#dp switch

So something was wrong, but what was he supposed to tell anyone? “Oh, he’s too happy”? “He didn’t make me wash my hands when I sneezed”? They’d call him a lunatic. Maybe he was. How could he know what was wrong if Kwan wasn’t going to say anything?

He could talk to Dr. Huang, but that felt too close to snitching. He didn’t even know for sure that something was wrong beyond just a feeling. This whole thing just felt… nuts.

Well, if he was crazy, maybe he needed to go to an expert.

—

“Any reason you insisted we meet in the mall and not at home?” Jazz said, slurping on an Orange Julius.

“Because Mom and Dad are somehow simultaneously the least involved and the nosiest parents in the world?”

“Fair enough.” Jazz took another slurp. “So what’s going on?”

Danny pinched his nose. “Okay, look, I’m going to tell you all this in confidence and if you ever tell one single other person about this I will never tell you anything ever again for as long as I live, okay?”

“Are you… okay? Like are you in danger? Because even if you hate me, I’m not going to let you—”

“No! Jesus,” Danny said, pointedly ignoring the fading bruises under his shirt. The hunter ghost—Skulker—had come after him again, but at least this time he’d managed to get the asshole in the thermos. Kwan had looked sick when he saw the mark, though Danny wasn’t sure why. Kwan had seen him worse before and had never come close to vomiting. “It’s just personal, is all, okay? And I don’t want to hear anything about it from Mom or Dad or Lancer or—or anyone!”

“Okay, okay.” Jazz held her hands up in surrender. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened between you, Sam, and Tucker?”

“Nothing happened, we just… don’t hang out anymore.”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean it!”

“Danny, the three of you have been best friends since fifth grade. You didn’t gradually grow apart; you suddenly fell apart. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but I’m not an idiot.”

Danny crossed his arms and slumped in his chair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jazz took another sip of her drink. “Okay, okay. Then what did you want to talk about?”

“Kwan.”

“Ah. The new friend.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t talk about him much.”

It was true enough; Danny figured that talking about Kwan would only draw attention to the fact that Sam and Tucker weren’t around anymore. Of course, Jazz had noticed anyway.

“Well, he’s just—weird lately.”

“Weird how?”

“Gah, I don’t know! It sounds dumb if I say it out loud.” Danny slumped even further in his seat.

“Dumb or not, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything.”

“It’s—he’s too nice!”

Jazz tilted her head in confusion. “And that’s a problem?”

“No! I mean, yes!” Danny groaned. “Look, he wasn’t being mean to me before, you know? But… he teased me sometimes. We teased each other. But now it’s like he can’t be anything other than perfectly nice all the time, even when we’re just messing around. Like, the other day I sneezed into my hand—”

Jazz wrinkled her nose. “Gross, Danny.”

“That’s what he always said! He always told me to wash my hands and that it was disgusting and stuff. Now he just sits there awkwardly even though I know he noticed.”

Jazz hmmed. “It does sound a little strange, but not overly worrisome. Can you think of anything that happened recently that might have impacted him?”

Danny thought back for a moment. “Well, he was friends with the kid that died.”

“You see? It could very well be a response to the grief he was feeling, then. Something that just needs to run its course.”

Danny shook his head. “But he wasn’t acting like this at first. It only started after—” The words died in his throat.

“After what?”

“The shrink.” Jazz gave him a look. “Sorry. Grief counselor. He started seeing her around when this whole thing started.”

“Danny, Dr. Spectra is a highly trained specialist. She’s trying to help Kwan. Correlation is not necessarily causation.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that just because two things happened at the same time, it doesn’t mean they’re linked. He could just have other things on his mind.”

Danny groaned. “Ugh, I know it sounds silly and—and small! But he’s not acting like himself. Maybe it has nothing to do with the—with Dr. Spectra, but something’s wrong, Jazz. I know it.”

Kwan didn’t seem sad, it was true, but—shouldn’t he? His friend just died! He should be upset. Conflicted. Instead, it seemed like Kwan was going out of his way to seem entirely unaffected. It couldn’t be normal.

Jazz slurped the dregs of her Orange Julius. “Are you sure you aren’t just looking for problems to avoid thinking about something else?”

“Am I—what?”

“Are you sure this isn’t about whatever happened with Sam and Tucker?”

Heat flushed his face. “Yes, I’m sure. And I told you I didn’t—”

“I’m just worried—”

“—want to talk about it! I know exactly what happened! I don’t need you to therapize me about it!”

Jazz shrank in her seat. “I’m only trying—”

“I don’t care! Why don’t you listen to me for once?”

“I am listening—”

“It sure doesn’t feel like you are.” Danny jolted out of his chair, knocking it over. Heads snapped over to their table, and his face reddened further with embarrassment. He picked the chair up and jammed it back under the table. “Whatever. I’m done with this.”

“Danny, wait!”

He ignored her and stalked away.

—

Danny wandered Amity Park in a fugue of fury for twenty minutes before he calmed down enough to start making a plan. The conversation with Jazz, frustrating though it was, had also brought him to his first lead: the shrink.

Okay, so it wasn’t much of a lead. Correlation, causation, blah blah blah. But even if it wasn’t actually her, this Spectra lady might have some idea of what was bothering Kwan, right?

As the thought crossed his mind, Danny shook his head. No. No. That was the sort of shit that had pissed him off about Sam and Tucker. Invasion of privacy and shit. He could not turn around and be the world’s biggest hypocrite about it now.

Maybe he could just… look her up. Spectra didn’t sound like a common name; maybe he could find something on the internet. A school she used to work for, or something. If she was legit, she should have credentials online, yeah? A thread to pull at. Something.

