Pan ducked behind an old car. Its wheels tucked inside the undercarriage; it rested on supports of rusted metal. The license plate was a circle, ringed in a pattern of decorative runes. Below the plate, a pristine bumper showed a silver matte finish. Pan touched it and found its grey almost the same shade as her skin.

She matched. Too bad there wasn’t enough of the shade for her to blend in and hide. Even then, she’d have to shed the flowery white blouse she wore and maybe shave her black hair. She just didn’t have time for that.

A chill spoke at her side. “He’s going to kill you. First, he’ll blindfold you. Then, he’ll drag you to the cold place below…”

Pan shot the ghost man a frustrated look. She spoke low. “Well, if you hadn’t insisted on having a last drink with your good buddy, I wouldn’t be here.”

The ghost’s face seemed to melt. He was newly dead, a stereotypical, flimsy thing. In this in-between state, she couldn’t tell yet what kind of ghost he’d become: gone when the job was done or sticky – an inhabitant of Scaldigir for eternity.

Pan bet he would fade. Sticky ghosts were rare.

He frowned, and his eyes drooped. “I can’t believe it was my friend Stiger. I was so sure it was my creepy neighbor.”

“Your neighbor is creepy. He’s definitely doing something on his computer that he shouldn’t.” Pan peered around the car’s bumper.

She didn’t see anyone in the street following them. Still, she hid. Her ghost friend – the sad and betrayed Michil – hovered in full view, which was fine. Pan was the only person who could see him.

Stiger, the apparent murderer and former friend, knew Michil still desired his company, but Stiger wasn’t interested in the man he had murdered. He was only interested in keeping Pan quiet, which was silly. She hadn’t known he was the killer. The police even ignored Stiger – at least for the time.

He could have let her be.

Pan could blame Stiger for the incident. He was a serial killer after all. She could blame Michil. He had begged to see Stiger one more time. But, she blamed herself.

Michil had more purpose and presence of mind than the average ghost, but he was still confused and dead. The juxtaposition of the two states made Pan sympathetic to his cause…and his desire for a last communication with a friend. She’d walked Michil into Stiger’s house and obediently poured the drink down Michil’s throat. Stiger had only twicthed once as the liquid splattered across his floor.

Now, Stiger chased them, and Michil hovered at Pan’s side, ready to describe his death in graphic detail – again.

Michil’s ghost looked across the street. He stared at nothing. “Stiger always had that strange freezer. I thought he just liked to hunt.”

“You need to mention details like that first. Before I, your friendly neighborhood ghost seer, walks into the killer’s house.” Pan took another peek around the bumper.

She saw Stiger at the end of the street. He paced in their direction.

Pan sighed quietly. “He does love to hunt.”

Michil’s brow knit. “Are we sure it’s Stiger? My neighbor has this weird truck, and there’s always strange colored light and noises coming under his door late at night.”

Pan shimmied around the car, preparing to sneak by Stiger. “I bet the police will find out what’s wrong with your neighbor, but in the meantime, because you sent the police in another direction, I don’t have them here to look after me.” Pan touched her chest. “And, I’m the one of us who’s alive.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Michil floated after Pan. “Should I tell you again what to expect?”

Pan shook her head. “No, thanks. I like to be surprised.”

Stiger walked steps from the car. He reached the hood and cocked his gun.

He has a gun… Pan wondered where he got it. Only select members of Scaldin society could have guns.

Pan gestured to Michil to fly away, through a window. She pointed at some fragile looking debris in an abandoned house.

“What? Why don’t you say something?” Michil asked. Slowly, he swiveled his head, only his head. “You want me to go in there?”

Pan nodded with vigor. She didn’t know if Michil had enough energy to knock some debris over, but she hoped he did.

She crawled around the car and vowed to stay close to the Scaldin police on the next murder case she got assigned. Hanging out with the ghost would not be on her game plan.

Stiger started to round the car.

“What should I do in there?” Michil floated away from the car and stopped in the middle of the street.

Pan pointed to the debris and made a smashing motion.

Michil’s ghostly eyes widened. They were empty sockets. He floated inside the house and with a single finger and an expression of horror, knocked over the debris.

Stiger heard the noise and rounded the car fast.

Pan crawled around the hood and hid on the other side.

Stiger stood on the house’s doorsteps. He looked in the window. The signs of abandonment were clear.

Urbanization, a recent trend in Scaldin history, created these worn out places. Pan had seen her share of worn out rural buildings and barns. Every town had one, sometimes two. But, she’d seen dozens in Pittura. Pan hated cities.

Stiger glanced at the broken window. He probably assumed Pan climbed in there. He broke the door handle, not willing to perform the climb. Stiger slipped inside. His gun led, searching for the only living person who knew how he stocked his freezer.

Pan waited a moment. Then, she stood up and hurried down the street.

“You’re running away.” Michil floated after her.

“Well, yes. He has a gun, and I’m only five-foot-three with lots of soft meat on me. Didn’t you hear what he said? I think he’s probably a good judge of meat.” Pan hurried around a corner and checked on the house. She saw Stiger exit. “Oh, crap. Did he see me?”

Michil hovered at the corner and continued to watch. “He’s coming this way.”

Pan struggled to dial a number on her little com. She could call the police, but she wanted to call one of her mentors. She had four, all women and elder arcanes. They couldn’t offer help with Pan’s ghost seeing power, but they could rescue her from it, with telekinesis, speed, fire starting, or healing.

