Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tango swung the front door open, smiling at the group inside— Grian, Skizz, Impulse, and several of Grian’s buddies. It was a comforting sight after everything the group had been through the previous day. He was extremely grateful that they were all still alive.

Tango stumbled through the open doorway and collapsed onto his buddy's couch.

“Alright everyone, let's figure this out for the final time. I’m never dealing with that again.” Tango sighed.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Alright, summary time,” Skizz called out to the group.

In moments everyone gathered around a small coffee table covered in various different papers, each with notes and speculations across them.

“Ok gang,” Skizz started. “Here’s what we know. First Grian, you found the first ghost in the school, which was weird since our school was remodeled recently and doesn’t really fit the ghostly vibe. Tango, you found the second ghost, which mentioned they were killed by an incredibly powerful ghost, right?”

Tango moved his hands in a so-so motion then nodded.

“Close enough.” Skizz said, shrugging. “Then yesterday?” The group nodded. “Would anyone mind explaining what happened yesterday?”

Grian spoke up. “Yesterday both me and Impulse noticed more ghost signs in the english hall. We all went in and looked for the ghost but got six different kinds of conflicting evidence. We realized there were two ghosts. The first one we caught pretty quickly. We were struggling to find the second ghost when my substitute teacher walked in. We were confused why she was here until we saw ghost orbs and realized she was the second ghost. We had almost caught her when the janitor walked in—”

“Tango?” Skizz asked innocently.

“No! Ya jerk!” Tango shoved Skizz off the bed.

Grian rolled his eyes, continuing, “It was Joe, the head janitor. He walked in and immediately started hunting.”

“Wait! The head janitor?! I liked that guy!” Skizz complained, looking sulky.

“Unfortunately, he is definitely a ghost,” Grian said in a serious tone. The room immediately quieted. “Jimmy almost died. He’s a ruthless hunter, he teamed with my sub and tag teamed Jimmy.”

Skizz rubbed his arm. “I-I’m sorry. I wish I was there to help.”

Jimmy shrugged, pulling Skizz into a hug. “It’s ok, Skizz, it’s not your fault.” He smiled “Tango, you said you got research?”

Tango turned to the group, pulling out several sheets of paper. “Yeah, I looked up why people become ghosts.” He laid out the papers across the table “The first reason was just straight up murder, but that option usually leaves a body and the ghost usually has some idea of why or how they became a ghost. So off the table.” Everyone nodded. “The only other option is through ghost magic, something very few beings can use. The beings that can use it are pretty much only ghosts. You might run across stories of the occasional human, but those are rare and those humans would quickly die from ramping up insanity. It has something to do with the killed people’s souls not mixing well with metabolism stuff. Zed explained to me one time.

Anyway, the only beings really able to use the magic are the ghost types; banshees, demons, mimics, and deogens—“

“Wait! Mimics?!” Grian exclaimed. “That was the ghost type Joe was!” Everyone spun to face him.

“How did you—!“

Grian continued animatedly, “That’s what I was doing when— when I failed to help you Jimmy.” Grian looked away.

A hand landed on Grian’s shoulders. “It’s ok Grian, Tango got there fast enough, everything turned out fine. I’m still here aren’t I?” Jimmy said.

Grian sighed. “Yeah.” He paused “Do you guys think Joe is the ghost killing everyone, then?”

“Probably.” Joel chimed in for the first time in the conversation. “My only question now is why. He has worked here for how long now? Five years? We didn’t even have one ghost in our city until two years ago, let alone in the school.”

Tango paused. Had there been ghosts here? He let his mind drift back cautiously to his ghost hunting days with Pearl. We did it every weekend, and…we always drove out of the city… He was right, but what would have made Joe act up in the past two years?

“Maybe it was the remodel?” Impulse suggested. “If Joe is a ghost he probably likes more creepy ghostly places, which might be why he started working as a janitor. Maybe he was mad that it got fixed up and started taking it out on people?”

It was a stretch but Tango couldn’t see any other options.

“If it is Joe, what do we do?” Tango asked. “Mimics are one of the hardest ghosts to deal with and are incredibly dangerous.”

