The *** House

I knew that Tate was somewhere nearby when Constance entered the house nearly a week later. She used the back door, sneaking into the kitchen. Moira was wiping the counter tops, though they couldn't have amassed much dust since she'd cleaned them the day before. The two older women exchanged a haughty glance, then Constance strode past her and toward the stairs. I blocked her way, standing firmly in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room.

She appeared to be immediately exasperated by the sight of me. "Don't you have something better to do? I'm sure that Tate needs someone to listen to him complain about how I ruined his life. Why don't you run off and find him?"

I didn't move. "Listen, Constance, I need to talk to you. I know that I have no right to ask anything of you, but I'm in need of a favour. Since you're the only person that comes around here and also has a pulse, I'm kind of stuck. I'll make whatever kind of deal you want, although I'm not really sure what I could offer you in return."

Constance stopped trying to get past me. Her eyes were inquisitive and suspicious. "What is it that you're after, exactly?"

"I have been told that you can get a medium in here. I need to talk to her."

Constance rolled her eyes and resumed her attempt to push me out of the way. "Ghosts don't need mediums to communicate with anyone. Don't be stupid."

I pressed my fingers harder into the door frame, holding my ground. "I'm not looking to communicate. I'm hoping she can work some kind of voodoo and get me out of here. I want to cross over."

That got her attention. She stopped, standing rigidly before me. Her eyes were wide, and her complexion lost a good deal of its colour. "Ghosts don't want to cross over. That's why they're ghosts, you see. They are holding onto something from their life. Obviously you are aware of the fact that you're dead, so you aren't holding onto life itself. Figure out what it is that you can't let go of, and you'll cross over."

"We both know it doesn't work that way. Not in this house."

Something about her went from shocked to offended, and then to enraged. I could feel anger radiating from her in heated waves. "You are sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I'm dead," I retorted. "I can pretty much stick my nose wherever I can get it without all those pesky repercussions. I'm sick of going through the motions of a wasted and contained existence. I want to die, Constance."

"Even if there was a way, which I assure you there is not, how would you be able to do it without getting rid of the rest of the souls here? There are good people in this house; people that never got the chance to live properly. You can't take this away from them."

I raised my eyebrows. "Away from them? Or away from you?"

Her face was barely an inch away from mine in a flash. Her breath reeked of cigarettes, and for a moment I thought she was going to spit at me. Instead, her voice became a low, threatening growl. "Everyone I have ever loved is dead. Do you understand that? The only thing that I have left is this house. My babies are here, and I intend to keep it that way. You don't know what it's like to lose everything the way that I have."

"Don't I? I lost my life, Constance, along with everything and everyone it contained. There is something inside of me that keeps breaking through, to the point where I don't even know myself anymore. You've lost everything? You still have yourself, and you still have Michael. What do I have?"

She faltered. I wasn't looking for sympathy, I was looking for understanding. I thought she would be a bit more open to the idea of one less person in this house to bother her. "Surely you must have some connection to this house after all this time?"

I pursed my lips. "Well there's Tate, obviously, and Beau. And the Harmons, too. But the rest of them? They bring out the worst in me. I don't want to be a bad person forever."

A very distant, delicate smile appeared on her wrinkled lips. "You're starting to sound like him, you know. Tate wasn't so different from anyone else. People tend to forget that. The same thing goes for the way that you are looking at yourself. You can't focus on the bad so much, or you'll start forgetting the good."

I knew by the softness of her voice that she was trying to pull something over on me. This kind, motherly woman was not the Constance that I had come to know. "You aren't going to help me, are you?"

She shook her head slowly. "I can't. There's too much risk involved."

I was disappointed, but I knew that she was trying to protect her children. If my parents had known that I was here, they would have moved in and made sure that nothing ever happened to me. To ask Constance to help me when there was even the slightest chance of all spirits being banished from this house was asking far too much of her. She was a strong woman, but she wasn't strong enough to let it all go. I begrudgingly stepped aside and let her go off to find whoever she was looking for. She gave me a light pat on the shoulder before she stepped past me.

Tate was leaning up against the side of the staircase, his hand wrapped around one of the posts tightly. He looked at Constance with hollow eyes, just as he always did. I really didn't understand why he found it impossible to forgive her. Even now, when she had just secured the one thing that he was fighting for, he couldn't bring himself to offer her one single smile.