Tapping in “Spectra” to the search bar led him to a brand of breast pumps. Damn it. Looked like he’d need a first name at the very least.

He could ask Jazz, but she was kind of the last person he wanted to talk about this with. He could ask Kwan, but he was definitely the last person he wanted to talk about it with. He could go by her office on Monday?

That would be reasonable, he supposed. Just wait.

It was Saturday, so the school was closed. He was supposed to head over to Kwan’s in an hour, but he hadn’t planned on leaving the conversation with Jazz so abruptly, so now he was stuck wandering around the city until it was time to go over there. He could go home, but Jazz would just corner him again. He could show up early, he supposed, but since Kwan was the one he was so worried about…

Danny put his phone away and started back down the street. Mindless wandering it was. He walked for another five minutes before he stopped and faced a brick wall.

“I hate waiting,” he said, resting his head against the wall.

Well, he had ghost powers. He had an hour to kill. He could just… sneak into the shrink’s office. Take a peak at her name and maybe see if she had anything incriminating lying around. Like cult robes or human bones or something.

The thought had barely formed in his mind before he was slipping into an alleyway and transforming into his ghost form—into Phantom. 

(He’d started referring to his ghost self as Phantom out loud, even. Kwan didn’t even tease him for it.)

He flew toward school, flickering on his invisibility. One of those things he’d been practicing with Dr. Huang: using two powers simultaneously. No more falling unconscious from exhaustion. Dr. Huang insisted that if she was going to let him fight ghosts, even provisionally, then she was going to do her best to make sure that he was as prepared as possible. If he wasn’t hanging out with Kwan, then he was training with her.

(You aren’t gonna die, she said, not on my watch. Not if I have anything to do with it.)

(Danny whined and complained, but there was a little warmth in his chest at how blatantly she cared.)

And he could see the payoff now, flying while invisible like it was second nature. He had enough brain space leftover to obsess over what was wrong with Kwan and that terrible conversation with Jazz, even.

He practiced holding intangibility, too. If he didn’t have the brain space to obsess anymore, that was an unrelated consequence.

It can be forgiven, then, that since he was putting so much effort into not thinking, he didn’t notice that, when he flew into Spectra’s office, someone else was already there.

He flicked off his invisibility and intangibility all at once, hovering over Spectra’s desk, and someone screamed.

“Ahh!” he screamed back. The bright light of a phone flashlight blinded him, and he pawed at the light switch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Who—Who’s there?” a thin, familiar voice demanded.

Danny blinked away the spots in his vision to see fucking Jazz, trembling but trying to pretend she wasn’t, one hand on her hip. Which, seriously? He’d tried so fucking hard to avoid Jazz and her big sister disapproval, and where did he find her but breaking into school. If he wasn’t currently a ghost and also breaking into school, he would so be lording this over her head for forever.

“Uh, Phan—Phantom.” He tried to make his voice deeper, but it cracked in the middle of the word. Fucking puberty.

“Who’s Phan—are you glowing?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Are you floating?”

“Yeah?”

“No.” Jazz shook her head, stepping back. “No, no no no, this can’t be real!”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but can you please freak out more quietly?” Danny flicked his head back and forth, like someone would spring out of the darkness. It was stupid; who else would be here, anyway? But he’d already had one big surprise and he wasn’t looking for another one.

“You’re a ghost?”

“...Yeah.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting her to have (fear? anger?), it wasn’t for her to kick the wall and shout, “God dammit!”

“Are you okay?”

“No! If my parents find out that they’ve been right about ghosts this whole time and I’ve been wrong, they are going to be so insufferable. My brother, too.”

Danny couldn’t help it. He pointed and laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” she said, because she was exactly the kind of teenager to say “yuck it up” without a hint of irony. “Can we, like, agree to call you a ghoul or something? Literally anything other than a ghost?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. Just because she didn’t know he was her kid brother didn’t make him any less her kid brother.

“Ugh, fine. You’re not gonna, like, kill me or anything, though?”

“Nah, you’re good.”

“Well, at least my parents were wrong about one thing.”

Danny felt a blush rise up to his cheeks and he turned away from Jazz. She was really willing to trust him despite him being a ghost that she just met. He’d never tell her, but it was nice.

“Yeah, I’m just here to—wait, why are you here?” She’d been so dismissive of the idea that the shrink could be involved, but now here she was not even an hour later, breaking and entering at the school when she’d always been the most obnoxiously well-behaved person he’d ever met. It made no sense. Was Jazz secretly a rule-breaking badass this whole time?

No. No way.

“None of your business!” Jazz reared back and crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”

If that’s how she wanted to play it… Danny stuck his tongue out at her. “None of your business.”

“Jeez, I meet an actual ghost, and he’s a freaking child.”

“You started it.”

Jazz groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you why I’m here if you tell me why you’re here, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny lied.

“Look, I've been… shadowing Dr. Spectra for a couple weeks now and—something's off about her. She keeps being confused when I mention stuff about psychology that she should know. She hides it well, but she always changes the subject when I bring up any specific theory or practice.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. This was a very different story than “she's a highly trained specialist.”

“So she sucks at her job?”

“Well, that's what I thought at first. Like, definitely bad, don't get me wrong, but not… intentional.”

A hand reached into his chest and squeezed. “But now?”

“My little brother. He's worried about his friend, and I—well, he came to me and said his friend started acting weird when he started talking to Dr. Spectra, and I thought it had to be a coincidence, because she’s not a great therapist but that doesn’t make her evil, and I didn’t want to badmouth her to my kid brother, so I didn’t say anything to him, but then I was curious so”—she took a deep breath and unlocked her phone—“I googled her name, and, well, there was only one result that seemed to be about her.”

