“Even if they’re useless for research, they are still pretty, Mads. I say we frame them. Jazz has been complaining of the house lacking decoration, anyway.”

“I suppose so.” She shook her head, but her lips quirked into a smile as she nudged another painting. This one depicted a grand castle, a vibrant forest nestled up next to it. Ha, like the Ghost Zone could even house something like forests, never mind ones so lively. “I do wish we knew who the artist was.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He put the painting down with the rest, carefully smoothing it out. “They’re certainly a creative sort. Wish we could track them down, but there must be tons of people in town with the initials DP.”

“Well, nothing we can do about it.” Maddie shrugged, turning to head to the lab. “If they only signed it with their initials, and didn’t leave a note with their name, they must not have wanted us to know who they were.”

He grunted as he followed her down the stairs. “Still, I wish we could’ve thanked them. It would be interesting to hear them explain why they chose to depict the Ghost Zone like that.”

“It would be more interesting to look at the real Ghost Zone,” Maddie lamented, stopping next to her table in the lab. She heaved a sigh. “But, unfortunately, we can’t risk such trips.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Who knows what kind of things Phantom could get up to while we left? Or worse yet, what it could do to us while we’re out of the town’s sight.”

“Yes, indeed.” Maddie straightened a blueprint, and Jack stepped up next to her. “Well, nothing we can do about it, except try harder to catch Phantom. Speaking of which, honey, I think I finally figured out how to fix the Bazooka’s battery issues.”

---

“Oh, another one.” Jack chucked the letters in his hand onto the table, focusing on the new drawing. DP had continued to send in paintings on a regular basis. At first they had been various interpretations of the Ghost Zone, like the first batch, but as time went on they had expanded their repertoire and started painting ghosts instead.

“This is certainly a curious one,” Jack mumbled to himself as he looked over the new painting. It was another imagined Ghost Zone vista, although the edges of the island weren’t visible. A lush snowscape, with the characteristic black-and-green sky of the Zone. A curious details was that DP had included ghosts into the landscape this time; small specks of them littered the hills, and a few were close enough for them to include details. They looked animalistic, with shaggy white fur and ice-like horns. One of them even had an arm made entirely out of ice, with bones visible within. A shame that DP had included that detail; ghosts didn’t have bones, so it was an unfortunate error.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Maddie hadn’t been terribly interested in looking into the mystery of this ‘DP’ further, and to be honest, he could understand why. They wanted to learn more about the Ghost Zone, and whoever DP was, their paintings couldn’t possibly be based on the truth. Nobody had been to the other side of the Fenton Portal besides ghosts, and no ghost would make mistakes like including bones.

Jack blew out a sigh, placing the painting down on the table. They could figure out what to do with it later. DP had been sending them so often that Maddie and he weren’t sure what to do with them anymore. No matter how sweet it was that this artist was inspired by them, or by their research into ghosts, they couldn’t possibly showcase all this art. They didn’t even know who made them!

“Mads?” he called downstairs instead, deciding to take his mind off of the topic. “I’m gonna head out with the GAV, see if I can find some ghosts!”

“Be home in time for dinner, honey!” Maddie’s voice echoed from downstairs, underlined with the metallic clang of her putting down her tools. “And call me if you need me out in the field!”

“Will do!” he assured her. He didn’t need to check for weaponry; the GAV was always well-stocked, and would have everything he might possibly need.

So he headed for the garage, hopped into the large vehicle, and buckled his belt. The ignition roared to life, and with it, so did the various electronic appliances built into the GAV. Most importantly, at least for now, was the ghost radar.

The screen of the radar lit up, and Jack leaned in closer. Ah, and look at that! Not one, but two ghosts in the park! He’d better head over there. Either they were up to trouble, or it was Phantom chasing some other ghost. And if it was the latter, Jack might finally get the annoying specter!

Quickly he raced over to the park, stopping the GAV right next to the fence. He would have to continue on foot, since the gates were too small, but that was okay. He might be able to sneak up on the ghosts like this, since neither of them had moved since he had first seen them on the radar.

Still, whatever they were up to, it couldn’t possibly be good. Ghosts were malevolent, through and through, and if they hadn’t moved they hadn’t been fighting with each other. That must mean that they were working together, either causing trouble, or plotting to cause trouble later. No matter which of the two it was, Jack knew he had to interfere.

