He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, head bowed as he gagged.

  He felt it the moment the flower hit his chest and bloomed.

  It pulsed once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Again and again and again.

  Someone crouched next to him. “Wallace?” Hugo asked, sounding worried. “What did you do to him?”

  “Um, Hugo?” Mei said, voice trembling.

  “What I wanted to,” the Manager said. “It’s time for a change. They don’t like it, but they’re old and stuck in their ways. I can handle them.”

  “Hugo.”

  “What, Mei?”

  She whispered, “You’re touching him.”

  Wallace lifted his head.

  Hugo was next to him on his knees, hand on Wallace’s back, rubbing up and down. It stilled when Mei spoke, the heavy weight of it like a brand.

  Hugo choked out, “Are you…?”

  “Alive?” the Manager asked. “Yes. He is. A gift for you, Hugo, and one not to be taken lightly.” He sniffed. “It can just as easily be taken away. And I’ll be the first one here for it in case the need arises. Don’t disappoint me, Wallace. I’m taking a chance on you. I would prefer not to regret that. I’m pretty sure the repercussions would be endless.”

  “My heart,” Wallace croaked as the pulse in his chest thundered against his ribcage. “I can feel my—”

  Hugo kissed him. His hands cupped Wallace’s face, and he kissed him as if it were the last thing he would ever do. Wallace gasped into his mouth, his lips warm and soft. Hugo’s fingers dug into his cheeks, a pressure unlike anything Wallace had ever felt before.

  He did the only thing he could as stars burst in his eyes.

  He kissed Hugo back. He breathed him in, chasing the remnants of peppermint on Hugo’s tongue. Wallace kissed him for all he was worth, giving everything he could. He was crying, or Hugo was crying, or they were both crying, but it didn’t matter. He kissed Hugo Freeman with all his might.

  Hugo pulled away, but only just, pressing their foreheads together. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Hugo.”

  Hugo tried to smile, but it collapsed. “Is this real?”

  “I think so.”

  And Hugo kissed him again, sweet and shining, and Wallace felt it down to the tips of his toes.

  He kissed Wallace on the lips and the cheeks and on his eyelids when Wallace could no longer bear to look at him so closely. He kissed away the tears, saying, “You’re real. You’re real. You’re real.”

  Eventually, they broke apart.

  Eventually, Hugo stood, knees popping.

  He held a hand out toward Wallace.

  Wallace didn’t hesitate.

  Hugo’s grip was strong as he pulled Wallace up. He stared down at their joined hands in wonder before tugging Wallace close. He lowered his head to Wallace’s chest, ear pressed against the left side of his ribcage. “I can hear it,” he whispered. “Your heart.”

  And then he stood upright and hugged Wallace tightly. Wallace’s breath was knocked from his chest as Hugo squeezed him as hard as he could. He was lifted off his feet as Hugo laughed, spinning them both around.

  “Hugo!” Wallace shouted, dizzy as the room spun around them. “You’re going to make me sick if you don’t put me down!”

  Hugo did. He tried to step back, but Wallace didn’t let him get far. He interlocked his fingers with Hugo’s, palm to palm. He barely had time to react before Mei jumped on him, legs wrapped around his waist, her hair in his nose. He laughed when she began to beat her fists against his chest, demanding that he never do anything so stupid again, and how could you be so dumb, Wallace, how could you possibly think you could ever say goodbye?

  He kissed her hair. Her forehead. She squealed when he tickled her side, jumping back off him.

  And then Nelson and Apollo came running.

  Except they passed right through him.

  Nelson almost fell to the floor. Apollo did, smashing into the wall behind them. The windows rattled in the turret. He got up, shaking his head, looking confused.

  “He’s alive,” the Manager said dryly. “You can’t touch him. At least not yet. Mei will have to show you how.”

  They looked at the Manager. “What do you mean?” Wallace asked, still dazed. “How can I—”

  Mei said, “A Reaper.”

  The Manager nodded. “The job will be bigger than you can handle. If you’re going to see to the Husks, then you’ll need another Reaper to assist you. Wallace already understands how it works. Everyone knows it’s cheaper to keep the employees you have rather than hiring someone new. Wallace, hold out your hand.”

  Wallace looked at Hugo, who nodded. He held out his hand.

  “Mei,” the Manager said. “You know what to do.”

  “Damn right,” Mei said. “Wallace, watch me, okay?” She lifted her own hand, fingers flexing. She brought up her other hand and tapped a familiar pattern into her palm. A light pulsed briefly in her hand.

  Wallace let go of Hugo, though he was loath to do so. He tapped the same pattern onto his own hand.

  At first nothing happened.

  He frowned. “Maybe I did it wr—”

  The room shuddered and shook. His skin vibrated. Gooseflesh prickled along the back of his neck. His hands trembled. The air around him expanded as if it lay on the surface of a soap bubble. The bubble popped.

  Wallace looked up.

