Page 20 of Pets in Space 10

He released a long sigh watching as dusk surrendered to night. The two water dragons had given up on him and gone inside. They were probably eating potato chips in the middle of his bed.

The cicadas had quieted, replaced by the gentle chorus of frogs and the soft rustle of reeds in the breeze. Landry remained on the back deck, his chair tilted back just enough to stare up at the dark canopy above, where stars blinked faintly through the fluttering Spanish moss.

He drew in a long breath, held it, and slowly let it out. The scent of the swamp — wet earth, decaying leaves, the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine — was as familiar to him as breath.

But tonight, it felt like he was breathing someone else’s air.

His eyes dropped to his hands, calloused fingers rough from work, scarred from life in the swamp. His gaze snagged on the glint of gold wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand.

He turned it with his thumb.

The ring shimmered faintly, catching the porch light in a way that made it look like it breathed.

Lilypad had found it. Dragged it up from the depths of the bayou like some kind of shimmering treasure. She hadn’t just offered it to him — she had insisted. Nudged his chest with her nose, shoved it into his palm, and declared, “It’s yours now. She said so.”

She being Harmonia. Somehow. He still didn’t fully understand.

He clenched his hand into a loose fist, feeling the warm metal press against his skin.

“If you’ve got magic,” he muttered, “now would be a hell of a time to start working.”

A breeze rustled the cypress branches above, and for a moment, he thought he heard laughter.

Inside the cabin, a sudden burst of noise interrupted the quiet. Muffled chatter, squeaks, and the unmistakable sound of enthusiastic rummaging.

He frowned.

“Now what’re you two up to?” he grumbled, rising and tossing his empty beer bottle into the bin. “If you found where I hid the peanut butter again, so help me — ”

He yanked the screen door open —

And froze.

His mouth parted, but no sound came out.

There, in the middle of his kitchen, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the overhead light, stood six ghostly figures.

Not terrifying, chain-dragging, moaning ghosts.

No, these looked more like ethereal houseguests. Comfortable ones.

Selene was perched on the edge of his kitchen counter, legs crossed, sipping something invisible from a mug that didn’t exist. Her long hair floated around her like smoke, and she shot him a knowing grin.

William stood near the window, inspecting the orchids with a nod of approval. “Healthy roots. Good lighting,” he said to no one in particular.

Malcolm had one hand inside the cookie jar, desperately trying to grab the earthly dessert.

Mavis was studying his fish tank.

Gloria and Sarah were fussing over a stack of mismatched teacups Lilypad had probably stolen from various places.

Arastan was seated at the head of the table, regal and silent, watching him with the same calm, serious expression Landry had seen in Harmonia’s eyes.

He blinked once. Then again.

“Uh…”

“Landry!” Selene beamed. “Finally. We were wondering if you’d ever come in.”

Lilypad chirped from the couch, her cheeks puffed out like a satisfied chipmunk. Crumbs of barbecue potato chips dusted her snout and the bedspread beneath her.

Pug let out a warbling hum and gave a sheepish burp.

Landry’s voice finally returned — rough, incredulous, and just shy of a strangled yell.

“What the — ”

“Language,” Mavis chided, wagging a translucent finger at him.

“You’re — You’re in my house!”

“Technically, we consider this Harmonia’s house, too,” William offered mildly, glancing toward the table. “She did fix it up rather nicely, even if it is a tad on the primitive side.”

“Fine craftsmanship, though. Nice and sturdy,” Malcolm added.

“I — You’re all ghosts.”

“Spectral projections,” Gloria corrected with a flutter of her hand. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re dead.”

Selene grinned. “Well, technically, that’s debatable. We are in a trans-dimensional state of being.”

“Translation: we’re dead,” Mavis stated.

He stared at them, speechless. He looked down with a blank expression when he felt a tug on his pant leg. Pug was nudging his leg with a grin while Lilypad continued to stuff her mouth.

“I’ve cracked,” Landry muttered. “I’ve officially gone swamp-mad.”

“Oh no, dear,” Selene said, floating to her feet. “We’re very real.” She raised her hand when Mavis opened her mouth to disagree. “Not now, Mavis. We’re here for a reason.”

Landry blinked. “What reason?”

“To help you,” Arastan finally said, his deep voice cutting through the chatter.

Landry met his gaze, the room still spinning around him.

“How?” he whispered. “Can you take me to Harmonia?”

Selene tilted her head and winked. “That would be against the Mage Council rules. But, we could teach you how to use that ring on your finger. Technically, it isn’t a violation if you take yourself.”

Lilypad clapped her little hands, crumbs flying everywhere.

“Yes! We go find Harmonia,” she squeaked.

Landry stared at her, then at the glowing, comfortably bickering group of ghost-mages and one very real mage father now making themselves thoroughly at home.

He exhaled in stunned disbelief.

“Okay,” he muttered, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. “But someone better explain why my cookie jar is glowing.”

William didn’t even blink. “Because Malcolm filled it with mana wafers, since he can’t eat physical food anymore.”

“…Mana what now?”

Pug sighed and jumped into a chair.

Landry groaned and rubbed his aching temple as he headed for the refrigerator. “Swamp-madness. Definitely swamp-madness.”

But even as he opened the refrigerator, a tentative, growing smile curved his lips.

Hope stirred inside him — small, stubborn, but growing brighter by the second.