It was a blog, homemade, with a glittery pink header that read “Justice for Sarah” in curling font over a blue background. The most recent post read:

The IDIOTS at WXKZ still refuse to print the truth about Sarah’s murder even though we showed them her diary. So I just have to keep posting about it here, I guess. My daughter was depressed, yes, but she was getting better! She was seeking help! She even went to her school’s guidance counselor all on her own. And this ““““““Doctor””””””” Penelope Spectra started telling her lies and making her worse all over again.

Sarah wrote about it in her therapy diary. “Dr. Spectra says I need to not worry my parents so much” “I have to make sure I’m not a problem anymore” She was NEVER a problem! She was my baby! And I don’t care that she swallowed the pills on her own, this Spectra lady is the one that killed her!!!!!

But the cops won’t listen, and the journalists won’t listen, so I just have to keep her story alive here. Please, help me get justice for my daughter. She was 15. She liked drawing bunny ears on all our pictures of her. Don’t let Spectra kill someone else.

Danny could imagine, for a moment, a woman sitting at her desk, furiously typing this post, scrubbing tears from her eyes. There was no filter. No clever designs to enhance empathy, to draw his attention to just the right places. No well-crafted language to make him just the right combination of angry and sad. Whoever made this blog clearly had no experience with this sort of thing. It was honest, in a way that very little on the internet was anymore.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh shit.”

Was this real? Was this the same Spectra? Was she saying this garbage to Kwan?

(If Jazz was right, then he almost felt bad for Spectra, because Dr. Huang would definitely, definitely kill her.)

(He thought about the tightness of Kwan’s face when he insisted that he had nothing to be sad about, really, don’t worry about him, and he didn’t feel bad anymore.)

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “And, I don’t know, it could be a lie. I found an obituary for Sarah, but it doesn’t mention cause of death or anything. It could just be a grieving parent, looking for someone to blame.”

Danny coughed. Act normal. Act normal. This didn’t affect him personally. “Or it could be something worse?”

“Pretty much. I just can’t figure out why. What would someone get from intentionally being a bad therapist? What possible motive could there be?”

There was a pounding in his skull and his chest. It felt hot, but he couldn’t stop to focus on it. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, ultimately, and it would only make Jazz suspicious of him if he let it out now. “Maybe some sort of cult thing?”

Was he speaking words? Were words coming out of his mouth?

Jazz shook her head. “That seems like something that would involve more people, y’know?”

“I’m all out of guesses, then.”

She rolled her eyes and moved to the desk, tugging at one of the drawers. Danny pushed down the fire in his head, the red swamping his vision and floated forward to help.

They made quick work of the desk, skipping through a bunch of innocuous files, some fidget spinners, blank notebooks and planners. For someone who had been in town for weeks now, Spectra really didn’t have much personal stuff in her office. Danny wasn’t sure if that was suspicious, or if he was inclined to see everything as suspicious right now.

“So, why are you here?” Jazz said as they moved on to the filing cabinet. It was locked, but a simple tug with an intangible hand pulled it right open. “You never did say.”

Danny winced. “Uh. Same thing.”

“Oh, your little brother also made you suspicious that the therapist you’ve been shadowing might not just be bad at her job, but actively evil?”

“Something like that?”

“Hey! The deal was: I tell you my story, you tell me yours!”

Danny opened his mouth to say something smart that would deflect all suspicion, but he was cut off by the sound of the office door handle turning. Before either of them could panic, he grabbed Jazz’s shoulder and turned them both invisible.

The door opened and in stepped Spectra’s odd little assistant, the short man with the green eyes. 

“Now,” he said, voice soft, “I know we didn’t leave those lights on when we left yesterday. Is someone in here?”

The little man swerved around to look under the desk, stopping right in front of Danny and Jazz. Jazz let out a little whimper before Danny got his hand over her mouth and the man’s eyes whipped up.

“Ah,” he said, “so there’s a little ghostie in here. Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m not here to muscle in on your turf. Why don’t you come out so we can talk? Face to face?”

Danny said nothing, clenching his hand harder around Jazz’s mouth. He felt something wet soak into his palm, but he couldn’t tell if it was Jazz’s sweat or tears. 

“Oh, come now. We can work together! Look,” and there was a bright flash of light and instead of the man, there was now a green blob ghost. “See! I’m one of you. More or less.”

Jazz got impossibly tenser against him.

Yeah, Danny was now willing to say that Spectra was probably evil.

“There’s no need for any… hostility between us. We won’t get in your way if you don’t get in ours.”

There was cement in his mouth, binding his jaws together. There was lava in his chest, burning holes in his heart. He couldn’t afford to be either afraid or angry right now, though. Not with Jazz right there, so very scared that he could feel her heart beating through her shirt.

“What is in your way?” he said at long last. His voice sounded like gravel, but it should help to disguise him.

“Oh, very little. We’ve got our own set up here in the school. Honestly, we’d be glad to have you around. More ghosts means more misery for us.”

“Misery?”

“Yes, well, you see, this is what I meant when I said more or less. My boss and I—we need to feed on human emotion. Misery really does the job for us, and what better place than a high that’s beset by ghosts?”

Danny said nothing, horror wiring his mouth shut.

“So you see, we have absolutely no reason to interfere with whatever your plans are for this town, and we pose absolutely no threat. Honestly, we should be friends.”

Jazz trembled in his hold. That was enough information gathering, then.

“Uh, okay, then,” he said. “Bye.”

Jazz sighed. “Well, if he likes the Packers so much, why doesn't he just buy the team then instead of all this junk?”

Ahead of them, Mr. Masters, who had been talking to Mom, hand on her arm, turned at Jazz's words. “Because,” he said through gritted teeth, “the Packers are owned by the city of Green Bay and they won't sell them to me.”