“Like fighting a shapeshifter who can float and you can’t hit," Joel agreed.

“I guess we try not to die, and hunt it anyway,” Skizz said, shrugging

Everyone nodded in agreement. There wasn’t much else they could do.

Chapter Text

Grian stood in the entrance of the school. Cold chills flew down his spine. Scar couldn’t make it today and both Tango and Skizz said they were going to be late. Meaning it was just the four of them, Joel, Jimmy, Impulse and himself. The school was darker than normal in spite of the automatic lights triggering from their motion. But not much else was to be expected at eleven at night. Grian shone his flashlight down the hall, thermometer held tightly in his other hand. He stepped carefully down the corridor, searching for any sign of movement or sound. He received nothing but silence.

Wind blew down the closed school hall, Grian shivered. The group gathered behind him, slowly creeping forward.

The wind hissed light words past their ears. “Something. . .”

Grian and Jimmy froze. The group glanced at them warily.

“. . .something wicked. . .”

Grian’s heart pounded. He spun, thrusting his flashlight forward. There was nothing.

“Something wicked this way comes.”

Jimmy paled behind Grian.

“Who said that?” Jimmy asked. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for the source of the wind.

“Something wicked this way comes,” the wind howled. “Something wicked this way comes.” It got louder, a voice distinguishing itself from the wind. “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES!”

Jimmy screamed.

His voice cut off and he fell to the ground. Grian ran to his friend's side, reaching towards him, grabbing his arm— begging him to hold on, to stay.

Jimmy disintegrated.

A small pen covered in bright yellow birds clattered to the ground in Jimmy's place. Grian was left with nothing but a pen. He couldn’t even cry.

“He’s dead too?” Joe’s voice asked from behind them.

The group spun, each turning their tools against him.

“Dangit, Cleo! They got the ghost huntin’ kid!” Joe yelled.

Cleo, as Joe had called her, flew into the hall. Grian recognised her. She was his sub after all.

“They did? No! Dang it, Joe, dang it!” Cleo cursed.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. It was Joe’s fault, right?!

“You did it! You're supposed to be the ghost, you almost— you did—” Grian stuttered.

“Oh, kid. No, me and Cleo never killed your friend. We didn’t even try to kill him earlier. I was bein’ real careful to not accidentally kill him” Joe shook his head. “ He was
eaten by another ghost. We’ve been looking to try and find who it is. After all, it’s real rude of a ghost to eat unsuspecting kids.”

“What?”

“Do we need to explain it again?” Cleo said, exasperated.

“How do we know you're telling the truth?” Impulse said. He pointed a ghost trap at Joe, the same one he had tried to catch Cleo with previously.

Cleo fidgeted nervously with her fingers. Joe glanced at it, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t need to be aggressive. We can show you. But you’ll need to do something for us first.”

“What kind of thing?” Impulse asked, shaking the trap nervously.

Cleo spoke up this time. “The ghost is below the floor. There are tunnels under the school. They run the whole length of the city but only open up in a few places. Each of those places was sealed shut, the school was the last. After a few cave-ins, the ghost became trapped directly under our feet. We have a theory about who it is, but we’re not certain—” Cleo cut herself off as Joe gave her a cautioning look.

“What was that for?” Impulse asked.

“Nothing. Like I said, we're not certain,” Cleo responded, flickering from view.

“Follow us, we'll show you the way.” Joe responded with a lopsided grin.

He led the group to the counseling office, where they were surprised to find an office for Joe. He stopped in the center of the room. “As ghosts, we don’t have the same strength a human does. Just down here is where we're getting into the tunnel.”

“Where is it? Joel asked, scanning the room.

Cleo rolled her eyes and pointed at the floor. “You didn’t think it would be open, did you? They cemented it over in the remodel. Thanks to Joe, we made sure to weaken this bit significantly. Just in ca— nevermind, the point is it’s down there.”

Impulse and Joel glared at the ghosts. Grian stared at Jimmy’s pen in his hands.

“Can we get him back?” Grian whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“Maybe, I’ll have to see if we can find something.” Joe whispered. Cleo gave him a sad look but Grian ignored it.