He quickly grabbed one of the plentiful ecto-guns the GAV was stocked with, jumping out of the vehicle. He didn’t have a radar on hand, but that was okay. The ghosts were unlikely to move if it hadn’t before now, and, well. They literally glowed. He was sure he would be able to spot them when he got close enough, even in the bright afternoon light.

As quietly as possible, he crept through the bushes. His gun, he held ready. He had to find the ghosts, and quick. Who knew what kind of trouble they might’ve gotten up to?

The moment he spotted a glimpse of unnatural white light, Jack stopped. Then, certain that neither of the ghosts had spotted him, Jack peeked through the leaves.

The ghost closest to Jack was instantly recognizable. Slight but masculine build, messy white hair, and a black jumpsuit. Phantom, without a doubt. The other, he couldn’t place. Green skin, long blonde hair tied into a braid, and with a sky blue dress. Definitely modeled after a woman, that one, and slightly older than Phantom. Or, well, if they had been humans. There was no telling the age of a ghost.

“Almost done,” Phantom spoke, suddenly. But it seemed to be talking to the other ghost. Why? Almost done with what?

“Ah, very well.” The other ghost inclined its head slightly, a gesture almost a nod, but halted. “I admire your work, Sir Phantom, but my kingdom calls for me.”

A kingdom? Sir Phantom? Very interesting. He would have to make sure to remember all of this. Oh, if only he had some sort of recording device ready. Maddie would’ve loved to hear this, too.

“I know, I know. I really appreciate you coming out here for me.” Phantom didn’t look away from whatever it was doing, hunched over. “I know things are still kinda messy after the whole Aragon thing.”

“It is no trouble,” the medieval ghost—the ghostly queen?—assured Phantom. “Without your help, I never could’ve overthrown my brother. I owe you, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom snorted, shaking its head briefly. “You know that that’s not true, Dora. You fought Aragon on your own, and you won that way too.”

“Ah, but--”

“No buts,” Phantom interrupted the other ghost—Dora, apparently. “You know just as well as I do that I wasn’t the one to convince you to stand up for yourself. You already made me your knight and your ally. You don’t owe me anything.”

The monochrome ghost paused for a moment, then lifted the object it had been hunched over. Finally Jack had a chance to see what it was, and he felt his heart stop.

Phantom had been working on a painting. And, depicted on the paper, was the other ghost. The style, even from where he was hiding, was instantly recognizable. Phantom had been the one sending paintings to FentonWorks.

Oh. Oh. Of course he had been! Just because the ghost usually went by Phantom didn’t mean it lacked a full name. No, when it had first introduced itself, it had called itself Danny Phantom. DP!

Cursing internally, Jack startled back to awareness when the Dora ghost moved. It floated closer to Phantom, inspecting the painting as well. Were ghosts vain creatures, then? Did Phantom pay them in paintings to play pretend with it? Then why would it be sending them to the Fentons as well? Was it trying to buy them? Buy their alliance, so they would no longer hunt it? Ha! As if!

“Oh, what a wonderful work again.” Dora smiled, an expression that was almost soft, if it hadn’t been on a ghost. “You did a very good job again, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom flushed bright green, and Jack took a moment to realize that it was a ghostly equivalent to blushing. How? Why? Ghosts didn’t feel emotions, why would they blush, especially to one another?

“Thanks,” Phantom stuttered back to the other ghost. “But it’s nothing special. And, um. Thank you for posing for me.”

“I already told you, it was no problem.” The other ghost floated a step or two away again, loosely shrugging. “I just hope the Fentons will like it, so you will finally be on good grounds with them.”

“I mean, um.” Phantom’s expression dropped into something Jack could only call an uncertain smile. “They, uh, don’t really care for them, I think? I believe they don’t think they’re real, and thus not useful.”

“But have you not been signing them as yours?” Dora insisted, a frown on its face. “Do they think that you are sending them false paintings of the Ghost Zone? Of your fellow ghosts?”

“Well, I, uh.” Phantom’s grin became even more harried. “I might’ve been signing them just as ‘DP’? I didn’t think they would trust them otherwise!”

Dora stared at the other ghost for a long moment, then clicked her tongue and shook her head. If it had been human, Jack would’ve said it was disappointed. But, since it was a ghost, it couldn’t possibly be. “Well, I suppose you know best. I wish you the best of luck with them, regardless.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Phantom nodded at the other ghost, and dismissed, it quickly left.

Now that it was just him and Phantom left, Jack knew he should be making a move. This was the perfect opportunity; Phantom was distracted, looking at the ground. Gathering its supplies, presumably.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t.

