Hugo’s eyebrows rose almost to his bandana.
Harvey pressed a finger against the counter, dragging it along the surface before pulling it away and inspecting the tip. “Spotless,” he said. “That’s good. Cleanliness is next to godliness, as I always say.”
Wallace choked when Apollo stood next to Harvey, lifting his leg. A stream of urine sprayed onto Harvey’s shoes. Apollo looked pleased with himself as he pranced away, Harvey none the wiser.
“Good boy,” Nelson cooed. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You peed all over the bad man like a very good boy.”
Harvey said, “Let’s see what’s in the kitchen, shall we? Perhaps you’d consider telling Mei to remove herself from the premises. Just because my restraining order against her was tossed out due to an utter lack of evidence doesn’t mean she can still come within ten feet of me. Not after what happened last year.”
“Dumped an entire bowl of icing on his head,” Nelson told Wallace. “Said it was an accident. It wasn’t.”
Wallace was absurdly fond of Mei for reasons that had nothing to do with their current situation. He started to follow them toward the kitchen as Hugo pushed open the door but stopped when he heard a stuttering breath behind him. He turned to see Alan stepping out from his corner, his hands balled into fists, a strangely blank expression on his face.
“He looks like him,” Alan said to no one, gaze boring into Harvey. “Looks just like him.”
“Who?” Wallace asked.
But Alan ignored him.
The sconces on the wall flared with an electrical snarl.
Harvey glanced over his shoulder. “What was that? Rats chewing on your wiring, Hugo? You know that’s … not…” He frowned, rubbing his chest. “Oh. Is it warm in here? It feels—”
Whatever else he meant to say was lost when the clipboard and pen slid from his hands, clattering on the floor. He took a stuttering step back, blood draining from his face.
Hugo’s eyes widened. “Alan, no.”
Too late. Before any of them could react, the light bulbs on the walls and ceiling shattered all at once, glass raining down around them. Harvey jerked as if he were a puppet on strings, head rocking back. His arms rose on either side of him, hands flexed, fingers trembling.
Alan ground his teeth together as he took another step forward.
Harvey rose a few inches off the floor, the tips of his shoes pointing down. Alan raised his hand toward him, palm toward the ceiling. He folded all but his pointer finger in, and as Wallace watched, moved it back and forth as if beckoning.
Harvey floated toward him even as Hugo shouted for Mei.
The whites of Harvey’s eyes were bright in the dull light. He stopped, suspended, in front of Alan. “You look just like him,” Alan whispered again. “The man. In the alley. It could almost be you.”
Hugo was around the counter even as the kitchen doors flew open, Mei running through, tapping her fingers against her palm.
Alan said, “Stay back,” and Wallace cried out as Hugo and Mei were flung away from him, each of them slamming into opposite walls, wooden picture frames cracking. Apollo lunged for Alan, teeth bared, and yelped when Alan waved his other hand. Apollo landed roughly on the ground near the fireplace, looking dazed as he raised his head.
Nelson vanished from his place next to Wallace, only to reappear behind Alan. He raised his cane above his head with a grunt. Wallace roared in fury when Alan jerked his arm back, elbowing Nelson in the gut, causing him to take a hard step back, cane falling to the floor.
Alan turned back toward Harvey, who still hung suspended in front of him. “Now this is what I expected being a ghost would be like,” he said, almost conversationally. “It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be. What I can do. It’s anger. That’s all it is. And I can use it because I’m pissed off.”
Harvey choked, spittle dripping from his mouth and onto his chin.
“Don’t do this,” Hugo pleaded, struggling against whatever held him onto the wall. “Alan, you can’t hurt him.”
“Oh, I can,” Alan said. “I can hurt him quite a bit.”
“He’s not your killer,” Mei snapped. “He wasn’t the one who hurt you. He would never—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alan said. “It’ll make me feel better. And isn’t that what all this is about? Finding peace. This will bring me peace.”
Wallace Price had never been what most would consider to be a brave man. Once, he’d seen someone being mugged on a subway platform and stepped away, telling himself he didn’t want to get involved, that he was sure it’d all work out for the best. He’d barely felt a twinge of guilt. The mugger had gotten away with a purse, and Wallace knew whatever was inside could easily be replaced.
Bravery meant the possibility of death. And wasn’t that funny? Because it took being dead for Wallace to finally be brave.
Hugo screamed his name as he rushed forward, but Wallace ignored him.
Wallace brought his shoulder down as he charged, steeling himself for the impact. It was still jarring when he collided with Alan’s side. Wallace’s teeth rattled in his gums as he nearly bit his tongue in two. Alan barely made a sound as he was knocked off his feet. Wallace lost his own footing, landing on top of Alan. He moved as quickly as he could, turning and straddling Alan’s waist. Harvey collapsed to the floor and didn’t move. Hugo and Mei also fell to the floor, Alan’s hold over them having dissipated.
Alan’s eyes glittered in the dark as he stared up at Wallace. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Before Wallace could react （and really, he hadn’t thought that far ahead; what was he going to do, choke the life out of a dead man?）， the air shifted around him, and he was flung back. He gasped as the small of his back struck one of the display cases, the glass cracking underneath him.
Alan rose slowly to his feet, pointing a finger at Wallace. “You really shouldn’t have—”
And then he stopped.
Wallace blinked.
He waited for Alan to finish his threat.
He didn’t.
He seemed … frozen in place.
“Um,” Wallace said. “What happened?”
No one answered him.
He turned his head to the left.
Mei had been in the process of pushing herself up off the ground, her hair hanging in her face.
She wasn’t moving.
Wallace looked forward. Nelson had started to prop himself up with his cane, but only made it halfway before he too just … stopped.
Wallace turned his head to the right.
Apollo stood in front of Hugo, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Hugo himself was propping himself up against the wall, a look of anger mingled with despair on his face.
Wallace pushed himself off the display case, surprised when he did so without resistance.
“Guys?” he said, voice echoing flatly in the dark tea shop. “What’s going on?”
No one answered him.
It was only then that he realized the second hand of the clock wasn’t moving. It wasn’t even twitching.
It’d stopped.
Everything had stopped.
“Oh no,” Wallace whispered.
He didn’t know what was happening. The only time the clock stopped was when a new ghost arrived at Charon’s Crossing, but time hadn’t stopped inside the tea shop.