. "All the shrieking, and stuff. That's usually where ghosts are for these sorts of things."

"Yes, we're definitely going towards the bad noises," Skizz replied. He was running next to Etho, trailing somewhat behind the group, but still close enough to be part of it. "What're we gonna do after we get there?"

"Well," Jimmy said, from where he was forcibly being made to run behind Joel, "We're gonna do our tests to see what kind of ghost we're dealing with, and you all are going to jump on Gem and hold her down while we do it."

"Isn't that ghost that's possessing her hunting?" Etho questioned.

"Well, yes, but it is possible to touch a hunting ghost without being hurt," Joel said, from where he was leading the pack. "If you, Dr. SV, and Skizz all jump on Gem and hold her down at the same time, you won't be in any danger until we get the ghost out of her body."

"I suppose that is true," Impulse said, more to himself than anything. He'd heard about Cabinet Ghost enough times to know that it was possible to do what Jimmy was suggesting without getting hurt. "I think we can do it. It'll be like the old days!"

"Impy, we were all computer nerds with absolutely no physical strengths back then," Skizz reminded him. 

"Well, yeah, but Etho did that backflip in the computer lab that one time without breaking anything!"

"Do not tell them about that," Etho interjected, unamused. "If you do say anything, tell them about how you guys broke two monitors trying to copy me."

"Okay, Copy Nin-" Joel started to say, but Lizzie punched his arm before he could finish that thought. 

"Stop talking about anime," Lizzie said. "We have a ghost to find."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel replied.

----

The teams had been made, and once they were inside, they had split up, spreading out across the mansion while something shrieked and roared inside of it. Their walkie-talkies worked, for a little while, but eventually all communication was cut off as their channels were reduced to nothing but static.

Still, though, Grian thought, clutching the walkie with everything he had in him, I should trust the people I know more. I need to have faith in their abilities, and I know they want to resolve this just as much as I do. Even if there is no way to currently check in on them, they're all still capable enough to escape danger.

Since the other two teams were traveling together, this lack of communication shouldn't be too worrying, but Grian couldn't help but feel like he, Scar, and Martyn were far more isolated than they were. Of course, they also hadn't heard anything from Mumbo ever since he'd last contacted them, but it was likely that he wasn't able to call them again because of the hunt.

Which made Grian wonder how Mumbo had managed to contact them in the first place.

However, that wasn't nearly as important as finding where he was trapped now. 

"We need to take a left," Martyn whispered, leading the group down another hallway. "From what Mumbo described, he's in the kitchen that has a basement pantry- Which is both good and bad, because he's managed to get somewhere where the ghost can't reach him, but he's in basically the dead center of the mansion and our way out is going to be… Complicated."

Grian caught a glimpse of the map Martyn had pulled up on his phone, noticing the square layout of the mansion, with a ballroom, a dining room, and the kitchen Martyn had mentioned all wrapped in the center of the hallways. In fact, the layout almost looked like an eye, because there were two other loops on either side of the main loop that the group was running through, and Grian was not very happy to have noticed this. 

Dawn was running around somewhere on the left side of the mansion, if the sounds of wailing were anything to go off of, so currently, this team was in the clear to run to Mumbo's location and to break him out.

"Is that a dead body?" Scar asked, out of the blue.

The group paused as they came up to a bundle of robes on the floor in the hallway. Dawn had clearly been through here- And the bundle of robes did in fact have a human form inside of it.

Martyn knelt down and placed his fingers under the collapsed cultist's jaw, feeling for a pulse, only to jerk his hand away like he'd just touched a hot stove.

"Dead," Martyn confirmed, rubbing his hand as he stood up. "And absolutely freezing."

"We need to move," Grian said. "The ghost isn't stopping after it kills someone. It's after everything alive in this building, and it won't stop until we're all gone."

"I hope Gem will be okay," Scar said, still looking at the corpse.

"We need to get Mumbo out of here first," Martyn said. "Not much further, now."

"Alright."

Grian wasn't going to hesitate, not when his friend's safety was on the line. No matter what else may lurk in the mansion's halls, he would continue to push forwards- And he would properly apologize for everything. 

Even if Mumbo didn't forgive him, Grian was still going to reach out. Mumbo needed help, and so he was helping.

Everything that happened after this was over could wait.

Making sure everyone was safe was the most important thing to focus on right now.

----

"It's freezing in here," Jimmy declared, triumphantly holding up the thermometer to show it to the rest of the group.

"So this is the favorite room," Lizzie commented, looking around, and then setting down the trap so that she could access the other tools she'd hooked to her skirt. "We're lucky it's empty."

The ballroom was wide open, filled with several long buffet tables that still had food laid out on them, and circular tables near the sides of the room, while the center was clear. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, and, if it had still been daytime, the sunlight would have streamed through them and illuminated the room properly. There were only two doors that led to the ballroom, on either side of the wall opposite from the windows. As it was dusk, the sky outside was purple, and the chairs and other furniture was in disarray, scattered due to the chaos that Mumbo had let in.

"Okay, we don't have much time before the ghost is gonna come back here," Joel said, turning to Dr.SV and the others. "You three stay near the doors, in case Gem comes through."

"On it." Skizz saluted, before he and Dr. SV stood on either side of the western door, ready to pounce. Skizz's hands hovered over two bottles of salt in the same manner as a cowboy preparing to draw his guns before a duel.

Etho placed another bottle of salt over the eastern door, positioned so that if it opened, the bottle's contents would be spilled on whoever entered through that door. He had a second bottle, and he leaned on the wall next to the door with his hand in his pocket, prepared to draw in the same way Skizz was, but more nonchalantly, far calmer as he waited.

Dr. SV did not have a bottle of salt, but he did have a gun. Which should have made him the cowboy in this situation, but he had no plans of actually firing the gun again. Hopefully. Jimmy wasn't actually sure if that was the case, because he didn't actually know Dr. SV that well, aside from the trauma they shared surrounding the circumstances of Tango's death. 

Hm.

Perhaps they both needed to speak to a therapist. That would probably help.

However. There was a ghost to catch. Therapy could wait until that was dealt with.

"Oi, if it's a Yurei like you think, how're we gonna get DOTS without the ghost in here with us?" Joel questioned, making Jimmy refocus.

"We can guess with two pieces of evidence," Lizzie answered. "We got the Boogey with none, you know."

"Those were extenuating circumstances and you know that," Joel replied.

"Hey, if Mumbo's information is true, and this is the other half of the Boogey, I think it's a safe bet to go for Yurei," Jimmy explained. "I trust Mumbo!"

Joel made a face that looked somewhat like a grimace, but he didn't contest this. Lizzie shook her head, disappointed. 

"I think I remember Tango's orbs only showing up around him," Dr. SV said, from where he was standing next to the doorway. He seemed worried. "Will orbs appear in the favorite room even if the ghost isn't there?"

"No," Lizzie answered him. "It's like the DOTS, the EMF, or fingerprints. The ghost has to be here in order to give us the evidence. We've only figured out the room, but we'll need to lure the ghost here in order to figure it out."

"And that is why," Joel said, pulling two ornate silver crucifixes out of his shirt, "I'm using the power of Christ."

"Didn't you guys say it'd be pointless to carry those?" Skizz asked.

"Well, it wouldn't help for your team to have them," Lizzie clarified. "And since the ghost is already hunting, the crucifixes are really only here to slow it down."

Joel set one crucifix on the floor next to the door that Dr. SV and Skizz were guarding, and the other crucifix next to Etho's door.

"If we can slow the ghost down, that'd give you guys the opportunity to hit Gem with that salt," Jimmy further explained, because he knew what sort of plan Joel had. "While you've got her, the ghost will separate from her body, and we'll be able to do our tests."

"Before putting it in the trap," Joel finished, rejoining the other ghost hunters in the center of the ballroom. 

He took a deep breath. Lizzie and Jimmy both stood next to him, forming a circle around the ghost trap, and then, in the same way they'd managed to lure out Joker last summer, the three of them joined hands.

"Dawn!" Joel yelled. "Come out to get us, you bloody ghost!"

"Dawn!" Lizzie shouted. "I've got some things I need to say to you!"

"Dawn," Jimmy said, trying to avoid thinking about how sweaty his palms were against Joel's and his sister's, and failing miserably. "Just- Just come here."

The other team in the room with them caught on to their plan as soon as a wild roar echoed from one of the hallways nearby, before footsteps rapidly approached the ballroom.

Etho's door swung open just a few seconds later, and his bottle of black salt that he'd set on top of it fell, directly on top of the being responsible.

Gem's face was streaked with lines of magenta- Not quite purple, like The Watcher, but not pink enough to be anything else- and contorted into an expression of complete and utter rage. As soon as the salt hit her, whatever had caused the magenta streaks suddenly screamed.

Skizz and Dr. SV sprinted closer as Etho jumped on her back, grabbing Gem by the wrists and trying to hold her down with his body's weight. Wisps of shadows came off of her shoulders and out of her robes- Familiar robes, with several sun emblems decorating them, but she wasn't actually one of them, she was a mole, Martyn promised she was a mole- And shoved Etho backwards, sending him flying with a wide-eyed expression of pure alarm at the sudden display of strength.

Skizz swung both of his bottles, then, scattering his black salt over Gem's body until both of them were empty. Upon making contact with more of the salt, the thing that was not Gem hissed, in the same way Tango had when he was particularly angry, and even more shadows started to come off of her. Stronger, this time. Gem's eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed, right into Dr. SV's arms. 

"It's coming!" Lizzie announced, and the shadows that had all been removed from Gem's body suddenly flew towards the noise.

"Yurei!" Joel shouted, kneeling down and hurriedly flipping switches on the ghost trap behind Jimmy and Lizzie. "Yureiyureiyureiyureiyur-"

"Press it!" Jimmy shouted, right before the shadows reached them.