It was astounding. Absolutely confusing. Sure, Phantom’s obsession had always been questionable, never easily labeled, but still. No possible interpretation could cover for its drive to fight off other ghosts and for painting. Hell, it didn’t even try to fight off this particular ghost! No, the two of them had seemed quite friendly, and Phantom had even let it leave without confirming that it really did leave Amity Park.

And then Phantom stood upright, suddenly, a roughed-up backpack in one hand, art supplies clearly visible poking out. In its other hand, it held the new painting.

“Well, let’s go deliver this one,” it said, voice quiet like it was just talking to itself. “Who knows, maybe seeing a ghost they don’t recognize will be what convinces them!”

As if. And clearly Phantom thought so too, based on the tone of its voice. But then, if it was intelligent enough to know this (and apparently it was), why would it still go through with this? Why would it put in such effort, if it knew that it was futile?

Phantom lifted off before Jack could even consider shooting it down. Shot up into the sky, fading from visibility before long.

Knowing that there was no point in lingering anyway, Jack pushed his way out of the bushes, finally. Absentmindedly brushed the dirt from his knees. Lumbered back to the GAV.

He turned the key of the ignition, and the radar booted back up. No ghosts left in range. Dora must’ve returned to the Ghost Zone as it had said, and Phantom went… wherever it usually went when they couldn’t find it.

Like this whole thing had never happened.

His drive back home had been slower than usual. Maybe it really hadn’t happened. Maybe he had just… imagined all of it. As long as there was no proof that Phantom had painted that medieval ghost, that Dora, it might as well not have happened. Right?

The car came to a halt. Jack let himself back in the house.

“Oh, Jack!” Maddie looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. Right. Dinner. “A new painting came in. It was quite fascinating. A portrait of a ghost again, but I don’t recognize this one. Do you think that the artist came up with it themselves?”

He felt his heart stop.

Jack licked his lips, then asked, cautiously, “Is it a green-skinned ghost, with long blonde hair in a braid?”

“Yes.” Maddie put down the potatoes, immediately focusing on him. “How did you know? Did you run into the ghost?”

“Yeah. Both of them.” He shook his head, then let himself drop onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to have this conversation standing up. “DP is Phantom, Mads. I saw him in the park, and he was painting that other ghost.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie asked, but clearly she could tell he was telling the truth. “But why? And how is it making such high quality paintings? It isn’t related to its supposed obsession at all!”

“I don’t know.” And that was the big problem, wasn’t it? Whenever they thought they had Phantom figured out, it introduced some new detail, some new variable. They never knew everything they needed to know about it. “I don’t know, but I know what I saw. Phantom painted it, with the intention to give it to us, and the other ghost was okay with that.”

“It was?” She sat back down as well, the half-peeled potatoes now completely ignored. “But how-- why?! Not only did Phantom indulge in something unrelated to its obsession—art—but then it also completely went against its obsession by letting another ghost into the town!”

Jack snorted humorlessly. “And worse still, Phantom let the other ghost leave without keeping an eye on it to make sure it left. They seemed on friendly terms, too. Were discussing when they worked together in the past. It even called Phantom ‘Sir Phantom’.”

“Unbelievable.” Maddie shook her head, staring down unseeingly. “There’s no way that this could all tie into its obsession, but…”

“But ghosts can’t act outside of those obsessions, either.” Jack nodded, slowly. “So either the research is wrong, and ghosts aren’t bound to their obsessions like we thought…”

“Or Phantom breaks the norm, somehow.”

They met eyes. Jack licked his lips. “And we have no way of knowing.”

“Never mind the question of why it’s making these paintings. For us specifically, right?”

“Yup. Some of them, at least, were made just for us.” Jack drug the new painting closer to himself, staring at it. It was of superb quality, carefully painted, and a very close match to the ghost he had seen in the park. “Which leaves one more question. If this painting is real, have all the others been too?”

“Surely not?” But Maddie was clearly already running through all the other paintings they had received from Phantom. The landscapes, the other ghosts. All the portraits had depicted ghosts they had seen in Amity before, even if others had featured in the landscapes. “It could’ve tweaked them, made the landscapes seem more interesting. Maybe it’s trying to make the Ghost Zone seem more alluring, so we will go in and run into its trap.”

But Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are better ways to get us to explore the Ghost Zone, and it clearly knew that we didn’t put any faith in them being real. As hard as it was trying to convince us, I can’t imagine that it would put so much effort into luring us out there. Especially since it could lure us away with other stuff, by kidnapping civilians or our kids, or, hell, maybe even by stealing one of our more intricate inventions. Lord knows it’s not above stealing our stuff.”

