Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the Ghost with the Most was swallowed by a sandworm, Lydia felt like something had changed within her.

The first sign was that she started to feel like being alive wasn’t so bad after all. That night had been like a kick in her butt, a push to make her fight for a life worth living.

So, she fought. For the next few years, she was just a normal teenager—or, as normal as she could be with Delia as a step-mother and two ghosts as godparents.

Her highschool years were rocked by the usual trials: stressing about exams she knew she’d find insignificant in a few years, dealing with a social hierarchy dominating what were supposed to be learning grounds—not the most pleasant thing, considering that Lydia was never at the top—or butting heads with parents that wouldn’t let her stay out too late.

On that last point, the Maitlands played a much bigger role than her living and breathing parents. Go figure.

But overall, she still managed to find happiness in her everyday life, thanks first and foremost to the Maitlands.

Only once she left for college did she realize that maybe everything wasn’t so simple after all. Moving to a big city meant she was among way more people. Which meant more dead people. Which meant more ghosts.

In all her years in Winter River, she had not seen that many ghosts. There had been a few encounters, but she never lingered long with them—the memory of that night was still fresh in her mind, and she tried to avoid another… situation.

But a surprising number of people managed to die in cities with so many inhabitants, and a lot of them did not look dead. Sure, it was easy enough to notice that the gentleman with a brain leaking out of his half destroyed head was probably not the most alive individual. But so many people looked no different as ghosts as they did alive, and more than once, Lydia accidentally struck a conversation with a ghost, noticing her mistake only once the dirty looks directed at her multiplied. After all, from the onlookers’ point of view, she was talking to a wall.

Lydia didn’t really care: she was already used to being an outcast, and she had gone through far worse than a few glares. It was all very manageable.

But there were also those moments.

It was nothing, really. It wasn’t proof of anything. But sometimes, she thought she saw stripes that weren’t there. Or a laugh resonated a bit too loudly and she would turn around, searching for its source.

Before the Maitlands left, they told her it would take time before she stopped being scared, but that it would happen someday.

Lydia never disagreed to their faces, but deep down, something told her she wasn’t afraid. What she felt, she didn’t know. But scared? No.

Sometimes, she wondered about what she would do if those stripes weren’t just stripes; or if she found the source of that laughter, and it was in fact who she thought it was. Every time, she drew a blank.

Still, despite it all, Lydia considered that everything was going pretty smoothly. She came out of college with a degree she’d never use, an alarming number of ghost friends, and a man she thought was the love of her life.

By that point, she had accumulated enough knowledge to self-identify as a ghost expert, even if no one really knew about that except for her parents and Richard. And if she could turn that knowledge to her advantage, then she would.

Thankfully, she had Richard with her. Being with him felt natural: they were both full of energy—him with his environmental activism, her with her medium carrier. Somehow, it worked well: they fed off of each other’s energy and supported the other towards their respective goals.

The birth of their daughter only cemented their happiness, and Lydia thought that truly, she had started to live again.

Astrid met her first ghost when she was six. Even if she didn’t know it at the time.

She was at Celia's birthday party, someone she was supposed to call a “friend”, even though Astrid didn’t consider any of her classmates as such. She had been invited probably more out of obligation than anything else, so she hadn’t really planned on going. But her mom, overjoyed to see her daughter finally make some friends, had been a bit too eager to get her there.

“—and three days ago, the neighbors left the house for ever.” Celia said. A shiver ran through the crowd of small children.

Astrid had checked out about halfway through the girl’s story. She was telling something about her neighbors’ house, and how haunted she claimed it was. Astrid knew what haunted was, because it only happened on her mom’s radio show—at least, that’s what her dad had said.

So there was no way this house was haunted.

Astrid yawned. “The house isn't haunted.”

Her words broke the tension, and a few children started murmuring among themselves.

“Yes, it is! ” Celia huffed. “If you’re so sure it’s not, why don’t you go there and prove it yourself?”

The whispers grew louder and this time, Astrid knew the tide was against her.

“I’m not going in someone else’s house. That’s bad,” Astrid said, crossing her arms.

Celia put her hands on her hips and walked slowly towards Astrid, a smirk on her lips. “Are you scared?”

Astrid jumped to her feet. She could live with being called a liar, but not a coward.

Now that Astrid stood in front of the old oak door, her resolve had all but disappeared. It was one thing to say the house wasn’t haunted, and it was another to actually go inside it. There was something… weird about this place.

“Are you chickening out already?” Celia shouted. A chorus of laughter and chicken sounds rose from behind Astrid. She clenched her fists. Not one of them had dared enter the garden, and yet they thought they could make fun of her?

She swallowed. With her trembling hand, she reached for the handle and pushed.

To her surprise, it actually opened, revealing a disappointingly normal living room. Astrid heard a few gasps behind her when the door creaked open. Emboldened by this apparent normalcy, she turned around, smiled at the other children and entered the house, letting the door close behind her with a soft click.

Now what? She didn’t really have a plan, but going back now didn’t seem like an option. They would say she was scared.

Astrid decided to explore. There wasn’t much to see: the living room was a place made for adults, and there was never anything interesting to see in places made for adults. She wandered between the furniture, looking around for any sign that would prove there were no ghosts.

She wasn’t sure how one could prove the absence of something, but even just staying here would show the others that she wasn’t a coward.

The smell appeared as she was kneeling next to a shelf, trying to look under it. A faint odor, like that time she went to her grandpa’s cellar, where humidity mixed with the smell of old people.

“Well, well well. What the fuck are you doing here, kid?” A voice boomed right in her ear. Startled, she let out a cry, jumped to her feet and spun around.

The first thing she saw was the wild mane of green hair. It took her a second or two to notice the man it was attached to. He was looming over her, and it looked like two or three meters of black and white stripes separated her and the man’s face. His wild eyes seemed to jump out of two black circles, and a smirk stretched his lips.

He looked weird. Scary, even. But the lack of a floating white sheet could only mean one thing: he was not a ghost. Which meant she had just met the owner of the house, and she did not know how to react.

“You’re ugly” Astrid blurted out. She slapped a hand on her mouth. That would get her into more trouble, wouldn’t it?

“Thank you.” The man caressed his chin with two fingers. “Hey, does your mother know you’re here?”

Astrid froze. Oh. She was gonna get grounded. She fiddled with her shirt, avoiding the man’s gaze. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she realized that she was not supposed to be here, this was bad, oh no—

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry about anything, kid.” The man had knelt in front of her, and handed her a handkerchief when she sniffed. It was striped like his suit, and had the same smell as the one she had noticed earlier. Unwilling to get the thing near her nose and unsure of what to do with it, she squeezed it in her hands.

“I won’t say anything if you don’t say anything. Deal?”

Her eyes shot up. She nodded, and mimed closing a zip over her lips.

“That’s it, kid. You’re already smarter than a lot of adults.”

Astrid crossed the garden, humming. The other kids waited with bated breath as she reached them nonchalantly.

“So?” Celia asked.

“There were no ghosts inside.” Astrid declared.

Lydia could tell that despite her initial reluctance, Astrid had had a good time.

She kept her eyes on the road as they drove back home, but she could see Astrid in the rear view mirror, excitedly reenacting one moment or another of the party.

Astrid had a lot to tell and Lydia was more than happy to listen. She knew Astrid had had a bit of trouble with getting friends, but it all seemed to be going a lot better recently.

When they stepped out of the car, Astrdi ran to the porch with a big smile that Lydia couldn’t help but mirror.

That was until something fell out of Astrid’s pocket.

Lydia froze.

“Where did you find that?” Her throat felt completely dry, but she tried not to let the panic seep into her words.

Astrid followed her mother’s gaze down to the striped handkerchief that was now lying on the ground.

“Oh. Hm… I don’t know?”

If Lydia had been more present, she would have noticed the hesitancy, she would have seen straight through her daughter’s lie.

But she was barely paying attention, and when the words registered, she took them at face value.

“It’s fine, honey. Just get inside, I’ll join you soon.” Lydia said with the softest voice she could muster, her eyes still on the offending piece of fabric.

When she heard the door close, she jumped into action. What made her do it, she wasn’t sure, but she did not hesitate. She grabbed the handkerchief and stretched it between her fingers.

“Leave my family alone. You won’t like what happens if you make them pronounce your name even once .” She paused for a second. “Do not cause any harm to them, or to me, ever .”

There was a shift, a whip of cold air that Lydia wasn’t sure she imagined or not. She knew something had happened, but she did not know what, exactly. Instead of feeling silly for screaming at a piece of fabric, she felt powerful. In control.

Satisfied, she slipped the handkerchief in her pocket and entered her home.

Chapter Text

The thing about not being afraid of ghosts—because they weren’t there, as Astrid kept telling her peers—was that Astrid had become cool. How it had happened, she didn’t know. She went from being a pretty lonely six-year-old to being on friendly terms with most of her classmates.

Over the next two years, she slowly started to feel comfortable among her little group of friends. There was Celia, and Sam, and Sasha…

That was what she was thinking about as she jogged down the rocky path to her favorite field. She had taken a liking to this place when she’d noticed that the overgrown plants hid beautiful flowers and interesting insects.

Her mom had been more than happy to give her her old camera, rambling about how she also used to love taking pictures. Her dad, meanwhile, had given her a book on plants, and that had been all the encouragement she needed to pick up a new hobby.

And that specific field had quickly become her practice ground, especially around spring and summer, when flowers bloomed and bugs flew everywhere. 

But this time, when she reached it, her good mood vanished.

Here he was. Jason. The one kid she could not stand. Even after slowly but surely finding her place among her classmates, he had continued to treat her like she was beneath him. From what Astrid had gathered, his dad hated her dad for caring about the environment and being vocal about it.

She was pretty sure the kid had no real opinion on the matter, but he had pinpointed her as an acceptable victim, one his parents wouldn’t look too closely at. And he really needed someone to put down.

Jason and his brother were playing soccer in the one part of the field that had just been mowed. They were a bit far away, and if Astrid stayed in the overgrown section, she could stay out of their field of view. 

Refusing to let them ruin her day, Astrid stayed as far away as she could, hoping they would not notice her.

And they didn’t.

But the constant fear of being found out made the whole experience not enjoyable at all, and Astrid decided to leave early.

It was as she took one last photo that she felt a shadow loom over her. She froze. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The grating voice behind her only confirmed her fears.

“Hey, grass-eater, trying to find your little friends in the mud?” The boy snickered.

Astrid did not turn around. She tried to act like their presence wasn’t affecting her, even if she could feel the slight tremor in her hands as she tried to raise the camera to her eye.

She did not get her shot. A weight rammed into her back and she stumbled forward, rolling on the ground and sending her camera flying.

Her first instinct was to panic. She couldn’t see where the camera had landed, and she couldn’t lose it, and the laughter behind her was starting to really get on her nerves—

She jumped to her feet and spun around. The two mocking faces in front of her made her lose her composure for a moment, but she was too angry for that to stop her.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted.

Their faces went blank for a second. But when a smirk started to stretch their lips, she knew she had made a terrible mistake, and would pay dearly for it.

Astrid took a step back. But before she had time to do anything, the expression on their faces morphed, first to incomprehension, then to fear, and finally, to terror. They weren’t watching her anymore, but something above her. Astrid didn’t get time to tilt her head in confusion before they ran away without looking back.

At that moment, Astrid noticed the shadow above her and looked up.

“Hey kid,” a raspy voice greeted her. Astrid was not always the best with faces, but for some reason, this one had seared itself into her memory.

The striped man.

Well, he wasn’t wearing his striped suit this time around. Instead, he looked right out of a picture book about catching insects: big nest, brown shorts and brown shirt, with a round hat on his head. His face and wild hair remained unchanged, as did his weird smell.

“You’re Celia’s neighbor,” Astrid stated.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” the man said as he tossed something at her. She caught it without thinking, glad she hadn’t dropped it when she realized it was her mom’s camera.

“So, what yer doing here”? the man asked nonchalantly.

Without a word, Astrid took a box out of her pocket and raised the grasshopper she had caught earlier, as if that answered anything.

“Oh, thanks.” The man took it and popped it in his mouth.

Astrid fought to keep her expression neutral. Her dad had explained that a lot of people ate bugs all around the world, and that it wasn’t weird at all. Regardless, she would have preferred that her grasshopper did not end that way.

“Listen, kid, I feel like we’re pretty friendly, you and I,” The man said, still chewing. “So I’m just gonna ask. Point blank. Is there any chance that someone in your family could have, maybe, somehow, accidentally, cursed the beautiful creature that I am?”

Astrid didn’t feel like she was friendly with the man. It was weird to even think about being friends with an adult, especially one she’d seen once for no more than five minutes years ago. But something weirder caught her attention. She tilted her head. “Cursed?”

“Ya know. When you force someone to do or not do things even though they really want to do or not do that thing. You feel me?”

“My mom says that it’s bad to force someone to do something if they don’t want to.”

“So you agree. ”

Astrid nodded, proud of herself. “And even if someone says yes, they can always change their mind.”

“Okay, kid, I don’t like where this is going anymore.” The man was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyway. Gotta go before someone notices I’m here.”

“What’s your name?” Astrid asked hurriedly. She felt like there was something important about him, but she couldn't quite place it. Like everything was telling her to look away, which only made her want to look even more. After all, Astrid was her mother’s daughter, and she could never resist a good mystery.

“ See , that’s the funny thing, isn’t it. By the way, don’t develop that film.”

Astrid looked down at the camera. Her plans had been to ask her mother for the photos, and she didn’t see why she’d listen to this weird man, mystery or not.

