Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

Desdemona Tripplethorne returned to the tea shop, telling them she
wanted to see the new employee at Charon’s Crossing for herself. Squat Man
and Thin Man crowded behind her, staring at Wallace. Desdemona studied
him as he fidgeted. Finally, her brow furrowed, and she said, “Have … have
we met? I swear I know you from somewhere.”
“No,” Wallace said. “How could we have? I’ve never been here before.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly. She shook her head. “My name
is Desdemona Tripplethorne, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m a clairvoyant
—”
Mei coughed. It sounded strangely like bullshit.
Desdemona ignored her. “—and I come here from time to time to speak to
the spirits that haunt this place. I know how it sounds. But there is more to the
world than you could possibly know.”
“Is there?” Wallace asked. “How do you know?”
She tapped the side of her head. “I have a gift.”
She left an hour later, disappointed when the planchette on her Ouija
board and the feather quill hadn’t moved even a millimeter. She would be
back, she announced grandly before leaving the tea shop in a swirl of selfentitlement,
Thin Man and Squat Man hurrying after her.
It went on, life did, ever forward. Good days, the not-so-good days, the
days when he wondered how he could stand being surrounded by death for
much longer. It hit Hugo too; though few and far between, he still had panic
attacks, days when his breath would catch in his chest, lungs constricting.
Wallace never tried to force him through the attacks, just sat on the back deck
with him, tap, tap, tapping, Apollo alert at Hugo’s feet. When Hugo
recovered, breaths slow and deep, Wallace whispered, “All right?”
“I will be,” Hugo said, taking Wallace’s hand in his own.
It wasn’t always Husks. Spirits still came to them, spirits who needed
someone like Hugo as their ferryman. Often, they were angry and destructive,
bitter and cold. Some of them stayed for weeks, ranting and raving about how
they didn’t want to be dead, that they didn’t want to be trapped here, they
were going to leave, and nothing was going to stop them, pulling at the cables
extending from their chests to Hugo’s, threatening to remove the hook that
kept them grounded.
They didn’t.
They always stayed.