Danny snorted. Money really couldn't buy everything, it turned out.

“Vladdy,” Dad yelled, panting as he forced his way through the mansion doors. “This place looks amazing!”

Mr. Masters had been... weird, to say the least. He'd ignored Dad almost entirely, leaving him to struggle through the massive double doors with the luggage all on his own. Meanwhile, his hand had moved from Mom's arm and was slowly inching down her back.

“Is he,” Jazz said, “hitting on Mom?”

“I think I'm gonna be sick.”

“What's that, Danny?” Dad boomed. “Are you a little car sick? I brought along the Fenton Feel Better Goo for just this situation!” He shook a bottle of glowing green goop.

Danny looked between Dad (whose smile was wide and guileless), Mom (whose smile stretched over her teeth farther than looked comfortable), and Masters (whose smile made Danny want to take a shower). “Actually,” he said, “I think I just want to lie down for a minute.”

“Ah,” Masters said. “Of course. Bernard will show you to your room.”

He clapped his hands twice and a man appeared out of the shadowed corner of the room. He was short and squat, with a perfectly coiffed mane of jet-black hair on top of his head. “Of course, Mr. Masters,” Bernard said. “Come with me, young sir.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Hang on!” Jazz whispered. “You can't leave me here with them!”

“Good luck!”

“Danny!”

As he followed Bernard into another hallway, he paused to waggle his fingers at Jazz. “Love you, sis.”

Jazz drew her finger across her neck.

“So,” Danny said as the others faded out of sight, “do you... like working for Mr. Masters?”

“Of course,” Bernard said. “I'd sooner die than work anywhere else.”

“Um. Okay?” Danny stared around at the undoubtedly expensive artwork on the wall, not that he recognized any of it. “Is he... nice?”

“Mr. Masters is the greatest, kindest, and most intelligent man in this world.”

“Uh-huh.” No questions about Masters, then. Got it.

“Here is your room, sir.” Bernard stopped and turned, presenting the door like Vanna White.

“Thanks.” Danny stepped in and gasped. The room was at least three times the size of his own, with a sumptuous bed big enough to fit both him and Kwan twice over. A window on the far wall overlooked a sprawling garden; even from this distance, he could see the rose bushes surrounding a fountain shaped like Masters's head.

“Dinner will be served promptly at 6 o'clock,” Bernard said. “Do be on time.”

-----

“So this Masters guy… has a thing for your mom?” Kwan’s tinny voice rang out from his phone’s speaker.

“Yeah, and doesn’t seem to love Dad all that much either. Apparently, Dad caused a lab accident that, uh, ‘ruined his life’ a bit. Sent him to the hospital and everything.”

Dinner had been unbearable. Vlad had sat next to Mom, while Dad had been set at the other end of the table. This, of course, hadn’t discouraged him from shouting across the table in an effort to join in the conversation that he couldn’t hear. Danny’s ears were still ringing from Dad’s admittedly impressive volume.

“Well, I guess I’d be pissed, too. Maybe he invited your parents just to steal your mom.”

Danny grimaced. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“What? It sounds possible.”

“Yeah, that’s why you shouldn’t joke.”

“Is that Danny?” Dr. Huang said, muffled on the other end of the phone. “Put him on speaker!”

“Mooooom,” Kwan said, even as Danny heard the switch.

“Hi, Danny!” Dr. Huang said. “How’s Wisconsin?”

“Kinda weird, if I’m being honest. I swear, my parents and Vlad have more baggage than a flight to Paris.”

“You could always just fly back here if it gets too awkward.”

“I know you’re joking but,” Dr. Huang said, “please don’t. Not that you aren’t welcome here anytime, hon, but it might freak out your parents if you vanished from a mansion in the middle of nowhere.”

Danny rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him. “Obviously.”

Kwan sighed. “Alright, Mom, aren’t you in the middle of making dinner?”

“Kwan Huang, are you telling me to get back in the kitchen?”

“Not like that!”

There’s a brief scuffling noise and groaning (maybe Kwan dropped the phone?) as Dr. Huang lets out peals of laughter. Danny could imagine the flush on Kwan’s face as he fumbled both for words and his phone. He was still injured from that weird shapeshifting ghost, so Dr. Huang would probably help him out even as she laughed at him.  Fuck, but he wished he were there instead of stuck in this tacky mansion with creepy old men hitting on his mom and creepy butlers who were a little too dedicated to their position.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you talk to Danny while I attend to my womanly duties.”

“That’s not what I meant!” More shuffling noises. “Okay, speaker’s off.”

Danny laughed. “Dude, you are never going to win a war of words against your mom.”

Kwan groaned. “I know. Now I’m going to have to cook dinner sometime soon just to prove her wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure your mom still wins in that scenario.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”

“My god, you’re insufferable.”

“Oh, man, speaking of insufferable, I haven’t even told you about Bernard yet.”

“Oh? Who’s Bernard?”

“Creepy little butler dude. He’s obsessed with Vlad. Like unhealthily in love with the man.”

“Define ‘unhealthily in love’.”

“I asked him if he liked his job and he told me that Vlad is the kindest, smartest, greatest man in the world.”

“You’re right; that is fucking weird. He’s a billionaire, he can’t be that nice. Although… maybe you could try to set them up to get Masters’s attention off your mom?”

“Under no circumstances am I playing ‘weird old rich dude matchmaker’.”

“Fair enough.”

Danny opened his mouth to reply when a wisp of blue smoke escaped. A ghost? Here? They were nowhere near the portal, though!

“Danny?” Kwan’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Was that your ‘there’s a ghost’ gasp or just a regular one?”

