Phantom [h.s]

Five

"No way."

"What?"

"Unlike you, I am not dead, so if I jump out of the window, I break myself."

Harry stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the slight breeze from the open window ruffling his dark hair.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says. "There's a vine strong enough to climb down grown on the side of the house. How do you think I used to sneak out at night?"

I do a double take. "What?"

"I'll explain." He sticks his head out of the window slightly, looking down at the ground below.

"I'm a minor acrophobic," I say. "I'm just going to use the stairs."

He looks back at me, moving back inside and crossing his arms over his chest again. "Alright, you do that. And tell me, how are your overprotective and overbearing parents going to react when you mysteriously walk out the front door which is very visible from the couch they're sitting on?"

I clench my jaw.

He smirks. "That's what I thought."

"I don't even know why I'm listening to you," I say, shaking my head. "You're a ghost, and you're asking me to come with you somewhere for some reason that I don't know. You could be a psychopathic ghost, for all I know."

Harry raises an eyebrow.

I put my hands on my hips.

"You're stubborn." His lips twitch with the traces of a smirk.

"I have good reason. I don't know you."

"Not yet." He smiles crookedly at me before reaching up and opening the window a bit wider. "Now, step out onto the ledge and slide down the vine. It's easy."

I stare at him.

He looks at me expectantly.

I know if my parents were to come up and find me missing, they'd absolutely lose their shit. God, they'd call the National Guard out here to find me. However, in front of me stands a strikingly handsome dead boy that mystifies me to the point that I can't seem to make good decisions, and I'm more than intrigued by him.

I turn and walk over to my bedroom door, twisting the lock on it.

"I'll tell my parents I was asleep if they come up," I say to him and his lips turn up in a smile.

I cross the room back to the window and look at him briefly before cautiously ducking out of the window and onto the small ledge.

I look at the ground below and try not to throw up as I turn my head to look for the vine Harry was talking about.

It seems sturdy enough to me as I wrap a hand around the leafy green stem. I take a breath and step off the edge, sliding down the vine and hitting the ground with a thump.

I shake my head slightly and try to catch my breath as I recover from my brief leap of faith.

"See, told you it was easy."

I whip around and furrow my brow at Harry, who stands a few feet away from me, unfazed.

"How did you-"

"I jumped." He shrugs and walks past me, through the backyard. I take a few large steps to keep up with him, confused as ever.

I don't question him as we walk along, I just follow him. He steps through the gate at the edge of the property, holding it open for me politely. I walk through after him, and he turns and leads me along a dirt path made through the light forest that exists behind the house. The trees sway in the slight wind, tall and shielding against the black night sky. The sound of chirping crickets fills the air and I look up to see the bright eyes of an owl staring down at us as it perches on a branch high above us.

"Used to play hide and go seek down here," Harry comments. "I'd prank everyone and hide in the trees. They're great for climbing, you see."

I look up through the treetops, noticing that the black of the night is laced with tiny shimmering stars in the sky. The moon rests at a crescent shape, casting pale light on the two of us. I see the light of the moon reflected in Harry's pale eyes as he continues to lead me down the path.

We walk a short distance farther before coming to a clearing in the trees.

The small clearing is characterized by a huge willow tree-possibly the biggest I've ever seen. Its trunk is massive and the silvery strands that hang from the branches dust the grassy forest floor. As we walk closer, I notice two wooden swings are tied onto different branches with thick rope, moving slightly in the breeze.

"Have a seat," Harry says, sitting in one of them.

I comply and choose the swing hanging from the branch across from him, pushing a few willow strands away from me.

I see some fireflies buzzing through the air in the middle of the clearing, another source of dim light to accompany the moon. I've never been to a place quite like this before.

"What do you think of this place?"

My eyes move back to Harry. "It's cool."

He nods, blinking slowly. "It was my favorite place. I hung these swings with my father when I was ten years old."

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen," he answers. "Born 1995, died 2013."

My pulse quickens slightly. "Wait, 2013?"

He nods, his expression grave. "Eighth of June."

I do the calculations in my head.

That's barely three months ago.

I stare at him, my mind racing.

"What..." I clear my throat. "What happened to you?"

He looks me straight in the eye, eyebrows raising slightly. His tongue slips past his lips, running over them briefly before parting them.

"I was murdered," he says evenly.

Murdered.

Suddenly all of this seems so real, sitting in front of him and hearing him say those words. Before, it seemed so odd and plain impossible, but now I know I'm not imagining this pale boy with a devilish smile. It's real.

His devilish smile is nowhere to be seen now, though. It's hidden by an indifferent frown as he awaits my reaction.

He doesn't wait, though. He leans back on the swing slightly, a small laugh escaping him.

"Yes, it's true," he says, looking back at me. "Someone decided that I passed my sell-by date and so they did something about it."

The way he is so easy and casual about it throws me off.

"Who?"

The smile fades from his face. "I don't know."

I furrow my brow. "What? How could you not know?"

He stands from the swing, turning his back to me.

"I don't know," he repeats. "I've spent the last three months trying to figure that out."

I shake my head, my eyes still on him. "You...you said you used to sneak out using the vine next to my window...?"

"Yes." He turns to look at me, his hands clasped behind his back. "The name of the house is Cadence Manor. It was built in 1923 by my grandparents, and inherited by my father and my mother, when they married. It was supposed to be passed down to me." He grimaces. "Unfortunately, I never lived to see the day I took full control of the property."

He meets my eyes. "My grandparents were part of a very successful oil company in Canada during the 1920s, though they worked from here in Washington. They made loads of money from it through the '60s, and my father bought the company when my grandfather became ill. He always told me that I would own the company one day, when I was old enough.

"I grew up in Cadence Manor. Never had I lived anywhere else." He pauses. "The house was given its name by my grandfather. My grandmother's name was Cadence, and he named it for her."

He begins pacing in front of me. "When I turned eighteen in February, I was merely four years away from taking my place as head of Styles Petroleum Industries. Once out of college, I would have taken my rightful place there." He stops, turning back to look at me. "It's interesting how death can foil such promising plans so simply."

"What does this have to do with me?" I speak up.

The traces of a smirk flash across Harry's features. "There are a few things I have learned about death in my time as deceased," he says. "The world is divided into three realms. There is life, where you are; there is the afterlife, and there is where I am."

Everything I thought I knew about death seems to evaporate into thin air.

"Death has two realms of its own," he says. "Everyone wants to go to the afterlife, where there is peace. Most go there upon dying." He shifts. "However, there is also the in between, where I am. I am dead, but I still walk the Earth. There is a fine line that divides the afterlife from the in between, and I am standing on it." He takes a pause. "Those who are stuck in the in between are there because they have unfinished business left from their lifetimes."

The realization seeps into me. "And yours is..."

"Finding my murderer."

I run a hand through my hair, my fingers dropping to the skull necklace that still hangs around my neck, fumbling with the charm. I have a feeling I know what's going to be asked of me. This is all so strange, every single detail of this.

"Once I find out who did it and why, I will be able to cross to the afterlife and be at peace," Harry says.

"So, where do I come into play?" I ask again.

A crooked smile spreads across his face, dimples indenting into his cheeks. "You're going to help me."