Kant reached for the curtain, his fingers brushing against the soft material.
Tap. Tap. The rhythmic sound came again, this time more insistent. He could see a shadow—just barely—flickering against the glass.
God forbid it would be another spirit sitting outside. Kant would go to a church and ask to be exorcised.
Gabriel leaned closer. "What is it? Is someone out there?"
Kant hesitated, his fingers tightening on the curtain. He sure hoped no one would be outside his window on the third floor.
He slowly lifted and pulled the curtain aside. Kant's eyes scanned the area outside—empty, dark. Nothing but the quiet street, the few trees rustling in the wind.
Gabriel furrowed his brow, confused. "It stopped. What—"
Suddenly, the tap came again, this time from the side of the window, startling both of them.
Kant jerked his head toward the sound. It came from the ledge, just beside the glass. He leaned over and scoffed.
A bird. A magpie.
It was standing on the window ledge, pecking at the glass with its sharp beak, clearly irritated at not getting any attention.
The bird cocked its head to the side as if judging him or demanding something.
Kant exhaled, his body relaxing as the suspense drained from him. He stared at the magpie, momentarily feeling ridiculous.
"Just a bird," Gabriel muttered, his voice breezy with relief. Then he chuckled, as if trying to comprehend why they'd been so tense. "I thought it was something... supernatural. Like a grim reaper coming to get me."
Kant rubbed the back of his neck, fighting a smile. "Yeah, me too," he admitted, shaking his head.
The bird gave one last annoyed tap, as if confirming that it was done with them, and then flew off into the night with a raucous caw. The sound faded into the distance, leaving only the quiet of the apartment.
"People say magpies bring bad luck," Gabriel commented.
Kant stepped back, pulling the curtain closed anew. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Get back to work."
With a nod, the ghost fell back into the cushions and turned on his maximum-focus mode.
The sound of papers flicking and keyboard clacking filled the silence for a good half an hour. With the ghost usually moving around and commenting on everything, Kant found it strange to be able to hear the quiet ticking of the clock.
However, it didn't last long. After about ten more minutes, Gabriel let out a frustrated groan and stood up.
"I looked through articles about the blue moon, but they're all talking about the same thing—spiritual practices and superstitions," he muttered, stretching his arms.
Kant looked up, resting his chin on his hand. "Anything about paranormal phenomena?"
Gabriel turned to deny, but got distracted by the glasses sitting on Kant's nose, "When did you put those on? Is your vision bad?"
"I only use them for reading," Kant replied, adjusting the glasses slightly.
The ghost walked over to observe the thin, silver-framed glasses and couldn't resist teasing, "Are you a librarian? Do you own a tweed blazer? I bet that'd suit you right now."
Kant raised an eyebrow as Gabriel continued, "Next, a button-down white shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to reveal your forearms and a pair of dark grey trousers." He leaned on the edge of the coffee table with a grin, "You would look like an intellectual."
"Stop distracting me." Kant tried to wave him away, but to no avail.
"You know, while you were sleeping, I was thinking... If I can touch objects and dead things, why can't I touch my body?"
Kant raised an eyebrow, "What other dead things did you touch?"
"A dead fly on your windowsill, but that's besides the point," the ghost waved impatiently. "What I'm curious about is whether I can't touch my body because it's me or whether it's not actually dead like we think it is..."
Back down the road of denial he went.
Kant tried to interrupt, "Gabriel—"
"No, no, let me finish!" Gabriel insisted, straightening. "I'm supposed to be a ghost, but I have a heartbeat and I'm breathing. What ghost can do that? Maybe I'm really just in a coma!"
"The hospital doesn't keep comatose patients in the morgue," Kant remarked.
"I know, but when I possessed the body to walk to the fridge, it didn't feel any different from before. It's not deteriorating. Doesn't that mean it's still alive?" Gabriel speculated, running his fingertips over the wooden surface.
Kant took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How can your body be alive if there's a bullet in your head?"
Gabriel winced faintly at the mention, but quickly recovered, "Maybe it missed the brain."
"Do you have an answer for everything?" Kant muttered.
"Do you shoot down everything I say?" came a retort. "I'm here trying, but you just keep denying!"
Their gazes clashed in a wordless standoff. The air in the room became heavier, and for a split second, Gabriel's eyes seemed to darken with something akin to disappointment. But the next moment, he broke the eye contact and sauntered back to the laptop.
"Whatever, I'll just keep looking," the ghost mumbled as he plopped back down on the couch.
Kant observed the ghost for a moment, his gaze unreadable beneath his calm demeanor. He put his glasses back on and returned to the file, the papers crinkling softly as he shifted through them, as if nothing happened.
A blink later, Gabriel broke the silence again. "I found an organization that brings back the dead!"
"A what now?" Kant set the file aside and left the table to see what the ghost was talking about.
"It's called Lazarus Blessing," Gabriel read. "It's a private project that claims to have the ability to bring the dead back to life. They're still in the early stages of research and development, so they're gathering believers and sponsors."
He scrolled further, skimming through the information. "They have a website. And there's even a video." Gabriel turned the laptop so Kant could see it too, then pressed play.
A documentary format short movie began. A hall of people praying in front of a statue of a bandaged man came into view. A solemn voice in the background explained the history of the organization, its members, and their practices.
Kant sighed as he looked at the gullible ghost, who was beaming with eagerness. He didn't want to be the bringer of bad news, but it couldn't be avoided.
"Gabriel, that's a cult."
The smile on Gabriel's face faltered. "How do you know that?"
Kant glanced at the man that appeared in the video, shook his head, and went to bring over the file. "They're gathering 'donations' from desperate families. They haven't published any papers, so their research could be anything from non-existent to fraudulent."
"But if you want proof it's a cult," Kant held the file in front of Gabriel, "here it is."
The ghost did a double take, then grabbed the papers to see them closer. "That's your target?!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting between the cult leader on the screen and the image on Kant's file. "The leader of Lazarus Blessing?!"
"Cult leader," Kant corrected him.
Gabriel's shoulders slumped as he absorbed the revelation. "So they're not trying to bring back the dead?"
Kant shook his head. "No. Their main purpose is to bring in more people to cash in on their donations. It's a common tactic. They use the hope of resurrection to target families who have lost someone."
"Damn it." The ghost flopped back on the couch with a long sigh, practically merging with it. "The only lead I find turns out to be a cult..." He thought for a while, then asked, "Would you have fallen for it if you stumbled across this after losing your friend?"
Kant crossed his arms, denying, "I'm not an idiot. Once someone dies, there's no way to reverse it. The living have to deal with the consequences, that's all."
Gabriel didn't like that wording. "Am I an idiot then? For trying to reverse my death?" he stood up with a sharp move. "No, even better—no living seem to be impacted by my death. What consequences? Life just moves on for everyone while I'm stuck here!"
"I'd say I'm pretty damn affected by your death," Kant muttered, closing the file. He tucked it back into the envelope, then went to put on his shoes.
"Hey! Where are you going? You can't just offend me and leave!" Gabriel fumed.