“Ghost, I think. Though I don’t know how.” Danny stood up and transformed. “Don’t tell your mom. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Okay. Be careful, dude. If you die all the way I’ll track down your ghost and beat you up.”

Danny smiled. “No problem. I got this.”

-----

He may have spoken too soon.

Whoever this other ghost was (Plasmius, he’d said) he was powerful. He could fire beams of energy (something Danny had only learned last week), create shields, even duplicate himself. It was all Danny could do to dodge and avoid the blows.

And, for whatever reason, this Plasmius dude really had it out for Dad. It was sheer dumb luck that Danny had managed to phase Dad through the floor and into the bathroom while the man was still too out of it to notice the ectoplasmic energy aimed at his head.

“You’re that newbie ghost I’ve been hearing about,” Plasmius said. “The one that’s been hanging around Amity Park, protecting humans.”

Danny ducked behind a pedestal just in time to avoid another blast.

“I can’t tell if you’re naive or simply deluded! I have vastly more experience and skill than you could hope to have this early in the game, and yet you challenge me? On behalf of a human?”

“What’s it to you? Why shouldn’t I help him?”

“Idiot boy.” Plasmius’s voice was suddenly right next to him, silky smooth, his fist clenched in Danny’s hazmat suit. “Don’t you know what humans do to ghosts?”

“What are you—”

Before he could finish the question, Plasmius threw him to the ground. His head slammed against the stone hallway and he blacked out.

-----

Danny gasped awake.

He was… back in his room? In bed? He groaned and dragged his hand down his face. Everything looked normal. Was it all a dream?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

From: Kwan

how’d it go

are you dead

dude please please respond im getting worried

if you don’t say anything in the next ten minutes im telling mom and we’re coming after you

Not a dream, then. The texts were fairly recent, and, checking the clock, it had only been about thirty minutes since he’d left his room in the first place. Plasmius had really beaten him quickly. He touched the back of his head and winced. It was still tender there, but it wasn’t bleeding at least. It should be fine by morning.

To: Kwan

im okay. can i call?

From: Kwan

sure dude

Kwan picked up on the first ring. “What happened?”

“I’m… not totally sure.” Danny relayed what he remembered of the fight: him getting curb-stomped, Plasmius’s strange derision of him protecting humans, the bizarre ending. “What confuses me the most is why I woke up in bed? I mean, he could have done anything to me, I was at his mercy, but he… tucked me in?”

“And why your dad? You said he was specifically targeting him, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, man, the whole thing is just weird.”

“Do you think your parents could beat him if he came back?”

Danny flinched. He hadn’t even thought about asking his dad for help; he’d only thought about getting him out of danger. He’d tried calling his parents before, and they’d never been helpful. He was starting to get the sense that they never would be.

“Honestly,” he said, “I don’t think they could beat an ectopus.”

Kwan was silent for a long moment. “Me neither. Mom’s not gonna like that though.”

“She’ll just have to figure it out on her own, I guess.”

“Yeah. Keep me updated?”

“Of course. Good night.”

“Night, dude.”

-----

The party was somehow worse than getting beat up by a ghost last night. Sometimes, Danny forgot just how weird his parents were before being confronted with other, normal adults. Watching his father attempt to dance in front of local news reporter Harriet Chin nearly made him turn around and join Jazz in the nonstop-Packers-documentary room (even Kwan thought that was a bit much).

Just as he moved to the snack table, hoping to hide behind the punch bowl, a hand clasped his shoulder.

“Ah, young Daniel,” Vlad said, too-wide smile on his face. “There’s a gift for your father in my private study. Two doors down on the right. I’d go myself, but it would be unseemly for the host to leave in the middle of the party.”

Vlad may give him the willies, but at this point, he’d take any excuse to avoid the sight of his Dad jumping and flapping his arms like a penguin. The present was probably a gag gift, maybe a can of snakes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Dad would probably laugh

Danny took his time walking down the hall. Maybe when he got back, dance time would be over. Unfortunately, the study was fairly close by. Maybe he could snoop for a few minutes. Dally a little more.

He turned into the room Vlad had directed him to. It was scrupulously clean: a well-polished mahogany desk sat in the middle, books with fancy lettering lined the shelves (the kind that people had to show off how well-read they were, classics like The Aeneid and The Iliad), a crystal jar holding two black fountain pens, and, notably, nothing resembling a present.

Danny stepped over the threshold to check behind the desk, in case he missed it. “Did Vlad decide to prank me instead of Dad?” he said to himself.

“Not quite,” Bernard said. Danny whipped around to see the odd butler standing behind him in the doorway, a strange black cube in his hands. Before Danny could react, Bernard tossed the cube in front of him on the floor.

“Wha—” Faster than he could blink, the cube expanded and enveloped him from neck to toe, leaving only his head exposed. He tried to trigger his intangibility in the parts of his body Bernard couldn’t see, but nothing happened. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

“Well, little badger,” Vlad said, stepping through the doorway just as Bernard stepped aside, “you and I needed to have a conversation.”

“And, I don’t know, just talking to me wasn’t an option?”

Vlad snapped his fingers and Bernard left the room. “Well, I needed to be sure you wouldn’t run away.”

“Can’t imagine why I’d want to.”

“Tut tut, little badger. At least listen to what I’m going to say before dismissing me out of hand.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. His heart pounded in his chest, but he wasn’t going to let this fruitloop see his nerves. If he kept him talking, he could use the time to look for a way out of this. “Oh, you trapped me in your weird little cube thing and you’ve been hitting on my mom all weekend, but you don’t want me to be dismissive.”

“Daniel, the things you don’t know about me, about your father, about the world you now live in, could fill a thirty-volume encyclopedia.”