“Alright. I’ll do it. How do we get down there?” Grian said, glancing up at them.

Joe smiled, then motioned to the wall where multiple shovels lay, “Let’s open a tunnel.”

It didn’t take long before the hole was big enough for them to crawl through. Grian was first to enter. It was fairly large, mold and old cobwebs littering the walls. The air was cold, cold enough that Grian could feel the warmth bleed out of his hands and into the air. It smelled of rot and bile, a smell he wished he didn’t know so intimately. The group landed beside him, each person taking a moment to adjust to the settling darkness. They switched on their lights.

A voice howled down the tunnel.

Grian clutched Jimmy’s pen tightly in his hand. That thing had killed his best friend, it wasn't going anywhere.

Grian dashed forward, following the sound. He heard the concerned, panicked voices of his friends vanish into the distance. Tunnels and intersections passed as he followed the voice. It looped circles around him, reverberating off the walls. He had to be getting closer, and yet part of him knew he wasn’t.

The voice suddenly went silent. Grian paused, waiting, listening, searching for the source of the siren call. It wouldn’t catch him off guard again.

He heard breathing.

Grian spun to face the monster, flinging his hand out. It collided directly with Joel's face.

“Ow, Grian,” Joel moaned, rubbing at the angry red mark. “Don’t run off like that again, everyone panicked!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to lose it or—”

“Hey, I get it,” Joel interrupted. “I—”

“Something wicked this way comes.”

They both froze. Grian strained his ears, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He didn’t have to. A figure stumbled into view. Her skin was stretched thin across her bones, each rib cradled in its cage obvious through old yellowing-white fabric. She stepped forward like a skeleton, hardly standing. A tattered wine red jacket draped from her shoulders, black oily liquid dripping from her lips. The crimson fog clouded her eyes, distorting its natural shade to a blood red hue, only flecks or the original blue remaining.

Pearl stood in the tunnel.

“Pearl?” Grian cried. Jimmy’s pen clattered to the floor. He stared at the shallow version of his sister standing in front of him.

Pearl ignored him, her eyes slipped to the side, towards Joel. Her head cracked to the side. “Something wicked,” Pearl rasped, emphasizing every syllable, “this way comes.”

So it was Pearl then… she was the ghost who had killed Jimmy.

“Something wicked this way comes.” Pearl chanted the phrase faster, “Something wicked this way comes. Something wicked this way comes!”

Joel tumbled backward, grabbing onto Grian’s shoulder to catch himself. “Grian! Grian, we need to go now!”

“SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES!” Pearl screamed, reaching forward. Gusts of wind howled around her. Someone screamed.

Joel disintegrated.

Chapter Text

Tango couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In the span of minutes not only was Joe no longer the target, but there was also a vicious ghost in this tunnel and Grian and Joel had run towards it. Only a few moments later a piercing scream erupted down the hall. Tango immediately recognized it, it was Joels. Tango shoved his ghost equipment into the jacket around his waist, collecting everything he could possibly carry. Tango, Impulse, and Skizz ran down the tunnel. 

Tango saw Grian first, standing motionless in the center of the tunnel. Tango dashed over to him.

“Are you ok, Grian? Where’s Joel?!” Tango asked. Then he saw her. Pearl.

They had been best friends. They had gone everywhere together, had done everything. It was her jacket that was hung around his waist, the only thing he had left of her. And here she was two years later. 

“Joel— Joel’s… he’s dead,” Grian whimpered. “He’s dead. Pearl’s ghost— she killed him.” Tango’s breath caught in his throat.

“Kill…I never killed anyone.” Pearl responded. Her voice was raspy and unlike anything Tango had ever heard. “I told them what was coming. I warned them. I said, ‘You’d better leave before it arrives…before you're faced with something wicked.’ They didn’t leave. I told them— I warned them I was coming, but no one left.”

They had to find her ghost type. It was the only way to use the ghost trap. They needed it. Skizz and Impulse moved behind her, pulling out their ghost-detection tools.