Joel flipped the final switch. The ghost trap started to shake, and it began to connect with the bundle of shadows that was flying towards them, sucking them in just like every other ghost they'd trapped previously.

But Dawn was fast enough to keep up with a speeding car, and strong enough to uproot and throw trees, not to mention the mess of cars that had been tossed around outside of the mansion. 

Even weakened by black salt, something like a ghost trap wasn't powerful enough to counter strength and speed on that level. 

Since Jimmy was the last one to talk, the shadows instinctively came to him first.

Those were the rules for a hunt. A ghost will attempt to chase down whoever it sees, or whoever it hears, and since Jimmy was the last one who had spoken, Dawn had gone for him.

The shadows became something vaguely human-shaped- With too many teeth and a massive hole in their face where their eyes should have been- before Jimmy felt freezing cold hands wrapping around his neck.

And 

everything

stopped.

Complete, empty silence filled the ballroom.

Dr. SV carefully held Gem, who was unconscious and bleeding from the faded marks where the shadows had gripped her underneath her skin. There was certainly more internal damage that couldn't currently be seen, and would cause unknown lasting effects, but she was still alive, her pulse steady, and chest rising and falling as she breathed. Skizz helped Etho get to his feet- Etho was bleeding from the back of his head, but seemed okay otherwise- And they leaned heavily on the wall next to the door that Etho had trapped, watching and waiting for something else to happen.

Lizzie stopped holding her breath, letting her shoulders sag in relief in the sudden quiet.

Joel looked, in horror, at the ghost trap, and, more specifically, at the light that indicated whether or not there was a ghost inside of it.

The light was off.

And then Jimmy Solidarity's knees buckled, before he collapsed on the ballroom floor. 

Dead. 

----

Grian fiddled with the walkie-talkie as Martyn and Scar pulled the kitchen doors open. There was a cellar inside, Martyn had assured them, but it wasn't immediately obvious from this entrance. The static that had been the group's background noise for the past few minutes suddenly stopped, and Grian heard Joel's voice, out of nowhere.

"Come on-"

"Don't-" Lizzie's voice interrupted him, before fading behind Joel's yelling.

"Wake up! Stop-"

"Joel?" Grian asked, and the noises suddenly stopped. Martyn and Scar both looked back at him, realizing that their communications were back up. "Did you catch the ghost? Is the hunt over?"

"They didn't," Dr. SV's voice came over the radio, clearly enough that he'd either taken Joel's walkie-talkie or was using his own to speak to the group channel. "We got the ghost out of Gem, but it- They didn't catch it before it got Jimmy."

"WAKE UP!" Joel's voice interrupted. "Stop just laying there, Jim, it's not funny! Come on!"

"Don't break his bloody ribs, Joel, he's- Stop it!" Lizzie shouted, in the background, accompanied by the sounds of grunting and movement, the signs of a fight.

"What do you mean- What do you mean, it got Jimmy?" Grian asked, absolutely bewildered, and somehow simultaneously dreading the answers to his many questions.

"He's not waking up, Grian," Dr. SV said, and Grian's heart fell directly into his stomach. "I don't- It was all so fast. They switched on the ghost trap and everything, but Jimmy…"

"They- They didn't catch the ghost?" Grian asked, trying to grasp onto Dr. SV's words but still feeling rather faint at the thought of what they could mean. "After- They didn't catch it?"

"No. It- It's not hunting now, right? So Joel and Lizzie can…" Dr. SV trailed off. And then he changed the subject. "Have you found Mumbo yet?"

"The cellar doors are right here," Martyn responded, from around a corner in the kitchen that Grian hadn't seen him go behind. He poked his head out and waved Grian over.

"We- We found the doors," Grian said.

"Skizz and I will get Etho and Gem out of here, then," Dr. SV said. "They're still alive, but they're hurt. Can I trust you to get Mumbo out safely?"

"Yes," Grian said, steeling himself. He could break down over what happened to Jimmy after everyone else was outside. "I'll- I'll regroup with Lizzie and Joel after we get Mumbo out."

"Thank you," Dr. SV sighed, relieved, but still sounding… Guilty. And then he switched off his walkie-talkie.

"What happened to Jimmy?" Scar asked.

"Not right now," Grian said, feeling something burning underneath his skin. "We- We're here for Mumbo. We can… We can grieve later."

Scar paled, considerably, and he didn't say anything else as Martyn led them to the cellar doors.

Just when Martyn and Scar were about to attempt pulling them open, a transparent head poked through the heavy wood, stopping at the neck, so the rest of the body was below the doors.

Bdubs' single eye widened as he realized who had come.

"Hello," he said. "I'll unlock the door."

And, with the sound of a latch being undone, Bdubs vanished.

Which was odd. Grian couldn't understand why Bdubs had decided to avoid hindering their progress, but he wasn't going to waste time questioning it. 

Martyn and Scar both opened one side of the cellar doors, and revealed a set of old wooden stairs leading to a cement basement. And a view of Mumbo Jumbo, shielding his face from the sudden light, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Friends?" Mumbo asked, and he sounded just as drained as he had over the phone.

When he moved his hand out of the way, apparently adjusted to the light enough to see who was here, Grian could see that his suit was rather disheveled, and his face was gaunt, pale, and currently holding an expression that was distinctly unwell. Mumbo was exhausted, and it was obvious.

But Mumbo smiled when he saw Grian, and he relaxed, relieved, as Scar and Martyn also leaned over the entrance to the cellar where he could see them.

"Come on, Mumbo, we need to get out of here," Grian said, reaching a hand down the stairs. Offering Mumbo a way up, even though the stairs had a railing.

Mumbo reached up, accepting the gesture, and Grian pulled him up the stairs and into the kitchen.

"I think…" Mumbo trailed off, thoughtfully, as soon as he was up with the rest of the group. "I want to go home."

"We can do that," Martyn said. "You might have to catch a ride with one of us, though. Your van is, er, in a tree. Outside."

"Ah," Mumbo said, sounding distraught, but not breaking down just yet. "That's… Well, that's unfortunate."

"You can ride with us," Scar decided. "You stressed me out, Mumbo!"

"Yes, I… I am sorry," Mumbo said.

"No- You don't have to apologize," Grian interrupted, before Mumbo could start blaming himself again. "I… I should be the one who-"

The lights in the kitchen suddenly turned off.

"One of the crucifixes just burned!" Lizzie's panicked voice came from the walkie-talkie, interrupting the conversation and also explaining why it had suddenly gotten dark.

"Are you guys hunting that ghost?" Mumbo asked, after Lizzie was done.

"The others got it out of Gem," Martyn explained. "But, uh… It killed Jimmy in response."

"It- They killed Jimmy?" Mumbo asked, eyes wide.

"Jimmy's not- Don't. Later. We can think about this later." Grian hushed them both.

Mumbo bit his lip.

"I- Grian, I have… I have something. That might fix this," he said, hesitantly, as he scuffed his shoe on the kitchen floor, twitchier than normal.

"What do you mean?" Grian asked.

What could Mumbo possibly have that could fix this? 

Jimmy was dead.

There was nothing in this world that could undo something like that.

"Don't… Don't shoot the idea down immediately," Mumbo said, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a deck of cards. Grian noticed the backs had a rather disturbing pattern on them- Faces upon faces, all screaming in horror- and then realized that there was… an air about them that crawled over his skin like thousands of ants. Something was wrong with those cards, but Mumbo held them without any indication that he wanted to claw his own skin off.

"What are those?" Grian asked.

"This is a deck of cursed tarot cards," Mumbo explained. "And- And there is a chance that one of these cards can bring Jimmy back to life."

Grian's jaw dropped. Scar looked between the both of them, curiously, but he didn't make any move to interfere. He'd been the one to recommend curses to Mumbo at the beginning of this mess, after all, and he clearly had changed his opinion on them after getting cursed by that Moroi on his first ghost hunt. But Scar also knew Jimmy, and to hear that there was a possibility that he could be brought back clearly caused further conflict within those opinions.

Grian's opinions had also changed, after hearing what Mumbo had to say.

This was certainly… It was something. There was hope.

Jimmy could be brought back to life.

"I've never heard about something like that," Martyn said, suspiciously. "There's gotta be a catch, right? You can't do something like bringing back the dead for free. That's just- There's no way that's allowed."

"There is a cost," Mumbo confirmed. "There is a high chance I could cause the ghost to hunt even though there are crucifixes in the ghost room, or even… I could lose my life, too. But Jimmy didn't deserve this. Any of it. I can't just accept what happened to him when I can do something to change it."

"Mumbo Jumbo, I have never been so happy to hear the word 'curse' come out of your mouth," Grian said.

He then picked up the walkie-talkie.

"We found Mumbo. He's alright," he said, first, letting the others know that this group had also succeeded in their plan. "However, we have- He has a cursed item that might be able to bring Jimmy back to life. He hasn't used it yet, but I'm inclined to let him do it."

"Yes. Do it," Lizzie said, immediately. "My brother- We've encountered curses before. We'll probably encounter them again. And I'd rather have Jimmy by my side when we do."

"Skizz and I have just made it outside with Etho and Gem," Dr. SV informed the group. "We're out of the way. Do what you need to do."

"Okay." Grian turned to Mumbo. "You have our permission. Use the cards."

Mumbo nodded, solemnly. "Thank you for trusting me, Grian."

----

Impulse wasn't sure what to think. The group's plans had worked. Gem had been rescued, and Mumbo was safe.

But Jimmy… Jimmy had died. The ghost, Dawn, hadn't stopped hunting the entire time they were possessing Gem, and, as soon as they had been removed from her body, they had killed Jimmy. Who had nearly died by Bdubs' hand last summer… For Dawn's sake.

