Pheres's voice is shaking, and his hand is clammy. His face looks wet this close up, and you feel a little better about crying, because his eyes are a rheumy, bloodshot red.

"Make eye contact," Castor says, finally speaking. He's clutching his pendant, and he doesn't let go when you look at him, just jerks a hand dismissively. "Not with me," he snaps, "with him! That might help."

Talking with ghosts is one thing, but you've never tried it with proper people. But it's the same thing, isn't it? Just one's got meat on their bones and the other doesn't.

You really, really hopes it's the same thing.

Pheres is kneeling, right at eye-level. You take in a deep breath and lean forward, until your forehead is pressed against his, and you can count the veins in his eyes.

And then you think of home.