“No, it definitely isn’t,” Maddie agreed easily, a pensive frown on her face. “Still, I can’t think of any other reason why it might be sending us paintings. What use could that possibly have for it? What benefit could it earn from this?”

“Who knows, Mads.” Jack puffed out a heavy sigh. “Who knows.”

---

“Are you sure that this was a good idea?”

“Pfft, are you doubting me?” Danny rolled his eyes at Clockwork’s unimpressed stare. “It’ll be fine, and you weren’t telling me any better plans. You can’t make me doubt myself after I did it!”

“I think that you will find that I can, in fact, do that.” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well. Thanks for nothing, old man.”

Clockwork fixed him with another unimpressed look, one eyebrow quirked, as his body shifted into his child-like form.

“I hate you,” Danny muttered, no heat behind his words. After the whole thing with his evil future self he had started visiting Clockwork more often, hoping for future knowledge, or at least hints on how not to bring about another apocalypse of his own making. Instead he’d been getting lessons on the Ghost Zone’s history, its geography, and ghost culture as a whole.

He’d complain about it, but it was kind of helpful to know. Besides, Clockwork wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Probably.

“Anyway, I had better head home, see what my parents thought of the new painting.” He paused, then dug his phone out of his pocket. “Wait, can I take a picture of you? To paint you later?”

“On one condition.” Clockwork shifted back into his adult form, gesturing for Danny to come closer. “Make it a picture of the both of us.”

“What, like a selfie?” Danny snorted, but huddled up next to the time ghost anyway. “I mean, I guess, but I was kind of hoping for a painting to give to my parents.”

Clockwork hummed, but didn’t reply. Danny rolled his eyes, but lifted his phone to snap a picture of the two of them anyway.

“Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once?”

“Yes,” Clockwork replied, deadpan. “How else would I have become a ghost?”

Danny snorted, flicking back on his phone’s screen to look at the photo. “Fair enough. Anyway, the pic looks fine, so… Are you sure I can’t snap one of you alone?”

“I am sure. Now get going,” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk, “Wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”

“You’re the worst.” Danny stuffed his phone back into his pocket, floating over to the door of the Clocktower. “I’ll get you back someday, Clockwork!”

“Sure you will,” he said airily, the smirk still on his face. “Sure you will.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to reply, instead leaving the lair. Clockwork was so frustratingly cryptic, but he always told good advice. If he insisted Danny paint a selfie of the two of them, well… there must be some sort of reason for it.

Not that he could think of a reason, but still.

He made sure to turn himself invisible right before passing through the Portal, zipping into his parents’ lab unnoticed. It was a good thing that they had never installed ghost scanners near the Portal, because that would’ve made life so much harder for him.

Huh. No one downstairs. He peeked over at the clock, but it wasn’t dinner time just yet. His mom might be working on it already, but his dad should still be downstairs, right? Strange.

Intangibly passing through the ceiling, he found himself in the living room. Ah, and there were his parents. And his new painting of Dora! Maybe they were discussing what to do now that they figured out that he really was painting the truth.

“It just… It doesn’t make any sense,” his mom said complaintively. She gestured at the painting, almost knocking over the pan with peeled potatoes on the table. “Why would Phantom paint these for us? What’s the point? What kind of benefit is it hoping to get from this?!”

“I don’t know.” His dad straightened up, looking at Danny. No, straight through him, at some of the framed paintings on the wall behind him. “If it were human, or following human logic, it might be… trying to help us understand the Ghost Zone? Paint more of it so we don’t have to go explore there? But even then… We’re not on good standings. Why would it try to help us?”

“Exactly.” Maddie heaved a sigh, then picked up her knife and an unpeeled potato, starting to peel it. “With a human, it could a sign of… of trying to better our relationship. But a ghost? They can’t experience such feelings, such desires, can they?”

“But neither can they pick up a hobby like painting if it’s unrelated to their obsession,” Jack pointed out, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I don’t know if we can dismiss any options, Mads.”

“No, I suppose not.” She dropped the peeled potato in the pot, picking up a new one. “We could try assembling a list of possible intentions later, and then try to cross them off one by one, based on Phantom’s behavior and reactions.”

His dad hummed a note of approval, and, figuring this was a good moment to stop eavesdropping, Danny resumed his earlier flight. Phasing into his room, he finally dropped his ghost form, noiselessly landing on the floor.