When she looked up again, the man had vanished.

Astrid’s enthusiasm was contagious, Lydia thought. Her daughter was sitting on the couch, curled up between Lydia and Richard as she excitedly showed them the photos she had taken.

A lot of them were a bit unfocused or not centered at all, but Richard still managed to identify most of the plants and insects captured by the camera. Lydia herself was quite proud to recognize some species of spiders, even beating Richard to it.

When they reached the end, Richard planted a kiss on Lydia and Astrid’s foreheads and declared he was going to bed. Lydia let Astrid ramble on about her adventures for a little longer until it was time for her to go to bed too.

“What were the other photos?” Astrid asked as Lydia accompanied her to her room.

“What photos?” Lydia replied absent mindedly.

“The old ones that you took out when we went to the store.”

“Oh.” Lydia avoided her daughter’s gaze. “They were old photos from when I was a teenager. They were too old and grainy, so I threw them out.”

Astrid hummed and started talking about plants again, moving on just like that.

Lydia bid her goodnight and closed the door. A slow exhale escaped her. She didn’t like lying to Astrid, but she felt like this was… private. Something from a previous life, before Richard, and before her.

Once she reached the living room again, she grabbed her bag and opened it. The small stack of photos was still where she’d left it.

It hadn’t been a complete lie: most of the photos were now completely grainy, damaged by years of waiting in the camera.

They were the photos she had taken when she arrived in Winter River.

For some reason, she hadn’t used this camera after the Incident, and when she’d taken up photography again, it had been with a new, more modern camera.

For years, the film has withered away inside it, until Astrid discovered her new hobby, and Lydia remembered the existence of this camera.

She didn’t remember what was in it, though.

You could almost distinguish the house on one of them, and the one of the Maitlands with their silly sheets was in surprisingly good shape. She knew this one would find its new home in her wallet, with the one of her family.

But the one that made her lie, the one that stopped her in her tracks when she first looked at the developed photos, was one she didn’t even remember taking.

She must have, at some point. She knew it had been taken that night, all those years ago. It was mostly blurry, but she could recognize the attic and the model. She was probably taking a picture of the Maitlands, but they did not show up on film. What did show up, in the corner, was a very small striped silhouette in the model.

It could be a trick of the light. The quality wasn’t good enough to really tell. And anyway, ghosts don’t show up on film, right? 

But somehow, she knew.

She knew it was him.

Lydia dropped her bag and walked up to the chimney. She grabbed the lighter from the chimney’s edge and watched as the flame slowly consumed the picture.

She stayed there, staring, until the very last bit of grainy color turned into ash.

Chapter Text

There was a small voice in the back of Lydia’s head, a whisper of doubt every time Richard left for another country while she stayed put in their house, or every time she talked about her ghosts, because he would believe her but he didn’t truly understand.

She could feel her life slowly slipping between her fingers. The one she had created for herself, the one that should have marked the end of doubt. 

Right? 

A husband, a daughter, a successful, albeit unusual, carrier. Lydia had done everything she could to put some things behind her, hiding them in a closet and locking the door. 

The problem was that she had never managed to throw the key away. She told herself that was just in case, but she couldn’t stop looking at that door. 

And she knew Richard saw her looking. He asked, often. But “Everything’s fine” is an answer she could give only so many times before a drift would appear between them.

The worst thing was that she still deeply cared about him, and him about her. It would have been so much easier to hate him, but she still viewed him as a dear friend. They just couldn’t be partners. 

Not like that. 

Not when she was doing everything to keep him at arm’s length while he couldn’t stop trying to get closer. Out of genuine care, that much she knew, but she refused to let him in. Because she cared, too. 

The less associated with ghosts her family was, the safer it would be for them. No surprise wedding, no haunting gone wrong. If a ghost sought revenge, it had to be against her , not against them. Never against them.

So she kept her private and professional lives as separated as she could by never taking interviews and keeping her family away from the spotlight.

Lydia knew it wouldn’t last forever, but she hadn’t expected it to end like this: slowly withering before her eyes, a growing awkwardness deepening the gap between them.

To try to forget, she lost herself in her job.

Astrid was not having a good day. She hadn’t had a lot of good days recently. A few months ago, they had moved out of the small town Astrid had grown up in into a bigger city. Her mother claimed it was because of her job: since her medium business had taken off, she had received an offer to star in her very own TV program, and she couldn’t refuse such an opportunity.

She had said it while avoiding her daughter’s gaze, and at that moment, Astrid had understood it was all an excuse. The same excuse her father needed to travel halfway across the world.

Astrid knew they had been drifting apart. Not consciously: after all, she did everything to ignore it. But if she had stopped for just a moment, she’d seen it. 

When she thought of her early childhood, she felt it like a knife to her heart. How they used to do so much together, how everything just seemed happier, easier. 

She couldn’t remember the last time they’d willingly spend time together, just the three of them.

And of course, to add insult to injury, her mother’s show had to become a success. Astrid wasn’t Astrid anymore, she was Lydia’s daughter. The freak. The one whose mother thought ghosts existed. Not only that, but pretended to talk to them.

On a good day, Astrid was able to disappear in the background and just do her own thing. On other days, she was the prime victim of a few of her classmates.

They never did anything to her directly. It was more insidious. Talking when she could definitely hear them, laughing and glancing at her to make sure she had seen them making fun of her.

Astrid tried to pretend like it didn’t get to her but it kept building up, and ignoring it was harder and harder.

And of course, as she was walking home through a narrow street, she heard their voices right around the corner a few feet from her. Right at that moment, she couldn’t deal with it..

Astrid ran. Where to? Anywhere that was away from their poisonous gazes. One moment she was in the street, the next she was barging through the front door of an unassuming house.

She slammed the door behind her, panting, and rested her forehead against it.

“Can’t have some peace and quiet in this town.”

The voice startled Astrid. She spun around, her back flushed against the door.

When she saw the man lying on the couch, tension left her body. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised to see the striped man. He was lazily balancing one leg in the air, the other sprawled on the armrest. An old newspaper hid his face, and he hadn’t moved at all since she had entered here.

Astrid sighed. “You’re always in the weirdest places.”

This made the man sit up, the newspaper falling to the floor and sliding to Astrid’s feet. 1988. Weird. “You’re one to talk. You’re here too, kid!”

Astrid rolled her eyes, which prompted a raspy laughter from the man.

“So what’s it this time?”

Astrid furrowed her brows. “What?”

“You’re always in some kind of predicament every time I see ya.”

“I’ve only met you twice–”

“Well, face to face.”

Astrid chose to ignore that. “–and I wasn’t the first time.”

“Oh, you definitely were. You just didn’t notice.”

“Wh—”

“Sooo what’s it this time?” The man interrupted her. “Are you getting chased by a murderer? Running away from a persistent accountant? Or maybe you have a very pressing urge to pee and can’t find any bathroom. I’ve been there.”

Astrid exhaled. There was no point arguing with him. Or ask questions. He didn’t strike her as the type that would answer anyway. But she also had no reason to tell him anything.

She risked a glance through the window. The girls had stopped in the middle of the narrow street, still talking and laughing loud enough to be heard from where she was. Why couldn’t they just get going already?

Astrid turned back around. The man was still rambling about something, his words going faster and faster. He didn’t seem to notice that Astrid had tuned him out for a while now, and she was glad to have done so. Now that she was paying attention again, he was making less and less sense by the second. What was a ‘sandworm’, anyway?

“Who cares? It’s not like you can do anything about it,” Astrid said, more to stop the unending flow of words than anything else.

The man froze and turned around slowly. He did not move a muscle, it was as if the ground rotated under him to make him face Astrid once again. She did not like the look blooming on his face.

“Maybe I could, actually. I’m very good at dealing with problems, you know? We could make a deal.”

Astrid felt a shiver run down her spine. She had never been afraid of the man—she had no reason to, right? And nothing had changed about him between then and now. She found him mostly disgusting, annoying and unpleasant. But scary? Never.

So why did her whole body beg her to run away?

They stared at one another. Her, frozen in place, and him, extending his hand, waiting patiently. The room suddenly felt colder, darker. Like the world had stopped existing beyond them, and if she turned around and left through the door, she would find nothing but darkness and emptiness. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before laughter filtered through the window, tearing Astrid out of her trance. 

She swallowed.

“I’m not making a deal with you.” She hoped that her voice didn’t sound as fragile as she felt in that moment.

The man retracted her hand. “Well, can’t blame me for trying.”

And just like that, the tension dissipated. Astrid exhaled slowly through her nose. That had been in her head, right? It made no sense, otherwise.

She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide their faint trembling.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, putting more force in her voice to hide any trace of fear still lingering.

“More interesting is, what are you doing here?” The man said, finger guns pointed at her. “Ya often get into random people’s houses?” He stopped, leaned to the side, and started walking again. “Now that I think about it, it is the second time you’ve done that.”

“I don’t—” Astrid clamped her mouth shut. She wasn’t gonna humor this man by letting him avoid her questions every time. “This isn’t your house.”

“Never said it was.”

“So why—”

The man had somehow crossed the room to stand at the door, handle in hand.“Anyway! Got a lot of things to do, kid. See ya!”

The slam of the door startled Astrid. She rushed to the window to look at the porch. Astrid blinked. The man had vanished.

Leaning against the wall, she let herself slowly slip to the ground. Exhaustion fell over her, seeping into her bones. She just wanted for the day to be over. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad.

She looked at the entrance. Why had she entered here? She hadn’t thought of anything when she had opened the door. It had just felt like the most natural thing in the world. Because.

Because?

There were multiple houses, multiple doors, and this hadn’t even been the nearest one. And if she wanted to hide, there were so many options that made more sense than entering a fucking house.

Hedges here were tall enough that she could have just stayed hidden behind one. Fences would also have gotten the job done.

Somehow, she had known that the house would be open, that no one would throw her out as soon as she entered, it had just felt—

Familiar.

And she had needed some familiarity in that moment. Fear aside, it had almost been reassuring to see the man again. With her parents drifting away from one another, her mother gaining notoriety, her catastrophic first year of middle school and now this growing bullying, she felt like everything was falling apart.

And yes, the stripped man was weird and unpleasant, and—she shook her head. She refused to acknowledge that he could be scary. But he was also a reminder of a time when it had been easier. When her biggest problem was non-existent ghosts. When she was tolerated—liked, even, by her classmates.

She let her head fall and hugged her knees. It would get better. It had to be.

When she found the force to rise again, the girls were long gone.

Chapter Text

Despite her long history with ghosts, Lydia was not good at dealing with her own grief. She realized now how long she had spent grieving her relationship with Richard before it was even over. And after that as well. And now, she was grieving the man himself.

When they had separated, she had convinced herself that it was for the best. Yes, she loved him. But she wasn’t in love with him anymore, and he should have been able to live the life he deserved.

He never got to. 

His death was like a shock to her system. A part of her left with him, walking down those twisted corridors underground.

When the Maitlands left, she was prepared. They took their time and only left once they had all accepted their departure, Lydia included. It had been sad, and she missed them sometimes, but it had also been gentle. It was the end of the road, but it was a road they had walked together, knowing full well what waited for them at the end.

This was not like that. It came suddenly–so suddenly that Lydia could not believe it at first–and it happened so far away that it didn’t feel real. She should have been there, she should have got to say goodbye to him. It couldn’t just end like that. 

Lydia did not realize that she was spiraling. But when she found herself whispering a particular ghost’s name two times, holding the striped handkerchief, she knew she had to do something.

She couldn’t let misery drag her back to him.

Astrid felt empty. It had been a few weeks since the funeral, and she had started to get on top of things again.

But some days, it hit her like a truck. 

Her father was gone, and he’d never come back. Something clawed inside of her, sinking in her stomach, clenching her heart and closing her throat. She wanted nothing more than to go back in time and truly enjoy her time with him, make sure she got the most out of it because he would disappear suddenly, and she’d never have time again. 

Some other days, it felt like it wasn’t real at all.

Even now, as she was standing before his tombstone, she couldn’t fully realize that he was dead. She still expected him to call, or to text, or to come back to town any day now.

But he wouldn’t, and she needed to accept that. For now, all she could do was turn around, and walk towards the gate.

Astrid was not surprised to find the striped man sitting on the wall of the cemetery.  She felt so numb that anything could have happened and she wouldn’t have batted an eye. He might as well be here. He did tend to appear when she was feeling like absolute shit. 

“Nice place for a walk, right?” He jumped down and strolled up to her, hands in his pockets.

“My father died,” Astrid deadpanned. She needed to say it to someone, anyone. Even if it was to this mostly-stranger that she kept bumping into. Even if he was probably the worst person to say that to. 

She felt like she had no one to turn to, and the silence was starting to be unbearable.

Her mother refused to talk, her grandfather was in another country, and her grandmother barely cared about it. The only ones giving her even an ounce of sympathy were her teachers, and she wanted nothing more than for them to stop.

The one person she really wanted to talk to was dead, and of course her so-called medium mother couldn’t see him. Because she was as bad at her scam as she was at being a mother. She hadn’t even searched for a plausible excuse, or apologized for lying about her supposed powers. No, all she had done was say that she couldn’t see him. And now, her mother was as much of a ghost as he was. When was the last time they had talked? When was the last time they had spent time together?

When her father was still alive, he’d been her rock. He’d shown her everything: his activism, his love for nature, how important it was to protect it.

