“Well, your timing isn’t great,” Logan said. “Now everyone thinks you guys had something to do with it.”
Alejo frowned. “What else did you want to ask?”
“Right.” Logan almost wished she’d brought a notepad. She cleared her throat. “Uh, ghosts … what are they?”
Silence, and then Alejo laughed. He covered his mouth to hide a smug smile, then quickly sobered. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just … how many years have we been doing the show? You know what ghosts are.”
“Real ghosts.”
Alejo gasped. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“The stuff you guys hunt is…” Logan cleared her throat. “I just wanna know what the real thing is like. If there is a real thing.”
Alejo looked into his mug. This was always his reaction when she talked skeptically about the show. To date, Logan couldn’t tell if this was embarrassment at his TV antics or frustration that she questioned it. Probably both. No matter how ridiculous it was, Alejo seemed to truly love the show.
But loving the show and thinking it was real were two different things, and the things Ashley saw in the cabin were different from anything on ParaSpectors.
Alejo looked up. “Real ghosts aren’t the kind of thing you put on TV.”
“You’ve seen one?”
“I mean … yes? It’s hard to explain without sounding like I’m making it up.” Alejo let out a gentle breath between his lips and looked out the window. “I’ve been able to see them my whole life.”
Logan blinked. Not only could Alejo see ghosts—he’d been able to see them the whole time. The tightness in her chest wavered from anger to awe. She pushed her empty mug around the table. “So the ghosts on the show were…？”
“The ghosts were real. In a way.” Alejo tapped his fingers on the table. “Everywhere we went had real ghosts, but that’s not a bad thing. Everywhere does. Real ghosts don’t hurt you. They don’t need to be exorcized. They’re hardly even sentient. They’re like … feelings. Or memories. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“There’s not really a guide on how it works.”
Logan shook her head. “And all the gear?”
“The gear is real … to an extent.”
“What do ghosts look like?” Logan asked, careful not to betray too much of her excitement. Maybe Alejo had meant it when he said you could trade honesty for honesty. He’d never talked about ghosts this plainly.
Alejo’s hands were tight around his coffee mug, knuckles pale against the speckled ceramic. He crossed his legs and leaned forward like this was some kind of campfire story hour. “I don’t want to freak you out.”
“I don’t get scared.”
“You never did.” Alejo’s smile was only a flash before his expression darkened. “The ghosts I’ve seen are more like impressions left by the dead. Like a captured moment. It’s not always visual. Sometimes it’s a smell, or a voice, or a feeling. It’s hard to describe.”
“What do they do?”
“Not much, honestly. From what I can tell, they only really appear if they’ve left something behind. No one wants to stay here if they can move on. But if they weren’t ready or they’re not quite gone yet, that’s when they show up. It’s like they’re reaching back, asking for help the only way they can.”
“Can Brandon see them, too?” Logan asked.
“No. I don’t know why people can or can’t see them. I’ve met a few other people who could. Usually they’re not big fans of the show.” Alejo gave an uneasy laugh. “But, no. Your dad can’t see them.”