“Man. I can’t believe they figured that out,” he mumbled to himself. “How could I… Oh.”

He dug his phone out of his pocket, digging up the picture he just took. “Clockwork knew, obviously. And he… wants me to make a painting of the two of us.”

Danny made a face, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it. He’s never led me wrong. Unless he’s been resetting the timeline every time he did, but, well. Details.”

Dragging his ragged backpack to his desk, Danny spread out his art supplies. Straightened out a new piece of paper, laid out his phone for reference, and started painting.

Maybe he could include a little note with this one? Write it on the back, or something?

Yeah, maybe that would work…

---

Jack paused, the few letters he’d already leaved through barely hanging on. Was this…

He dropped the other letters, until the only thing left in his hands was the painting. An all new painting, the same style as all the other ones, but the subject matter…

“Mads!” he yelled, not looking away from the painting. “Mads, we got a new one!”

“We do?” Her voice echoed up the stairs, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps as she stormed up. Then she came up next to him, saw the painting, and paused as well.

He couldn’t blame her. Phantom must’ve somehow known that they had figured it out, or it gave up on subtlety.

The new painting depicted two ghosts, huddled up next to each other. Phantom’s arm was outstretched, as if the painting had been snapped like a photo. Maybe it was based on a photo. Next to Phantom was a large ghost Jack didn’t recognize; blue skinned, with empty red eyes and a purple cloak.

No, the focus of the picture was Phantom. It smiled at the camera, but it wasn’t its characteristic smirk. It was more like a genuine cheery smile, matched by a faint smile on the other ghost’s face.

Jack flipped the paper over, wondering if Phantom had signed it as usual. Instead he was surprised to find actual written text.

“A letter?” Maddie asked, leaning in closer. Jack held it out slightly so they could both read it.

“Dear Fentons,” the letter read, the handwriting scribbly like that of most teens, but still legible.

“I’ve been given to understand that you two have figured out that I’m the one making these paintings for you. And I understand that that’s probably pretty concerning, since you’re… not all that pleased with me and my… general existence. Some of the things I have done have been framed badly, yes, and sometimes I cause damage in my fights. Who doesn’t? But no matter what you think, or what this city thinks, I always try my best to protect everyone in this town. And I’m just one ghost, in the end. Even with Red around, I would feel much safer knowing that there are other ghost hunters around. And not just hunters, scientists, who understand how ghosts work, and who could teach others. So I tried to help you with that, tried patching your gaps of knowledge with some of my own. Only you did not realize it was based on the truth, because you didn’t know it was me, and now that you do… I fear that you still do not trust any of the information I’ve tried to teach you. So… I guess what I’ve been trying to say is…”

“Can I do anything else to help, to convince you?”

Jack startled, cursed, and dropped the letter. He twisted around to find Phantom floating behind them, its glow flickering.

“Phantom,” Maddie said, cautiously. Her hand crept to her hip holster, but it was a lost cause; she didn’t carry weapons in the lab. Too big of a risk of a malfunctioning invention setting them off.

“I’m serious,” the ghost insisted, its glow brightening slightly. It still flickered like a candle. Jack wondered why, since it didn’t seem like the ghost was hurt or otherwise hampered in strength. “I want to help you guys with your research. Without, y’know, dissection stuff. I know you haven’t been in the Zone, and I really wouldn’t recommend it because that place is dangerous, but come on! I can teach you all kinds of stuff; ghost society, culture, history--”

“Ghosts can’t have any of those things, though,” Maddie interrupted, eyes narrowed. “They don’t even have emotions. They act only on obsessions. That leaves no room for-- for society, or culture, or whatever else!”

“Oh, come on, you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Phantom huffed, crossing its arms, and looking seriously peeved off. The glow flickered even more wildly, now. Was it… Could a ghost’s glow express emotion like that? “If I could only ever think about my supposed obsession, why would I make paintings like that? Huh?”

“Your supposed obsession?” Jack questioned, keeping a close eye on Phantom’s aura. “Are you implying that you don’t have an actual obsession?”

“No? Nobody has obsessions like you’ve described them.” Phantom shrugged, and its aura dimmed a little. Hmm, perhaps brightness was related to anger? But then what could the flickering be? Uncertainty? Anxiety? “Plenty of ghosts are obsessed, sure, but it’s no different from a human who is super obsessed with something. Like a hyperfixation, I guess. It certainly won’t kill them to do something else.”