“I had to drink. Do or die,”  Pearl chided. “just like you. Are you going to die? Are you going to run from me like the smart ones do? Or are you going to stand here and wait? It’s not long now.” She licked her lips. “No, it’s not long at all”

Tango threw his notebook at her. 

“What is this for? You want me to write a goodbye note?” Pearl scoffed. The pen scratched across the page, dark black ink bleeding into the page.

First piece of evidence. Ghost writing. 

“Here, here's your autograph.” Pearl sneered, motioning it toward Tango. He accepted it hesitantly. 

“Can I kill you now?” Pearl mocked. 

“No, no you can’t kill anyone else, that’s enough.” Grian said. Pearl smirked.

Tango took the opportunity to check the next piece of evidence. He shined the UV on the book, bright glowing finger prints shown off the page. Only one left. 

“Someth–” Pearl cut off. An EMF reader clattered to the floor, slipping straight out of Impulse’s hands. She spun on Impulse, her gaze landing on the EMF reader.

“I am not a ghost!” Pearl yelled. She dashed towards him, hands outstretched. 

Instinct and adrenaline flooded Tango. No one else was going to die. He jumped, leaped into Pearl's skeletal frame, Pearl toppled. Pain flared up tango’s arm, trembling from the force against Pearl's unnaturally strong limbs. He shook it off, refusing to give his old friend the upper hand. Tango pinned Pearl against the ground. 

Skizz responded immediately. He pulled out the last few tools for evidence, testing each one while Tango held Pearl down. 

“Wait— What? How? Ghost writing, UV, Dots?” Skizz said “That evidence doesn’t line up with any ghost type!” He tested it again, small green dots flowing over everyone.

“That's literally impossible!” Impulse cried, running over to Skizz and testing it a second time with the same results. They tried again.

“So Pearl isn’t a ghost?” Grian asked, glancing at Pearl who was struggling under Tango. “She’s a human. You did say it was possible for humans to use ghost magic, it  just drove them insane. Plus she couldn’t kill herself; she was trapped. There was no easy way to do it.” 

“Grian, she killed Jimmy and Joel.” Tango hissed, fighting against his struggling friend. 

Grian hesitated, glancing back at the pen lying on the floor. 

“No,” Grian said.

Tango paused. “What?” 

“No. She didn’t kill them. The magic changed them, just like it changed her.” Grian said resolutely. 

“So what? She’s still going to kill us!” Skizz exclaimed.

“I…” Grian started. He dropped the thought part way through, walking towards Tango and Pearl. 

“Back up Grian!” Tango exclaimed. In the moment of distraction Pearl wrenched herself free, knocking Tango to the floor. She wrapped her arm around Grian’s neck. 

“Leave,” She hissed “or I’ll kill him.”

Everyone froze.

Grian adjusted, twisting in her grasp. She pulled tighter, the blood draining from his face.

Grian hugged her.

“I’m your brother, I’m Grian. Do you remember me?” He gasped. Pearl froze. Grian shifted again, this time getting more space for oxygen. “Do you remember? You used to tell me stories, stories of Evo and having good friends. We pretend to live in another time, another place, where our parents didn’t hit you at night. You used to tell me stories of your ghost hunting adventures you went on with your buddy. I was always so excited to hear what you were up to. “Your ghost hunting buddies, they’re here. Do you remember them? That one's Tango.“ Grian pointed at Tango. “He was your best friend, and Impulse,” he pointed to Impulse, “and Skizz.” Grian pointed toward Skizz who hid his equipment behind his back, waving awkwardly. “You loved them. Do you remember?” 

—--------------------------------

Pearl looked down at the red human around her waist. I know him. I know that face, those eyes. Why? Tilly barked at her, beckoning her to pull her arm again, to cut the kid’s airflow off. She felt like she should, Tilly said too, but something made her pause— she didn’t know if she wanted to. The arms were warm and the warmth filled her. It penetrated the numbness she had felt for— well, she couldn’t remember, forever.

The arm moved. She looked at it longingly. The boy pointed towards one of the people, 

“That one's Tango,” he said.

Pearl looked at the person… Tango? She knew that name from somewhere. His bright red eyes caught hers. He looks…scared. Genuinely scared. Why is he scared?

