It was a rainy day, even though the weather forecast in the paper said it wouldn’t be. Standing under the awning of a small bar, sheltered from the downpour, Isaiah observed the people walking by. He was expecting a robust looking guy with jet black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The two of them had met at a gig of a popular local singer and struck up a conversation after the show. Over a few drinks, they’d decided that there was enough in common for them to arrange an actual date.

Soon enough, he picked him out of the crowd, rushing through the mass of people and soaking wet from the rain. A few minutes later he was standing in front of Isaiah, huffing and panting. His hair and clothes were clinging to his body.

“I take it the rain surprised you too?” Isaiah grinned.

“What do you mean ‘too’?” Nigel groaned, trying to catch his breath. “If you got caught in the rain you’re certainly not showing it. How do you manage to look so perfect even when wet?”

“Must be a talent,” Isaiah laughed. “Shall we go in?”

The two of them went into the bar, and the dullness of the wet, gray streets was replaced by a world of warm, autumnal hues and the laughter of people who were oblivious to the world outside. The smell of cinnamon, cloves and herbs permeated the air. It was the perfect place to be during a downpour, a sanctuary of calm in a busy city.

Once they found a table and placed their orders, Isaiah observed Nigel slumping into his chair, visibly relieved. He rustled his hair with his fingers, trying to dry it off and mostly failing.

“Sorry for looking like a flood just threw me out to shore,” he said slightly awkwardly.

“No need to apologize, you can’t really keep appearance in weather like this,” Isaiah responded. “And besides, you still look as handsome as you did at the gig.”

“If you say so,” Nigel grinned. “So, you’re a policeman if I remember well?”

“Spiritual investigator,” Isaiah corrected him. “I use my ability to sense spirits to solve crimes, basically. And you cook, don’t you?”

“I’m an apprentice at a restaurant for now,” Nigel replied. “Dreaming of having my own business one day.”

“Well, I hope I get to try your cooking,” Isaiah smiled.

“We’ll see,” Nigel smiled back.

As the waiter brought their drinks to the table, both of them picked up on a familiar buzzing sound. A fly came over, no doubt attracted by the fruit decorating Isaiah’s glass. Every time Isaiah took a sip, the fly would buzz around his head. And yet he didn’t bat an eye at it, tolerating its presence.

“How are you staying completely calm with that fly buzzing about in front of your nose!?” Nigel asked.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Isaiah said. “It goes about its business; I go about mine.”

Nigel let out a loud laugh.

“Literally everyone I know would’ve swatted that thing the moment it came near their drink,” he said.

“I don’t really feel comfortable doing that,” Isaiah responded, somewhat bashfully.

“Why?”

“Well the way I see it, that fly’s death doesn’t really mean anything to me. But its life means everything to it. It’s literally all it has.”

“And,” he continued, “I guess that I just find it incredibly cruel to kill something just because it’s being a mild inconvenience to you. It would be akin to someone shooting you for walking too close to them on the street. I don’t know… if there was some being that would see humans the way we see flies, I would hope that it would be kind enough to let us go about our daily lives. And not squish us just because our existence was bothering it.”

Nigel’s deep blue eyes stared into Isaiah’s quizzically, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Sorry, I just went on a ramble there,” Isaiah chuckled nervously. “You probably think I’m weird now, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” Nigel said, smiling. “What I’m thinking is that that was one of the kindest, most considerate things I’ve ever heard anyone say. And that the world would be a much better place if more people were as empathetic as you.”

An intense, all-consuming warmth suddenly surged from the depths of Isaiah’s body, flowing into every corner of his mind. Emotions flooded in: gratitude, admiration, confidence, tenderness, joy. The scene playing in his head froze on an image of Nigel’s visage from that first date, on his warm smile, his beautiful blue eyes, his still wet hair casually falling over his forehead. The picture felt like an epitome of tranquility. Just remembering it made Isaiah feel like nothing bad could ever happen to him.

Just as unexpectedly as everything else that happened prior to that moment, Isaiah suddenly felt like his consciousness expanded to every part of his body. The sensation was oddly satisfying, like what a hand feels when it slips snuggly into a well-worn glove, fitting inside it perfectly – not a smidgen too tight or too loose. Ambrose Annable’s voice could no longer be heard. Isaiah’s body was once again his own: his eyes, his ears, his legs, his arms.

And those arms were still tightly clasping Nigel’s throat.

The moment the awareness hit him, Isaiah let go with an audible gasp, stepping back.

“Stop!” Garrett said, pointing a gun at him as Nigel dropped to the ground. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” Isaiah stammered, until he finally understood the significance of the question. “Isaiah! Isaiah Hargraves!”

“He’s in the clear,” Motley said with disbelief. “The spirit is back to residuals.”

As Garrett let out a relieved sigh, Isaiah rushed towards Nigel. Marrow was already at his side, supporting his head with her hand.

Just the sight was enough to bring tears to Isaiah’s eyes. There was his husband, painfully wheezing and struggling to breathe in precious air, ugly red strangulation marks on his neck. And even in that sorry state, he still flashed his signature smile at Isaiah when he saw him approach.

“Good to have you back,” Nigel whispered. “Again,” he added.

Isaiah fell to his knees and laid his head on Nigel’s stomach, crying like a child.

“I did this to you,” he bawled.

“You didn’t,” Nigel said gently, placing his hand on his husband’s head. “It was just someone borrowing your body. You’d never be able to do something like that. Because you’re you.”

