It was easier than Eve had expected to meet with a priest. The morning after Operation Ghost Chat, she called St. Jude’s and told the bored-sounding secretary she had a spiritual matter she needed to discuss with a priest. And now she had an afternoon appointment with Father Thomas.

At half-past 12, Eve headed out, texting Ezra to meet her for “ghost shit” as she walked. Sweat was already starting to build up over Eve’s skin and at her hairline by the time she got to the Blackwater Coffee House. She was glad she’d pinned her hair back from her forehead, though that did make little tufts of it stick out straight like mouse-colored pieces of hay. She bought an iced coffee and stepped outside into the shade of one of the green-striped awnings to wait.

Ezra showed up quickly, looking positively casual in jeans instead of khakis. At least this time they didn’t have matching hairstyles. The sun beat down heavily on the concrete as Eve stepped out from the shade to meet him.

“Don’t you have to work sometimes?” she asked, sipping her iced coffee.

“Normally, yeah, but it’s a Saturday,” he said, smiling. “Though sometimes I end up working on Saturdays if we need more content for the Sunday edition.” He grinned wider at her, an earnest, friendly smile that Eve found very nearly contagious. Thank goodness she had a great immune system. “But this week I had an exclusive interview with our newest resident, so I’m in the clear.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Eve sipped her coffee loudly. “Want to get a drink before we get started?” she asked. He shook his head, and she nodded. “‘Kay. Then let’s go.” She walked diagonally across the wide pavilion that separated St. Jude’s from the street.

“Wait, St. Jude’s?” Ezra said, slowing to a stop.

Eve glanced back at him and stopped to wait. She squinted against the sun and impatiently beckoned him closer. “Ya. I told you we were doing ghost shit. I made an appointment with a priest.”

“Ah, okay.” Ezra swallowed and started walking again. Eve eyed him and started up the wide, stained-gray steps.

“You were the one who suggested professional help,” she said.

“I was.” Ezra sounded like he’d consigned himself to a horrible fate. He looked up at the tall, stained-glass and stone face of St. Jude’s as they got closer. He took a deep breath and squeezed his hands into fists again and again.

A rush of cool air washed over them as they walked in, and Eve sighed. The church was empty and still, with a kind of quiet that was hard to find outside of early, snowy mornings or cow pastures far from busy roads.

Eve straightened up a bit. Maybe it was the cold air or the iced coffee, but she felt more awake now than she had all day. Footsteps echoed off the stone floor and walls as the young priest from the memorial service appeared out of a side hallway.

“Ms. Donnelly?” he said, glancing at the two of them and holding his hand out for Eve to shake. His voice was deep and calm, and soothing enough that Eve was pretty sure if she ever attended church at St. Jude’s, she’d fall asleep halfway through despite the uncomfortable-looking wooden pews.

Eve nodded and shook his hand. “Father Thomas.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling widely at them. He was shorter and wider than Ezra and had sandy blond hair combed neatly into order. “And Ezra Park, right?”

Ezra coughed abruptly as Father Thomas smiled and stuck his hand out. Ezra smiled back tremulously and shook his hand. He hadn’t responded yet, so Eve elbowed him gently.

He swallowed and blinked. “Yes,” he said. “That’s me.”

“Chelsea Horton mentioned you a few times to me,” Father Thomas said. “It’s a surprise to see you here,” he added. “You’re welcome any time, of course, but Chelsea seemed to believe you wouldn’t set foot in a church.”

Ezra laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

Eve slurped down a large, noisy drink of coffee, and Father Thomas blinked and brought his hands together. “Follow me, and we can discuss your spiritual issue.”

He led them down a narrow hallway lit by fluorescents, a long, grandma-floral rug covering the stone floor. About halfway down, he stopped at a door and opened it, gesturing Eve and Ezra inside. The office was cramped with a cluttered desk and a bookshelf filled with books titled things like “100 Daily Devotions” and “Finding the Spirit in a Secular World.” In front of the desk sat two plush chairs in scratchy, dark brown fabric.

“Please, take a seat,” Thomas said. He waited until they both sat before he did as well. “What is it I can do for you?” He looked back and forth between them. “Ms. Donnelly, you said you had a spiritual issue? Are you looking for relationship counseling?”