She paused for a fraction of a second, then opened the door beside him and descended the stairs, her heels clicking on every step. Tate closed the door behind her. When he looked at me, he still looked unhappy.

"She's not going to bring Billie Dean here," I explained, hoping to see some kind of relief on his face. His expression didn't change.

"She's being selfish, just like always."

"To be fair, so was I," I tried to give him a meek smile.

"I want you to be happy," he said. "If that means that you have to be free, then you should be able to do it."

I reached out to him, and he stepped close enough that I could wrap my arms around him. He really was a better person than anyone gave him credit for. He had a kind soul. And he really had been trying to be a better guy. It was time to admit to myself that the past didn't matter. He could ignore the demon that took over my body, so I should have been able to look beyond his past just as easily.

"You made this a home for me, Tate," I spoke into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. "If I'm here forever, I'll be okay as long as you're with me."

He held me tightly, and just like every other time, I felt safe from the rest of the house. "I'll always be here."

A part of me knew, in that moment, just how true his statement was. This house was evil, and there was no way out. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to give up on the hope that there might still be a chance to be truly dead. If I gave up on that, I would have nothing left to look forward to. Even Tate couldn't offer me anything more than what we already had. There was no way for us to move forward. We couldn't get married, we couldn't start a family, we could only be just the same as we were right then. But did that really matter when we were trapped in our seventeen-year-old bodies forever?

"Do you want to go conspire with Dr. Harmon about some other way to get you out of here?" Tate offered. I could hear the subtle anxiety in his voice.

"No, I don't think so. Not today, anyway. I've got centuries to figure it out. And as long as the only person I'm hurting is Hayden... I think that she should be able to take one for the team. Even though I am definitely not on her team."

He laughed lightly, and his arms loosened their grip. "Do you really think you can be happy here?" There was a guarded expression in his eyes. I hated that look. It seemed even worse when his lips were pulled back over his teeth in a seemingly carefree grin. He didn't want me to know that he was still worried, but I could tell.

I shrugged, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I've been here a year already, Tate. The only thing that I've really hated about this place is myself. My family has moved on, and somehow I am not at all upset about the fact that I'm not in college right now. If I let myself, I can be very happy here."

Tate stepped back just far enough that I could see his face clearly. "Let yourself be happy. When you weren't so sad before, these things happened less. It's kind of a catch twenty-two, if you think about it. You lash out because you're unhappy, and you're unhappy because you keep lashing out. Maybe if you just smiled, really smiled, you would break the cycle."

"I'll work on that. I mean, I'll really try. I don't want to leave you alone." I knew now that, even if I had never come here, Violet was never going to forgive Tate enough to take him back. Maybe one day they would be able to hold up a casual conversation, but they were never going to actually be together again. And the idea of Tate having no one but Beau to talk to left me feeling cold. He didn't deserve that, no matter what he'd done. There was no fate more depressing than being alone. "Is there something you're holding onto?" I asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Constance mentioned that ghosts only exist if they're holding onto something from their life. Are you holding onto something?"

Tate looked a little amused. His eyebrows lifted, and his black eyes glittered. "You're listening to advice from Constance now?"

"Humor me," I pressed.

"You already know the important things about my life, Ainsley. It was nothing but death and destruction. I'm surprised I made it to seventeen. There was nothing there to hold onto. Why? Do you think there's any merit to what she told you?"

I drew in a sharp breath through my nose, then shrugged in the most nonchalant way that I could manage. "I don't feel like I'm hanging on. I know my family is okay, and I know that the world is probably better off not having to deal with the likes of me anymore. I just don't think that my life was ever going to offer me anything truly worthwhile. If I was this mentally unstable, I'd be kidding myself to believe that I'd ever get a happily ever after. I probably would have wound up in an asylum somewhere. There is nothing in that scenario that could make me want my life back. Knowing what I know now, this house is a far better alternative."

"Do you really mean all that?"

I opened my mouth to assure him that it was, in fact, the truth, when the basement door opened and Constance returned to the main floor. She paused when she saw the two of us. She had no doubt assumed that we would have gone off somewhere else by then.

She held up her hands, as if asking for Tate to stop tormenting her before he'd even said a word. "I'm leaving, don't worry. Michael is probably going to wake up from his nap soon anyways."

To my surprise, Tate spoke to her. He used a calm voice, and he didn't seem to be trying to fight with her at all. "Go and see Beau first. He misses you."