"You wanna go help?" Skizz, who had obviously read Impulse's mind, because he hadn't said anything since telling Grian and the others that he'd succeeded in taking Etho and Gem outside where they'd be safe, said, completely casually.

"I do," Impulse replied, and that was the truth.

He owed it to Jimmy for helping Tango find peace last summer, and he owed it to Mumbo for failing to protect him from more of the people from his past- Mumbo had been alone with Bdubs for too long, and Impulse could have done more to keep him from completely isolating himself.

Hindsight was a bitch.

And- He'd just stood around outside when the church had burned down last summer. Impulse couldn't stand by this time. He wouldn't let Mumbo and his friends face this alone.

"I'm going back inside," Impulse said, to Skizz, who nodded, completely understanding where he was coming from.

"I'll keep Etho and Gem safe," Skizz replied, clapping Impulse on the back. "You do what you need to do, Dippledop."

"Right." Impulse took a deep breath. "I'll be back, Skizz."

And then he climbed back in through the window he'd broken earlier, gun drawn, and prepared to fire.

----

Bdubs only reappeared once Mumbo had joined Grian in the ballroom, where Joel and Lizzie were frantically looking for evidence. One crucifix was glowing orange, completely burned away, and the other had one charge remaining. The next time Dawn attempted to hunt would be the last time the crucifixes protected them. 

"Orbs, we have orbs," Joel confirmed, setting the video camera down on one of the abandoned tables.

"Urgh, this room's too big for DOTS to be seen easily- We can't mess this up, though, come help me with them," Lizzie said to him.

"Hey-" Bdubs said, only for a flashlight to be thrown at him, thanks to Lizzie. "No- Wait, hang on, don't whack me!"

"If we weren't dealing with something more dangerous than you, I'd have half a mind to stick you in this ghost trap!" Lizzie said, hands on her hips and eyes red.

"No- I- I want to help. I remember… I remember what I did, and-"

"He was possessed," Mumbo said, finishing Bdubs' explanation. "By the ghost that just killed Jimmy. Or the Boogey, I'm not entirely sure. But considering they're two halves of the same person, it really doesn't matter."

"Yeah, cool excuse, he still stuck a knife in my brother's neck," Lizzie dismissed Bdubs with a wave. 

"I'm tryin' ta help!" Bdubs said. "I saved Mumbo! He can vouch for me!"

"You woke me up three times within four hours last night," Mumbo said. "And then you shorted out the power in my house. After causing me to isolate myself from my friends."

"Okay, but did I or did I not protect you?" Bdubs didn't even deny what he was being accused with.

"You locked the door to the cellar while Gem was getting possessed," Mumbo replied, flatly. "Which did, in turn, keep me from dying like the cultists, but I can't exactly forgive you for abandoning Gem like that."

"I'm not- Okay. Fine. I'm helping deal with that ghost, and then we can talk about this."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Just pull the damn cards already!"

"Fine!"

Mumbo lifted one of the cards from the top of the deck, flipping it over so he could read it.

"Death," he announced, and then the card, in his hand, which depicted a man clawing at his own face and screaming, flashed into a different card in a flash of purple light, a jester wearing stripes with question marks in the negative space around it. "No, The Fool."

"What does that mean?" Grian asked, his palms sweating. Mumbo had just pulled a card that said 'Death' on it without even blinking, and it had changed in his hand.

"Death causes a hunt," Mumbo explained, placing his hand back on top of the deck, preparing to draw a second card. "The Fool does nothing."

"How did it change?" Scar asked.

"Why are you still here?" Grian asked, pushing Scar away. Trying to push him towards one of the exits to the ballroom, so he might leave the building while Mumbo played with his cursed deck of cards.

Scar crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm gonna carry Jimmy out of here once he's alive again."

Oh.

"The Tower," Mumbo announced, after pulling the second card. It turned to blue smoke in his hand after he pulled it.

"DOTS!" Joel yelled, from just a little while away. "We got DOTS!"

"What does that do- Oh, it is a Yurei!" Grian asked, and then realized that the group had collected the three pieces of evidence necessary to confirm the ghost's type.

"The Tower doubles ghost activity for a short time," Mumbo said, looking over to where Joel and Lizzie were actively putting their equipment away- and struggling to carry what Jimmy had brought in with him. "It seems that's what made the ghost finally go into their DOTS."

"Okay. Pull another," Grian said. 

The group knew the type of ghost Dawn was, and they had significantly weakened them ever since separating them from Gem's body. It should be possible to contain them this time, without someone dying.

"Death," Mumbo repeated, and the card didn't switch this time, but there was still a flash of purple as the card's effect started to take place.

The lights in the ballroom started to flicker, and the shadows inside suddenly grew longer. Joel and Lizzie both looked up, alarmed.

"But- We had a crucifix!" Scar shouted.

"They don't work on cursed hunts!" Grian replied, already darting towards one of the exits. He pulled Mumbo behind him by the wrist, dragging him along. "Come on, Scar, we need to hide somewhere!"

"Hang on!" Scar shouted, lifting Jimmy's body over his shoulder, and then running after them. 

Mumbo pulled his hand free, and, even though Dawn was actively chasing them down, drew another card from the deck.

"The Devil!" he announced, and Dawn suddenly vanished.

"What?" Grian asked. Scar, still holding Jimmy's body over his shoulder, shared his dumbfounded expression.

"The Devil makes the ghost- It, er, causes an event near someone else in the building," Mumbo explained, breathing hard. "We left Joel and Lizzie behind in there- This card has stopped the hunt, so they shouldn't be in any danger right now."

"A lightbulb just popped near the front of the mansion," Dr. SV's voice came from the walkie-talkie at Grian's hip. "I think I saw the shadows move weirdly."

"We caused an event," Grian explained. "Are you still safe?"

"Yeah," Dr. SV replied. "I'm on my way in- To help. Skizz has Gem and Etho covered."

"If you're sure," Grian said.

"We've got everything picked up," Joel informed them, over the radio. "Whatever you did to make that ghost move, it saved our asses."

"If you make it hunt again, we can catch it," Lizzie added. "We're ready this time."

"Okay. Mumbo, pull another card," Grian instructed.

Mumbo did as he was told. He drew another card from the deck and somehow grew even paler as he saw what was in his hand.

"Grian," he said, his voice turning high-pitched. "The card you need is the High Priestess."

"What?" Grian asked, confused. "What's wrong?"

"The Hermit will trap the ghost in a room for a full minute-"

"Mumbo, what's going on-"

"And you do not want to draw the Hanged Man," Mumbo finished.

"What does that one do?" Grian asked.

"Well," Mumbo said, holding up the card he'd drawn. It depicted a man hanging upside-down from a tree branch, tied there with one leg. "It kills you. It's a bit pants, isn't it?"

The card turned to smoke in Mumbo's hand and he smiled, weakly.

"Sorry, Grian. I did my best, but… It… Didn't… Work… Out."

With that, Mumbo's eyes closed, and he slumped forwards, onto Grian, who instinctively moved to catch him. The deck of cards fell to the floor, but it didn't scatter like it should have- It stayed in one piece, as if stuck together by glue, and harmlessly remained on the carpet. Grian was forced to his knees in order to make sure Mumbo didn't hit his head as he fell- His weight was a significant factor in this, but his height was what made the maneuver as awkward as it was- and the skin he could feel was already turning cold.

"Mumbo- Mumbo, this isn't a funny prank," Grian found himself saying, arms wrapped around Mumbo's torso, and one hand under his jaw, desperately feeling for a pulse that wasn't there. "Stop- Why… Why did I agree to this?! I'm such an idiot!"

"Grian."

"Why did I think letting you use the cards was a good idea- Now you and Tim are both dead-"

"Grian!"

"And we still haven't caught the ghost responsible-"

"Grian!"

"What?!" Grian wailed, his eyes burning and his face wet.

"We're being hunted," Scar said, gesturing to the lights, which had started to flicker. "We need to go, now."

"Well, this sucks," Bdubs said, appearing out of thin air. The lights stopped acting odd as soon as he did. "Dawn is about to hunt again." 

"What do you want," Grian said, flatly. "Just leave."

"I'm on your side, here," Bdubs replied. "This time, anyway. I remember how you hit me with that shovel."

"You deserved a lot worse," Grian said.

"What are you doing?" Scar asked.

"Well, firstly, I'm gonna cover for you as you get out of here," Bdubs said. "And, secondly, I can boost the power of your ghost trap so it's actually able to suck Dawn in."

Grian couldn't ask Mumbo if it was possible.

But he did know that Dr. SV had said that Dawn had been too fast for the ghost trap to actually catch them, and Jimmy had paid the price for it. Bdubs was very familiar with this particular model of ghost trap, as well, since he'd survived his own exorcism from inside one of them. 

Bdubs had also protected Mumbo from Dawn, when he was able to.

Even though he hated it, Grian grit his teeth, gripped Mumbo's body even tighter, looked up at where Bdubs was floating, and said, "Fine. We'll do this your way."

Chapter Text

There was a plan.

Of course, it was a horrible, highly dangerous, likely-to-kill-him plan, but a plan nonetheless. As if a terrible plan had ever stopped Grian's friends before.

Somehow, Scar had taken his walkie-talkie while Grian argued with Bdubs about what the plan needed to entail- Grian was the one who was going to use the cards, because he was not letting anyone else get hurt, but Bdubs had said that Scar would be the better choice, because he had only ever been on one ghost hunt, and was, in his words, 'expendable'- and he had passed the news of Mumbo's demise to the others. Grian was still tightly clinging to his friend's corpse. Mumbo's skin was already cold to the touch, unlike Jimmy's, which could be explained either by Mumbo's poor state of being before dying, or that Jimmy was killed by Dawn, not a curse.

Grian was trying his best not to think about it. Nor was he trying to think about how Jimmy had been set down against the wall in the hallway so that Scar was able to use his hands for the walkie-talkie.