Her mother almost never shared. She made a living talking to ghosts, but refused to show her family anything. Sometimes, Astrid wondered if they would have known about her passion for photography if Astrid hadn’t gotten into the hobby too. And the more Lydia got involved in her medium business, the more she kept Astrid and her father at arm’s length.

No wonder he left. No wonder he flew to another country just to get away from this suffocating silence.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispered.

“Well, maybe he’s still haunting somewhere,” he said joyfully.

Astrid flinched. The man had never been respectful, that much she remembered. But there was something else there, something even more grating. It felt like the more miserable she was, the happier he became. It was probably a trick of her mind: he was always cheerful, almost manic. And next to her sadness, it seemed exacerbated.

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He burst out laughing. It echoed around them, making Astrid twitch with annoyance.

“Good on,” he said as he finally calmed down, until he glanced at Astrid’s blank expression. “Oh wait, you’re serious?”

He started laughing again.

Angry, Astrid tried to hit his arm, which he avoided with ease by stepping to the side.

“What’s so funny about that?”

The man had stopped laughing out loud, but he kept snorting every now and then.

“Putting aside the obvious, isn’t mom’s job to talk to ghosts?”

Astrid bristled. “That’s not proof of their existence.”

“Ya should try stand up comedy, you’re pretty funny. Wonder what your mom thinks about that.”

“My mom—” Astrid paused. A piece of the puzzle was slowly sliding into place. It wasn’t the first time that the man talked about her mom. She had assumed he was talking about her mom as like the Entity of Mother that most kids had. But he seemed to know who she actually was.

“Oh my god.” She jumped to her feet. “You’re one of her fans.”

“Her fa—no, no, no kid, you’ve got it completely backward.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner. That’s why you’re always in creepy places. You’re trying to find ghosts, aren’t you?”

“If anything, she’s a fan of me. Basically stole my job, even if she’s doing it completely backward. Took the bio out of bio-exorcist!”

Astrid ignored him. “It also explains the disgusting appearance.”

“Oh, thank you, I know you’ve stopped listening, but it truly means a lot to hear that.”

“I can’t believe it...” Astrid whispered. Could he be a stalker? No, she had never noticed anything afoot in all those years. Which meant he was either the best stalker ever, or the shittiest. And she didn’t think he was the best.

But there was also that time she had been afraid of him for a split second. She kept telling herself it was nothing, but the wrongness of that moment had never really left her mind.

Maybe he was trying to use her to get information on her mom? But Astrid almost never saw him, and while he never looked surprised to see her, she didn’t think he anticipated their encounters, either.

He was probably just a weird guy who was really into occult stuff. And in that moment, all she wanted was to find something under the mask. Anything to distract her from—

Astrid closed her eyes. She was being silly. As weird as the man was, that’s all he was. A weird man. He was just a weird man.

Maybe if she said it enough times, she would start to believe it.

Astrid sighed. It wasn’t fair to him to distract herself with speculation. 

He was still monologuing–as he was wont to do–so she tried to pay attention, but the stream of words was, as always, hard to follow.

“—since you’re definitely in my top five of breathers. The number one will surprise you.”

“Have you ever lost someone?” She blurted out.

That finally made him pause. He stroked his chin. “Well, Bob—my employee—once took a wrong turn and was only found two weeks later, so there’s that. Also, my wife’s been missing for 30 years.”

“You’re married?” Astrid all but shouted. There was a story there, or multiple, and it made her realize that she knew nothing about the man. Not even his name.

“I was. Then I wasn’t. Then I was almost again. It’s the almost-wife I’m talking about. She ghosted me after the interrupted ceremony. Heh, ghosted. Good one.”

Astrid leaned forward. “She got cold feet?”

“No, just a worm crashing the wedding. You know, the usual.”

Astrid nodded. If the man didn’t want to talk about it, then that was something she could respect. And worm aside, the hint of emotion in his voice was enough to make her think that he had really walked down the aisle twice. She tried to imagine what kind of woman would want to marry him and drew a blank.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Astrid asked. She had never gotten a straight answer out of him, so she didn’t expect much. He had refused to answer this simple question in the past, too. Which is why she was surprised when he didn’t deflect.

“Trying to explain to the keeper that I can’t stop living people from going to a cemetery, whether it’s his cemetery or not. Well, I can , but why bother?”

He gestured to a silhouette in the distance. Astrid followed his movements with her eyes, and saw an old man glaring at them from the other side of the cemetery. She had to stop herself from flinching when she noticed his caved in face, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he was still alive. In any case, he must have been in a pretty bad accident, and he probably didn’t like people staring at him, so she let her eyes jump back to the striped man. He had gone back to sitting on the top of the wall and was grinning expectantly at her.

“They’re letting him work with an injury like that?”

The smile dropped comically from the man’s face. He pinched his nose, started a few half sentences in languages Astrid did not recognize, before meeting her gaze again.

“Okay, you know what? I’ve decided that whatever’s wrong with your logical mind is much funnier than if you actually faced the truth. So I’m letting you out of this one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry your very rational mind over it, kid. Bye!” He let himself fall backward. Astrid ran to the other side of the wall, but was not surprised to find no trace of the man.

Chapter Text

It was easy to love Rory. That’s what Lydia kept telling herself. She could rely on him to take the lead, to make the decisions, she knew he was in her corner...

And he didn’t ask questions.

He found the school for Astrid, he was the reason Lydia’s show moved to a more popular channel, and he was always there. For her. He tried to be everything, and she let him, because it was so easy.

She could concentrate on going through the motions. Sleep. Eat. Work. Take her pills. Except on the days Rory stopped her. 

Lydia didn’t know how to feel about that.

She had started to think about Beetlejuice again. She knew he had never left her, not really. And even if she did everything to ignore the suggestive pamphlets and the weird things that had started to materialize around her again, she knew it was useless. He was a presence in her life whether she wanted him there or not.

For some reason, she had started to think that she did.

Lydia had kept the striped handkerchief that Astrid had lost so long ago when it had fallen from her pocket. The memory seemed like it had happened in another life altogether. At that time, it had looked like a bad omen, a promise of chaos and problems. But nothing had happened, in the end. Now, it was a reassuring weight in her pocket as she rolled it between her fingers.

She could even think of his name without dread, now. Maybe because she had moved past her childish fears. Or maybe because she did not really care about what could happen anymore.

Who would get hurt if something happened? Her. Maybe Rory. Richard was dead and Astrid felt so far away.

Her one lifeline was the ghosts she met for her show. It was reassuring that at least that one thing never changed. Even if Rory was pressuring her to do more, always more, and she couldn’t spend as much time with them as she’d want.

But she couldn’t blame Rory. After all, he was the one holding what was left of her together.

Astrid had visited three cemeteries, five haunted houses, two abandoned churches and so many other so-called haunted places. She had not only lost money but also her patience. And she was getting angry.

The one time she actually wanted to meet the guy, he was nowhere to be found. And she couldn’t exactly ask people if they knew a guy about this tall, with a striped suit–although, maybe not–and the face of a corpse, stinky if you got too close? No, thank you.

Astrid had not despaired yet. She had not gone unprepared, after all. From what she could gather, she could find the guy:

1. In supposedly haunted places (except that one time in the field, but she didn’t know the history of it, so maybe it was haunted)
2. When she was alone.
3. When she felt like shit.

Her rational mind kept telling her that she couldn’t just find a guy she didn’t even know the name of with this method, but something in her knew she would. It wasn’t optimism or hope that made her think that, it was just a fact. There was something between the guy and her, and it felt like the universe itself would bend its rules to make them meet again.

And if she could speed up the process, she would.

Her stroke of luck happened at the most unexpected place: her school. She had come back from one of her occult trips empty handed, and wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed and wallow.

That was until she saw a familiar silhouette waving through the window of a classroom.

She rushed inside and up the stairs until she reached the empty classroom, half expecting the man to be gone once she got inside. But no, he was still there, sitting on a desk, his usual smile plastered on his face.

No, not his usual smile.

For the first time since she had met him, he looked… angry. If it had been any other day, she would have been more wary of him. His only constant was his unpredictability, and she didn’t know what would happen when he was angry.

But today, she was angry too.

“Where were you?” She asked, striding up to him.

“Looking for me, kid? I’m flattered.”

“I need your help.”

The man straightened up. “Now we’re talking. What’d you want? Anything you want, I can provide. For a price, of course.”

“I need you to get rid of someone.” The words felt absurd to say aloud, but she had had enough. She used to have a pretty good life, so she remembered what it felt like to not be angry, or sad, or empty all the time. But then she got bullied, she lost her father, she ended up in a school she hated and her relationship with her mother was basically destroyed.

So no, Astrid wouldn’t let the world take more from her. She wouldn’t let Rory get any closer.

Because she could see how he looked at her mother on the rare occasions they were all together. She could see his end goal coming from a mile away, and if as her mom’s boyfriend he was already too much, then she couldn’t let him get any idea of something more.

Astrid glanced at the striped man. She remembered how she felt when he had offered her a deal, and somehow, she knew it meant he could do what she needed him to do. What it was exactly, she wasn’t sure, and she tried not to think too hard about it.

“Ooh, interesting. The little kid’s looking for revenge? They grow up so fast.” He pretended to wipe away an invisible tear.

Astrid took a deep breath. “His name is Rory. He’s my mother’s new boyfriend. I want him gone.” Astrid had promised herself that she would not have anything to do with her mother if she could help it. But she wouldn’t trade what was left of her tranquility to uphold this promise.

And maybe, just maybe, she was worried about her mother.

The man blinked. A lot of emotions crossed his face, and Astrid managed to identify some. Disgust, rage, disappointment, sadness, rage again, and calm. He shrugged and lay on the desk. “Can’t help ya with that, but I really wish I could.”

Astrid felt a drop in her stomach. She couldn’t accept this answer, there was too much at stake. “You said you could do anything.”

“I can. But you’re ten years late. Because of course she got the fucking handkerchief and now what? Fucking cursed. Try to be nice and that’s what you get.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I can’t do anything that would harm you or your mom unless she specifically asks me to,” he said slowly, enunciating each word like he was reciting something.

“Because you’re a fan of her.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “Sure. Who cares. You’d need to make her call me and not gonna lie, kid, I don’t think she will.”

Astrid furrowed her brows. “What if I tricked her into it?”

“Won’t work again.”

“Again?”

“Although...” the man continued, ignoring her question. “If you get Rory to call me, it could work.”

Astrid ignored most of the man’s words, but still felt lighter because he had accepted to help her. “You said there’d be a price. What do you want in return?”

“Oh, I was bluffing. Can’t actually ask anything of ya or I’ll catch on fire.”

Before Astrid’s confused expression, the man burst out laughing. He got up on the desk and opened a window. “I’ll get everything I want if this plan works, kid. Really, you’re the one doing me a favor. Just make him read this.” A piece of paper appeared in his hand and he dropped it.

As Astrid was jumping to catch it, the man let himself fall through the window, his laughter slowly fading away. Astrid didn’t need to check to know he had vanished.

She unfolded the piece of paper. It was a sort of ad, stained with yellowish circles in the center. She recognized the face of the striped man in the center. Under it, “CALL ME” was written. And above it:

Betelgeuse

Betelgeuse

Betelgeuse

Chapter Text

Astrid had never thought her life could go any more downhill than it already had. And yet, she felt like she had reached the bottom of a pit and somehow kept digging.

Her grandfather had died. It hadn’t been like the deep open wound that was her father’s death. She was sad, of course, but not devastated. If anything, the whole thing felt more absurd than sad, especially once she discovered how he had died.

Astrid had never been close to her grandparents: she never saw them more than once or twice a year, and even then, her grandfather tended to disappear to another country frequently and for long stretches of time. Delia wasn’t exactly present, either, but she was more entertaining and memorable.

So thinking about never seeing her grandfather again didn’t feel that poignant. But it did feel like a twist of the knife in the wound that was her father’s death.

On top of all that, attending his funeral wasn’t up for debate, which meant that she had to spend time with her mother and grandmother, but also with Rory.

Astrid clenched her fist around the Beetlejuice ad. It had been a few weeks since she’d last seen the striped guy and in the meantime, she had thought of how she would execute her plan. She hadn’t thought too hard about what he would do or how , because she still believed herself a rational person, and there was probably a better explanation than this one guy is definitely supernatural and will do some occult thing to Rory. 

Maybe calling his name three times was like a signal, and he was actually standing on a nearby building with a sniper rifle. Or maybe some other kind of explanation that actually made sense and didn’t involve Rory’s death. 

She didn’t like the fact that the supernatural explanation was the most rational one. That, or Rory would read the thing and nothing would happen. Which was the actual rational explanation, but she couldn’t entertain it because there was just too much at stake.

In any case, she would execute her plan today. Whether it worked or not was a problem for later.

Astrid hadn’t planned on doing it now— it was a funeral, after all. And maybe spending it with her grieving family would not have been so bad.

But then, there were all these strangers surrounding them, and paparazzi, and Rory had dared to ask her mother’s hand in front of everyone.

The worst part was that she had accepted.

At that moment, Astrid had felt the last crumbs of respect she had for either of them vanish into thin air. If her mother wanted to live as a shell of a human while being exploited by some asshole, then so be it. But she could have waited until Astrid was far away from here.

Astrid’s first thought had been to run away, to forget about every insanity that kept making her life worse and worse. But her fingers had brushed the paper in her pocket, and she had calmed down.

She had a plan.

“Hey, Rory,” she called out once the crowd of reporters had left him and Lydia alone.

“Oh, please. You can call me dad,” Rory replied with his sugary sweet voice.

It took everything in her not to recoil in disgust.