Constance paused, stunned, then smiled widely. She nodded her head and rushed up the next flight of stairs before he could change his mind. I couldn't help the pride that I felt at his behaviour. I had asked Tate once to be civil toward his mother, and he was listening. The smile on her face had proved to me that I was right to have asked the favour. I reached out and took Tate's hand.

"That's the kind of real smile that I was talking about," he said in an approving tone.

"Thank you, Tate. I'm really proud of you."

He waved me off with an embarrassed laugh. "I didn't yell at my mother, you didn't end your afterlife, we've both had big days."

I looked up toward the second floor. The house was oddly quiet, especially for the middle of the day. Normally there was at least a few inhabitants bustling around doing something. "Want to come with me to tell Ben that I failed at getting Billie Dean over here?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

I shrugged lightly. "Why not? I'm just telling them that I'm putting the whole thing off for now. It's not like I'm going to sit down for some idle chit chat."

He gave me a soft nudge toward the stairs. "You go. I'll wait."

I nodded, turning away and walking quickly up the stairs. The door at the end of the hall was wide open, so I knocked quickly on the white door frame before I stepped past the threshold. Vivien was alone, sitting on the chair by the window. She smile warmly when she saw me.

"How did it go? We saw Constance walking across the backyard."

"She won't help me. I get it, though," I sighed. "She's afraid. She said that if something goes wrong and everyone is exorcised instead of just me, she would lose everything. But personally, I think she's even more scared of the idea that, if it works, some of them might choose to leave. It's one thing to be alone because fate ordained it; it's something completely different to be alone because no one wants you anymore."

Vivien looked contemplative for a long moment, nodding her head slowly. "That's probably true. So you're going to stick around for a little while, then?"

"It looks that way. But hey, it's not all bad news. I'll be around to look after Tate. Somebody's got to, right?" I flashed her a grin.

She didn't smile back. "Are you still feeling like a replacement when it comes to him?"

I felt my grin falter slightly. Vivien seemed to be taking on a motherly role with me. On one hand, I was kind of flattered. She made me feel accepted into the Harmon family, even though I was in love with the one person they could never forgive. On the other hand, however, it left me feeling a bit empty. I had a mother already. I would never see her again, but I would always love her. Somehow, it felt dishonest to have a similar relationship with Vivien.

"I talked it over with him. He reminded me that the past, present, and future are all very different things. We're kind of helping each other to step away from that past and focus on the present. I hope it works. But, in the event that it doesn't, I still have you guys. I'm sure Violet would be more than willing to share some wisdom on how to get by."

Vivien got to her feet, crossed the room, and pulled me into a gentle embrace. Again, I felt the odd twinge of happiness and guilt. "Anytime that you need somewhere to go, or someone to talk to, just come up here. One of us will always have time for you, Ainsley. Ben will still have sessions with you. And if it means anything, it's kind of nice that you'll be here awhile. I like that Violet has someone to talk to."

I waited until she released me, so that I wouldn't seem ungrateful or upset her by breaking away from the hug. "Thanks, Vivien. Knowing that I'm wanted makes the concept of staying here a lot easier to deal with."

As I headed back down the stairs, I found myself following Constance. She hesitated at the landing, waiting for me to catch up. I raised my eyebrows, uncertain as to what she wanted from me. When I approached, I saw moisture in her eyes.

"I know that he's only being kind because of something that you did. Tate hasn't spoken to me like that in far too long. Even before his death, he hated me. But you," she pointed a finger at me, and her cherry-red nail polish seemed to focus my attention. "You have helped him. You may not see it, but I do. And that is why I can't help you. I can't take you away from him. Part of him will go with you, and I'll lose him all over again."

I glanced past her, toward the study where I knew Tate was waiting with a stack of books or a deck of cards. I looked Constance in the eyes, hoping that I seemed genuine. "You don't have to explain. When you're facing forever here, it just doesn't feel like there's any point in rushing to find your solutions. Besides, you can't guard this place forever. Someday, someone is going to show up that has the power to help me. I'm not worried."

Constance let out a tinkling, condescending laugh and a superior smile lifted her features. "Not in my lifetime."

I smiled back. "You're not getting any younger. I probably won't have to wait that long." I waved a hand, laughing quietly to myself as I walked past her.

"Good one," she said as she headed for the front door. "Count yourself lucky you're already dead."

"I already kind of do," I murmured as I entered the study and watched fondly as Tate shuffled a deck of cards between his long fingers.