"Grian's not letting me use the cards," Scar said, over the walkie-talkie. "But- We need assistance over by the west side of the ballroom. I can't carry both Mumbo and Jimmy out of here."

"Dr. SV, where are you inside of the building right now?" Martyn asked, also over the radio. He was with Lizzie and Joel, preparing for Dawn's next hunt, and since the two of them were busy putting down salt or making sure everyone had smudge sticks and lighters, Martyn had claimed their walkie-talkie to keep everyone else updated on the situation. 

"I'm further inside," Dr. SV answered. "I think I'm closer to the kitchen than the ballroom right now- But I'm on my way to come and help."

"We need extra hands, anyway," Joel's voice said, faintly, over the radio that Martyn was still holding. "We can't use the ghost trap and light a smudge stick at the same time."

"Do you need me to use the ghost trap or do you need me to smudge?" Dr. SV asked.

"Either-or, really. Unless your lighter abilities are more potent than your button-pushing ones."

"I can handle a lighter. If you had a can of hair spray, I could handle that, too."

"Okay. You and Martyn will smudge the ghost when it appears again, and, since we know it's a Yurei, it'll be blinded," Joel decided. "That'll give us our chance to strike."

"Sounds good," Dr. SV agreed. "I'm headed over."

"What about Jimmy and Mumbo?" Scar asked.

"They aren't going anywhere- And Grian wants to try and bring them back, still, right?" Martyn asked. He paused, coming up with an idea. "You guys should move them to an interior room that's out of the way- You'll be out of the ghost's way, and you'll have the space and time you need to keep using those cards."

Scar turned so he made eye contact with Grian.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" he asked.

"No," Grian answered, honestly. "But we have no other options."

"Okay," Scar said. He returned to the walkie-talkie. "We'll find a safe area over here. Good luck catching the ghost."

"Yeah," Joel said, through Martyn's radio. "We're definitely going to need it."

----

The last crucifix only had one charge remaining on it. It caught on fire almost immediately after Grian and Scar dragged Mumbo and Jimmy's bodies into a nearby bathroom. Since they were no longer in the hallway, and the bathroom only had one entrance, it was a fairly defensible position, and one that would allow Grian to use the cards.

This was it.

Grian was making his last stand here.

Bdubs had run off, as soon as he was certain that Grian and Scar were as safe as they could be. Grian didn't know where Bdubs was going, but he hoped, for everyone's sake, that he was rushing to the ballroom, so that he could do what he said and power up the ghost trap.

"You okay?" Scar asked, leaning against the door to the bathroom so that it was held shut.

"No," Grian replied, drawing a card from the deck. "But there is a chance that they can come back. Sitting around and doing nothing won't save them."

Grian looked at the card in his hand.

Death.

He scowled, and the lights flickered, just before Dawn screeched, signaling the start of another hunt.

----

Death wasn't what Mumbo had been expecting. Most depictions of death either involved a light at the end of a tunnel, judgment of the soul, or simply passing, like going to sleep. Mumbo didn't remember what the actual sensation of dying was like (as he had only now regained as much consciousness as a dead person could have) but he was aware that his heart had stopped beating, his lungs no longer drew breath, and while he could still use his own muscles, his body was heavy, like someone had poured concrete into every single one of his bones and let it settle.

Mumbo wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing, now that he was dead. He wasn't sure if he was able to see anything at all, because there was nothing around him. Just darkness.

Death appeared to be a room with no floors, walls, ceilings, or furnishing. 

Mumbo Jumbo's death had led him to a completely empty void.

Thankfully, he was still able to see, despite the completely empty void surrounding him, because, if he focused his eyesight, he could see himself, in the corners of his vision- Just like anyone else, he could see his own nose if he focused enough. His body may have lost its vital functions, but he retained his senses, it seemed. There were no sounds or smells or tastes in this place, but he could see and he could feel.

Black rope-like vines held him still, in what might be the center of this endless empty room, and while Mumbo was aware that he was awake and that he had died, he couldn't move an inch from where he was standing. The most he could do against his bonds was twitch- And if he had still needed to breathe, the noose around his neck would have completely cut off his air.

"You are troubled."

The inky darkness of wherever Mumbo was now suddenly seemed less dark as someone approached him. Mumbo was standing, so, of course, he would have been able to walk if not for his restraints, but whoever was here with him did not have footsteps. They made no noise as they walked behind him and looked over his shoulder, entering his field of vision.

Hauntingly familiar purple eyes looked back at him from the same body as the last time Mumbo had seen them, with that gaping hole in their chest and the stiff, jerking movements that the fog forced the corpse to make, in a twisted mimicry of the way a living human could walk. The corpse's mouth did not open as they spoke to Mumbo, but, then again, this ghost did not have a proper body, nor did they have a mouth.

The Watcher, exactly as Mumbo last saw them, was here, in this empty void, after Mumbo had used the cursed tarot cards in an attempt to bring Jimmy Solidarity back to life.

"Of course I'm troubled," Mumbo said to them. His voice was weak and rasping, because there was a rope around his neck that continued to grow tighter. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"You are," The Watcher- Dusk- agreed. "The ropes around your neck reflect your circumstances. You attempted to cheat death, and you paid the price."

"You know just as well as I do that Jimmy didn't deserve to die here," Mumbo said. "This entire thing- Bdubs, Dawn, Tango- It was all part of your mess."

Dusk tilted the corpse's head to the side, slightly.

"Indeed."

They didn't deny it. They didn't even bother trying to.

Well. There was nothing Mumbo could do about it from here. He'd gotten himself killed playing around with curses, just like Grian said he would, and now he wasn't ever going to see his friends again. He doubted he would come back as a ghost. Deaths from curses were far more permanent than deaths from other circumstances- And while there were several things he regretted, Mumbo had still managed to pass on his information to Grian and the others before the curse had killed him.

"That former cultist appears to be working with your friends to restrain Dawn's other half," Dusk said, eyes unfocusing. In the darkness of the void, the action made their 'body' look even more corpse-like. It was unsettling.

"So Dawn really did split in two?" Mumbo asked, trying to ignore that, and then, consequently, trying to avoid thinking about what he looked like now. A ghost's body was unlike what it was when they were alive. Tango had been made of fire that changed colors depending on his mood. Bdubs was half-skeleton and constantly sparked with electricity. Dusk, here with Mumbo now, was a patch of fog that contained human eyes and was currently using Tango's corpse as a puppet. Mumbo was like them now- And he was sure that he had been changed by the curse that killed him.

"They did. Dawn and I both fell from the lighthouse after a fight on its balcony. They stabbed me in the heart. I clawed out their eyes. Their body was torn in half when they hit the rocks below." As Dusk spoke, Mumbo could faintly hear the sounds of waves crashing, and he could feel a slight breeze that tasted faintly of salt. Dusk didn't appear to have noticed this change in atmosphere, but they didn't stop talking. "Our feud continued for many years. Every night, starting at sunset, we would battle inside of the lighthouse. And every time the sun rose, we would stop."

This made sense. Mumbo's own research into Point Hope had led him to learn that the two lovers who had died there together had both been haunting the lighthouse, and that they were the reason why it was so dangerous for ghost hunters to investigate. Dawn had been waiting on the balcony outside of the lantern room for Dusk when Mumbo and Bdubs had arrived. 

"When did you and Dawn stop fighting?" Mumbo asked. "You weren't at the lighthouse last summer when we encountered you. Nor were you at the lighthouse when Tango died, sixteen years before then."

"We didn't," Dusk replied. "Our battlefield simply changed locations. Dawn's split allowed them to be in multiple places at once. They grew stronger after performing sacrifices on humans, and they found a way to force other humans to do their bidding. I left the lighthouse on the day I realized I was no longer strong enough to handle them on my own, and so I started collecting the eyes of those who held a grudge against Dawn, increasing my own power."

"Tango bargained his eyes for information, you said." Mumbo scowled at them. The black ropes around his neck wouldn't allow him to emote further- Or to punch them, because they were making him angry. "Was he a special case, or was everyone like that?"

"Tango Tek swore revenge, instead of holding a general grudge. His rage made him unique, and he was far stronger than the others because of that." Dusk floated in front of Mumbo, and their eyes met. The unnatural purple hue of Dusk's eyes made the interaction much more intense- And Mumbo could tell that they were serious. "I came to that church on that night seventeen years ago because I could not let Dawn absorb his soul. Tango willingly gave up his eyes to me, and over all of the years he hunted for his killer, he grew powerful enough to be equal in strength with the half of Dawn's soul that possessed his old friend Bdubs. I'd say that my gamble paid off."

"Tango wasn't able to handle them by himself, though," Mumbo corrected them. Jimmy had told him that Tango had been thrown around by the Boogeyman like he was nothing- And that it had been a team effort between himself, Grian, Lizzie, and Pearl to finally pull them into the ghost trap. "And Tango's gone. He moved on last summer. He already got his revenge, mate."

"I think you'll be surprised," Dusk said. The fog that made up their body tugged at the lips of the corpse they were inhabiting, forcing it to smirk, even though the skin had been mummified to the point where most of the face was completely frozen. A crack appeared at the edge of the corpse's lips, and more of that black liquid dripped from it. Mumbo looked away, purely on instinct, but the image of flesh tearing under Dusk's influence had already cemented itself into his mind. "Jimmy Solidarity's sacrifice wasn't in vain. His death was noticed, and Tango Tek is actively clawing his way up from Hell to get back to his side. I wouldn't be surprised if he is able to drag Jimmy back to the world of the living through sheer willpower alone."

Mumbo blinked as he heard this. Tango had been hunting down his killer for sixteen years before he met Jimmy- And that was with barely any memories relating to the events that led to his death or the identity of his killer. Tango had made it all the way to Dr. SV's home before asking for help- And Bdubs had been living just down the street the entire time Jimmy and his friends had been investigating. He'd nearly managed to complete his quest for revenge entirely on his own.