“Listen, since you’re gonna be my… step-father. Maybe we could… do something together?”

This time she could see him recoil slightly. Thankfully, her mother lit up next to him.

“That’s an excellent idea!” Lydia didn’t so much look happy as she looked relieved. Like her doubts were slightly appeased.

Rory changed gears as soon as he heard her. “Yes! I’d love to! Erm. Right now?”

Astrid put on her best fake smile and grabbed his arm, dragging him up to her room and leaving Lydia behind. “Of course, now! I need someone’s opinion on a school’s project. It’s for a graphic design class.”

“You have graphic design classes in highschool?”

Astrid ignored him. Once she had closed the door behind them, she took the paper out of her pocket and gave it to him. “I was working on the slogan part of the flyer, I need someone to read this aloud to me. You know. So that I can hear how it sounds.”

Rory stared at the paper for a little while. “Well… I don’t know how to say that but… it sounds and looks really bad. But don’t worry! We have plenty of graphic designers in the studio that can help you create something much better. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s on purpose, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a new trend, but maybe you’re too old to know about it.”

Rory didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t—”

Astrid didn’t let him finish. “Mom will be very happy to know that you helped me with my homework.”

Rory narrowed his eyes at her, then sighed.

“Fine. But I’m just reading this, and then I’m out. The best bio-exorcist in the whole Netherworld. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice— ”

He barely had time to finish this last word before he disappeared, leaving no trace but the paper that floated down slowly.

Astrid stayed put. When she had asked for Rory to be gone, she had not expected him to be gone gone. She had hoped he would be scared away, or sent to the hospital in a neverending coma. Or, when she felt really pessimistic about what could happen–and she didn’t like to think about it too much– killed , maybe. She hadn’t thought he would just poof out of existence.

When the door opened, Astrid jumped. She had not heard her mother going up the stairs, too lost in her thoughts as she was, still staring at the fallen paper. She rushed to it, but with no time to pick it up, she just pushed it behind her feet, hoping they’d be enough to hide it.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how things were go—oh. Where’s Rory?” Lydia looked around the room, confused.

Astrid swallowed. “He said he had something urgent to do, so he left.”

“Really? I didn’t see him come down the stairs. Hm.” Lydia crossed her arms, brows furrowed.

A nervous laughter burst out of Astrid. She winced, as it felt way too loud in the awkward silence. Astrid stood there, frozen, too scared to look down and bring any attention to the suspicious piece of paper that she might or might not be hiding properly.

When her mother’s gaze started to travel down, Astrid tried to discreetly push the ad behind her. Instead of cooperating, the paper crinkled loudly and slipped from under her foot, sliding away from her.

Astrid felt time slow down as her mother’s eyes landed on the paper. She knelt down to pick it up, but Astrid reacted fast and placed her hand on it too.

Thankfully, it was still face down.

“What’s this?” Lydia asked slowly.

“Nothing. Just a thing for school.” Astrid tugged a bit harder. She was trying to sound innocent, but knew she was failing miserably.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. She tugged back. “For school. Can I see it?”

“No, no, it’s really not finished and honestly, quite embarrassing and—” In her panic, Astrid tugged a bit too hard. She fell backward, noticing too late that the paper had ripped in half.

Turning it over, Astrid let out a sigh of relief when she noticed she had gotten the top half—the most suspicious one, in her opinion—with the three ‘Betelgeuse’ and the head of the man. That meant her mother only had the “CALL ME” part and a bit of his suit.

Her glimmer of hope evaporated when she looked up at her mother again.

Lydia was frozen in place, gaping at the paper. Astrid scrambled for something to say, to explain why she had this very suspicious piece of paper with her. It was a prank from a friend. I just found it on the floor, I was gonna throw it away. Littering is bad. It was in the mailbox. Now that she thought about it, Astrid was the one who had made it weird by trying to hide it, but it could have easily been explained away.

Regardless, something in her mother’s attitude puzzled her. She was not reacting like a normal person would in that situation. She should have laughed it off, or shrug and throw it away, or react in any way at all.

Instead, she stayed there, completely unmoving. The only sign that she was alive was that something radiating from her. Was it… fury?

Astrid waited with bated breath for her mother to explode. She wasn’t sure why she expected it, but nothing made sense right now anyway. 

Suddenly, it dawned on her.

Beetlejuice knew her mother. But for some reason, she had assumed Lydia didn’t know him.

“What. Did he do. This time?” Lydia did not even try to stop the trembling of her voice.

Clearly, Astrid had been wrong. She straightened up. The last time she had seen her mother this angry was years ago. On the one hand, it was scary as hell.

On the other, it was almost reassuring to see her express anything other than apathy.

“I can explain?”

“No. Whatever he made you do, I’m not angry at you. I understand. I wish it hadn’t happened, but I know he can make himself seem like the only option.” Lydia came closer to stand right in front of her daughter.

“He didn’t make me do anything.”

She put her hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “Let’s talk about this later. Just, please, tell me. Is Rory with him?”

Her eyes were pouring into Astrid’s. Maybe it was because deep down, Astrid still felt like the little girl that didn’t want to be scolded by her mother. Maybe it was because she knew that unlike during all of their other fights, Lydia would not give up so easily this time. Or maybe it was because she did feel kinda bad for not knowing what happened to Rory. In any case, she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Alright.” Closing her eyes, Lydia let out a slow sigh. “I’ve spent years trying to protect you from his kind, but I guess that was for nothing.”

Astrid opened her mouth to speak, but Lydia shushed her. “I won’t force you to leave the room since, clearly, you’re involved. But I’d prefer to deal with him on my own.”

Astrid glanced at the room’s door, but stayed put. Lydia simply nodded.

“Fine.”

This time, it felt different as his name echoed in the silent room.

Chapter Text

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice”

“You called?”

Astrid jumped. She had gotten used to the man disappearing on her, but actually seeing him appear out of nowhere was another story. There had always been something weird about him, but she now realized how much more human he had appeared to her every time she’d met him.

Right now, he was leaning against nothing, his face at a 90 degrees angle that should not be possible. With the back of his hand, he pushed it back in place with a loud cracking noise that made Astrid wince.

Why had she doubted the existence of ghosts when this existed?

“Where’s Rory?” Her mother’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Lydia seemed unperturbed by Beetlejuice’s shenanigans: arms crossed, back straight, she looked like a mother about to scold her unruly child. And Astrid was glad it wasn’t her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Thirty years apart and I don’t even get a ‘hello dear, how are you honey, sorry for ruining our—”

Lydia did not let him finish. “Bring him back, right now.”

“Sorry, babe. He’s the one who called me, so our business is strictly between him and me. Can’t tell ya anything.”

Lydia’s fist flew through the air and landed right on Beetlejuice’s nose. His face spinned a few times before swinging back in place. 

Astrid stared, too stunned to react.

“Oh, I needed that. She really turned my head,” Beetlejuice said to Astrid with a slight shake of his head.

“What do you want? A deal? Is that what you want? Did you trick my daughter into a deal?” Lydia’s voice was getting progressively louder as she took slow steps towards Beetlejuice.

He put his hands up in defense, shoulders high. “Hey, honey, you know perfectly well I can’t.”

Lydia blinked a few times, then exchanged a glance with Astrid, who tried to convey ‘Don’t ask me anything I’m not sure what’s going on anymore’ with a simple shrug. Lydia’s eyes slowly traveled back to the ghost’s. 

“Since when ?”

Beetlejuice’s face turned completely blank. “Oh, well, let me check my planner.” Out of thin air, he produced a pair of glasses and a small book that he started to leaf through. 

“Ah, there it is.” He turned the planner around to show the other two. Across the page was written in big green letters: SINCE YOU FUCKING CURSED ME

Silence fell on the room as the ghost and Lydia started a silent conversation that Astrid wasn’t privy to. 

Astrid’s gaze was jumping back and forth between the two of them. She realized it was the first time she’d ever seen Beetlejuice truly interact with someone else, and the fact that this someone was her mom was just weird. But what was even weirder was her mom’s behavior.

There had been a time when Lydia had been a lively person. She had never been outgoing, but when Astrid was a kid, she remembered someone who was... intense.

At the time, she had carried a strong presence that easily attracted attention. Astrid always thought that that aura, that confidence, was what had allowed her career to take off so well.

But over the years, the more distant she became, the less alive she looked. Lydia seemed as close to death as the ghosts she talked to. And when Rory came into her life, Astrid thought that would be the final straw.

She had been wrong. Lydia had never been more alive than she was in this moment. Everything that she had once been had come back in an instant, and all it had taken was an unpleasant ghost.

“What are you talking about?” Lydia asked after some time, with all the patience she could muster.

“The curse. The one you put on me. Which is rude, by the way, considering everything I’ve done for you. And I’m not even mad that you broke the contract, really, I forgive you. We all make mistakes and yours was befriending that boring couple .”

“Do not talk about the Maitlands like that. They were much more than you’ll ever be,” Lydia shouted, stabbing him repeatedly with her finger. “And I never cursed you!”

“Lying’s not a good look on you, babe. Or did you forget? Let me refresh your memory.”

Astrid blinked. One moment she was in her room, watching an argument she would have never thought possible, and the next, she found herself in her childhood home’s garden. It looked real at first, until she noticed the night sky that seemed straight out of a children’s book, and the weird angles of the house’s walls. Next to her, her mother was just as lost, looking around wildly.

Suddenly, a car pulled up and two Beetlejuices got out. One wearing a black dress and black coat that Astrid recognized immediately as her mother’s. The other was much smaller, wearing… was that her old sweatshirt? Oh god.

Mini-Beetlejuice ran to the porch of the house, not noticing the striped handkerchief falling off his (her?) pocket. Bigger-Beetlejuice stopped in front of it and picked it up.

Astrid furrowed her brows. That was after Celia’s birthday, wasn’t it? She had been six or seven at that time, and yet she could remember most of the evening so clearly. 

After all, it had been the first time she had met the striped man. She barely remembered what came after, but seeing the handkerchief jostled something in her brain.

“Where did you find that?” Bigger-Beetlejuice said in a high voice.

“I don’t know,” Small-Beetlejuice said in an even higher voice. Astrid really felt like punching him all of a sudden.

Small-Beetlejuice disappeared behind the door and Bigger-Beetlejuice knelt down.

“Leave me and my family alone. If you hurt them or make them pronounce your name even once I’ll rip your beautiful body apart, and not in a sexy way.” Bigger-Beetlejuice said.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the scene faded away.

Lydia blinked. They were back in Winter River, in the very room in which Rory had disappeared. Beetlejuice was back to his normal self, humming with an innocent smile on his face.

“So? What’d you think? Should I get into theater? Maybe acting’s my new calling.”

“I didn’t say any of that,” Lydia whispered, ignoring him. But she had, hadn’t she? Not those exact words, but the intention had been there. Even if she hadn’t known what she had been doing, she had still done it.

Lydia felt Astrid’s eyes on her as she plunged her hand in her pocket and took out the familiar handkerchief, tracing its lines with her fingers.

She remembered how years ago, back when she had started contemplating being a medium as a serious career path, she had searched everything there was about it. She’d stumbled upon the subject of curses, but hadn’t found it relevant to her study.

Despite that, she remembered the rules well: All you need is a personal item and enough power to curse it. If you don’t have enough, the curse will backfire severely at the slightest resistance from the person being cursed.

She wondered if she did have enough power, or if Beetlejuice had just let the curse happen.

For some reason, Lydia had kept the handkerchief all these years, always in the pocket of whatever clothes she was wearing at the time. It wasn’t that it magically appeared in her stuff (although, she was pretty sure it did that too), she made a conscious effort of always having it with her.

She never thought about it for too long, because she knew she wouldn’t like what she’d found if she dug into her feelings a bit too much.

Lydia met Beetlejuice’s eyes briefly and knew by the slightest stretch of his smile that he knew why she had kept it.

And it wasn’t because she’d used it to curse him.

Lydia let out a slow exhale. She was the master of the curse, so she was the one in control. “Fine. You want the curse lifted, I want my fiancé back. Let’s make a deal.”

Beetlejuice clasped his hands and turned his back to them. His shoulders rose a few times as if he was crying. Lydia knew he wasn’t, because his voice stayed unchanged. “Oh, I dreamed of this day—wait, your what?”
Without moving the rest of his body, he turned his head around to face them again.

Lydia tensed. The words she had said caught up to her at the same moment as they had for Beetlejuice.

Astrid snorted next to her. “Didn’t you hear? They’re getting married on Halloween. So romantic.”

Beetlejuice disappeared and reappeared next to Lydia, his arm around her shoulders. “Listen, I can excuse the first wedding, because I was dealing with a lot of bureaucracy at the time, I couldn’t really be there for you. Take my eyes off of you one second and boom—ya slipped between my fingers. But a second one, and to that . No. How could you?”

Lydia grabbed the arm on her shoulder and moved it away from her. “What I do isn’t any of your business. Do you want the deal or not?”

“And on Halloween –I should have thought of that one, honestly. It’s pretty good.”

“ Beetlejuice .”

“Whoa! careful with the name. Is it not allowed to talk anymore? Can’t we negotiate?”

“No. This is my only and final offer: you get your curse lifted, I get Rory back. And alive. ”

“Hmm. Well! The customer is king.” A pen and a long paper full of lines and lines of writing appeared in Beetlejuice’s hand. 

“Take your time to read the fine prints.”

Lydia snatched the pen and signed it without reading. “I trust you.”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” Astrid mumbled behind her, but Lydia barely heard her, overtaken by the smile blooming on Beetlejuice’s face. For once, it looked sincere.

