book club: oneshot

Challenge 1: Supernatural

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"For god's sake, Bill, ghosts aren't real," Finn told his partner.

"Yeah, but listen--"

"This is 2043. They've scientifically proven ghosts don't exist. You should stop watching horror movies. That's so 2010."

"Says the guy who keeps watching Alessandra Clements."

"In my defense, Alessandra Clements was awesome. And she's Larsson's mother," he replied. Mentioning Larsson was a power move. Bill was probably the biggest Ailes Noires fan he knew.

Bill glared at him from across the dining table. Finn ignored her, his eyes following the waiters to see if any were bringing their orders.

As a homicide detective, he thought that seeing mutilated bodies were enough to make you invincible to fear. Fact is, he always found people scarier than ghosts. Ghosts aren't capable of murder. The fact that humans are capable of that evil is scarier than anything he could think of. Clearly his partner disagreed.

He could feel her glaring at him like she was trying to change his mind with sheer eye-power alone. She'd been bringing up the noises, the flickering lights and the falling objects in her flat every time they weren't talking about the Vrost case. He'd given her all the plausible, non-ghost causes he could think of--from pipes and plumbing to chewed cables to little critters in hiding--but she was adamant that he was wrong.

"Fine," he sighed in the end. "If it'll stop you from ever talking about it again, I'll come by your place and exorcise whatever poltergeist it is. But if it's a mouse, you'll have to treat me to your brother's restaurant."

Bill gasped. Lionel Cara's restaurant was a Michelin 3-star. "Not fair!"

He shrugged, smiling as a waiter neared their table with his beef wellington. "You better hope it's a ghost, then."

#

Just as the traffic light turned green, which turned all the droplets on his windshield green, Finn's phone vibrated. He glanced at the name on the screen and saw that it was Bill's. He answered, put it on speaker and placed it on his dashboard.

"Did you find the mouse?" he asked, half-shouting over the sound of the rain on the roof of his Defender.

"Where are you?"

"Give me five minutes. Unless you've found the mouse and you don't need me anymore."

"Finn, I think there's someone in my flat."

He frowned. "You sure that's not you?"

"I'm outside, at the front door. There's someone in my flat. I heard voices. I'm scared."

"Bill, you solve murders for a living," he groaned. The fact that she actually sounded scared worried him. After all, this was his partner who'd caught serial killers and finally learned to smell dead bodies without getting sick. "This is why you shouldn't spend your bedtime binging old movies like The Conjuring."

"Just shut the fuck up and get here." And then she hung up.

Finn arrived five minutes later to Bill Cara standing just out of the rain at the front door of her apartment building in a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He once again had to remind himself that they were partners and he already had a girlfriend.

"Bill, you gave your brothers your key. Hell, you gave me your key. It's not a ghost," he reasoned in the elevator.

"You think I don't know my brothers' voice?"

"Maybe you left your TV on?" he suggested, eyes on the display in the elevator. 5...6...7...Bill's was on the 16th.

"Finnigan," she hissed.

He shrugged. "My logic stands that it's a mutated mouse that learned to talk like Elvis."

"You're joking."

"Oh Jesus," he muttered. "Yes. It was a joke. What about appreciating it a bit and laugh?"

"I have a poltergeist in my flat. It's not a laughing matter."

"It could've been a break-in."

The elevator door dinged open. Finn knew his way from there. They walked to flat no. 1608. He used his key. Bill gripped his left arm when he turned the doorknob. The flat was dark.

"I swear the lights were on before," she whispered.

He tried the switch by the door. The lamps stayed off. He turned his phone's flashlight on and walked in. "Bill, have you considered paying your bills?"

"Finnigan Akachi, this is not a fucking joke."

"I know. Did you pay your bills?" he repeated, moving his phone to scan the room. The TV wasn't on. The dining chairs were toppled over, the small bottles and packages strewn on the floor.

"Yes. I paid my bills."

"Sometimes I doubt you know you have to pay bills. I mean, being a Cara, that has its perks."

"This is not the time to be bringing up--" She froze, her long nails digging into his arm. For a tomboy homicide detective who went to work in a pinstripe suit, her nails were surprisingly manicured, and rather painful. "Did you hear that?"

"Bill, you're hurting me."

"There's a voice. I heard a voice. Finn, I heard a vo--"

"Yeah, I get it. I'm telling you, Bill, you're just hearing what you want to hear. There are no--"

The lightning brought everything into painful contrast. A figure was hunched over one of the sofas. Finn's blood went cold. Bill screamed an ungodly noise in a pitch he didn't know she could reach. The figure ran at them. Finn had just enough time to wrestle Bill's hands off of him, but not enough for anything else. The figure slammed into him, and he fell backwards onto Bill, and the three of them fell onto the floor, Bill still screaming like a kettle. Finn blocked a hit, and then another. He failed to see the last one--

Glass shattered all over him. He just managed not to get any in his eyes. The person was knocked out. The lights were finally on. He got up, helped Bill up, and then called 999.

"See?" he said, after the last of the police had gone. They stood together outside the door of flat no. 1608. "There are no ghosts. Just creeps and fugitives. Possibly mice and chewed-up cables. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go home and get my face fixed. Bye!"

He was halfway to the elevator when she asked, "So when do we go to Leo's?"

He turned around, walked backwards and grinned. "When we solve the Vrost case. I'll see you tomorrow, then, scaredy-cat. Don't be late." He gave her a wave. As soon as she disappeared into her apartment, he ran to the elevator.

The jar didn't fall by accident. And he could've sworn a translucent figure saluted him as he called 999.