It was thanks to Jimmy that the killer's identity had been found. And Tango cared about him outside of his usefulness in helping him investigate the circumstances of his death.

Of course Tango wasn't going to let Jimmy get killed by the same entity behind his own murder without consequences.

Dusk knew this. They had planned for it. Dawn had two sides, after all, and one had already been dealt with- Sealed away, and never to be uncovered again. This so-called 'gamble', allowing Jimmy to die and encouraging Tango to come back and handle Dawn's other half, was something that Dusk had done to once again 'change the battlefield'. 

Instead of dealing with Dawn themself, Dusk had turned Tango into a weapon as he was dying, and they were now pointing him at Dawn without caring about who else could be caught in the crossfire.

"You're really not nice," Mumbo said to them, feeling himself grow even angrier. 

Grian and the others were still in the building. Gem had gotten possessed. Jimmy and Mumbo had died. And Dusk had the audacity to smirk at Mumbo using Tango's corpse while explaining this horrible master plan- One that treated his friends' lives as nothing more than 'gambles' to settle a century-old feud with their ex. 

Mumbo couldn't forgive Dawn for what they'd done. He agreed with Dusk in that they needed to be dealt with.

However, he couldn't forgive Dusk, either.

Both halves of this battle had caused irreversible damage to the people Mumbo cared about- And to Mumbo himself. 

If Dawn hadn't killed Jimmy, Mumbo wouldn't have attempted to use the cursed tarot cards to bring him back to life.

If Bdubs hadn't gotten stuck in Mumbo's PC, Mumbo wouldn't have gone to Point Hope and gotten chased by Dawn to the mansion.

If Tango hadn't killed Bdubs, then Bdubs wouldn't have become a ghost and started this whole other mess.

If Dawn hadn't possessed Bdubs, then Bdubs wouldn't have led Tango to his death seventeen years ago.

And if Dusk and Dawn hadn't killed each other, turning into ghosts, then none of this would have happened. Mumbo and his friends would be alive and happy, living normal, untraumatized lives. There would be no cults, there would be no curses, and there would have been no deaths. Tango would have lived. Bdubs would have lived. Jimmy and Mumbo would have lived.

All of their lives had been sacrificed in this battle that Dawn and Dusk had been having for all of these years.

Mumbo could say he fully understood the need for revenge that Tango and Dawn both exhibited, though it didn't suit him very well. Anger bubbled beneath his skin, but the noose remained tight around his neck, and Dusk continued to float out of reach. 

"Relax," Dusk said, entirely aware of the seething ball of rage held back only by the ropes that rooted him in place. "Everything is in place now. The show is about to begin."

----

“You're not supposed to be here.”

Jimmy opened his eyes at the sound of that voice- Something he hadn't heard for months and was certain he'd never hear again. Not until he-

Jimmy blinked.

He wasn't in the mansion where he'd been attacked, instead in a complete void. There were no colors in the space around him, no objects to focus on, and no floor, despite the fact he was standing on solid ground. It was just a vast, empty space, and there was absolutely nothing in it.

He wasn't alone, however.

Standing by his side, just outside of his field of vision, was a presence that burned, something warm and familiar. 

If Jimmy was able to move from his current position, he'd be able to look this presence in the eyes. He didn't need to move to recognize it, though.

“Tango.”

The presence next to him laughed, and the air grew warmer.

“You're not quite dead yet, Jimmy,” Tango said to him. A comforting hand rested on his shoulder. “You're a lot closer to being dead than alive right now, though. And that's not a good thing.”

“My friends,” Jimmy mumbled. He vaguely remembered what had happened before he was here. He wondered what the others were doing right now. Was he dreaming? Was he awake? Were they still trying to fix things?... Did they think he was… Gone? “Are they alright?”

“Well, most of them are alive, except for Mumbo. Which is more than what I can say for you at the moment,” Tango said. Jimmy wasn't entirely sure how Tango was feeling about this reunion, but Jimmy was glad to be near someone familiar to him. It made the void feel less vast, the dream less empty. “What was it you said, before all of this happened? That you'd live for both of us?” 

Jimmy remembered. He'd stood in front of a grave that had no body hidden beneath the earth. He'd been alone. He'd left flowers.

I don’t know if I’ll come back. 

But I sincerely hope it’s a long time before I talk to you again, Tango. 

I’ve realized that I do deserve to live. 

You deserved to live, too, but you weren’t given that chance. 

So I’ll live for both of us.

“You… heard me?”

Jimmy couldn't actually see Tango, but the air grew warmer. If he had the ability to turn his head, he was sure he'd be met with one of Tango’s signature sharp grins. 

“Of course I did. I might not be there, in the world of the living anymore, but that's not gonna stop me from keeping an eye on my buddy! You were the one who insisted that we were still friends, despite everything you went through for my sake.”

Tango nudged him, then, pushing Jimmy’s back and forcing him to take a step forward. Jimmy stumbled, as he realized he could finally move. But there were cinder blocks on his feet, and his head refused to turn. He couldn't continue moving past this point.

“Your friends are waiting for you back in the world of the living,” Tango said. “I'm not looking for anyone to join me here just yet.”

“But-”

“Go home, man.”

Jimmy took another step forward. He swayed on his feet, his limbs weighed down like cement, but he kept moving.

Tango remained where he was standing.

Upon realizing this, Jimmy stopped.

“Aren't you coming with me?” he asked.

“I shouldn't,” Tango replied. “This is where I have to stay. I've been dead for a long time, Jimmy.”

“It's not fair. You're my friend, too. I don't want to leave you here.”

“Listen. You need to go home. This place isn't where you're needed.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Your friends need you. Your living friends. They can't face this without you, and- Well, if you stay here, you can't save them.”

“I'm scared.”

“I'll walk with you, then. I won't be able to stay for long, but…”

“That's okay.”

Jimmy resumed his walk.

“I trust you, Tango.”

The presence with him stopped, and so Jimmy did, too.

“How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Jimmy replied, automatically. 

No matter what potentially dangerous idea Tango had, Jimmy could rely on him to keep him and his friends safe.

“Okay.”

And so Tango explained himself.

Jimmy took his hand and led the way.

The warmth came with him, and they trekked through the void until the cement on his limbs weighed nothing more than a feather. They walked until he could feel the beating of his heart once again. They walked until ragged breaths stole the air for his lungs. They walked, and they were alive.

And, eventually, they woke up.

----

“Please… This- It has to be the High Priestess.” Grian’s hands shook as he drew another card from the cursed deck. “It has to.”

Jimmy’s body was laid next to Mumbo’s on the floor of one of the mansion's bathrooms, hidden from sight in the chaos. With only one entrance to the room, it was the most sheltered hiding place they were going to get, considering the circumstances.

“Hey! What's going on?!” Bdubs demanded, pushing his way in past the door to the bathroom. Sparks flew from where his feet touched the ground as he ran over. “What are you still doing here?! Dawn's coming for you!”

“Saving them,” Grian replied. He looked at the card he drew. The Hermit. The card dissolved into smoke after he'd pulled it from the deck.

In the distance, something howled in frustration as the dining hall’s doors slammed shut around it. Grian heard their locks clicking, and then he heard more banging and crashing. Whatever was inside of the dining hall was trying to escape, but because of the power of the card Grian had drawn, it was impossible.

Grian and Bdubs looked towards the direction of the noise.

“I've bought some time,” Grian explained, hurriedly. “The walkies are cut off, thanks to the hunt- And you need to get back to Joel and Lizzie, so you can get the ghost trap-”

Bdubs cut him off, vehemently refusing to listen. “Hey! I can't just leave you here like this! You'll die, too!”

“I'm asking you to go!” Grian shouted. “I'm willing to take this risk!”

“You-”

Jimmy’s finger twitched, and both human and ghost immediately turned their attention to him.

And then Jimmy opened his eyes, and sat upright, blinking as he turned his head to take in his surroundings.

“Tim?” Grian asked, quietly. There was a sense of relief, but also that whatever just happened shouldn’t have been possible, and yet he was looking Jimmy in the eyes as he suddenly stopped being dead. “You're… You're alive.”

“Yeah, uh… He kinda… Wasn't, for a second,” a voice that was decidedly not Jimmy answered him with an awkward smile. And then he stood up. 

The doors that had been locked after Grian drew The Hermit suddenly opened, the locks breaking and the wood of the doors splintering and flying everywhere from the force of the attack against them. Based on the noise, Dawn had just broken free from the dining room closest to this bathroom, and now they continued to fly closer, threatening what little shelter the group had taken.

“Looks like we're right on time,” Not-Jimmy said, and a burst of black flame came out of his mouth as he breathed heavily, preparing himself for what was to come. He carefully held his fists in front of him, like he was about to fight the rapidly approaching entity.

“Get away! It's dangerous!” Bdubs shouted. “You'll die!”

“Hey, Bdubs? Do you want me to burn you to death again?” Not-Jimmy, who was apparently actually Tango, asked, slightly turning his head to the side and raising his eyebrows. Grian was pretty sure he'd never seen this much anger on Jimmy’s face in the entire time he'd known him. The expression was foreign, something that didn't belong. “Get out of here before you stop being useful.”

“I… I see. Okay.”

“Tango?” Grian asked, dazed.

“I was able to help Jimmy find his way back, and to restart his heart and lungs and stuff. This-” Tango gestured to the body he was currently inhabiting, “isn't permanent. I'll be able to drive Dawn away long enough for you to bring Mumbo back.”

“Are you sure?” Grian asked. “These cards- They might kill me. That's how Mumbo…”

“Grian. You're the only one who can save him,” Tango said. “Hell, I didn't think I'd ever be able to cross back over from the world of the dead, and here I am anyway. I think you can figure out another miracle to fix this.”