“What are you talking about?”

Vlad smirked. A hauntingly familiar ring appeared around his waist. As the ring split and traveled, Danny saw Plasmius standing in Vlad’s place. 

Danny groaned. This was a mess and a half. Another half-ghost? And one that wanted to kill his dad? How did he end up in these situations?

“Not impressed? Child, I’ve been half-ghost since before you were born. Your father’s idiocy cursed me with this other form, but I’ve figured out how to use it to my advantage. Right now, a duplicate of me is wowing your mother with witty repartee. I’ve stolen millions through a series of invisible burglaries that no one could ever trace. I’ve overshadowed powerful men and forced them to hand their wealth over to me. I could teach you how to use your powers to get anything you ever wanted and to keep yourself safe.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s in it for you?”

His phone buzzed against his thigh. Kwan, again. He’d been checking in periodically ever since his fight with Plasmius. If Danny didn’t reply, Dr. Huang would get involved. Hopefully, he’d get out of this mess before then.

“All I ask is that you renounce your idiot father and come stay with me.”

“And let you kill him?”

“His carelessness has turned us both into freaks! He ruined my life twenty years ago just as surely as he has ruined yours now!”

“Sorry, but I don’t actually think my life has been ruined. Guess I’m just stronger than you.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know half of the dangers that come with your new form. I pray, for your sake, that you never do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Join me, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Danny wished his hands were free so he could slap himself in the face. “God, you’re annoying. And you know what? Dad didn’t do this to me. I did it to myself because I was being dumb and reckless. Dad wasn’t even there.”

“And I suppose all proper safety measures were taken? You weren’t able to just slip into the lab on your own with no one the wiser? Turn on your parents’ portal with the press of a button?”

Danny bit his lip. When he said it like that… “Still,” he said, “that doesn’t mean he deserves to die! He’s still my dad!”

“And would he say the same? If he found out what you are?”

Danny’s phone buzzed again. “Y-Yes!” he said. “I’m still his son!”

“Are you? Are you sure that you’re still his kid, that you haven’t changed so much as to be something else entirely? Face it, my dear boy,” Plasmius said, “you have more in common with me than you will ever have with any other human.”

“You’re—you’re wrong.”

Plasmius laughed. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time to change your mind. Once your father is dead, Maddie will see that I am and always have been her best option and we’ll spend plenty of time together.

“Vlad, wait!” Plasmius phased through the wall. “Wait, don’t hurt him!” He wasn’t sure if Vlad heard him or not, but it didn’t matter. Twenty years of built-up crazy wasn’t likely to be dissuaded by the pleas of a fourteen-year-old kid. Bernard stared at him from his post at the door.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket. Maybe Kwan and Dr. Huang could do something… but no way they could get here in time. It was a two hour drive from Amity Park to Vlad’s mansion. He was stuck.

“Well golly dontcha know it, you seem to be stuck in a bit of a pickle!”

From the ceiling, a squat little green ghost in a red robe floated down.

“Dairy King!” Bernard spat. He pulled out a glowing gun. “You aren’t allowed in here.”

“Well gee, this was my house first, wasn’t it?” the little ghost said.

Bernard fired. The ghost dove out of the way behind Danny’s cube.

“Now see,” the Dairy King said, “I’m not much of a fighter, but I can at least give you a chance.” He reached under the cube and pulled a latch. Seconds later, the cube opened and Danny fell to the ground.

“You’re helping me?” Danny said.

“Well, yeah. Most ghosts don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to be left alone.”

“Dairy King! You fool!” Bernard fired again, more haphazardly. Danny grabbed the Dairy King and ducked behind the desk. “There’ll be hell to pay for this!”

“Go save your dad, kiddo. I’ll distract Bernard.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Oh, silly.” The Dairy King winked. “I always am. Go, boy.”

And the Dairy King rushed at Bernard, throwing him off balance just long enough for Danny to run out the door and into the hallway.

He could hear the faint sounds of screaming echo through the halls. Glancing back, he saw the Dairy King blasted into the wall, but he didn’t have time to stop.

As he transformed and flew into the party, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He’d just left the only ghost who hadn’t tried to hurt him to fight alone. Maybe he was more like Vlad than he thought.

-----

In the end, saving his dad and stopping Vlad was as simple as threatening to expose his secret to the crowd. He couldn’t hold a candle to Vlad’s ability, but both he and Vlad knew that Jack and Maddie Fenton were much more likely to accept Danny’s secret than Vlad’s.

He didn’t see the Dairy King again.

When things had finally calmed down enough for him to check his phone, he had twenty texts and four missed calls. Fifteen of the texts and one of the calls were from Kwan, the remainder from Dr. Huang. Apparently, after long enough with no reply, Kwan told his mother. Unfortunate, but he could hardly blame Kwan, all things considered. He hurriedly typed a response as his parents loaded up the RV.

To: Kwan, Dr. Huang

im ok. i promise. some stuff happened. tell you when i get home?

From: Dr. Huang

Thank god you’re okay! We can talk later, don’t worry.

From: Kwan

try not to get in any more fights on the way back lol

From: Dr. Huang

Kwan, please don’t joke about that. It could actually happen.

Danny smiled.

-----

“So this Vlad dude… he’s like you?”

Danny sighed. “Seems like.” His eyes cut over to where Dr. Huang was sipping on her tea. She hadn’t said anything yet except to ask a question here and there when she was confused. It made Danny nervous; usually, she’d be all over him for seeking out a fight and not seeking help. He’d been ready for the scolding. The quiet was somehow more nerve-wracking. “Except he’s had his powers for years and can beat my ass any day of the week.”

“And also he’s evil?”