He snapped his fingers and a frightened Rory rolled down on the floor. His hands and legs were tied together, and his mouth was sewn shut with a black thread.

“Should I leave that in, or?” Beetlejuice said, gesturing to the mouth.

Lydia glared at him. He made a face, but the black thread disappeared.

“Please, get me away from him.” Rory begged, wiggling on the floor.

Lydia ignored him and kept her eyes on Beetlejuice. “What do I have to do, then?”

“You gotta get rid of the handkerchief, that’s what’s holding the curse together. So you can just give it back, thank ya.” Beetlejuice extended his hand. His smile was crooked in a way Lydia knew not to trust.

She took a lighter out of her pocket and set the handkerchief on fire. “That should work, shouldn’t it?”

Beetlejuice was visibly disappointed, but simply shrugged, and did not even protest when Lydia sent him back to the Netherworld. 

She did not like his lack of resistance.

She did not like that he had accepted the deal so quickly either. The curse was limited, all things considered, and it shouldn’t have affected his life at all as long as he stayed away from her family. And yet, he had wanted that access back. He had been ready to trade Rory for it, and she knew how much he must love the idea of torturing Lydia’s fiancé. 

It was just weird.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she bent down and untied Rory, who was stuttering through questions and demands. When he was finally free, she interrupted him. “Rory, please get out.”

As if on auto pilot, he shut his mouth, got up and left. When the door closed behind him, Lydia looked down at her daughter.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Astrid wrinkled her nose. “I should be the one saying that.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Lydia sighed.

Chapter Text

There was something particular about this room. It was a constant, in a way, always Astrid’s room at her grandparents’ house. It had been hers for as long as she could remember, and it was one of those things that never really evolved with time: the smell, the furniture, the feeling–all of that had stayed the same, in her memory or in that moment.

Astrid knew the house would be sold after her grandfather’s death: Delia did not really care for it, and her mother had always said the only real good thing about that house had been the Maitlands.

But Astrid couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness thinking about this place belonging to someone else. This simple room that she used to find too small, this space that was familiar and foreign at the same time, that could only temporarily be hers. Maybe, if Astrid concentrated, she could feel the place beating with a heart of its own.

Or maybe the silence was starting to get to her. 

Astrid and her mother were sitting on the floor, their backs against the bed. They hadn’t said a word since settling there, waiting for the other to start speaking but too cowardly to do so themselves.

Questions and fear started spiraling in Astrid’s mind. Maybe it had been stupid to deal with Beetlejuice on her own. She hadn’t known what she was dealing with, and she still wasn’t sure of the extent of his power. He had just seemed convenient at the time. And after all, nothing really bad had happened—well, the state of Rory’s mind was still unsure—but she couldn’t stop feeling like she’d dodged a bullet.

“I was about your age when we moved here with your grandparents.” Lydia’s voice startled Astrid. Her mother’s eyes were unfocused, staring at the wall in front of them. “I told you about the Maitlands. They were… a bit like godparents to me. And one night, they ended up in danger. I asked for Beetl— for his help and made a deal with him. Everything turned out fine, in the end, but it could have gone very wrong. I was lucky that the deal wasn’t completed. I was careless back then, even if I don’t regret it.”

“Are you scared of him?”

Lydia chuckled. “No. He can be dangerous, incredibly so, but if you know how to deal with him, he’ll only be as dangerous as you let him be. I think even back then, I never truly...” she trailed off.

Astrid shifted. There was so much to ask, but she could also recognize how rare it was for her mother to open up like this. Her grandparents had never even uttered the word ‘Beetlejuice’, and she was sure that her father hadn’t known anything about this.

Maybe it was time to reciprocate. “I met him at Celia’s birthday party, back when I was six. You know, the handkerchief thing.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“He didn’t do anything to me. He was just… in the neighbor’s house. They said it was haunted so I went in, and there he was. So it really was haunted all this time.”

Lydia snorted. “Yeah, but not by him. Well, not really. He’s a bio-exorcist. Gets rid of living people who live on a ghost’s territory.”

Astrid thought back on the places she’d met him. Most of them, as she’d learned later, were thought to be haunted or cursed. A particular cemetery came back to her mind. Oh god, the keeper really was a ghost.

“Now that I think about it, it’s weird that I didn’t know his name. I tried to ask him once, but he didn't answer.”

Lydia shrugged. “It could have been a side effect of the curse. At no point could you have said his name anyway, so it was probably better for him if you didn’t know it. I’m sorry the curse affected you too, even in a minor way like that. I didn’t know.”

Lydia moved to hug her, but before she could, Astrid let out a sharp, “It’s fine.”

Her mother froze and sat back, clearing her throat.

The silence stretched again, but this time, Astrid broke it. “What was the deal you made with him?”

She felt more than saw her mother’s gaze fall on her. “What was the deal you made with him?”

Astrid didn’t answer. There was no way her mother hadn’t already guessed what Astrid had tried to do. But still, she was letting her off the hook. A fair trade, then: a secret for her mother’s silence. 

Regardless, Astrid couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze. A part of her wanted to scream at Lydia for even thinking about marrying Rory, for letting such a waste of a human being creep into their lives and pretend to replace her dad and– 

She hated him. She hated him for what he was, for what he wanted to be, and for what his mere presence felt like. A reminder of everything Astrid had lost, of everything Astrid couldn’t put behind her because there was no one who listened, and no time to process.

But bringing up the subject was basically an admission of guilt, and would lead to nothing but anger and fights.

So they both stayed quiet, waiting for the awkwardness to finally dissipate.

The uneasy feeling followed Lydia even after she left Astrid in her room. It was while carrying it down the stairs that she remembered that the one person who had been the most affected was also the one she had thrown out immediately.

Unexpectedly, she found Rory with Delia. If looks could kill, the wall in front of Delia would have crumbled to dust. She sat there, listening to whatever Rory was fervently ranting about without giving him a single reaction outside of the occasional “Oh really” or “Hmm”.

Her face lit up when she saw Lydia approaching. “Heard that your dear fiancé met your ghost. Actually, that’s all I’ve heard for the last ten minutes! Just take him back, I’m not your babysitter.” With that said, she got up and left.

“He’s not my ghost.” Lydia shouted after her, getting for only response a series of grumblings she could not decipher.

She knelt next to Rory, who was still shaking slightly. “It was horrible. God, all those snakes. And the cockroaches. I feel sick just thinking about it.”

Lydia put her hand on his arm. “It’s over now, everything’s fine.”

“—and it’s your daughter that caused it. I can’t believe it, after I generously offered my help?”

“She was tricked, just as you were,” Lydia lied.

Rory stopped shivering and turned his gaze on her. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Lydia rubbed her hand up and down his arm. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t feel like dealing with him right now. She didn’t feel like dealing with anything right now. But she had some damage control to do, so she couldn’t just collapse on her bed and ignore the rest of the world for one or two days.

“Take your mind off it. Think about something happy.”

A dreamy look bloomed on his face. “The wedding...”

She chuckled. “Yes. Just you, me, and a couple of people from our family. It’ll be nice.”

There was a pregnant pause before Rory replied. “...Sure.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Rory continued to mumble while Lydia tried to reassure him as best as she could. It took all of her limited supply of energy, but being like that, she could almost forget about everything. No funerals, no rushed weddings, no tensions with her daughter and no Beetlejuice.

It was almost nice. Easy.

That’s what Rory was the best at, after all. Make her feel like life was easy, like she didn’t have to worry. She could just concentrate on him, and he’d take care of the rest.

That was what love was, right? Supporting each other through hardships, relying on the other.

So why did she feel like throwing up when she thought about the wedding?

Chapter Text

Astrid would not say she had become close to her mother, but there was a new understanding between them, a fragile peace that she didn’t want to disturb. It was a miracle that that peace had persisted despite the ever approaching wedding. 

Tensions hadn’t magically disappeared, of course. Now that Astrid had proof that ghosts were real, the sting of not being able to see her father felt worse than before. 

It was one thing to think her mother was lying. It was another to discover that she hadn’t, that maybe her father was still somewhere, reachable, and yet she couldn’t see him.

There was a constant ‘but what if? ’ running through Astrid’s mind. Lydia had told her that there was an underworld for dead people, and that living people weren’t allowed there.

But. What if.

She’d tried to broach the subject with her mom, who had quickly shut her down. A categorical no. And besides she didn’t have time, she was too busy with the wedding .

Astrid snorted. Sure, the wedding. The one no one wanted, except Rory. She wasn’t even sure Lydia wanted it, with how elusive she’d been about the whole thing. If anything, her mother acted exactly the same way as she had after Astrid’s father’s death: she was running away. Astrid didn’t know from what, but everyone could see something was wrong.

Even Delia, who could turn any occasion to her advantage, kept making snide remarks about the whole ordeal.

And every time Astrid saw the ring on her mother’s finger, she thought of her father.

Was it really surprising that she’d turn to the one person that would accept to help her? Really, her mother should have expected it. Especially now that she had access to it.

And no one paid attention to what Astrid was doing, too busy with preparations. 

She made sure her mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway before locking her bedroom’s door. There were no reasons for Delia or Rory to come up here, but she didn’t want to take any unnecessary risk.

She stood with her back against the wall.

“Beetlejuice.”

Maybe it was a bad idea. She’d gotten out scot-free last time because she hadn’t really made a deal with him. But this time, she intended to. Doubt crept up her spine.

“Beetlejuice.”

Astrid had seen her mother make a deal right in front of her and nothing bad had happened, so it should be the same for her, right? Yes, her mother was a very experienced medium, but maybe that was genetic? Maybe Astrid had some of that too, even if she didn’t really know what she was doing?

“Beetlejuice.”

Her last shred of doubt evaporated as the air shifted. It was too late now, so resolve took its place.

“Didn’t ya hear mommy’s warning, kid? It’s a veeery bad idea to call me like that.” Despite her position against the wall to ensure she’d see the man appear, Beetlejuice managed to be in her one blind spot, next to her against the very same wall.

She jumped away with a shout of surprise, prompting a raspy laugh out of the ghost.

“I want to make a deal.” Astrid said with force, hoping to hide any trace of emotion in her voice.

Beetlejuice rocked back and forth on his feet. “I’m all ears.” 

Movement caught Astrid’s eye through the window. Her mom’s car had just parked in front of the house. Shit.

“Take me to the Netherworld.”

Beetlejuice scratched his chin. “Well, that would be breaking the rules.” A pause. “Oh, right, I don’t care about that.”

His boisterous laugh made her jump. Hopefully, no one in the house had heard it. When no sound of hurried footsteps was heard, she let out a small exhale. 

Beetlejuice, indifferent to her attempt at being discreet, continued: “Yeah, I can do that. But you’ll have to do something for me.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, really, just to keep you in a specific place for a while. Let’s say, randomly, one day.”

Astrid blinked. Today was the 30th, so depending on Beetlejuice’s definition of a day, she’d be almost sure to miss the wedding.

She felt relieved.

“So. Like a kidnapping?”

“I don’t know if it counts as a kidnapping if you consent to it, but sure. If you want to call it that.”

“Are you gonna do… weird stuff to me?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Astrid stared at him, wary. After a few seconds of silence, he talked again. “Your sense of time will get a bit funky, nothing more. If that’s not weird enough for ya, I can add some hallucinations in the mix. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Oh.” Astrid blinked, and suddenly, she was looking down at a contract.

“Just sign right here… thank you. Well, one ticket to good old Pops then!”

When Astrid looked up from the contract, she wasn’t in her room anymore.

Lydia felt like she hadn’t had a moment for herself in decades. It was probably only a few days, but even with Rory managing most of the wedding’s preparations, she was overwhelmed with every little thing she had to do. 

She didn’t understand why so much time had to be spent testing things when she didn’t care one way or the other. This dress or this one? This cake or this one? Should they go to the local church or another more beautiful one just a few miles away? 

She just wanted to get married, was that too much to ask?

She looked down at her ring. It was a gold band with a big shiny rock that probably cost way too much. She hated it. Gold wasn’t her thing, and neither was gaudiness. It was slightly too big and kept slipping down her finger, an unwanted and constant reminder that it was definitely there. 

She wanted to stop running around, but she also knew that if she paused just for a moment, she’d start to think. And she didn’t like where her thoughts kept going.

When the dresses had arrived, and she’d stared at the red one for a bit too long, she knew something was definitely wrong with her. A sham marriage to a ghost that didn’t really care was not a good alternative.

And why would she need an alternative?

Lydia deserved something easy, and Rory was easy. It could be her very last chance for this type of life–it was harder to meet people at her age, and she was already lucky to have him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was better than a dead man. Rory wasn’t chaos incarnate, he had morals, he was normal and why was she still thinking about Beetlejuice?

Lydia could feel a headache coming, so she put her head against her knees. The wedding was in just a few hours. All she had to do was get through the night and then it would all go back to normal. 

The familiar clicking sounds of heels on the floor took her out of her thoughts. “Have you seen Astrid?” Delia asked.

“I think she’s in her room,” Lydia mumbled against her legs.

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

Lydia shot up. She hadn’t seen Astrid the day before either. She had been gone the whole day and collapsed on her bed as soon as she got back. Lydia had assumed that Astrid was avoiding her, which wouldn't be surprising. But if Delia hadn’t seen her either…

A weight settled in her stomach, growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

She jumped to her feet and ran upstairs, Delia on her heels. Once they reached the threshold, she knocked.

“Astrid? Are you in there?”