Grian hesitated as he placed his hand on the Tarot deck again.

“Thank you for taking care of Jimmy,” Grian said. “I trust you.”

He picked up a card, and Tango stepped outside, shouting a battle cry, before colliding directly with Dawn.

Dawn, caught off-guard despite their hunt, turned and fled, apparently recognizing that Tango was stronger than they were, at this moment- Dawn was no longer possessing a body, and they had been weakened several times by black salt. Tango had the advantage here, and both of them knew it. Tango chased after them as they fled, running down the hallway and taking the warmth out of the room with him.

"Now's your chance," Grian said to Bdubs. "Go to Joel and Lizzie. Get the trap working. I'll be fine here."

"If you say so," Bdubs said, and he stepped outside as well, sparks still coming from his footsteps, and he ran after Tango and Dawn, though he had no intention of jumping in on that fight. Grian was pretty sure Bdubs would listen to his instructions, because, even though Bdubs was technically an enemy, there was a temporary alliance between them until Dawn had been dealt with. Grian couldn't trust Bdubs as far as he could throw him, but he knew that Bdubs had a grudge to settle with Dawn, and that Joel and Lizzie and the ghost trap were the best route to settling it.

Satisfied with the sudden lack of noise near the bathroom that he had taken shelter in, Grian held his breath, and pulled another card from the cursed deck.

A pair of wings greeted him, completely unfamiliar, but, in a flash, the card switched to The Fool, before Grian could read what had been on the card originally.

"The Fool does nothing," Mumbo had explained, almost immediately before he died.

Grian hesitated before drawing another card. He couldn't allow himself to get too greedy- And causing Dawn to move elsewhere with something like The Devil could cause problems. If he accidentally summoned them here, Grian would die before he was able to save Mumbo, and everything that their friends were doing to stop Dawn would have been for nothing.

It really came down to luck of the draw, at the end of the day.

Mumbo isn't going to come back on his own, Grian thought, looking at the face on his best friend's corpse. Mumbo looked as though he was sleeping, with his eyes peacefully closed and not a single change in expression. His chest did not rise and fall as it should have, and the skin at his lips was turning blue. 

Grian pulled another card.

----

"Incoming!" Tango's voice called, from the hallway, just as a blast of bright orange fire sent Dawn through the ballroom doors and flying into the large room.

Lizzie scrambled towards the ghost trap, making sure it was ready to be switched on again so soon after its previous failure to catch Dawn.

Dr. SV lit his smudge stick and slid past her, throwing it at the floor in front of Dawn, and causing the smoke coming from it to start billowing around the ghost. 

Martyn, who also had a smudge stick, did something similar, darting close under the cover of the thin smoke screen to drop two more lit smudge sticks at Dawn's feet. Joel joined him, but he didn't have any smudge sticks- Instead, he kicked Dawn in what could be considered their shins, and jumped out of the way before they could kill him for being too close.

Dawn swung wildly around, blinded by the smoke, and trying to clear it with no success. Similarly, Tango stumbled, near the entrance, and Jimmy's body blinked, rubbing at his eyes and looking alarmed.

Tango was the same type of ghost as Dawn. He was also blinded by the smudge sticks.

But he'd already done his part. The group no longer required him to finish things off. In fact, it was a good thing he'd remained near the entrance.

"Bdubs!" Lizzie called out, and the skeletal ghost answered by zapping over- Much faster now that there were electronics nearby. 

"I'm on it!" Bdubs yelled, sending some of the electricity that seemed to gather around him into the ghost trap. The lights on it started glowing brighter, and Lizzie was certain that the trap was now powerful enough to fully ensnare Dawn. "Flip the switch!"

Dawn's head swung in Lizzie and Bdubs' direction, honing in on their location through sound and stepping closer, despite the smoke that had made it so they couldn't see.

Joel took this opportunity to jump on their back, dragging them down with his weight, and holding their clawed hands in place so that they couldn't scratch him.

Dawn shrieked, already beyond human speech, and Lizzie flipped the switch on the ghost trap. 

Powered up as it was, thanks to Bdubs' electricity, and thanks to Joel holding the ghost in place, the trap was able to properly latch onto them and start reeling them in.

Dr. SV and Martyn both watched as Dawn was dragged out from underneath Joel and into the ghost trap, a vortex of wind pulling them ever closer despite their struggle.

It was pointless, though.

Dawn had been significantly weakened over the course of the evening. Even though they had started their hunt at a speed that nearly outpaced Mumbo's van, and with enough strength to rip trees out of the ground before throwing them hundreds of feet through the air, they were currently unable to move under the weight of one human man. 

Lizzie felt no remorse as the thing that killed her brother was completely sucked into the trap she was operating.

The vortex stopped. Bdubs' electricity stopped, and the lights on the trap flickered at the sudden loss of extra power.

But the light that indicated that a ghost was trapped had lit up, and it didn't budge, even after a few seconds passed.

Lizzie sagged in relief. Bdubs sighed, exhausted.

"We did it," Lizzie said, flipping the trap around so the others could see what she did. "We got them."

----

"Dawn has fallen into your friend's trap," Dusk commented, eyes focused on something far in the distance. Mumbo couldn't see whatever it was that they were looking at, and apparently that was enough reason for them to start gloating, narrating events to him as they happened. "With Bdubs' assistance, it seems like this half of their soul is finally going to meet its end."

"And what will you do?" Mumbo asked, biting his tongue when he pulled at his ropes again. Once again, they did not budge. "If this half of Dawn is also in one of my ghost traps, they won't get out. You'd win. What are you going to do?"

"Who knows?" Dusk said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps my purpose will be fulfilled, and I'll move on. Perhaps I may stay in the world of the living. Your friends are quite interesting people, Mumbo Jumbo. I believe I may enjoy whatever adventures they embark on in the future."

"You've traumatized them enough!" Mumbo shouted, despite the rope around his neck growing even tighter as he strained against it. By all means, he shouldn't have been able to speak, but considering he didn't need to breathe anymore, this wasn't going to stop him. Especially when it was something so important. "Stay away from them!"

"You are in no position to make demands, Mumbo Jumbo," Dusk said, no longer amused. "Consider yourself lucky that you are the only being in this place that is fit to be my audience."

"You miserable bastard," Mumbo hissed, and the rope around his neck became looser as he leaned back, looking down at the ghost possessing a corpse with pure contempt. Mumbo had a height advantage over practically everyone he'd ever met, so looking down on Dusk was easy, even with the ropes holding him in place. "You'll regret this."

"There is nothing you can do to change things now," Dusk said, already looking away again. "You're already dead."

Mumbo had already accepted this as a fact. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Mumbo had died to a curse about twenty minutes ago. 

But death, while permanent in most cases, wasn't something that could stop someone from changing the lives of others. Dusk's very existence was proof of that.

So even though Mumbo had accepted the fact that he was dead, there was no need for him to accept anything else about this situation.

Dusk was a creepy, lonely, weirdo who had nothing better to do in their afterlife than to gloat to a man who had just died about how they were going to continue to haunt his friends.

Like hell was Mumbo going to just let them do that.

Changing things wasn't impossible. Tango had done it. Bdubs had done it. Dawn and Dusk had done it, too. And now that Mumbo was the same as them, it was his turn to do something.

One of the ropes holding him down started to fray. Fibers of unknown origin began to unravel, and the rope around his neck grew even looser, wide enough that he should be able to pull it off of his head.

"What a display," Dusk said, still looking at something that Mumbo couldn't see. "Tango succeeded, as I thought he would. Your friend Jimmy has been brought back to life. And your friend Grian is still pulling cards for your sake, despite how vehemently he rejected your use of cursed items."

The ropes fell loose.

"Bdubs has done as he said, and strengthened the pull of the ghost trap," Dusk continued, unaware of the clawed hand reaching for them, free from its bonds and connected to a being far too angry to realize exactly what it was doing. "Dawn… Has been contained."

"It's over," Mumbo found himself saying, somewhat dazed.

"Indeed," Dusk replied. "I have won."

"No."

"No?"

Dusk's eyes suddenly focused on the being in front of them, snapping into awareness just in time for sharp nails to pluck the corpse's eyes from its body. Fog streamed out from the empty sockets, and from the hole in the corpse's chest, swirling around Mumbo Jumbo in an agitated manner.

"You lose, actually," Mumbo continued. He smiled, with too many teeth that were just a bit too sharp to be human. Dusk's fog shuddered, having abandoned the corpse they used to inhabit, and with only two eyes remaining, within the claws of a ghost that had just realized his own powers. "I can't allow you to go back to the world of the living. You're dead, and so am I. I'm not going to return to that place, because of the curse that killed me, so I can certainly keep you from doing the same, even if I have to drag you down to Hell myself."

"And how do you intend to do such a thing?" Dusk asked. "My 'body' is made of fog. Nothing you do can damage me."

"You said something interesting while you were gloating, earlier," Mumbo said, rolling one of the eyes he'd snatched from the corpse between sharp nails and one too many graceful fingers. His other hand clutched the other eye tightly, refusing to let it budge an inch despite Dusk's attempts to escape. "You collected the eyes of those who held a grudge against Dawn to gain power. What would happen, I wonder, if you lost them all?"

"..." 

Dusk said nothing.

Mumbo knew, then, that he'd hit the nail on the head, and he grinned, placing both eyes into the palm of one hand and clutching them tightly. 

"Tango did some serious damage to you, last summer. I know you had more eyes the last time we met, and yet you're here with only two. You've grown weak, Dusk." 

Mumbo's nails didn't pierce the eyes he was holding, but his grip was strong enough that Dusk couldn't escape, even if they wanted to. 