“Yeah, that too.” Danny stared at his hands. “He kept saying how we were both freaks. Cursed. In danger.”

Dr. Huang hmmed. “Sounds to me like he’s just a little bitch.”

Danny choked on his spit. Next to him, Kwan started coughing. “Mom! My ribs are still healing!”

“What? He’s clearly full of shit.” She turned and looked Danny in the eye. “From what you’ve said, Vlad Masters is a bitter old man who can’t let go of the past, of any of the things he can’t have. He may be right to be angry with your father, but he’s blinded by hatred beyond all reason. You’re as similar to him as you are to Dash. Just because you have something in common doesn’t make you the same.”

Something in him calmed at Dr. Huang’s words. Danny didn’t know how, but she’d somehow honed in on exactly the thing that had been worrying him the most. Was he one day going to be just as bitter and resentful and cruel as Vlad? Was Vlad right?

“You’re not alone, Danny. Kwan and I are on your side, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.”

“Huh? When did you ever—”

Dr. Huang put down her mug. “You didn’t tell me about the fight. You and Kwan” —Kwan looked away— “both kept it a secret from me until Kwan was worried enough to tell me. You both were too scared of my reaction to tell me when you were in danger. That’s… on me.”

“Mom, I’m sorry—” Kwan sputtered.

Dr. Huang held up her hand. “No, let me finish. I’ve been so focused on keeping you safe that I’ve made you less safe. The last thing I want is for you to be injured somewhere and I can’t do anything because I don’t know about it. If I can’t stop you from fighting ghosts, I’d rather you keep me in the loop. So, I won’t stop you. I’ll help as best I can. I’ll keep looking for another solution, but in the meantime, please don’t hide this from me anymore. Please.”

Danny ducked his head. “Okay,” he whispered.

Warm arms wrapped around him in a hug. “We’ll figure this out,” she said. She rested a hand on Kwan’s arm. “All three of us. Together.”

Bertrand blinked. “That was only a taste?”

“Mmhmm. Just a tiny sliver. And, I mean, I barely had to work on him before he was convinced that everything was his fault. He’s desperate to come back so we can work on his self-improvement. And he hates the idea of being a burden, so he’s not going to complain to anyone either. Honestly, I’m half tempted just to kidnap him and squirrel him away as a personal chef.”

Bertrand patted her shoulder. “No, dear. That’s way too reckless. Remember what happened last time?”

Penelope sighed. Sarah had been such a delight, except that Penelope had pushed her way too hard. They’d had to skip town when her body was found and people started asking questions.

This time, it would be slow and steady. They’d milk these kids for years and, with any luck, none of them would kill themselves until they went off to college.

“This won’t be like last time,” Penelope said. “I think we’ll be very happy here.”

—

Penelope waved goodbye at Mikey as he slumped into the hallway. Honestly, he wasn’t half-bad, but he was still a let-down after the young Mr. Huang.

And really, she tried not to pick favorites among her students, but she couldn’t help herself. There was Kwan, obviously, a delicious little grief-and-guilt factory, but a couple others had caught her attention as well. Dash Baxter was repressing so much she hardly knew where to begin, from his clear homosexuality to his building grief that he was trying to hold back like a pebble holding back a waterfall. She was hoping that she could help him repress enough that once it finally broke, he’d drown in the resulting flood.

Metaphorically, of course. She couldn’t feed on ghosts, much to her chagrin.

There was something odd about his relationship with Paulina, too, something more than just the fact that he clearly wasn’t attracted to her, but she couldn’t quite nail it down. Hopefully, she could convince him to bring Paulina to her. Whatever fucked-up thing they had was sure to bring an avalanche of misery if she handled it just right.

Then there was Valerie Gray.

Valerie was a little more closed off, but the grief was there. The guilt, too. Surprisingly, it didn’t seem like the guilt had anything to do with Tyson. She’d poked at that wound as much as she could without arousing suspicion, but Valerie’s guilt never fluctuated. She was a bit of a tougher nut to crack than the others, but Penelope could appreciate a challenge. Maybe, when she was done, Valerie would be an even better meal than Kwan.

A shudder went up her spine at the thought. Two meal tickets of such delicious quality was almost more than she could dream of. Only one week here and already she was eating better than she had in years.

A knock on the door startled her out of her musings. She frowned, glancing at her calendar; she didn’t have any students scheduled right now. Bertrand took this hour to rob banks since neither of them had any interest in living on public school salaries, and besides, he’d just let himself in. Maybe it was Principal Ishiyama, checking in on how her new grief counselor was doing?

One way to find out.

“Come in,” she said, hands folded in front of her and winning smile on her face.

A bright orange head of hair poked in. “Sorry to intrude, Dr. Spectra, but they said you didn’t have any clients right now? I know you’re probably on break, but do you… have a minute?”

Penelope swallowed a scowl. She’d been looking forward to watching cat videos during this break period, but she needed to keep up the appearance that she was always approachable. “Of course,” she said. “What did you need, Miss…”

“Fenton,” the girl said. “Jazz Fenton.” And oh but Penelope had heard the name Fenton bandied around quite a bit. Ghost hunters, apparently, though maybe only in their dreams. There was a new portal in their house, though, which gave Penelope and Bertrand even better cover. With all the ghosts that would soon be pouring out of their ill-conceived dimensional rift, anyone with any idea of the truth of the world would be focused on the invading ghosts, not on Penelope’s questionable therapy.

Plus, more people would start dying soon enough. Oh, she never wanted to leave this town.

“I was hoping you might be in need of an assistant?”