She knocked again, with more force.

“Astrid?” Panic had overtaken her voice and she was now banging on the door.

Delia pushed her aside gently and tried the door. 

Locked.

Lydia could hear a high pitch noise in her ears. There was a flurry of movements, an axe in her hands and suddenly, the door was falling to pieces. It took her a few seconds to realize she was the one who had done that. 

She didn’t care, though. 

There were no traces of Astrid anywhere. But on the other wall, a slight opening in the wall in the form of a badly drawn door, which emitted a bright green light.

Despite Delia’s protests, Lydia did not think twice before rushing inside and running down the twisted corridors.

Distantly, she heard the door close behind her.

Chapter Text

If someone had asked Astrid what she thought the Netherworld looked like, she would have described large, dark spaces with millions of souls wandering, lost and confused. Maybe there’d be some fire in the distance.

The omnipresent bureaucracy was a let down, but what really surprised her was the maze of corridors twisting and turning so often that she couldn’t tell where she was going or where she came from. Her guide wasn’t very useful on that point, outside of the initial “Gotta take the long way round. Too many cops around here these days.”

To pass the time, Astrid had decided to learn something, anything about Beetlejuice. And surprisingly, he did answer some of her questions.

“Why were you always where I was? Did you know I’d find you every time?”

“I wasn’t even looking for ya. Where I took jobs had nothing to do with you.” 

“Did it have something to do with my mom?”

Beetlejuice continued to speak as if she hadn’t said anything. “You kept running into me because the curse put a big DO NOT LOOK AT THAT on me, which just made you really want to look. So when I was around, you’d find me without trying to.”

Astrid nodded. “But what about that time in the field? The second time I met you? Don’t tell me you had work there. ”

Beetlejuice put his little finger in his ear. “Nah, that was all the camera. Y’know what they say, it captures the soul, or something. Dunno about that, but it’s super practical to travel to the living world.”

“...There was a picture of you in that camera?”

“Hey, would you look at that! The kid’s got a brain and she’s even using it.” He patted her back and Astrid, caught off guard, did everything she could to not jump to the side.

They walked a bit in silence, or as silent as they could be when one of them kept muttering to himself or humming joyfully.

“You’re doing this to get back at my mother,” Astrid blurted out. It was more of a statement than a question. There was history between her mother and him, and Astrid liked to think she was starting to understand their dynamic.

“Sure am.”

“Are you mad because she broke off her deal or because she’s getting married?”

It took her a few steps before Astrid noticed that he had stopped walking. She turned around to see him standing there, hands in his pockets, expression carefully neutral as he stared up at the wall. If Astrid didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked thoughtful.

Beetlejuice shrugged, and the moment passed. “It’s all the same.”

He started walking again and Astrid trailed after him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Have you done anything else since we’ve left?”

“Are you in love with my—”

“Whoa, would you look at that. We’re at the immigration office’s employee lounge. Finally, am I right?” Beetlejuice gestured ahead.

Astrid clamped her mouth shut and followed with her eyes where he was pointing his finger. It was a dark blue room, in which a handful of people sat at tables scattered everywhere. They didn’t look happy to be here, and not one of them reacted when Astrid entered the room.

In a corner in the back, his profile to them, was someone Astrid recognized immediately, despite the blue skin and piranhas adorning his body.

“Dad!” she shouted as she ran to him. Time slowed down as his eyes went up to meet hers, and she saw confusion, then surprise, shock and joy battle on his face. She jumped in his arms as soon as she reached him, and after a moment, his arms closed around her.

“Astrid? What are you doing here?” he asked.

Astrid took her head out of where she had burrowed it and looked up at him. “I came to see you.”

“Wh— How— you shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice trembling. But after a few seconds, he went back to hugging her.

“You’ve grown so much,” he whispered against her hair.

Astrid snorted, unwilling to look at him and show that she had begun crying.

“I’ve missed you everyday,” she said instead. “And mom wouldn’t… she wouldn’t talk about you.”

Astrid felt his arms tighten around her for a second, before her father let go and stepped back. She missed it as soon as it was gone.

“Your mom’s like that. She compartmentalizes, that’s how she deals with things”

“All I wanted was to talk,” Astrid said softly. Her father smiled and trailed his finger against her cheek, catching a runaway tear.

“I wish I’d been there for you. For both of you. I can’t bear to watch you two grow apart. You still have each other, don’t forget that. You have to be there for one another.”

She nodded softly and sniffed. “I don’t want to leave you again.”

Her father squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll have to, I know you’re strong enough. This isn’t where you belong. And I want you to live.”

**

Lydia was running. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was running. Placing all of her faith in the white arrows drawn on the floor and the walls because she did not really have a choice. They would lead her somewhere, and if that somewhere wasn’t to her daughter, It would be to someone she could strangle the information out of, or so she hoped.

She had been wheezing for a while now. Her throat was on fire, but she didn’t stop. Stopping, even for one second, meant realizing what she was doing. And she couldn’t afford that.

For now, she was running.

Lydia couldn’t tell if she was going in circles or not: every corridor looked the same, and all the areas she ran through blurred into one another.

People barely glanced at her as she passed them, or shoved them, and she did her best to ignore the deformed bodies and half destroyed faces she bumped into, begging that Astrid wasn’t one of them.

After what felt like hours, Lydia finally succumbed to exhaustion. Panting, she doubled over in the middle of a never-ending corridor as sweat dripped down her face.

She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, the corridor had shifted. The unending path had disappeared, and a door was now standing a few feet from her. A white arrow pointed to the handle.

Once Lydia could breathe somehow normally again, she opened the door.

It was not surprising to find another corridor behind it, nor was it to see Beetlejuice standing in the middle of it.

“Where is she?” Lydia demanded.

“Weeell, you see, I could tell you that, but I don’t want to.”

Lydia took a step forward. Then another. Then another. “Where. Is. She.”

“She’s fine, if that's what you want to know.”

Lydia stopped and looked at him, wary. “What tells me you’re telling the truth? You’re not cursed anymore.”

Beetlejuice tilted his head. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Lydia didn’t reply, which was enough of an answer for Beetlejuice. For both of them. If she couldn’t bring herself to say yes, then the alternative was obvious.

“Take me to her.”

“No.”

Lydia lunged at him. She wasn’t sure what she’d do once she reached him, but they would find out soon enough.

Beetlejuice’s frantic voice took her off guard. “She’s safe! She’s fine! She’s just with her dad.”

Lydia stopped, trying to process the information. She deflated and leaned against the wall. Suddenly, the idea of going to Astrid had lost most of its appeal.

Lydia closed her eyes. Slowly, she let herself slip to the floor, the weight of everything that had just happened catching up to her. 

“Kids, am I right?” The raspy voice on her left made Lydia open her eyes again. She had not felt Beetlejuice move, but he must have at some point because he was now sitting next to her, a safe distance away. From her or for her, she wasn’t sure.

“Shut up,” she grumbled.

“Wow. You try to do something nice for someone and look at what you get. Nothing but problems.” His tone was as cheerful as ever, but there was a hint of something that Lydia couldn’t quite place. She didn’t think he was talking about his deal with Astrid anymore.

“I would never have given you back the handkerchief.”

“Hey, it wasn’t even for you, I gave it to your kid.”

Lydia sat up. “Oh, please. You hoped — no, you knew I’d find it. You were counting on it.”

“Sure, sure. Didn’t expect you to keep it, though.”

Lydia looked everywhere but at him. She could feel a flush rising on her cheeks and the last thing she wanted was for him to notice it.

“You wanted it back because it would have become one of my personal items, right?”

“Yep.”

Lydia snorted. “So you did want to curse me back.”

“Nah. What would I even curse you with? If a deal wasn’t enough to hold you in place, I don’t know what would.” There was something distant in his voice. A kind of yearning.

She thought of their almost-wedding. Was it weird that it put a small smile on her face? It had almost become a good memory, somehow.

Lydia never regretted putting a premature end to it, but sometimes, she did feel bad about never upholding her end of the deal when he had. For years, she had expected the other shoe to drop, but it never did.

And there was a part of her that only grew with time, that kinda, maybe, wanted to see the ghost again. In all of her years of talking with ghosts, she never met one like Beetlejuice. And weirdly, she started missing him.

How can you miss someone that you only met once?

Easy. All he had to do was to never leave. And that, he did. Not physically, but in her thoughts. He was always there. At first, more in a trauma-not-very-good way. But gradually, it turned into more positive thoughts.

And since he had never seeked revenge for the botched wedding–even though she knew he could have if he really wanted to–she had decreed that they were on good terms. Friendly, even.

But now, she knew he hadn’t forgotten that night, just as much as she hadn’t.

Slowly, her smile disappeared. “I’ll marry Rory, whether you want it or not.”

“Do you want to?”

Lydia bit her lip. She couldn’t look at him.

“Why are you marrying him anyway? The guy’s a clear downgrade from what you could have had.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her, gesturing to himself.

Whether it was his demeanor—so familiar, almost reassuring—or the fact that whatever she told him would never reach living ears, or that she just really wanted to talk to someone, anyone—she felt like telling the truth.

“He proposed. In front of so many people, so many journalists and—it was at my dad’s funerals, for God’s sake. And maybe he’s not… the most perfect man in the whole world. But he’s enough. He makes things easy.”

She heard a snort next to her. “Since when do you want easy?”

Lydia finally turned to look at him. His chin rested in the palm of his hand, with his elbow balancing on his knee. He was looking at her, eyebrows raised, a candid expression on his face.

At that moment, Lydia thought that if she got out in time to go to the wedding, if she married Rory, she’d never see Beetlejuice again. She didn’t know where that thought came from, but she knew for a fact that it would be true.

Lydia turned to face him fully and cupped his face in her hands. She could feel him tensing under her penetrating gaze, even if from the outside, he didn’t seem to move a muscle.

“I wanted to die when I met you. And in a weird way, you made me want to live again. I don’t think that was your goal, but you were the catalyst anyway. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Her thumb brushed against his cheek. Slowly, he raised his hand to cover hers. His skin was cold and rough under her fingers, but she didn’t mind.

“I haven’t felt alive for a few years now. I’m glad I got to see you again,” she whispered.

They stayed like that, for seconds or hours, unmoving and unwilling to break what looked too much like a last goodbye.

After what felt like an eternity, Lydia swallowed and took her hands away.

She got to her feet and started walking. When she turned around, some distance away, Beetlejuice wasn’t there anymore.

After a few turns, Lydia reached a door that she knew would be the last. She took a deep breath, and turned the handle.

Chapter Text

Richard and Astrid were sitting at a table when the door opened. Lydia appeared, eyes darting around the room before settling on them. She rushed to them and engulfed Astrid in a hug.

“Do not ever disappear on me like that again.” Lydia said, putting as much force in her words as in her arms. Astrid stumbled slightly with the force of the impact.

“Mom! I wasn’t even gone for an hour.”

Lydia took a step back and put her hands on Astrid’s shoulders. “You’ve been missing for a whole day.”

Astrid opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. ‘ Your sense of time will get a bit funky’ Beetlejuice had said. She hadn’t expected it to be to that point.

“So today’s...”

“The 31 st .” Lydia finished her sentence.

Astrid nodded. She knew that the deal she made meant she probably wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding—not that she wanted to, really. But she had thought she’d have more time before having to think about that.

And if it was the truth, then her time with her dad would soon be up.

As if Lydia had read her thoughts, her gaze finally met Richard’s.

“It’s good to see you,” she said softly. Richard smiled and opened his arms. Lydia met him halfway.

“It’s good to see you too.” Richard replied.

“I couldn’t believe it when you died. You were so far away, it just didn’t feel real.”

Richard didn’t say anything, just hummed. Slowly, they let go of each other and stepped back.

“If I knew that would happen, I’d have repaired things when I had the chance,” Lydia said.

“You and I both know that it wouldn’t have worked between us. Not like it used to, anyway.”

They exchanged a sad smile, full of understanding. On their faces, Astrid could see everything that she had missed, everything that she had chased after.

But slowly, she was starting to understand that this wasn’t a reunion, this was a goodbye.

“I never got to mourn you. It was just so easy to look away.” Lydia paused. “I never got to mourn my father either. Just jumped straight into wedding preparations. I’m gonna get married, did I tell you that?”

Richard shook his head. “I’m glad you’re rebuilding your life.”

“Well that’s the thing. I don’t think I am.”

“Don’t you want to marry him?”

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “I think I do. But… I’m starting to think that what I want isn’t what truly matters right now.”

Astrid sat up. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but if even a seed of doubt had been planted in her mother’s mind, then it wasn’t all over. Not yet. 

“I know you’ll make the right choice, I trust you,” Richard said. Then, he beckoned to her, and grabbed Astrid.

Astrid had not realized how much she’d missed their hugs until she was in one of them again. The last one.

When they finally stepped back, Richard gave them a sad smile. “My shift’s starting soon. Please, never come back here before it’s time. I don’t want anything to happen to you two.”

Astrid let out a humorless laugh, and they walked together to the door.

“How did you get here, anyway?” Richard asked.

Lydia waved her hand. “Help from an old friend.”

“Your friends are terrible if they accept to take you down here.”

A soft smile appeared on Lydia’s face. “I know. He really is.”

With one last hug, they stepped through the door.

“I’ll wait for you both. And I hope I’ll have to wait a long time.” Richard waved at them, and they waved back. Lydia started walking away, but Astrid stayed put until the door was fully closed, all traces of her father disappearing behind it.

“Aren’t you worried we’ll miss the ceremony?” Astrid asked.