Eve sank back into the cushy chair and shook her head. Ezra made a choking sound next to her. “Nope,” she said. “No, we’re not together at all.”

Thomas blinked. “My apologies.” He waited for one of them to speak.

Eve started since Ezra was still being weird, staring wide-eyed at the priest and flexing his hands on his knees. “I have a ghost problem,” she said. Thomas settled into his straight-backed chair and frowned thoughtfully. “My apartment is haunted. We were hoping there was some advice you could give us about how to deal with that. Or if you had any contacts in the ghost-investigator world.”

Father Thomas leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the desk. One of them came down perilously close to the edge of a crucifix. “There are some small things I can do in the case of spirits,” he said. “Blessing the home, holding a mass for the soul, that sort of thing.”

“What about, like, exorcisms?” Eve asked. Thomas’ wide face turned serious, and he took a deep breath.

“That’s quite a bit more complicated. I’m unable to perform an exorcism,” he said. “If that’s what you need, I can put you in contact with someone from the International Association of Exorcists.”

Ezra finally spoke up. “Do we need to exorcise h—the ghost?” he asked Eve. He turned to Father Thomas. “What if the spirit is a lost soul?”

“In that case I would, as I said, hold a mass for the soul.” He looked at Eve. “Honestly, I’ve never done something like that before. I would want to consult with the bishop, maybe get someone more experienced in this kind of thing to lead the mass.”

Eve frowned. They’d already held a service for Chelsea’s soul. Doing it again didn’t seem like it would be helpful.

Thomas continued at her frown. “However, if you’d like to go a more secular route, I may know someone from seminary who could help you.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling before continuing. “He isn’t an ordained priest, but he has an interest in the spiritual. I believe after he left seminary, he started his own, ah, ghost consulting business.”

“And he’s legit?” Eve asked. “What’s his name?”

“Jon Beck,” Thomas said. “He’s been interested in the paranormal—“ Eve may have rolled her eyes, just a little, though she did try to hide it—“since he was quite young. I’ve never seen him in action, but he’s a very determined person.”

Eve hummed at that. That sounded like someone trying to come up with a positive-but-honest adjective for someone who didn’t have much else going for them.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

“One moment, and I’ll get you two his number.” Father Thomas stood and nodded at them before slipping out the door.

“What’s your deal?” Eve said as soon as she was sure Thomas was out of earshot, turning fully to face Ezra. “You’re acting weirder than usual. Is it cause the priest is hot? If so, my dude, I think you can relax. He’s married to God, or whatever.”

For a moment, he just looked confused. And then his face darkened in embarrassment and he frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice striving for dignity but not quite making it. “And I certainly wouldn’t know if Father Thomas is hot or not. I wasn’t paying attention to that. Also, it’s nuns who are married to God.”

Eve didn’t make a face, but she wanted to. The only way Ezra could’ve made it more obvious is if he’d said “Oh no, he’s hot,” when they’d walked in.

She held up her hands. “Chill, I’m not gonna tattle on you. Just wanted to know why you’re panicking. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop it.”

Ezra relented and sighed. “I don’t love being in a church,” he said. “It makes me…anxious.” He swallowed and tugged at the buttoned-up collar of his nerd-shirt. And then, very obviously wanting to move on, he said, “I hope this consultant can be subtle. We don’t want the whole town knowing about the ghost.”

“Good point,” Eve said. “If it’s just him, I think that would be fine. One ghost hunter is less obvious than a whole team.” She paused. “Either way, I’m not waiting around with a spooky roommate for a few weeks while the priests get their shit together.” Ezra shushed her and waved a hand at her like the walls would catch her swearing. She made a face at him. “If I wanted a roommate, I’d get one that paid rent.”

“How much do ghost consultants charge?” Ezra chewed on a fingernail that was already chewed short. “I can’t chip in a ton on that.”

“Me either.” Eve pursed her lips. “But we can give him a call at least.” Ezra grimaced, and Eve rolled her eyes at him. “Or I can if that’s your problem.”

