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Shaper started to say something, then sat back down on the table, lifting his feet away from the hands reaching out of the rug, and only whimpering a little. Complaining wouldn't do any good, since Victor was ignoring the plucking at his boots, sitting in a chair by a new fire, and reading a leather bound book. Suddenly Victor picked up the book and stared along its spine.

"Vic? You're gonna have trouble reading like that..."

"There are pages missing," Victor said annoyed. "Now I can't finish it."

"Make it up," Shaper said, watching a severed hand make the globe on the table beside him spin. "How can you be concerned about something like that in surroundings like this?"

Victor tossed him the book. "Take a look Shape." Shaper caught the book automatically, putting his feet down to brace. There was a crunching noise. He looked down to see painfully writhing fingers withdraw back into the carpet.

"That's the way," Victor chuckled, flexing his fingers over the fire, and glancing over his shoulder. "Show 'em who's boss." Shaper made a noise somewhere between disgusted and scared, but started flipping through the book. The first thing he noticed is that it wasn't an entertaining book, or a research book, like he'd assumed. It was some sort of journal. There were notes in cramped hand writing and ink sketches. Shaper looked up slowly, still turning pages.

"Victor where did you - LOOK OUT!"

Victor stepped out of the way as a pair of swords fell from over the fireplace and crashed down where he'd been standing moments before. Both men stared at it for a moment, then Angel wrenched it out of the floor, and hung it back into place.

"That's it," Shaper said, reaching around his back. "I'm wearing my mask for the rest of the night."

Victor heaved a deep sigh. "On top of everything else, I have to deal with you, in that thing in uncertain lighting. Have a little human decency, Shape."

"I don't want things falling on me and killing me," pouted Shaper, but he kept his hand away from the porcelain-like mask at the back of his belt. The mask made Victor jumpy for some reason - and the way he'd said that made Shaper think he was a little less at ease than the short wiry haired man was pretending. It made him feel conversely better that Victor was in fact even the littlest bit scared.

"Let's go have a look upstairs." Victor made sure the fire screen was in place, and headed out to the front hall.

"Victor, there's all that blood on the stairs," Shaper whimpered.

"We've been through this, it's not really blood."

More of the crimson flood washed down the stairs causing ripples in the puddle on the floor in front of them. A scream tore through the assorted creaks and a figure in what appeared to be a night dress flung itself down the stairs towards them.

"Aiieee!" screeched Shaper as it went through them.

"Shape..."

"Yeah Victor?"

"You know that I'm fond of you right?"

"Yeah?"

"And I'm really not trying to give you too hard time about your fear of ghosts..."

"Yeah?"

"But if you don't get out of my arms, I'm going to tip over, and I swear to god, I'll make sure you fall in that Goddamn puddle."

"Carry me," the risen whimpered, keeping his arms around Victor's neck.

"Now, Shaper. You're bigger than me, and I'm overbalancing." Reluctantly, Shaper climbed down from his perch in Victor's arms.

"Please don't make me walk through that stuff," he whimpered. Angel sighed and took pity on him.

"Look Shaper, if you hug the wall, there isn't much there. Follow me."

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Shaper stopped trying to scrub off his legs. "The part where the walls tried to grab me, the portraits watched us go and laughed, or the foot prints with nobody making them splashed through the blood?"

"The part where we got to the top of the stairs."

"I hate you."

The upper floor was if anything worse.

"Uh so if ghosts are cold, then why are they all up here?"

"I don't catch your meaning."

"I thought heat rose..."

Victor looked sideways at Shaper and gave a little grin. "Glad to see you're keeping your spirits up."

"I hate you."

A naked man tearing at his flesh floated down the hallway towards them. Writhing bodies of adolescents, half burned by some terrible heat clutched at each other, as spectral flames dancing around them. Victor ignored them, and walked down the hall, stepping over a pile of what looked like animal bones drenched in blood, to try a door. A sobbing woman, tears dark trails down her cheeks came through it, glaring accusingly at them both.

"You never did anything," she sobbed in a high, piercing voice. "You could have helped, you worthless piece of shit."

Angel sighed in disgust, stepping backward away from her. The specter turned her attention on Shaper.

"You as good as killed me by walking away, and yet you come back, I can always see you - what do you want from me, cum-wad? I don't regret it. You do. I know you do, you always do." She poked cold fingers at him, trailing blood from wrists slashed to the elbow. "I hope you're happy now."

Shaper screamed and grabbed at his already tousled hair, backing up. "I can't take much more of this, Victor!"

"Ghosts are just dead people Shaper - they can't hurt you if you don't let them."

"I don't CARE if it's DEAD Vic, it STILL scares the bejesus out of me!" squirmed the dark-haired youth clutching at Victor's shoulders.

Victor chuckled. "Hell Shaper, most of the things that scare the bejesus out of me are dead, but you don't see that bothering me."

"That's because you made them dead, you cocky sonnova bitch."

"Not all of them, some of them were dead before I got there, and that was the problem."

Shaper clenched his teeth together. Hitting Victor would not help the situation.

"Do something, or I'm going bugshit and I'm taking you with me!"