They were walking down the corridors, following white arrows that were now leading them away from Richard. And to an exit, hopefully. Lydia was taking her time, not dragging her feet but also not speeding up. She had been lost in thought for a while until Astrid broke the silence.

She shrugged. “We’ll get out, eventually. It doesn’t matter if we run or not, he’ll let us out when he’s decided to.”

If they missed the wedding, they could always move the ceremony to another day. Rory would be angry, but he’d do it, she knew that for sure.

Despite not saying who ‘ he’ was, Astrid caught her meaning immediately. “I don’t think we’ll make it, then,” she muttered.

A smile stretched Lydia’s lips. “Oh, I think we will.”

Beetlejuice hadn’t shown his face since she had left him earlier, but she knew he wasn’t far. Watching, probably. For some reason, she did not mind.

He had no reason to prevent her from going to the wedding. Even if he wanted to stop it, he wouldn’t do it before, that wouldn’t be a very good show. So getting to the church was actually the only part Lydia had no doubt about: she knew she had to go there. The problem was what she would do once she arrived.

“Did he really try to marry you? You were, what.. sixteen?” Astrid asked. It wasn’t so much an actual question as it was an expression of bewilderment.

“Hmm? Yeah. It would have given him access to the world of the living. Did he tell you that?”

“No, I guessed. He said something about you marrying Rory being the same thing as breaking off your deal.”

Lydia snorted. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I do know you called him to get rid of Rory, by the way. So we’re even now.”

Astrid startled visibly and turned her gaze to the wall. “You’re not mad?”

“I should be. But right now, I really don’t care.”

They fell back into silence, the only sounds around them being their heels against the floor, and the distant machinery of the Netherworld. More than thirty years ago, Lydia had wanted to reach this place so badly, and now that she was in it, she couldn’t see the appeal anymore.

It was not the long-awaited exit from her problems, it was just an even worse place than the one she came from. And one she would have no alternative for. She wasn’t scared of it, she didn’t have much choice in the matter: one day, she’d be here.

But she didn’t desire it anymore. More than that, she wanted to live.

Someone was humming, and only when Astrid looked at her quizzically did Lydia realize that she was the one doing it.

“You know, it’s kinda nice to see you like this,” Astrid said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Like you have energy. You looked kinda dead before.”

Lydia barked out a laugh. “I think I was, a bit. But I know better, now.”

She said those words as they turned a corner. At the end of it was a door.

“Shall we?” Lydia asked with a smile that, for the first time in a long time, felt genuine.

Chapter Text

By the time Astrid and Lydia got out of the Netherworld, night had fallen. The door had led them to the middle of the cemetery, not far from the illuminated church waiting for them.

Astrid glanced at her mother. She didn’t seem worried, despite not wearing her wedding dress and really needing to fix her makeup. She walked on, calm, talking to the frantic people on her way with a confidence that demanded respect. As if nothing was amiss, as if she was perfectly in control of the situation.

Astrid watched from a distance as her mother disappeared inside the church. She was still wondering if she should get in or not. The whole thing felt out of place, like it had lost all its importance. Somehow, Rory didn’t feel so inescapable anymore. But still daunting.

A noise caught her attention. Something soft, slithering between the grass.

“If you want in, I’ll call you. But you have to promise to behave,” Astrid said.

The slithering stopped for a second, and a flower fell down from one of the tombs. Astrid took that as a yes.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

“I don’t like promises. Why should I behave if I get nothing in return?” Beetlejuice was leaning against a tombstone, faking nonchalance. Surprisingly, he was wearing a plain black suit and not his usual striped one. His gaze drifted to the church, and Astrid followed it.

“It’s her choice, even if it’s a terrible one,” Astrid said.

“Well, I’ve always been one to enjoy trainwrecks. Even if I prefer when I get to cause them.”

Astrid hummed noncommittally. “How did you do that to her?”

“Do what?”

“She’s just… like she used to be.”

Beetlejuice shrugged. “Ain’t that your father’s effect? Must be happy about that.”

“No, it started before.” When she tried to get Rory back. “She likes you.”

“Eh. Not sure about that. She’s still marrying some other guy.”

Astrid thought of Rory as her stepfather. Of seeing him for every holiday, of seeing his name in her family papers, of seeing photos of him in the family tree. Disgusted, that’s the right word for it: She felt disgusted.

“You didn’t try to force her to marry you this time.”

“I’ve discovered there was one thing I wanted more than that, and it was to not fucking be like Rory.”

Astrid snorted. That was something she could get behind. “Well. Should we get inside?”

Beetlejuice smirked. A hat appeared on his head, hiding most of his face. “After you.”

They walked side by side to the entrance. No one even glanced at Beetlejuice when they noticed Astrid next to him. Actually, maybe they wouldn’t have said anything regardless, because there were way more people than Astrid thought there should be.

Journalists, paparazzi and—wait, were those influencers? Some of these faces were familiar, and not for good reasons. Astrid groaned and hurried down the aisle.

Delia was hidden away, not far from the front, but clearly embarrassed to even be here. She smiled when she noticed Astrid and hurried her to sit next to her. As soon as she sat, Delia took her in her arms.

“This is a farce. I didn’t even have time to do my special exhibit on grief because someone—” she gestured to Lydia, “—decided to disappear the morning of her wedding.”

“Sorry about all that,” Astrid said apologetically.

“It’s fine, honey, I don’t blame you.” Delia’s gaze drifted behind Astrid, where Beetlejuice was seated. “Sorry, who are you?”

Beetlejuice tilted his hat upwards and winked at her. “Hi, mom.”

Delia let out a half cry before slapping her mouth shut. She grabbed Astrid and tried to force her behind her.

“No, no, grandma, it’s fine, we’re fine,” Astrid said, wriggling out of Delia’s grip.

“What is he doing here? How did he get here?” Delia hissed.

A snort. “Didn’t see my name on the guest list? You need new reading glasses.”

Delia gaped at him, ready to explode–or run away, it wasn’t clear which.

“He promised to behave.” Astrid said, keeping her hands on Delia’s arms to stop her from doing anything reckless.

“I never said that,” came the reply behind her. Astrid looked over her shoulder and glared. Not. Helping.

“This is a disaster,” Delia mumbled, but at least, she didn’t seem ready to attack anymore.

A boisterous laugh answered her.

**

“Where’s your dress? Where’s your veil? What happened to your face? ” Rory had grabbed Lydia as soon as she’d walked in. She had found him in a frantic state, talking to at least two or three people simultaneously.

“It’s fine, this is good enough. What’s important is that we get married, right?”

Rory tensed up and opened his mouth, ready to argue, before deflating. “Right. Yeah, you’re right.”

Lydia took a look around the room. She could feel anger rise within her. “Who are all these people?”

“Just a couple of influencers. It’ll be extremely good publicity for us.”

“I said I wanted something private.”

Rory waived his hand. “Come on, it’s only a couple of them, and it’s not every day you get married.”

Precisely, Lydia thought.

“And besides,” Rory added, “what’s important is that we get married, right?”

Lydia looked him in the eye. “Right,” she agreed slowly.

“Where’s this damn priest—ah, there he is. We can start.”

Rory all but dragged them both to the altar. There was a blur of faces staring at her, and Lydia could not recognize even one of them. It felt even worse when the smartphones appeared.

The priest furrowed his brows at them, as if he'd forgotten why he was even here. He blinked a few times before speaking.

“Right. We are gathered here today—”

“The abridged version, please,” Rory demanded.

The priest barely reacted. “Oh. Sure.” He started speaking again, but Lydia wasn’t listening anymore. She let her gaze sweep over the crowd, meeting nothing but the eyes of cameras everywhere.

Until she spotted a head of red hair in the corner.

Delia was ready to fall off the bench, leaning as far away as she could from the people sitting next to her. Her eyes kept jumping between the altar and the two people beside her.

Astrid sat there, with boredom written all over her face. She was staring at her nails as if they were the only interesting thing around, and she didn’t even spare a glance at Delia's weird antics.

And next to Astrid—of course. Lydia smiled. She couldn’t see his eyes, hidden by a frankly ridiculous hat, but even from where she was, she could see the slight widening of his smile.

Maybe the most surprising thing out of all of this was that her daughter got on well with a ghost. And not any ghost.

When she felt her hands being squeezed, Lydia turned her gaze to hers and Rory’s joined hands. This was her wedding night, the consecration of her relationship with this man.

She felt nothing.

His gaze met hers briefly, expectantly, and she realized the priest must have asked her the question, given the silence around her. She glanced at the priest who was watching her, waiting for her answer. Rory was mouthing ‘Yes’ to her, as if she was too stupid to know what she was supposed to say.

She poured her eyes into his and opened her mouth.

“To answer your question, I’ve wanted something easy for years now. I was content with an easy life, or at least I thought I was.”

Bewilderment slowly overtook Rory’s eyes, and he looked to the priest who just shrugged, unperturbed.

Lydia’s gaze drifted once more through the crowd, stopping on the same three people as earlier. “But that’s not what I needed. I needed something, anything that would remind me that I was still alive. That I am still alive. I needed a challenge, I needed to feel anything other than contentment. Because I wasn’t content, I was apathetic. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize it.”

She turned back to Rory, who looked more lost by the second. “I won’t marry you, I’m sorry.” She said, and let go of his hands.

He didn’t let her. “No, wait, you can’t do that to me. You have to marry me.”

“Let me go, Rory.”

“No, you’re, I—” He wriggled weirdly and started to speak again. “I always thought your whole act was bullshit. I knew I could make more as your husband than as your manager. It was so easy to get you to love me, I just needed a few lies and you were eating out of my hand.”

He seemed to spit out the words, venom dripping with every syllable.

Lydia’s eyes widened. She stayed frozen, gaping at him. Something was brewing inside of her: sadness, betrayal but above all, anger. She felt it grow within her, taking over every fiber of her body.

“Oh, no, who would have thought? Anyway.” Beetlejuice was leaning on the priest, who was casting him panicked glances. He was spinning a big syringe labeled TRUTH SERUM around his finger. Suddenly, a striped baseball bat was in his hand, and he handed it to Lydia. “Ladies first.”

Lydia accepted it without a word, took a step back and hit Rory with all her force. He went flying, his movement followed by dozens of cameras.

“We can’t have that either, can we?” Beetlejuice added. His gaze turned to the crowd, and as he slowly walked towards them, darkness spread around him, obscuring the tentacles appearing behind him until they were nothing but soft outlines drawn by the light.

Suddenly realizing what was going on, they all stood up, rushing to the exit.

A flick of Beetlejuice’s hand, and the door closed and locked itself, unmoving despite the hands banging against it and the cacophony of cries that only grew as the darkness came nearer.

“Say cheese,” Beetlejuice said, holding an old polaroid. Everything went white for a second, and when the world returned, all that was left of the crowd was the clatter of phones falling on the ground.

Back to his normal appearance, Beetlejuice pretended to dust off his sleeves. Astrid ran up to him despite Delia’s protests, and stabbed Beetlejuice with her finger. “You promised you’d behave!”

“Once again, never said that,” Beetlejuice replied. “But since we’re already here...”

Astrid and Delia floated backward with a surprised shout and landed seated on the bench, while the priest–who had been trying to disappear into the background since everything had gone awry–was put back near the altar. Beetlejuice turned around and extended his hand to Lydia, wiggling his eyebrows. Lydia looked down to see she was now wearing a familiar red dress. She glared at him.

“This is really not the time, Beetlejuice.” She walked off to where Rory had landed earlier.

Beetlejuice was right behind her. “Whoa, careful with the name calling.”

Rory was struggling to get back on his feet. When he noticed who was approaching him, he flinched.

“Who.. who even are you?” His voice was trembling as much as his whole body did.

Beetlejuice reached around Lydia’s shoulders. “I’m her fiancé.”

With a sigh, Lydia batted his hand away. “He’s not.”

Her gaze fell on Rory again. “You dared to use me. You dared to make me think you cared about me. And the worst part is that I could have seen through it, but I didn’t want to look.”

A pause. “I never thought you were a bad man. I always found you… flawed, but I thought I could get past that.” She shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

Her eyes met Beetlejuice’s briefly, and with a small nod, she stepped back.

“Wait! What are you doing? Don’t leave me with him!” Rory’s plea reached her ears, but she kept her back to him. She crossed her arms and stayed put, even as she saw Beetlejuice’s shadow grow and distort, even as she met Delia’s widened eyes, both hands slapped on Astrid’s eyes, even as she heard a cry of despair get louder and louder before stopping suddenly. 

Beetlejuice was cackling behind her, but she ignored him to walk back to her family. Once she reached them, she took Astrid in her arms. This time, Astrid let her, and returned the gesture with as much force as she did when she was a kid. Lydia had not realized how much she had missed this.

“What do you think of visiting your dad’s grave? We can pick up some flowers on the way.”

Astrid snorted against her shoulders. “You have terrible taste in flowers. I’ll choose them.”

Lydia smiled. “Okay.”

They stayed like that for a bit, letting things fall back where they belonged despite missing for so long. The world had found its axis again.

But their moment of calm did not last long before it was disrupted again. Colorful lights appeared out of nowhere, music started playing as white smoke raised from the ground. “Hey, don’t forget about me, I’m still here.”

Beetlejuice was advancing towards them, a smirk on his lips. The effect was immediate: Delia screamed and ducked under a bench, soon followed by the priest. Lydia let go of Astrid and pushed her behind her. She met her eyes briefly before stepping forward.

