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“When the fuck did Ward figure out how to help youtalkremotely?” I asked, knowing my eyes were wide.

“Last week. Keep up, darling.”

Right. Jesus fuck.

I didn’t know how much more of this I could handle.

I glanced over at Elliot. He wasn’t doing any better. Probably a wee bit worse.

“Lady Sylvia Randolph,” I managed to squawk out, although I had to swallow a couple of times before I could finish the introduction. “Meet Elliot Crane.”

“Sylvia,” Taavi interrupted. “We’re hoping you’ll be able to assist us.”

The dead woman smiled.“Yes, my sweet one. I believe I can.”

Taavi herded us into the living room—living and dead alike—and then disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Elliot, me, Sylvia, and my phone with Ward still on the other end.

Elliot completely broke down when his dad appeared. I only kept it together because I had to keep Elliot from crumpling to the floor. Gregory couldn’t speak the way Sylvia could, but she could talk to him and relay it to us.

“He wants you to know how much he loves you,”she told Elliot.

Elliot nodded, his eyes not leaving his dad. “I love you too, Dad.”

“He’s sorry he couldn’t fight them off.”

“No… Dad...”

“Or at least take a chunk of one of their legs.”

“Dad.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “Dad, what do I do?”

“He says that you should keep going. Keep fighting. Keep living the life you want to live, and don’t let them take that from you.”

“Why did they do it, Dad?”

“He doesn’t know,”Sylvia reported. Ward had said as much the first time I’d talked to him, but I guess Elliot had to hear it for himself, so to speak, anyway.

Gregory Crane pressed his insubstantial hand to Elliot’s cheek, and I watched the tears fall as Elliot tried his best to pretend that it was his dad’s familiar, living hand instead of the cold and unnatural feel of the dead.

“I’m sorry,”Sylvia murmured, and I could tell she was getting weaker.“I can’t do this much longer. If it will help, we can try again in a few days.”

“Thank you, Sylvia,” I managed. “And Ward.”

“You’re welcome,” my boss’s voice replied from the phone on the couch beside us, and I could hear the tiredness in his tone, as well. This had cost him, and he’d probably never admit to me how much.

I made a mental note to get him a really fucking nice Christmas present. For the next decade at least, because there was no way in hell I’d ever be able to really pay him back for this.

“Thank you,” Elliot rasped, as his father and Sylvia dissipated, Gregory’s insubstantial fingers slipping through Elliot’s as he went. “I love you, Dad.”

“He loves you, too,” Ward answered.

Elliot nodded, but wasn’t in any condition to say anything, so I picked up the phone with my free arm—the one Elliot wasn’t wrapped in—and turned off speaker, holding up the phone to my ear. “Seriously, thank you,” I told the medium.

“It was my honor,” Ward replied. “Let me know if I can do anything more.”

“Thank you,” I repeated, not having anything better to say.

“Take care, Hart.”