“So if someone stopped you from fighting other ghosts, from protecting this town, you wouldn’t… It wouldn’t do you any harm?” Maddie asked, watchful eyes on Phantom.

“Well, no.” The ghost shrugged again. Its glow flickered harder. “I mean, if someone got hurt I would probably feel kinda guilty about it, but… I mean, nothing I could’ve done about it if someone stopped me.”

“I suppose that that makes sense,” Jack said before Maddie could speak. He wasn’t quite sure that Phantom was telling the truth about obsessions, but they were certainly wrong about the emotional capabilities of ghosts. Besides the interactions he had seen between Phantom and Dora in the park, there was no reason for them to express emotions via their glow; no human could understand that. It could only be used to communicate emotions with other ghosts. “I mean, I guess your obsession could be to be helpful, which would explain why you would learn painting to help us, but still. We were wrong about your emotional range. Who says we weren’t about obsessions, too?”

Phantom made a face, then shrugged a third time. “Eh, good enough for me. But, really, I would love to help you guys with your research by providing more knowledge.”

“Why would you send us paintings, anyway?” Maddie frowned, clearly confused. “Clearly you can take pictures, since this last one was obviously based on one. Why not send those directly?”

The ghost shrugged, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh. First of all, I really like painting and I could use the practice. And second, ghost stuff just doesn’t photograph well. The pictures didn’t do justice to the real things, so I figured I could paint them more alike.”

“I see,” Jack said, ignoring the sharp looks Maddie kept throwing him. “Well, we’ll think about it, okay? And we’ll let you know.”

Phantom’s glow flickered again, like a disturbed candle, but then the ghost nodded. “Sure. That’s more than I had expected, to be honest. See you guys around, then.”

The ghost raised a hand, then faded from visibility.

“And Phantom,” Jack shouted after him, assuming the ghost was still within hearing distance, “don’t enter our home without permission!”

“Yes sir!” an invisible voice chirped back, followed by the sensation of wind as the ghost flew away.

Maddie shot him an unamused look, but he shrugged. “Look, Mads. We clearly misstepped somewhere in our previous research. It’s undeniable that they have emotions, so maybe we were wrong about more?”

She watched him for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh. “If you say so, honey, you must have your reasons. At the very least we could hear him out, I suppose.”

Heading in the direction of the voice, Edward found himself catching the moonlight glow of Danny Phantom’s aura casting odd shadows and lights across the grass and trees of the park while he hovered in the air and glared at a book.  “I don’t get it, what’s the damn point of it?  Aren’t stories about petty revenge supposed to come with a moral?”

“Not necessarily, Mr. Phantom.”  Phantom spun around in a fluid motion that had his face sliding into place where the back of his head was before the rest of him turned and Edward did his best to quell the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight.  Being a ghost must’ve dulled Phantom’s awareness of body horror. “Sorry to startle you.”

“That’s ok,” he said quietly, chuckling.  “I don’t typically spook so easily.”

“I’m certain you don’t,” Edward sighed.  “If I may ask, Mr. Phantom, what story were you referring to?”

Phantom blinked a few times and tilted his head, then held up a book slowly.  “The Cask of Amontillado.  I don’t get what the point is.”  Phantom huffed, shaking the book as though doing so would intimidate meaning from its contents.  “A guy starves his friend to death by tricking him into thinking he’s gonna taste test a bunch of wine because he thinks he was insulted.  There’s no lesson I can think of besides ‘don’t trust rich people’ which anyone should know anyways.”

“Mmm.”  Edward chuckled and shook his head at the pout on the powerful ghostly hero that protected the town.  “Have you considered, Mr. Phantom, that the story’s point is just how messed up it’d be if that happened?”  Phantom stared at him, perplexed, and Edward laughed.  “Have you ever seen the Twilight Zone?”

“A few episodes, yeah.”

“Are there morals to those stories?”

“Uh… some of them?”  That was an interesting piece of information to have about their resident guardian.  As was the fact that he read in his spare time.

“The majority, however, those have a very simple moral to them, which is that they have no moral.”

“I- yeah, there’s a few that are just ‘wouldn’t that be fucked up’ but I didn’t think some ‘classic literature’ would be like that.  Or that an English teacher would ever admit that there wasn’t any real hidden meaning to it all in a book.  Isn’t that your job, to find something that’s not really there?”

Edward snorted and shook his head.  “A common misconception amount students, I assure you.”  He took a sip of his tea and Phantom flicked his wrist.  A chair woven out of ectoplasm and light appeared beside the vice principal and Phantom did a little fist pump.