Lydia walked, then ran to him, grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his forehead. The chaos stopped abruptly, leaving them in a loud silence.

“Thank you,” Lydia said, tipping Beetlejuice’s face up to meet her eyes. “You keep helping me, somehow.”

“What can I say, I’m such a good dealer.”

Lydia chuckled. “I’m not talking about the deals.”

“I mean, if you’re really grateful, there’s always one thing you can do for me.”

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his. “I’m not gonna marry you. I’m starting to think marriage is not for me. But!” She added quickly when she heard him open his mouth. “I don’t want you out of my life.”

“I don’t wanna play the skeptic, but if you don’t want me up here, you gotta join me downstairs for that to happen, and i don’t see you doing it.”

Lydia took a step back. “I never said I didn’t want you up here. I can still summon you. So you get what you want without causing too much… damage. ”

“Oh, you wanna keep me on a leash? Kinky.”

There was too much amusement in her eyes for Lydia to look annoyed, but she tried anyway. “I can’t offer you more. Not right now.”

Beetlejuice narrowed his eyes. “What tells me you’re gonna keep your promise? Haven’t been very good at that, from what I remember.”

“Do you think I’m lying?”

He didn’t reply, which was enough of an answer for both of them. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets, took three steps back and smiled.

“Well, it’s not as good as a wedding, but I’ll take it. Banish me away then, honey.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind one day.” 

“Wait, reall–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Lydia said his name three times, and he vanished in a puff of smoke.

Chapter Text

Astrid had known  it was only a matter of time before something stupid would happen. And yet, the day had started so well, as Sam and Celia had arrived at her house for the day.

“It’s really cool of your mom to let us stay here,” Sam said.

Astrid shrugged. Her mom was probably overjoyed to see her daughter thrive, and if that meant leaving the house to Astrid and her friends for a day from time to time, then she was more than ready to pay the price. “It gives her an excuse to go practice her photography. She didn’t have time for it until now.”

“Good for her. But I’m still not over the cancellation of her show,” Celia said. 

The botched wedding had happened almost six months ago, and in the meantime, Astrid had reconnected with friends from her childhood. She had done it at the same time as her mother had declared that she was retiring from television.

It had been easier to make big decisions together.

Astrid had been surprised to find out that she still got along really well with Celia and some of the others, despite not having seen them for years. Astrid and her mother were now once again living together, somewhere coincidentally a lot closer to her old town, which meant she could see her old friends often.

Sam was one of them: a shy boy that demanded nothing more than to learn. He would get into a random topic and learn everything about it before finding a new obsession and abandoning the old one. He had had multiple supernatural phases–partially fueled by his friends’ enthusiasm–and was currently really into summoning.

Celia was still as into the supernatural as she had always been, and had become a big fan of Lydia in their years apart. She had been surprised to discover that Astrid was now a lot more open to the supernatural than she’d been as a child. If anything, it had made their friendship stronger, even if Astrid couldn’t quite bring herself to say to Celia that half of the stuff she believed in wasn’t legit.

Well, there was still the other half, which more than once had led Astrid to redirect Celia’s interest in the subject so as to not cause a diplomatic incident with the Netherworld. But aside from that, it was nice to see ghosts through the eyes of someone who found them extraordinary and not utterly banal.

“You guys want something to drink?” Astrid asked as she led them into the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying not to make anything fall from the overdecorated door.

That was a new thing that she really liked. When they had moved into this new house, her mom and her had gone all out on the decorations. Some people called it a mess, but Astrid preferred to refer to it as “theirs”. Delia’s sculptures decorated most rooms, paintings and activist posters were hanging on the walls—but what Astrid liked the most were the pictures.

Pictures of her, of Lydia, of her father, of course—but also of her grandparents, of friends and, framed on the counter, an old grainy photo of two floating white sheets labeled ‘Maitlands’. Every month or so, Astrid and her mother moved the pictures around and hung new ones, recent or old. These memories were not pushed aside anymore, they were a part of their daily lives, a memorial to things they had gone through, and to people they cared about.

Astrid handed the other two their drinks and settled next to Sam as he opened the heavy tome he had been carrying. “Right, so I’ve marked every entity that shouldn’t be too dangerous to summon,” Sam said, gesturing to the colorful bookmarks scattered throughout the pages.

Astrid tensed. “Summon? I thought you wanted to do some Ouija thing.”

“A séance,” Sam corrected.

“Right.”

“And yes, that was the original plan, but we thought that a summoning would be more exciting,” Celia added with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Astrid furrowed her brows. A summoning could go really wrong, but she didn’t think saying ‘ we shouldn’t do that because it might actually work’ would deter the other two. She did know a few tricks to deal with ghosts, however, so maybe she could prevent it from going awry. And she was a bit curious, since most of her interactions with the supernatural had always been with the same entity.

Actually, it would probably piss off Beetlejuice if she was friendly with another ghost, which was a very good argument in favor of the summoning.

Sam started speaking again. “Anyway, according to this book, we’ll need a vial of animal blood, a jar of living cockroaches and we need to draw this pentagram on the floor.” Sam held up a piece of paper with a circle covered in ciphers on it.

“So that’s why you ask me to catch those,” Astrid said, raising her small box full of cockroaches.

“I brought the blood! It was surprisingly easy to get,” Celia shouted. When they stared at her, she said more quietly. “I asked a butcher.”

“Do you have a room with nothing fragile in it?” Sam asked, turning to Astrid.

“The attic, I guess?” She was now fully on board with what was happening, mostly because it did sound fun, even if she didn’t have the same expectations as her friends.

They settled on the attic. Sam was drawing his runes, chanting something while Celia was doing breathing exercises. ‘ To get in the proper mind space’, she had said. Astrid sat there, watching them with her cockroaches still in her lap.

When they were finished, they placed the blood and the cockroaches inside the circle and placed themselves at equal distance from one another around the circle.

“You don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the incantation. Just lend me your spiritual energy.” Sam said.

What is he talking about , Astrid thought, but mimicked Celia’s posture and joined her hands together.

“Oh, striped serpent, demon of the plague and Master of deals. Rise from the ground and show yourself,” Sam recited.

Astrid sniffed; Why did this sound so familiar? Was that a recurring theme among demons, or?

“Beetlejuice.”

Oh no.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

If they wanted a spectacle, they’d have it. The whole deal. Smoke spreading through the room, screeching noise that may have been music, and bright white light that forced Astrid to cover her eyes.

And of course, the silhouette slowly rising from the ground.

“WHO DISTURBS ME FROM MY—oh, man, kids? Really? I can’t get anything out of that.”

Astrid glanced at the other two. They were coughing and trying to raise their eyes and see what they had summoned.

“I was so excited to be properly summoned and what do I get? A bunch of kids.” Beetlejuice turned around, finally noticing Astrid. “Hey, kid. What’s up?”

Astrid glared. She already had to endure his presence more often than she’d like, and just because she found him amusing did not mean she wanted to see him multiple times a week, especially when she was trying to do her homework. Unfortunately, her mother did not share that opinion. But what Astrid wanted even less was to have to deal with him when she was supposed to have a pleasant day with friends.

In the meantime, the friends in question had recovered. Celia was gaping at Beetlejuice, her shock slowly turning into delight. In the other corner, Sam kept his face carefully neutral. “Striped demon, these offerings are for you,” he said, gesturing to the blood and cockroaches.

“Oh, yeah, free buffet. This isn’t so bad after all.” He stuffed his mouth with cockroaches, and the three teenagers couldn’t hide their wincing when he bit into them.

“So, you’re the one who summoned me, right? How did ya do that?” He said around a mouth full of bugs to Sam. When no answer came, he turned to Astrid. “How’d he do that?”

Silently, she pointed to Sam’s book. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and the book went up into flames. Sam jumped backward and let the pile of ashes fall to the ground.

“Oh no,” Celia cried.

Ever the stoic, Sam took a big breath. “Don’t worry. We’re still protected by the circle.”

Beetlejuice looked down. “Is that what those scribbles mean? Ya need to take drawing lessons, kid. This is an insult to art.” Saying that, he moved his foot to get out.

Astrid quickly cleared her throat, so he turned around and tilted his head. She gestured to the circle, and he sighed. “Fine. I guess this circle is holding me in place somehow even though it’s just a bunch of ugly scribbles.”

Sam had recovered completely and had retaken his place. “Demon, you will answer our questions.”

“What? For free? You’re crazy, kid.” He made his eyes roll around as he said those last words, leaning towards Sam.

The three teenagers exchanged a glance, uncertainty in their eyes. Celia cleared her throat. “What do you want?”

“Oh. Didn’t think you’d ask. Well, she’ll have to call her mom,” he said, his thumb pointing at Astrid.

“What?” Astrid blurted out.

“That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

Astrid felt the other two’s eyes on her, Celia’s pleading and Sam’s determined.

“Fine.”

Beetlejuice leaned back. “You get five questions.”

“Are you really a ghost?” Celia asked excitedly, which earned her an annoyed look from her two friends.

“I’m the Ghost with the Most. Hard to do more ghost than me.”

“Can you describe life after death?” Sam said.

“Too much bureaucracy. Never die, kids, it’s just boring.”

“Can you contact other dead people?” Sam asked again.

“In theory? Sure. In practice? Fuck no. Do you know how many people are dead? Way too many. They contact me , not the other way around.”

“Can you show us your ghost powers?” Celia said, leaning forward.

Beetlejuice raised one brow, then his face transformed into a horror show of snakes, tentacles and bulging eyes. As suddenly as his face distorted, it went back to its normal state.

There were a few seconds of total immobility in the room, before Celia leaned forward again.

“Can you—” She started but stopped when Sam placed a hand on her arm. He nodded to Astrid.

“Do you want to ask something?”

Astrid blinked. She glanced at Beetlejuice, who was filing his nails.

“Could you, maybe, not mention to my mom that we’ve summoned you?”

“Can’t promise anything. Well, that’s five questions, phone call time!” He said cheerfully.

Astrid sighed and dug her phone out of her pocket. She typed the code quickly to unlock it.

“1-2-1-2? Where’s your creativity? I didn’t raise you to be this dumb.” It wasn’t until she heard his voice that Astrid realized Beetlejuice was standing behind her, leaning over her shoulder.

Far away from the circle.

“You didn’t raise me at all.”

“I’m wounded.” He rested his elbow on her head and turned to the other two who stood frozen, gaping at him. “Can you believe it? You watch them grow up, and they won’t even call you dad. Kids, these days.”

She punched his arm to dislodge it. “I’m never calling you that. You’re not my father.”

“Step-father?”

“No! You’re not even married to my mother,” Astrid said, searching through her contacts.

“Not yet .”

Astrid rolled her eyes and dialed up her mom’s number. It biped two times before she heard a soft “Hello?” from the other side.

“Well, that’s my cue. See ya, kids! And you, I guess I’ll see you at the next family gathering,” Beetlejuice said to Astrid, before touching her phone and vanishing into thin air.

“You will definitely not !” Astrid shouted in the empty space. She blew air through her nose and turned around. Her two friends had not moved an inch, still gaping at her.

“Erm. He’s a big fan of my mom?” She said in lieu of explanations.

Lydia looked down at her phone. Astrid had called her, but had hung up almost as soon as she’d picked up. It was weird, but not alarming for now. Shrugging, she put her phone back in her pocket and pointed her camera back at the river below her.

“Hi, babes.” Lydia jumped, and was glad to see that her camera stayed firmly in her hands. She glared at Beetlejuice.

“How are you even here?”

“Whoa, cold. A ‘Hello’ would be nice.”

Lydia put on a fake smile. “Hello, how are you my dear? Everything alright with your work slash friends slash family?” She dropped her smile. “How did you get here?”

“Eh, I have my ways.”

“Do these ways start with ‘As’ and end with ‘strid’?” She pointed her camera at the river again and this time, took the shot.

“Can’t tell ya that. I promised her,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You behaved, at least?”

“No one died, unfortunately.”

Lydia snorted. “I don’t think she finds that ‘unfortunate’. You’re lucky she likes you.”

“Doesn’t really show it. Always acting annoyed when I’m around.”

“Yeah, she’s like me in that way,” Lydia said, looking through the photos she had already taken.

“Aw, are you saying you like me?” His face appeared between hers and her camera. She pushed it away.

“I’m not saying I don’t like you.”

“Woah. That’s almost a marriage proposal.”

Lydia snorted. She took her camera up to her eye again. “I think my opinion of you is pretty clear.”

“I want to hear it.” He popped in her field of view. She knew that if she took the picture, he wouldn’t appear in it. She pushed the button anyway.

“I tolerate you,” she said and looked through her photos again. As expected, he didn’t appear. All she could see was a large field, with green branches and grass dancing with the wind. Beetlejuice was looking over her shoulder as she scrolled through her gallery. “You don’t appear in photos.”

“Not in this form.”

“But your influence should, right? Like, if you moved things around.”

“Sure. It’s just me you can’t see.”

“Hmm.” Lydia pointed her camera at the river again. Water started to rise in the air, taking the shape of a giant snake wiggling and dancing. At the click of the shutter, the water fell back down, droplets flying into Lydia.

She looked down at her camera. “Huh. It did work.”

It wasn’t her best work—a bit too overexposed for her tastes—but you could clearly see the snake’s shape and how it reflected light. She made a note of putting this one on the fridge.

“Of course, babe. There’s nothing I can’t do.”

Lydia felt a smile stretch her lips. When she met his gaze, she grabbed his lapel and tugged him toward her, crashing her lips against his.

It was a beautiful day to be alive.