“I’ve been reading your books,” Allie said. “Not just the one you gave us, but other ones I found lying around.”

“Good—they will be very helpful for you.”

“—and I have some questions. Like, in one book, you say haunting is forbidden, but then somewhere else you say that we’re free spirits, and can do anything we want.”

“Well, we can,” said Mary, “but we really shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“And anyway—you say that we can have no effect on the living world—they can’t see us, they can’t hear us … so if that’s true, how could we ‘haunt,’ even if we wanted to?”

Mary’s smile spoke of infinite patience among imbeciles. It made Allie furious, and so she returned the same “you’re-an-idiot-and-I’m-oh-so-smart” smile right back at her.

“As I said, it’s complicated, and it’s nothing you need to worry about on your first day here.”

“Right,” said Allie. “So I haven’t read all the books yet, I mean you’ve written so many of them—but I haven’t been able to find anything about going home.”

Allie could see Mary bristle. Allie imagined if she had been a porcupine all her quills would be standing on end.

“You can’t go home,” Mary said. “We’ve already discussed that.”

“Sure I can,” Allie said. “I can walk up to my house, walk in my front door. Well, okay, I mean walk through my front door, but either way, I’ll be home. Why don’t any of your books talk about that?”

“You don’t want to do that,” Mary said, her voice quiet, almost threatening.

“But I do.”

“No you don’t.” Mary walked to the window, and looked out over the city. Allie had chosen a view uptown: the Empire State building, Central Park, and beyond. “The world of the living doesn’t look the way you remembered, does it. It looks washed out. Less vibrant than it should.”

What Mary said was true. The living world had a fundamentally faded look about it. Even Freedom Tower, rising just beside their towers, seemed like they were seeing it through fog. It was so clearly a part of a different world. A world where time moves forward, instead of just standing still, keeping everything the way it is. Or, more accurately, the way it once was.

“Look out over the city,” Mary said. “Do some buildings look more … real … to you?”

Now that Mary had mentioned it, there were buildings that stood out in clearer focus. Brighter. Allie didn’t need to be told that these were buildings that had crossed into Everlost when they were torn down.

“Sometimes they build living-world things in places where Everlost buildings stand,” Mary said. “Do you know what happens when you step into those places?”

Allie shook her head.

“You don’t see the living world. You see Everlost. It takes a great effort to see both places at the same time. I call it ‘dominant reality.’”

“Why don’t you write a book about it,” snapped Allie.

“Actually, I have,” said Mary with a big old smirk that made it clear Mary’s was the dominant reality around here.