usually strong voice.
"It never ended," the new arrival corrected. "But this time is different."
"How?" Marsh asked.
"This time he's not getting away."
"Bold talk . . . for a dead guy," Sydney said to her brother.
"Hey, it's good to be a ghost," Cooper Foley replied. He walked over to the smashed window and added, "Can't wait to see how you're going to explain this."
Marsh took a deep breath and said, "That'll be the least of our problems."
2
"He was trying to kill me," Sydney bellowed as she paced angrily. "Why else would he create the whole fire illusion? And the flaming skull. That was a particularly gruesome touch, by the way."
"It's not about you, Syd ," Marsh said calmly. "If I wasn't protected by the crucible, he would have come after me."
"So you're saying I shouldn't take it personally?" she countered, exasperated. "That doesn't make me feel any better."
Marsh walked to her and took both of her hands. "Take it any way you want," he said softly. "But take the crucible."
Sydney was ready to argue, but when she looked into Marsh's eyes, she softened. He had that kind of effect on her. She touched his cheek with genuine affection and said, "I can't do that."
"Yeah, you can. I don't want you to be in danger when it's me he's after."
"And that's why you have to keep it," Sydney said. "If he went after me like that, I can't imagine what he'd do to you."
Marsh pulled Sydney toward him and the two kissed.
Marsh then reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the golden orb that contained the blood of Alex ander the Great. He held it out to Sydney and whispered, "Please. Take it."
Sydney shook her head and pushed it away. "I can't. I love you."
"I love you too. That's why you have to."
"Stop!" Cooper shouted, exasperated. "Take it. No, you take it. I love you. I love you more. Kissy-kissy. Jeez. If I weren't already dead, I'd have to kill myself just so I could roll over in my grave."
Sydney squinted at her brother. "You'd think death would have made you less obnoxious."
"Sorry," Coop shot back. "And speaking of obnoxious, I don't know what freaks me out more, Damon showing up or you two being all lovey . So strange."
"Said the ghost," Sydney said sarcastically.
Cooper and Sydney may have looked alike, with their dark hair and blue eyes, but their polar opposite styles usually put them at each other's throats. Coop's death did nothing to change that. Though Cooper was a spirit, Marsh looked more like the sore thumb with his blond hair and brown eyes.
The three were in the living room of Marsh's house in the suburban town of Stony Brook, Connecticut. It was a home that had always been so comfortable. So normal. It was a safe haven for Marsh until a malevolent spirit had turned it into a house of horrors.
"This is a no-brainer," Coop declared. "There's one cru cible and two of you, so just stay together. You're practically joined at the hip anyway."
"You don't . . . watch us, do you?" Sydney asked with disgust.
"Give me a break," Cooper shot back. "Like I don't have enough to deal with."
"That's not practical," Marsh said, and held out the golden ball to Sydney. "When we're together, we'll be fine. When we're apart, Sydney keeps it."
"But I won't," Sydney argued.
"Give it to me," Cooper ordered, and tried to grab it, but his hand traveled through Marsh's like a beam of light pass ing through a solid object.
"Damn," he said in frustration. "Can this get any older?"
Marsh and Sydney were the only two beings in the Light who could see Cooper. To them he appeared the same as any other person, though he was anything but.
"Forget the crucible," Sydney exclaimed as she pulled Marsh toward the couch. "It can't protect either of us for ever. This is about Damon."
"Agreed," Marsh said.
The two sat close to each other. Sydney kept a firm grip on Marsh's hand out of affection . . . and for security. Her nerves were still frayed.
"I'm way ahead of the curve on this," Coop
"It never ended," the new arrival corrected. "But this time is different."
"How?" Marsh asked.
"This time he's not getting away."
"Bold talk . . . for a dead guy," Sydney said to her brother.
"Hey, it's good to be a ghost," Cooper Foley replied. He walked over to the smashed window and added, "Can't wait to see how you're going to explain this."
Marsh took a deep breath and said, "That'll be the least of our problems."
2
"He was trying to kill me," Sydney bellowed as she paced angrily. "Why else would he create the whole fire illusion? And the flaming skull. That was a particularly gruesome touch, by the way."
"It's not about you, Syd ," Marsh said calmly. "If I wasn't protected by the crucible, he would have come after me."
"So you're saying I shouldn't take it personally?" she countered, exasperated. "That doesn't make me feel any better."
Marsh walked to her and took both of her hands. "Take it any way you want," he said softly. "But take the crucible."
Sydney was ready to argue, but when she looked into Marsh's eyes, she softened. He had that kind of effect on her. She touched his cheek with genuine affection and said, "I can't do that."
"Yeah, you can. I don't want you to be in danger when it's me he's after."
"And that's why you have to keep it," Sydney said. "If he went after me like that, I can't imagine what he'd do to you."
Marsh pulled Sydney toward him and the two kissed.
Marsh then reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the golden orb that contained the blood of Alex ander the Great. He held it out to Sydney and whispered, "Please. Take it."
Sydney shook her head and pushed it away. "I can't. I love you."
"I love you too. That's why you have to."
"Stop!" Cooper shouted, exasperated. "Take it. No, you take it. I love you. I love you more. Kissy-kissy. Jeez. If I weren't already dead, I'd have to kill myself just so I could roll over in my grave."
Sydney squinted at her brother. "You'd think death would have made you less obnoxious."
"Sorry," Coop shot back. "And speaking of obnoxious, I don't know what freaks me out more, Damon showing up or you two being all lovey . So strange."
"Said the ghost," Sydney said sarcastically.
Cooper and Sydney may have looked alike, with their dark hair and blue eyes, but their polar opposite styles usually put them at each other's throats. Coop's death did nothing to change that. Though Cooper was a spirit, Marsh looked more like the sore thumb with his blond hair and brown eyes.
The three were in the living room of Marsh's house in the suburban town of Stony Brook, Connecticut. It was a home that had always been so comfortable. So normal. It was a safe haven for Marsh until a malevolent spirit had turned it into a house of horrors.
"This is a no-brainer," Coop declared. "There's one cru cible and two of you, so just stay together. You're practically joined at the hip anyway."
"You don't . . . watch us, do you?" Sydney asked with disgust.
"Give me a break," Cooper shot back. "Like I don't have enough to deal with."
"That's not practical," Marsh said, and held out the golden ball to Sydney. "When we're together, we'll be fine. When we're apart, Sydney keeps it."
"But I won't," Sydney argued.
"Give it to me," Cooper ordered, and tried to grab it, but his hand traveled through Marsh's like a beam of light pass ing through a solid object.
"Damn," he said in frustration. "Can this get any older?"
Marsh and Sydney were the only two beings in the Light who could see Cooper. To them he appeared the same as any other person, though he was anything but.
"Forget the crucible," Sydney exclaimed as she pulled Marsh toward the couch. "It can't protect either of us for ever. This is about Damon."
"Agreed," Marsh said.
The two sat close to each other. Sydney kept a firm grip on Marsh's hand out of affection . . . and for security. Her nerves were still frayed.
"I'm way ahead of the curve on this," Coop
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