The door creaked open, and Father Thomas stepped through. He held a slip of paper in one hand and smiled brightly as he sat down. “I found the number,” he said, passing it across the desk.

Eve took it. “Thanks,” she said. Then she stood. “That was it. See you around, Father.”

He blinked up at her and nodded. “Certainly. If you need anything else, I’m here to help. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, at mass?” Ezra nodded, and Eve shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said. They left the office, and it was only once they’d gotten back into the main space that Ezra decompressed. He covered his face with his hands.

“I should not have agreed to that,” he mumbled into his hands. Eve snorted, and he dropped his hands. “I’m not the ‘mass’ type. Kind of a persona non grata.”

Eve shrugged. “Sucks for them,” she said with as much sincerity as she could stomach. Ezra looked over at her and gave her a small smile. “Do you want to call this consultant now? Or do you have other plans?” They stepped out into the heat of the midday sun and Eve glared up at the sky.

“No, I don’t have any plans. As long as I finish my assigned columns by the deadline, I’m free whenever.” He glanced at Eve, tilting his head. “What about you? Do you have plans or work? What is it you do, anyway?”

“I…run an online store, translating custom messages,” she said, squinting as she looked around. She started walking toward the square, green park she could see a few blocks away. It took up a whole block and was bordered by thick trees that spattered the paths in dappled sunlight. Ezra followed like a puppy, all earnest and graceless.

“What kind of messages? And what languages?” he asked.

Eve sucked her teeth. “Mostly ancient languages: Latin, Old English, Sanskrit, that kind of thing. But I’m in a similar boat; as long as I get my orders filled, I’m good. I don’t have much else going on.”

In the center of the park stood a large, plain fountain, and around it various paths spiraled out toward the edges. Eve stopped at a wooden bench along one of the paths, under the shade of a wide-branching tree. Ezra looked around as if he’d just noticed them relocating.

“I’m gonna call the ghost guy now,” Eve said, pulling out her phone as she sat. “Anything you want me to ask him?”

Ezra shook his head and then stopped. “Ask about the price,” he said. Eve nodded once. “And maybe we should ask him to be discrete?” She nodded again. “I think that’s it.”

A tinny ringing sounded in her ears for a few seconds until a man breathlessly answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this Jon Beck?” Eve asked. ‘Unprofessional,’ she mouthed at Ezra. His mouth shifted into a moue of distaste.

“Yes, yes, it is.” Jon took a second to catch his breath before continuing. “What can I do for you?”

“Sick. My name’s Eve, and I have a ghost.”

“Oh!” Jon said. “And you need a consultant to help you deal with this ghost?”

Eve blinked slowly. “Yep. I’m in Blackwood, do you work in this area?”

“Blackwood, Blackwood,” Jon said. His voice faded away from the phone for a moment. “I can get there in three hours. Is that alright?”

Eve gaped at the air in front of her.

“Or I could get there faster?” Jon kept talking when she didn’t respond. “I could probably cut it down to two and a half.”

“No,” Eve said. “That’s fine.” In the background of the call, she could hear someone moving around and rummaging through things. ‘Three hours,’ she mouthed to Ezra. He looked as confused as she was. “What do you charge?”

“Charge?” All the rustling stopped. “You’re technically my first client.” He trailed off. “Maybe I can give you an estimate after I assess the situation?” Every word was more unsure than the one before it.

“Sure. I can’t spend a ton, though.”

“I’m confident I can work within your budget,” he said, his voice returning to its previous state of abundant enthusiasm. Eve shrugged at Ezra, who waited for the price with his pen hovering over his notepad. He frowned at her.

“Great. And this is kind of a private matter, so—“

“Don’t worry, I’m super low-key,” Jon assured her. Eve gave Ezra a thumbs up. “Where should I meet you?”

“The WaffleHenge in Blackwood.”

Ezra waited until she’d hung up before he sat, too. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“He said we were his first clients,” Eve said, considering. “But he’ll work within our budget and be here in three hours, apparently. And he’s ‘super low-key,’” she added, air quotes included. Ezra squinted at her, and Eve shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. Let’s just meet him and see what he’s like.”

Ezra pressed his thin lips together and nodded.