Tilly barked at Pearl.

 She was supposed to know this person. The small human said so. And for some reason she trusted him. The human pointed to two others. Impulse, and Skizz. She felt she should know those names. Pearl pulled her arm away from the boy’s throat.

The small human backed up. She reached for him. The warmth vanished like it had never been there. 

“Pearl, I love you,” he said. 

Pearl, who was that? She felt like she should know. Per-l…Pearl. 

Pearl hesitated.

She remembered something, something she had known before. Bright warm colors blinded her, Pearl saw Grian running down the hall, shouting that his imaginary friend Taurtis was back and that he had summoned him. The two of them hid under a blanket in the closet, holding their breath while their parents screamed at each other outside. She saw Tango steal her beanie, running through a haunted house, laughing about never giving it back, just to walk straight into the ghost. His ear piercing shriek and the following laughter filled her mind.

Tilly barked, violently, breaking off the memory.

No.

Tilly had told her what to do for long enough. This was her family. She was done. She wouldn’t follow the magic. 

Pearl opened her eyes. 

“Grian?”

—----------

Grain’s eyes went wide. It worked. She had remembered. The lingering fear he was hiding vanished. Grian looked at his sister. Deep red from her eyes faded, Blue seeping back into her irises. 

She was finally back. 

—------------

Tango hesitated. She said Grian’s name. “Skizz? Impulse?” Pearl whispered, turning towards them.

Impulse and Skizz froze. Tango hitched his breath. 

“Tango?” 

A tear slipped down his cheek. 

—----------

Pearl stared at her old friends. How could she have forgotten? How could she have not recognised them? It seemed so obvious now. 

“Pearl, do you remember us? Or…” Impulse said skeptically. 

Oh, they don’t trust me. 

“We won’t know unless she—” Impulse whispered conspiratorially. He then addressed pearl. “Why are Tango's eyes red?” He asked. 

Pearl contemplated. She knew there was a reason but it didn’t quite… there! In front of her she remembered the drifting of a long lost conversation— Tango was complaining while putting in his contacts, hazelnut brown hidden beneath the blazing red.

“His eyes are red because he wears contacts, which he wears because he doesn’t realize his natural eye color is quite beautiful.” 

Tango smiled. He trusted her then.

Skizz continued Impulse’s train of thought, “What ghost type did we joke about Impulse being?” 

That one was easier. Countless jokes had been made about it.

“Demon. He’s the Imp after all.”

Both Impulse and Skizz sighed. 

“Alright you sound like Pearl then.” Impulse chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “Just one last question, what is Skizz?”

“He’s a perfect little angel,” Pearl responded with a playful smirk. 

“SEE, SEE IMPY I AM PERFECT! PEARL SAYS SO!” Skizz shouted, dancing in a circle. 

Maybe they did trust her then. Pearl mused considering the group Tilly barked one last time, Pearl looked the other way. She listened to the footsteps walk away. Something pulled draining out of her, In an instant she made contact with the floor. 

—---------------

It was a long rest of the night for the group. Pearl was immediately taken to the emergency room. Each and every person that saw her commented on how she should be dead, and that they had brought her ‘just in time’. At one point Joe showed up, much to the surprise of everyone. Although Grian wasn’t too surprised. Joe asked for alone time with Pearl. With a little convincing and some beautiful acting on Joe's part, eventually the doctors allowed it. 

When they came back in, however, Joe was gone, and there sitting next on the couch was Jimmy and Joel. Everyone started crying, that is, everyone except a very confused Pearl. 

After a few weeks Pearl was left out of the hospital and sent home. Both Grian and Pearl hoped her presence would change something in their parents, though neither were surprised when nothing happened. Nothing other than the fact that Pearl was now eighteen years old. This meant they could finally leave. The two of them happily moved out, renting the same apartment as Skizz. And with a little effort, it didn’t take long for the entire group to buy a literal house and share it, all eight of them. Everything was perfect. 

Now they just need to figure out why all of their cameras show ghost orbs. It really is a pain. 

         - Joe Hills