Isaiah laughed awkwardly through his sobs. Nigel managed to sit up, and the two of them shared the tightest embrace of their lives.

It took a while for the situation to settle. Nigel was recovering from nearly being strangled, Isaiah was still in shambles after the possession attempt, and the officers needed a breather after handling an emergency situation. After what could’ve been anything between a couple of minutes and an hour, Garrett finally spoke.

“What the hell happened there, Hargraves? You just suddenly lost it, out of the blue. We thought you were done for.”

Isaiah proceeded to tell the group how the spirit of Ambrose Annable managed to trick him and seep its roots deep into his consciousness. Everyone was listening to him with bated breath until he finished the story.

“That’s… remarkable,” Garrett said somewhat anticlimactically. “I think this is the first record of something like this happening. The capital’s going to want to hear about it.”

“Unbelievable,” Marrow grunted. “Just when I think this man can’t get any more amazing… he just goes and does it.” A thick tear of pure awe slid down her face.

“What was going on while I was out?” Isaiah asked.

“We knew something was wrong when you just stopped in your tracks,” Garrett said grimly. “You were unresponsive to our calls, and your body began to twitch. We immediately set up a Code 3 formation.”

Isaiah was more than familiar with the term: a Code 3 is what you do when a spirit is threatening to take over a body, to help its owner regain control.

“I helped!” Marrow raised her hand with the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl who knows the answer to a question. Seeing a woman who seemed capable of wrestling a bear behaving in that fashion was comical to say the least.

“Yes, we included Marrow in the formation even though she’s not really a spiritualist. You can’t be picky in an emergency.”

“You brought me back from the edge?” Isaiah said.

“If you want to thank anyone, thank Motley,” Garrett answered. “If it wasn’t for him, there was no way we would’ve broken through to you. You were nearly gone, but he managed to find what was left of you and pull it out.”

“Thank you…” Isaiah said, looking at officer Motley.

“You’re more than welcome,” Motley said. “Hope there’ll be a beer or something in it for me.”

“After that, you became present again, but the spirit was still struggling… And that’s when you started strangling Nigel,” Garrett recalled. Isaiah hung his head in shame.

“Thank goodness for Nigel though,” Motley piped in again. “Whatever he said obviously did the trick.”

“Yes it did,” Isaiah said, looking at his husband with pride. The two of them cuddled close to each other.

“So, hate to interrupt this moment,” Marrow said, “but what now?”

“After what you’ve told us, I must insist that you do not hold that photograph anymore,” Garrett said sternly. “Hand it to me.”

Nigel picked up the photo from the ground where it had fallen when Isaiah had lost control of his body and gave it to officer Garrett. She looked at it briefly and put it away.

“I can sense the presence, but that’s it. It seems that I need an actual spirit inside me to pick up on the thread.”

“So how do we find the body now?” Motley asked, sounding quite disappointed.

“Actually…” Isaiah interrupted. “When I was holding the photo before, I could follow the thread without actually moving. I could see where it leads inside my head…”

“That’s right,” Garrett nodded. “That’s how you knew what was at the end of the thread. You could see it just by tracking it with your mind’s eye.”

“So?” Marrow and Motley said in unison.

“So,” Garrett said, “if he followed the thread all the way to the end, then he already knows where it leads. And if he remembers the general direction and landmarks, maybe he can lead us to the goal without holding the photo.”

“Can you do that?” Motley said, grinning with anticipation.

“I think I can,” Isaiah replied.

Even though Nigel still hadn’t recovered completely, he didn’t want to hear about Isaiah going deeper into the woods without him. The entire group set out into the trees. Isaiah concentrating hard on the direction he remembered from his astral excursion with Nigel by his side. He tried to navigate using trees, rocks and other landmarks, but this being a pine forest, it was difficult to find something that stood out. Marrow, Garrett and Motley were nearby, walking around in the same general direction, covering more ground and increasing their chances of finding what they were looking for.

As it turns out, they didn’t have to put that much effort into it: what they were looking for couldn’t be missed. The pine trees soon gave way to a large clearing covered with mossy tree stumps. Once upon a time, it was probably a resting area, back in the day when the hiking trail was still used by people. Remains of wooden tables and benches were still recognizable, but rotten beyond belief.

There was only one thing that hadn’t completely rotted away, and that was the well. Any trace of a mechanism used to lower and raise a bucket was long gone, but the familiar circular brick wall lining the hole in the ground was still there, albeit having seen better days.

“Is this it?” Garrett asked cautiously. Isaiah nodded, and the group approached.

When they reached the well and peered into its depths, all they could see was complete darkness. There was no way of telling how deep it was, or whether there was something down there.

Motley and Garrett just looked at each other and shared a moment of silent understanding. They opened their backpacks and pulled out the lighting equipment they had prepared in advance. Motley tied a long, heavy rope to a large domed lamp with two rings of lightbulbs. He flicked the switch and it lit up as bright as the noon sun.

“It should do,” Garrett said, and then turned to Marrow. “We’ll need your help.”

“Say no more,” Marrow said, pulling back her sleeves. She grabbed the rope along with Garrett and Motley, and they started lowering the lamp ever so slowly down the well. Isaiah and Nigel looked down as the light illuminated the crumbling bricks that lined the pit. The hole went on far deeper than anyone expected it to. Just as the officers started worrying that they were going to run out of rope, something finally caught the light at the bottom of the well.

It was far away beneath the ground, but it was unmistakable. From the depths of the well, a human skull was staring up at Isaiah and Nigel, its toothy grin recognizable even from the surface.