“Dear, I’m sorry but I’m not sure—”

“Well, really I was hoping you could be kinda my mentor?” Jazz Fenton said, talking over Penelope and lowering herself into a seat in front the desk. “I just—I want to help, and if you could train me a little, give me some tips… I mean, I want to be a psychologist, too. I want to help people, like you do. Please, please, I’ll come anytime day or night. I’ll pay you, I’ll do your filing, just please, please train me.”

Jazz was anxious, that much was obvious just by looking at her. Still, there was something else there, too, beneath the waves of nerves. Penelope couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it would be fun to tease out, if she said yes to Jazz’s ridiculous proposition.

Penelope sat back in her chair and considered. On the one hand, having one of these snot-nosed brats hanging around all the time could prove tricky to work around, not to mention the work involved in actually teaching her. On the other, she could use Jazz to her advantage as well. Already, Penelope could envision sending Jazz on glorified spy missions, gathering new intel on the other students, all in the name of psychology training.

Risky, for sure, but Penelope was smart, and humans were so, so very dumb at noticing what was right under their noses. She looked at the young girl in front of her, practically vibrating in her seat with desperation. Good; desperate people were even dumber than average. She’d take those odds any day of the week.

“Well,” she said, tapping her chin, “I am pretty busy right now, but I could use a hand with my administrative work during the lunch hour. And I could maybe find some time to teach you a little of what I know.”

Before she’d finished speaking, Jazz was out of her seat and squealing. She rushed around the desk to nearly tackle Penelope in a hug; Penelope bit back an instinctive hiss. It would be annoying to be around someone so obnoxiously peppy all the time, but it would be well worth it.

Finally, the girl let go and moved toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said, waving goodbye.

Penelope wiggled her fingers. “Can’t wait!”

—

Penelope inspected her eyeliner in the compact mirror, ignoring the noise of Bertrand pacing. “I can’t believe you agreed to something like this. Are you stupid now, Penny?”

“Berty, dear,” Penelope said, closing her compact, “there’s no need to be rude. I thought it through first. Besides, since when do I consult with you on how I talk to the meals?”

“Since you decided that one of them would be your student and not your prey!”

“I think you forget which one of us is the talent in this arrangement.” Penelope’s eyes flashed and her skin darkened, just a little. “I love you, Bertrand, but don’t forget that I’m in charge here.”

Bertrand flinched. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

“Don’t I always?”

“Sarah?”

Her hand squeezed on the compact, cracking it. “Get out.”

Bertrand shifted into his blobby ghost form and flew through the wall just as her compact shattered against the floor where he’d stood.

Stupid Bertrand. She loved him dearly, of course, but he was nearly as paranoid as Vlad sometimes. Nearly as paranoid and nowhere near as brilliant.

Penelope glanced at the phone. She could call him. Vlad. She did miss him.

She reached out, then jerked her hand back. No. No. Both she and Vlad had made their choices long ago. She wouldn’t change her mind now.

Bertrand would come back soon enough. She didn’t need anyone else.

—

Jazz Fenton was annoyingly well-prepared. Penelope had assumed that she could breeze through the whole “teaching” part of the agreement: toss out some Freud and a little Jungian bullshit and let Jazz take it as gospel. She hadn’t counted on Jazz Fenton being the world’s most meticulous overachiever.

“Um, Dr. Spectra,” Jazz said, interrupting Penelope as soon as she said the name Freud, “you’re not counseling based on his ideas, are you? Because I’ve read that they’re largely discredited and no one takes them seriously anymore.”

Penelope’s smile stretched over her teeth. “Of course not, dear! But he’s still a good starting point,” she said, drawing out her words for a little extra time to think, “because… he’s really the first person to bring the concept of psychology into the mainstream!” There. That was even true!

Jazz’s furrowed brow smoothed out and she blushed a little. “Oh. Right. So sorry to interrupt, Dr. Spectra.”

“That’s quite all right, dear. It’s the sign of an eager mind!” A little too eager. Now Penelope had to think back to her long-ago college days and remember actual psychology facts. Even then, how much of that was even usable now? Who had been discredited? She had a feeling that google was about to be her new best friend.

Jazz grinned. “Thank you, Dr. Spectra. But, if you don’t mind, I have some specific questions?”

Penelope felt her eye twitch. “Hit me!”

“So, what is your opinion on cognitive behavioral therapy?”

“Well, I think it’s a useful tool when used properly.” There. That was vague enough to pass muster, right? “What do you think about it?”

Jazz tapped her pen on her notebook. “Well,” she said, “I think it’s certainly helpful, but I feel like we’re a little too reliant on it to solve every single person’s every single problem nowadays, you know?”

“That’s a fair assessment,” Penelope said. “Do you have any examples that you can think of? Maybe some of your classmates?”

“Well, I’m not actually a psychologist…” Jazz frowned. “Isn’t that a little unethical? Me trying to diagnose people?”

“Nonsense. If you were posting about it publicly and telling all your friends, sure, but think of this as… as two professionals, sharing opinions. Real psychologists do it all the time.”

Jazz’s face cleared again and her swirls of suspicion died down. Penelope would have to be really careful with what she said; the girl was entirely too well-informed.

(Maybe Bertrand was right.) 

“Hm. Well, in that case, I’d probably have to think about it. Get back to you, you know?”

No. No. This would work. This would work just fine. A good challenge.

Her pleasant smile became just the tiniest bit feral.

“Very good! A bright mind knows when to take a step back and assess, after all.”

Jazz preened. So she wasn’t immune to a little flattery.

She clicked her pen on and pulled out her notebook. Usually, during sessions, this was reserved for making notes of where to hurt and doodling pictures of Vlad getting stabbed. For right now, though, it would be for earnest note-taking of her new student.

“I will admit,” she said, “I did underestimate your base of knowledge. Please, give me a rundown of everything you know so I know where to start.”