"Fine," muttered Victor, and dug into his pouch. "I'll move the fucking ghost. You are such a wuss." After a few moments search, hampered by Shaper clinging on his arm, Victor produced a pair of plain black gloves, made out of what appeared to be silk. He slipped them on and moved forward, grasping the ghost by the wrists, and dragging her sideways.

"You aren't being particularly polite," he lectured as he moved her. "Look at you, you¹re skin and bones - what have you done to resolve your issues in the last decade - do you want to be a bit of ectoplasm for the rest of your life?"

Shaper stared bug-eyed as the ghost glared at Victor flailing her legs, since they went through Victor without touching him. Then, as if in a huff, she disappeared.

"How did you do that? I thought they could touch you where they wanted, but you couldn't touch them?"

"The gloves. A mage I knew taught me how to make them."

"They why haven't you been using them?"

Angel sighed, low and deep, and tapped out a clove, sticking it into his mouth and rolling it around for a moment before lighting it.

"The truth? The more I use 'em, the more I'm convinced that the ghosts are real, and because I can touch them, they can touch me."

"You're saying they can't hurt you because you don't believe in them?"

"No, I believe in them, I just don't believe they can hurt me. As long as I don't give them that power, they don't have it."

"That sounds like a bag of shit."

"Bag of shit or not, it's true."

"Then give me the damn gloves," Shaper demanded. "I already believe in 'em so it won't do me any harm."

"Can't," Victor said, savoring a mouthful of smoke.

"Why not, you laconic bastard?"

"Your hands are too big." Victor raised one fine-boned hand and motioned for Shaper to put his against it. Shaper's fingers were larger by half a joint and wider across the palm, as well as being a different shape. "If you put the gloves on, you'll stretch 'em, which'll break the spell." He turned it slightly inside out to reveal delicate silvery stitchery that pulsed and glowed faintly.

"That's a lousy reason," pouted Shaper.

"Sorry." Victor tried to smoke slowly, pulling off the gloves to re-stow them - this time in his pocket.

"Can you teach me how to make those gloves?"

"Don't remember how."

"Bullshit!"

Victor tried the door, and this time got it open. He stepped through, and Shaper crowded behind so close he was practically in Victor's hip pocket.

"Will you back off?"

"Nuh-uh." Shaper shook his head violently. "I'm sticking with you."

Victor shoved him backwards half a foot. "Well stick with me a little further away, would you? Stop lurking."

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Shaper sulked away a few steps. "Better?"

"It'll do." Victor began poking about the bedroom, looking in jars and drawers, and Shaper threw himself on the dusty canopy bed. He heaved a sigh and relaxed. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the bed, it was nice and soft. Maybe he could get that nap he'd been meaning to grab. They'd been walking for days, trying to find a place to make some money. Add that to Victor's generally inexhaustible nature, and it combined to make a very worn out risen. He relaxed further, listening to the sound of objects moving. He felt the edge of the bed sink down. Ah, Victor was seeing the wisdom of Shaper's ways. He knew it would happen eventually. As if from a distance, he heard his friend's voice.

"Shape, you remember how I mentioned that I didn't think it was a good idea to sleep."

"Mmm."

"And you asked me why, but the subject got changed?"

"Mmm?" Shaper answered sleepily.

"Well, have you ever read Dracula?"

"Mmmn." Shaper yawned, and felt a hand touch his forehead gently.

"You either want to finish going to sleep, or wake up, Shaper."

"Kiss me you fool," mumbled Shaper, patting the hand that was now touching the hollow of his throat. There was a ring on it. Victor didn't wear jewelry.

Shaper woke up all in one jerk and flung himself backwards. A very offended looking, matronly woman with a red spot the size of a quarter between her eyes, crossed her arms and turned away, revealing that most of the back of her head was gone. She faded away.

"Huh... Huh... huh..." panted Shaper, eyes wide.

"'Kiss me, you fool'?" Victor asked, arching an eyebrow. "Who precisely did you think was there?"

Shaper gathered what dignity he could, and dusted himself off. "I was asleep." He frowned accusingly. "You could have warned me before I got accosted by an undead harlot!"

"'Undead harlot'? Is Amy here?" Victor asked, wandering back out the door.

"Ow..." Shaper said, putting a hand over his heart. "I'm telling!"

It was a pretty big house. Shaper sulkily followed Victor though every last room upstairs, determined that there wasn't more than a crawlspace for an attic, which even Victor declined to go into after sticking his head up. Angel insisted that Shaper not even look, which the risen thought was more tact than Victor had.

"Dude, Victor... your hair is full of spider webs," chuckled Shaper, reaching out to pick a few stray wisps from his friend's hair. "Thanks."

"Ech." Victor shrugged. "Mock me again, and you're going up there, spiders or no."

"Me? Mock?" Shaper affected his most innocent face. "Would I do something like that?"

"Do you breathe?"

"Most of the time."

"Then yes."

Shaper started to chuckle, but stopped when a woman in a wedding dress drifted past, her face going from young to old and back again as she moved. The chuckle turned into a whimper.