Pan dialed the police instead. The mentors always had a lot on their hands, and she was just a little too old to cry to them.

Pan didn’t get her answer. She hung up and ran up the street, splashing in an unexpected puddle. She ducked into an archway and hid. She found herself in an alley, with a dead end behind, the wall of a factory to her right, and a restaurant to her left.

“He’s coming.” Michil floated half in a trash can. He didn’t care where he stood anymore.

Pan pointed to the restaurant’s back door. “Open it. If you can.”

Wide-eyed Michil floated inside, and the door clicked open. In life, he’d been a poor judge of character, but he made a damn good ghost.

Pan pulled the door the rest of the way open and slipped in. She heard a shot in the alley. She yanked the door shut and slid the latch. She had a moment to feel safe.

A crash came from one of the windows. A trash can had come through. It sent broken glass over the counter and skittering on the floor towards the stove.

Pan hid behind the counter.

“Are you all alone in here, or did Michil stick with you? He’s kind of stupid like that.” Heavy boots entered the building. “It may surprise you to learn, but I don’t think I’m going to get away with this. I just want to eat one last meal – soft, supple, the flesh of a young woman. I like this place you picked.”

Pan started to sweat. She’d gone through puberty. She couldn’t be arcane without it. Wasn’t puberty supposed to make her meat taste foul? All those feminine hormones? Then again, she shouldn’t advocate for Stiger to switch to child meat.

Pan looked up to see Stiger at the other end of the counter. His eyes looked over the space, towards the large ovens. Michil’s ghostly hands pressed to Stiger’s chest. Michil wore an expression of effort. He tried to save her but just ended up looking like a mime.

“Chilly in here.” Stiger shivered. He had his gun ready.

Pan slid quietly to the other side of the counter and found a pile of cooking utensils scattered on the floor: a spatula, a knife, a two-pronged fork, and a big spoon. Pan preferred the knife. She picked it up carefully.

“I’m going to kill you and cook you, right in this very building.”

I wish I had a boring job. Should have taken that will reading for that rich, greedy ex-wife. Same as I usually do.

Pan crawled, keeping in time with Sitger. He traveled around the counter. She did too and aimed for a dark hall ahead. A sign next to the hall read: employee dressing room. She could get herself a disguise, maybe a mustache, and fool Stiger into thinking she was someone else entirely.

Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.

It was though, especially the mustache.

Pan slithered into the hall. She finally got to her feet and trotted the rest of the way. She used the light from her com and held it close, giving off just enough to see her path. She found the first locker in a long row of lockers. She also found a wall, hung with aprons and hats. Pan sat down and got underneath the aprons.

She checked her com. Words waited on the screen. She’d called the police emergency line and got no answer. The dispatcher had recognized her number and transferred her to detective Vasilis. That was not how emergency lines were supposed to work. At least, she had someone’s attention.

Vasilis wrote: What is it? We’re in the middle of things here.

Pan’s mouth dropped open. How could they transfer her emergency call to this bimbo of a man? Pan knew good detectives existed. Sometimes, she got to work with them. This guy didn’t want to give her the time of day.

It could have been their history. Over the years, he’d caught her speeding three times and once, when he was security for a special event, she accidentally dropped a menstrual pad into his hand when she flashed her ID. Quick thinking saved her embarrassment as she thanked him for his thoughtfulness and let him know she didn’t need it right then. She’d fled to the sound of the other officer’s laughter.

She typed: Killer after me. Hiding in restaurant. He has a gun. It’s Stiger – Michil’s friend. Rescue damsel, please.

Pan didn’t wait long for a reply.

Vasilis answered: Omw

Wow. That’s all I get. Pan stowed her com and listened. She tightened her grip on the knife handle.

Michil’s face peered into the fabric. He went through most of it, not rustling or really touching the red aprons. “I made a noise in the dining room. He went there. You might be able to get out.”

Pan didn’t think that would be a good idea. She had Vasilis coming to her rescue, and she didn’t really know where she was. She needed to stay put so he could follow her location via satellite tracking.

Or, she could move back in his direction and meet him halfway. Pan slithered out of the cloth.

A pair of legs greeted her.

She jumped. A cardboard mascot stood in the other corner of the room. It was tall, and had a plate full of food for a face. Pan put her hand over her heart. That thing got her better than most ghosts. She stood. 

“That’s All you can eat Adamo. He’s the mascot,” Michil said.

Pan just nodded and vowed to meet Adamo again. Maybe, when she survived Stiger and brought her future kids to this family friendly restaurant.

“I know where you might be,” Stiger’s voice drifted from the kitchen.

Too late to run.

Pan grabbed the mascot and moved it a few steps to the side of the door, just across from her hiding place. She slid back under the aprons.

“I heard you.”

Light shone into the room. It missed the mascot by a few inches.

Good.

Stiger strolled just inside the threshold. Pan heard his steps. From under the aprons, she watched his light. It missed her hiding place and traveled over the wall, illuminating lockers, the back wall, more lockers, and then…the mascot.

Stiger jumped away from the mascot. His rear got uncomfortably close to the aprons.

Pan didn’t mind. She drew her knife along the back of his thighs.

Stiger shouted and fell.

Pan got up. She took some aprons with her – an accident, but she made the best of it and threw them over his head. She wrestled for the gun, which pointed at the lockers. A stray shot fired. Pan kicked Stiger in the crotch – twice – and got the gun.

With the captured weapon, she ran back down the hall into the kitchen to be greeted by flashing lights.

Pan sighed.