They couldn't stop him, either, when he lifted his hand into the air and held their eyes over his open mouth, filled with sharp teeth that could easily tear a man's throat out. 

"Good riddance," Mumbo quietly said, letting go.

He swallowed, and the fog that had once surrounded him was no more.

----

Mumbo blinked.

He was laying on his back on a tiled floor. Grian's face took up most of his field of vision, but the ceiling and the rest of the room appeared to belong to a rather ornate bathroom. Grian was crying, and babbling about something, but Mumbo couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, because it sounded like absolute gibberish. He tasted blood and-

Mumbo suddenly turned himself over, pulling himself away from where Grian had been leaning over him, and he nearly choked as he simultaneously realized that he actually needed to breathe now, and that Oh, God, he pulled Dusk's eyeballs out of Tango's corpse and then ATE THEM. 

"Oh, I hope that isn't Jimmy's reaction when he wakes up," Scar said, coming out of nowhere to rub Mumbo's back as he dry heaved over the toilet. 

"Mumbo?" Grian asked. "Are you-"

"Quite alright!" Mumbo said, though he very obviously wasn't. He wiped his mouth, even though nothing had come up. His stomach was still incredibly unsettled, but he was at least able to breathe normally again. "Dusk- The Watcher- I met them! I met them, and they were freaky!"

Grian and Scar both seemed confused by this. They shared a look, before returning their attention to Mumbo.

"Didn't Tango kill that guy?" Scar asked.

"Well, we kinda just assumed they were gone after the fire, since we never saw them again," Grian said, thoughtfully.

"I'll have you know I crushed all of those eyeballs myself!" Tango's voice came from outside, and then Jimmy poked his head in through the door to the bathroom. Apparently he'd been keeping watch outside as Grian brought Mumbo back to life.

Which didn't make sense, because Scar had just said that Jimmy was still asleep.

"They shouldn't have gotten out," Tango continued, though his voice came from Jimmy's body. Oh. That explained things. "I only let you guys leave. Everyone else burned to death."

"You missed two, mate," Mumbo groaned, leaning on the cold porcelain. "Dusk thought it'd be fun to narrate to me- Everything that was going on, while I couldn't move or breathe or- Do anything, really. And then I- I got mad and I did something. Before I came back here."

"What, did you kill them?" Scar asked, sounding almost excited.

"I ate them," Mumbo answered, hunching over the bowl again. "I ripped their eyes right out of that corpse they kept dragging around and I swallowed them."

"Oh," Grian said, sounding appropriately mortified.

"Sick," Tango said, sounding more impressed than anything. Which really put things into perspective, because Dusk had been walking around in Tango's corpse. It was good to know he wasn't mad about that, even though it was entirely possible Mumbo had just eaten Tango's eyes.

"So, uh, what happens when you eat a ghost?" Scar asked.

"Why did you eat them?!" Grian demanded. "Why was that your first instinct?!"

"I was dead. They were dead. I was- I was sure that I wasn't going to come back, so I… I did what I had to." Mumbo shuddered. "I was so angry, I didn't… I didn't think about anything other than wanting them to stop."

"Well, you definitely finished the job," Tango said. He sniffed the air. "You still smell kinda dead, but you did just come back from being dead, so. That probably has something to do with it. Not to mention you were cursed. And you were brought back by a curse, too. So there's probably some side effects to that."

"Yeah," Mumbo agreed. "I'm not… I'm not using the cards again. Or anything like them, actually."

Scar silently joined Tango outside, apparently realizing that this was not a conversation he needed to be part of.

Grian picked up his walkie-talkie, because he very obviously didn't want to address the elephant in the room just yet, even with Scar's absence.

"Mumbo's back with us," he announced. "He's- He's not feeling well, but we'll head outside of the mansion as soon as he's okay enough to walk."

"Take as much time as you need," Lizzie's voice came over the radio first. "Dawn is safely in the trap, and Bdubs is cooperating with us. I'm glad you're back, Mumbo."

"You scared me a lot, Mumbo," Dr. SV said, next. "I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful."

Weakly, Mumbo groaned, "Tell Dr. SV that he shouldn't blame himself for my poor decisions."

"Mumbo says you shouldn't blame yourself for what he chose to do," Grian parroted, to the walkie-talkie.

"You, too, Grian. I'm so sorry," Mumbo said.

Okay. So this was happening now. Grian couldn't delay it any further.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. You were- You very obviously were not okay, and I left. I abandoned you when you needed someone to reach out- And you died." Grian sighed, lost in thought. "I had… I thought I was doing something good, but I wasn't. I was selfish."

"It wasn't selfish of you to want to stay away from Bdubs," Mumbo said. "Would you call Jimmy selfish for stepping away from the situation as soon as he realized who it was that had gotten into my computer?"

"No," Grian said. "It's different for him, though-"

"It really isn't," Mumbo interrupted. "You very easily could have been in his place last summer. Pearl and Martyn were also targets, so it also could have been either of them. It was safest for you to keep your distance from Bdubs, because it was dangerous."

"Even if it was dangerous, I shouldn't have left you to handle it by yourself!" Grian argued. "And I shouldn't have gone behind your back to- To stop you from trying to curse him! I should have been there! And because I wasn't there to help, you died!"

Mumbo took an exhausted breath.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation on a bathroom floor," he said. 

"Me either," Grian admitted.

Mumbo cracked a grin. Grian did, as well.

"Things didn't turn out as expected, but, all things considered, it's not that bad, is it?" Mumbo offered.

"You were literally dead ten minutes ago," Grian said, flatly.

"I got better?" Mumbo suggested, with a wavy hand motion.

Grian actually started laughing, then, and so did Mumbo, because the sheer ridiculousness of this situation had finally caught up to them, and, because everything was over, the feeling of relief had set in, and the adrenaline that had been coursing through Grian's veins only moments ago had worn off.

"Don't run off by yourself to do something that dangerous or stupid ever again," Grian said, once he had calmed down a little. "Those couple of weeks where we weren't friends sucked."

"I promise that I have absolutely zero plans to repeat today's events ever again," Mumbo swore, still leaning heavily on the toilet. "However, I will be threatening to eat Bdubs if he tries to break anything else in our house."

"Why?" Grian asked.

"Because," Mumbo answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's funny."

----

Once Mumbo's stomach had settled, he attempted to pull himself to his feet, and he fell, because his legs weren't currently strong enough to carry him. So, because he was still too weak to walk on his own, Grian hauled Mumbo's arm over his shoulder and took on most of Mumbo's weight. With help, Mumbo was able to walk towards the exit to the bathroom, where Tango and Scar were waiting outside.

Behind the sink, there was a mirror with an ornate golden frame, and Mumbo stopped moving as soon as he looked into it.

"Mumbo?" Grian asked, having noticed that Mumbo had completely frozen. "You alright?"

"My… Reflection," Mumbo said, making direct eye contact with the being on the other side of the glass. "You can- You see it, right?"

Grian looked into the mirror as well, freezing when he realized what Mumbo was talking about.

Where Mumbo was standing, an entity with a ram's horns, pointed ears, and fangs was staring back. Mumbo himself resembled a vampire on a good day, but the being on the other side of the mirror, standing directly next to Grian's own reflection, was closer to something demonic. 

Not only did Mumbo's reflection appear as something other than human, his eyes had black sclera and the same purple irises that Dusk once had. He wore the same clothes as Mumbo did, but there was a loose rope around his neck in the shape of a noose, which had clearly been torn from wherever he had been hanging from. Similarly, the skin around his neck was raw, and irritated.

Mumbo weakly lifted his hand, and so did his reflection. The creature had six clawed fingers, though, compared to Mumbo's five with short nails. Mumbo clenched his fist, and looked away, back to the floor.

"What's wrong?" Grian asked. "You're still you, you know?"

"That's… What I looked like, as a ghost," Mumbo explained. "I guess… I guess I'll have to avoid mirrors from now on, if other people can see it."

"That'll certainly contribute to the vampire rumors," Grian said.

Mumbo sighed. "I guess I know what type of ghost I was, though."

"Really?" Grian asked, surprised. "Just from looking at your reflection?"

Mumbo held up his hand again, and then gestured towards the reflection. "Six fingers, you see? And- The eye thing definitely only happened after I… You know. So I was an Obake. Obakes are shapeshifters, but you can tell them apart from other ghosts because they all have six fingers."

"So how do you explain the horns and stuff?" Grian asked.

"I would assume it was part of the curse," Mumbo answered, though he sounded like he was guessing when he did. "I did pull The Devil right before the cards killed me."

"You pulled a lot of cards," Grian agreed.

"So did you, but your reflection isn't messed up," Mumbo said.

"I guess I'm just lucky," Grian replied. "Maybe I'll get something cool when I die. The High Priestess card had wings on it, so maybe I'll get wings. That'll be a long time in the future, though. I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Mumbo grumbled something under his breath.

"Come on. The others are waiting for us," Grian said, patting the arm that Mumbo had slung over his shoulder for support. "And I want to see Tango using Jimmy's body to yell at Bdubs because Jimmy's too much of a wet sock to do it himself."

"Okay," Mumbo said, and he let Grian pull him away from the mirror, and back into the hallway.

----

"So, you remember what happened, don't you?" Tango asked, raising Jimmy's eyebrow, and sounding rather unamused.

"Well, duh," Bdubs replied, lifting the bandanna that covered one of his eyes to reveal the empty socket that belonged to his skull. "I know Mumbo didn't plan for me to learn everythin' when he dragged me here, but I remembered."

"You willingly joined the cult that killed me," Tango said.

"They were nice people! Or, well, I thought they were when they recruited me. A few months in, they said somethin' about killin' four kids and I said, 'That's not cool' before waking up to you bein' missing and a bottle of poison in my pocket," Bdubs argued. "I didn't involve myself with 'em again until you came back as a ghost. They said they could fix this, and I thought, since they were the one who had started this mess, that they were owning up to it and takin' responsibility."

