I read a statistic once. That every year, roughly fifteen people die in cold-related deaths during New York City winters. That’s only accounting for the homeless registered in the government’s public goods program. The number was probably way bigger.

  Nameless people who had nowhere to go. Living in tents and subway stations, using cardboard boxes to survive.

  Winter claimed them all the same.

  They came like cold winds blowing through shoddy walls. Unnoticed like they always were, a reminder of the pedestrians who strained to look at anything but them.

  The first ghost emerged from the floor, holding a cardboard sign that said ‘ARMY VET’ and ‘PLEASE HELP, HUNGRY’.

  The second appeared from thin air. Her hair floated upwards like she was underwater, wearing nothing but a nightgown.

  The unhoused army vet rubbed his hands, which had fingerless gloves on them. ‘Cold.’ He whispered and then put his hands near the fire.

  All of a sudden, I could breathe again. The smoke no longer came near my eyes or throat. Instead, I was filled with the need to warm my hands and toes. They were freezing and it only took a second for me to start shivering.

  The flames on the ceiling died down.

  That wasn’t all. The drowned woman hugged herself tightly, and I was pressed in on all sides by water. It wasn’t real, just memories of the woman in her moments before death. My lungs strained to breathe, not from the smoke, but from the sensation of being drowned.

  The practitioner stopped as his familiar groaned. The mom-section of the ghost curled protectively around the daughter, while the dad strained towards the army vet.

  “Ghosts?” The practitioner yelled through the flames. “You think–” He didn’t finish, as more flames streamed to his staff from the lighter. The ghosts moaned and the flame burned brighter, momentarily blinding me.

  “We have to go.” Wol was pushing on my butt, trying to get me up. “Fire purifies, and he’s an Evocator. Ghosts won’t stop him for long.”

  Even as Wol said that, the bounty hunter shot off a fiery curtain that washed over the Army Vet, extinguishing him from existence.

  “S-sorry.” I said to the ghost. He came here for me, only to die. Or released. But he got to feel warm. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

  ‘Run.’ Hwari urged.

  I stumbled to my feet.

  I got maybe ten feet until the drowned woman screamed.

  She was standing off against the familiar. Burn against the drowned, fire against water. Steam began to rise from the floors, centered around them.

  “Can you keep running?” Wol asked, real worry in his voice for the first time.

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  “C-can’t.” I gasped. My legs refused to listen. They were slowing down.

  Wol let out an annoyed yowl, one eye paying attention to the ghosts battling it out. “Why’s he so weak?”

  ‘No sleep. No rest. No food. No friends.’ Hwari explained on my behalf. ‘Too much hurt.’

  They were right. I wasn’t running anymore, hell, I wasn’t even jogging. My legs were made of lead and there wasn’t enough oxygen in my brain. Again, just an effect of the ghosts but it felt real enough to make a difference.

  ‘He has pushed himself too much.’ Hwari sounded sad, ‘We do not know the whole story.’

  “We need to hurry. The ghosts we summoned are too weak. Any second–”

  There was another scream which ended in a gurgle.

  The bounty hunter waded through, color returning to his face. He had most likely felt what it was like to drown.

  There was nothing between me and the practitioner anymore. His ghost wailed, trailing behind but more wary. I saw hate in the mother’s eyes. She was whispering into her daughter’s ear, while occasionally saying something to the practitioner. Hate-filled whispers with wicked sadism that promised me pain; that I’d burn.

  The practitioner was getting closer.

  I was running on school lunches and cold cut sandwiches from the RV. There was no way of knowing what time it was either. All I knew was that it was probably Tuesday now.

  I fell to my knees.

  Flames covered the ceilings again, spreading to where I was. Bits of char and ashes fell, leaving smoking holes in my clothes. I took off my backpack and hugged it close.

  “He’s taking over the scene into a burning building. The ghost is getting stronger.” Wol noted.

  Some calm part of my mind thought that would be interesting if I wasn’t dying. That ghost familiars could be empowered by recreating scenes of their death.

  A piece of lumber fell from the ceiling, landing right in front of me.

  ‘Burn.’ The mother ghost whispered.

  I got scared and started freaking out.

  Maybe the drowned woman’s emotions were still in my system. Maybe being surrounded by ghosts had fucked me up mentally, being so near the sensation of dying. I knew it was everything: that the ghost wasn’t just channeling the sensation of being burned alive but the fear they had felt too.

  I started whimpering and crawling on the floor and trying my damndest to get away from the flames.

  Hwari sank into the shadows and resurfaced from a wall. She swung her tail fins, scattering droplets towards my would-be killer’s eyes. But he had been waving his torch back and forth in front of him, ready for Hwari to try something. The flames touched her, pierced through her ethereal body.

  She didn’t scream, but her body scattered into smoke. She fell to the floor and sank beneath.

  “Keep going.” Wol said and ran back the way I came.

  My brave familiar bounded towards the practitioner. He swung with his staff and Wol simply bounded off the walls. There was a yowl as the feline scratched at the man’s hands holding the staff. The bounty hunter started cursing in some language I didn’t know.

  I didn’t need to be told that Wol and Hwari weren’t the type of familiars to fight head-on like this. They were advisors and helpers. They were there to help me be more of what I was, helping with rituals, spells, and rounding out my own skillset.

  Wol was the planner. Him jumping in like that? It was a sign that I was tapped dry. That he was desperate.

  Strength kept seeping out. The edges of my vision began to close in. The hallway slowly transformed into a tunnel.

  I was suffocating to death.