Tango tugged at Jimmy's collar, revealing a rather nasty-looking scar on his neck.

"You nearly killed him."

"Look-" Bdubs sighed. "I wasn't… I wasn't in my right mind. For a while. That ghost got into my head, and I made all of these bad decisions, but- I'm sorry."

"Okay," Tango said, accepting his words with no further reaction whatsoever. "I don't forgive you."

"Yeah, I thought as much," Bdubs replied. "I just needed to get all of that off my chest."

"So, who else should you apologize to?" Martyn asked, sensing that this particular conversation was done. 

"Him," Bdubs said, pointing towards the entrance to the mansion, where Grian and Mumbo were awkwardly shuffling out together, with Grian holding most of Mumbo's weight. "I didn't treat him very well, either."

"Go on, then," Martyn said, shooing Bdubs away. "And then apologize to your old friends once you're done."

Martyn and Tango watched as Bdubs hastily said something to Mumbo, who replied with something else, and Bdubs actually yelped, before running away- Over to where Dr. SV was talking with Skizz and Etho, and where Gem remained unconscious.

Grian and Mumbo started laughing. Scar and Joel noticed that Grian was struggling to keep Mumbo up, and so they took over supporting him, carefully escorting him towards one of the cars lined up in the lot.

"They seem to be in a good mood," Martyn commented. "They must have made up."

"Whatever they were fighting about doesn't matter anymore," Tango said, smiling at the display. "Everything's been resolved now."

"Well, mostly," Martyn said. "When is Jimmy going to wake up?"

"Soon," Tango answered him. "I tried to help him get back on his own, but he asked me to come with him. And Mumbo currently can't walk on his own, so I'm sticking around until I'm certain that Jimmy won't fall over and die as soon as I stop possessing him."

"That's fair," Martyn said. He checked his phone. "The police that Dr. SV called are nearly here. I'll explain everything that happened to them, since this was part of my investigation."

"Will they believe you?" Tango asked. "People don't tend to believe stuff about ghosts."

"Well, Bdubs is still running around," Martyn said, shrugging. "And there was a call from a gas station on the way where he was spotted murdering a KitKat. They'll believe us."

"Out of all the things you could have said to reassure me about this, that was your answer?" Tango asked, laughing. "You guys really haven't changed at all, have you?"

"Other than being a bit more traumatized than last time, no," Martyn confirmed. "We really haven't."

----

Things were resolved fairly quickly, even with the complications that the existence of ghosts threw into the case.

When asked about what caused the natural disasters on the way to the mansion, as well as the deaths of the cultists inside of the mansion, the group explained that they were ghost hunters, and that they had just caught the ghost responsible. Martyn then, very helpfully, explained his role in the investigation, and even provided proof that the cult inside of the mansion specialized in human sacrifice. He promised to forward any relevant documents to the necessary people- Mainly the detective who had gotten into contact with Jimmy a few weeks ago, asking for information about the child Moroi who had been murdered by her parents. 

The cleanup happened after the group collectively started on their journey back to Tanglewood. With Mumbo passed out in the back of his car, Scar carefully returned him and Grian back to their apartment. Joel, Lizzie, and Tango had stopped by, too, so that Bdubs could undo the damage he caused to their home while Grian was away.

Meanwhile, Impulse and Skizz took Gem and Etho to the hospital. Mumbo and Jimmy probably should have been taken, as well, but Tango assured them that Jimmy and Mumbo would be fine. Mumbo's vitals were all good, even with his exhaustion, but he would be right as rain after he got a proper amount of sleep and actual food in his stomach. And Tango was there to keep an eye on Jimmy, too, so neither of them were in danger. 

Etho was patched up quickly, after it was clear that he'd just gotten bumped, not concussed. Gem remained under observation at the hospital for two days before she woke up. Her coworkers had prepared a gift basket for her, which had flowers and several cards wishing her well. Among the cards was a note from Martyn, and a large check, thanking her for her hard work in helping solve the case. Gem, whose last memory involved shadows clawing at her skin and embedding themselves into her organs, needed a bit of time to process that everything was over. By the end of the week, she returned to class and to the café.

Things slowly returned to normal for everyone.

Mumbo came back to class after fixing his PC. He was not aware that Impulse had already decided that he was getting full credit on his finals. Upon this realization, he lamented the fact that he'd spent the past two days (days that he should have been resting) adding new details to his report by curling into a ball on Impulse's classroom floor and laying there, unmoving, for an hour.

Jimmy fully regained consciousness shortly before Gem did. And he once again thanked Tango for everything he'd done to help him and his friends.

Tango just laughed, and said, "I'm gonna go get Bdubs. It's time for him to leave, and I shouldn't have been here in the first place. It's not worth pushing my luck any further."

"Go on, then," Jimmy replied, smiling. "Go home."

With those words, Tango vanished. 

Jimmy was certain he would see him again. Hopefully it would be quite a few years before that happened.

Bdubs went quietly. He'd made his apologies, and while he hadn't earned forgiveness, his purpose for staying in this world had been fulfilled. Recognizing that fact, he didn't resist when Tango came to lead him to wherever ghosts went after they moved on.

As for Dawn, Mumbo had handled their other half on his own.

In the dead of night, under the cover of darkness, Mumbo returned to the empty grave where the first ghost trap had been buried, bringing the second trap with him, several bottles of black salt, and a shovel as well. He didn't tell his friends exactly what he was planning, just that he had a plan that would keep Dawn from returning ever again. Grian had first insisted that he should come along, but Mumbo refused to let him. 

"The more people that know where Dawn is buried, the more likely it is that they'll be released from the trap," Mumbo explained. "And if we ever encounter another strong Raiju like Bdubs again, they might be able to break the traps, too."

"Come back safely," Grian had said. "Promise me that you'll come back safely."

Mumbo had vehemently sworn to come back after he was done. He had no intentions of dying again so soon. And Grian, despite his reservations about it initially, had let Mumbo leave, trusting him to do what he said.

Earning Grian's trust back, after everything, meant that Mumbo could not afford to mess this up.

And so, when he approached the empty grave, Mumbo didn't let himself get distracted. He used the black salt he had gathered to form a circle around the grave, ensuring that what he was doing could not affect the outside world. Using his shovel, he uncovered the ghost trap that was buried there, the one he had helped hide all of those months ago, and he flipped the switch that allowed the ghost inside of it to escape. Similarly, he flipped the switch on Dawn's ghost trap, allowing both of the ghosts to meet within this circle.

Out of the buried trap, the sensation of a person appeared, not really having any actual presence, and yet, Mumbo could see them anyway, thanks to the abilities he'd inherited from Dusk. Out of Dawn's trap, the shadowy ghost that had once chased him to near-death scuttled around inside of the circle, too weak to escape, and too afraid to attack.

"Dawn," Mumbo said, drawing their attention. "You split into two. Why don't you reconnect with yourself?"

"Why should I do something like that?" Dawn asked.

"I'm giving you one chance to leave peacefully," Mumbo continued. "If you don't move on, I'll eat you, just like I ate Dusk."

Dawn hesitated. Their other half, the Boogeyman, also hesitated, but they approached Dawn. The Boogeyman hadn't been aware of anything ever since being pulled into a ghost trap, so to have Mumbo come before them now, smelling like death and with their other half in tow, they were incredibly inclined to listen to his request. Dawn, who had chased Mumbo through the forest outside of that mansion and nearly killed him several times, was less inclined to do what he said. However, they could tell that he was speaking the truth. And, of course, they knew who Dusk was. They knew how strong Dusk had been. So for Mumbo to come here and say that he had eaten Dusk was alarming.

Dawn's soul repaired itself when they reached out to their other half.

And their features, previously hidden by shadows, suddenly came into focus. They wore a veil over the place where their eyes used to be, and old mourning clothes from a full century in the past. Despite no longer having tear ducts, Dawn began to sob.

"Is- Is Dusk truly gone?" They asked.

"Yes," Mumbo answered. "They got what they deserved."

"Thank you," Dawn said. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Mumbo replied. "Now, go. Move on. Never come back to this world."

"My purpose is fulfilled. I have no need for this place, or its people, anymore," Dawn said, bowing to him.

And then they faded, vanishing on the spot, and with no intention to ever return.

Mumbo wiped his hands on his pants, and then he put the unearthed dirt back in its place over the empty grave.

He returned to his home in the early morning covered in dirt, and wearing a smirk that Grian knew better than to ask about. Grian also noticed the empty ghost trap Mumbo had brought back with him, and he didn't say anything about it, either.

Grian knew that Mumbo had finished things in his own way. Everything involving Dawn had been dealt with. 

He and his friends would never be bothered by them again.

----

"That test sucked," Grian announced, tossing his bag on the counter and then collapsing on the couch in the living room. "But that was the last one. It's done. It's finally over."

"Now we wait for grades," Mumbo replied, from where he was sitting on the floor with a tiny screwdriver in his mouth as he fiddled with a small device. 

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Grian threw his arm over his eyes. "Can I take you up on that offer now?"

Mumbo blinked, setting the screwdriver and the device down. "What offer?"

"Sleep. Forty-eight hours. This couch." Grian lifted his arm so Mumbo could once again see his face. His expression was tired, but also relieved.

Mumbo realized what Grian meant. Right before any of the chaos of last month had gone down, Grian had suggested that the two of them should take two days off from life just to sleep- Without worrying about anything at all.

"Yeah." Mumbo picked up his stuff. "Finals are done. Everything's calmed down. I think we deserve to rest now."

"Good. I'll pull up a movie. Get the blankets from upstairs," Grian said, reaching for the remote.

Mumbo smiled. And then he went upstairs, to return his belongings to his lab, and to get the soft blankets from the hallway cabinet.