  The colors of the fourth floor were sharper. He could see the grains in the walls, the finite cracks in the floor. He reached for Hugo, and his hand went right through him. He panicked until the Manager said, “You can change back, like Mei. Repeat the pattern, and you’ll be amongst the living once more. It’s part of being a Reaper. This will allow you to interact with those who’ve passed.” He made a face. “With the Husks, unfortunate creatures that they are.”

  Apollo approached him slowly, nostrils flaring. He craned his neck until his snout pressed against Wallace’s hand. His tail started wagging furiously as he licked Wallace’s fingers.

  “Yes,” Wallace said with a grimace. “I’m happy to feel you too.”

  And then Nelson was on him, hugging him almost as hard as his grandson had. “I knew it,” Nelson whispered. “I knew we’d find a way.”

  Wallace hugged him back. “Did you?”

  Nelson scoffed as he pulled away. “Of course I did. I never doubted it, even for a second.”

  “Switch back,” the Manager said.

  Wallace repeated the same pattern on his palm. The room stuttered around him again, the sharpness fading as quickly as it’d arrived. Needing reassurance that it’d worked, he reached for Hugo once more, taking his hand. He lifted Hugo’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. Hugo stared at him in wonder. “It’s real,” Wallace whispered to him.

  “I don’t understand,” Hugo admitted. “How?”

  They turned to the Manager once more. The boy sighed as he crossed his arms. “Yes, yes. You’re alive again. How wonderful for you.” He looked grim. “This isn’t something to be taken lightly, Wallace. In all of history, there has only been one person who was brought back to life in such a way.”

  Wallace gaped at him. “Holy shit. I’m like Jesus?”

  The Manager scowled. “What? Of course not. His name was Pablo. He lived in Spain in the fifteenth century. He was … well. It’s not important who he was. All that matters is you know this is a gift, and one that can be taken away just as easily.” He shook his head. “You cannot go back to the life you lived, Wallace. For all intents and purposes, that life is still dead. The people who knew you, the people who … put up with you, to them, you’re dead and buried with nothing left but a stone marker to show you existed at all. You can’t return. It would create disorder, and I won’t have it. You’ve been given a second chance. You won’t be given another. I’d suggest getting that heart looked at as quickly as possible. Better to be safe than sorry. Do you understand?”

  No. He really didn’t. “What if someone sees me who used to know me?” He thought the chance miniscule, but the last weeks had shown him how strange the world really was.

  “We’ll deal with it then,” the Manager said. “I mean it, Wallace. Your place is—”

  “Here,” Wallace said, squeezing Hugo’s hand because he could. “My place is here.”

  “Exactly. You have much work ahead of you. It’s up to you to prove to me that my faith in you isn’t misplaced. No pressure.” The Manager yawned widely, jaw cracking. “I think that’s enough excitement for one day. I’ll be back shortly to outline what’s next. Mei will act as your trainer. Listen to her. She’s good at what she does. Maybe even the best I’ve seen.”

  Mei blushed even as she continued to glare at the Manager.

  “I’m leaving now,” the Manager said. “I’ll be keeping tabs on all of you. Consider it an evaluation of those in our employ. Reorient yourself with the living world.” He glanced at Hugo before looking back at Wallace. “Do what it is humans do when they’re enamored with each other. Get it out of your system. I don’t want to come back and catch you two in flagrante delicto.” He made an obscene gesture with his hands, something Wallace never wanted to see a child do, even if said child seemed to be as old as the universe.

  Hugo sputtered.

  “Oh my god,” Wallace mumbled, knowing his cheeks were red.

  “Yes,” the Manager said. “I know. It’s terribly vexing. I don’t know how you put up with it. Love seems positively dreadful.” He turned toward the stairs, antlers beginning to grow from his head, flowers blooming from the velvet. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. He grinned, winked, and descended the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, they could hear the sound of hooves on the floor of the tea shop. A blue light flashed through the window that pointed toward the front of the house.

  And then it—he—was gone.

  They stood silently, listening as the clocks in the tea shop began ticking once more.

  Nelson spoke first. “What a strange day this has been. Mei, I think I could use a cup of tea. Would you join me?”

  “Yep,” she said, already heading for the stairs. “I’m thinking something fancy to celebrate.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Nelson replied. He hobbled toward the stairs, Apollo and Mei trailing after him. Like the Manager, he stopped before descending. When he looked back at Wallace and Hugo, his eyes were wet, and he was smiling. “My dear boy,” he said. “My lovely Hugo. It’s your time now. Make the most of it.”

  And with that, he walked down the stairs, telling Mei and Apollo he was thinking along the lines of the Da Hong Pao tea, something that made Mei gasp in delight. The last they saw of them was the tip of Apollo’s tail as it flicked back and forth.

  “Christ,” Wallace said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe how tired I am. I feel like I could sleep for a—”

  “I love you too,” Hugo said.

  Wallace sucked in a breath as he closed his eyes. “What?”

  He felt Hugo standing before him. His hand caressed the side of his face. He leaned into it. How he’d lasted all these weeks without his touch, Wallace would never know. “I love you too,” Hugo said again, and it came with a hushed reverence akin to prayer.

  Wallace opened his eyes. Hugo filled the world until he was all Wallace could see. “You do?”

  Hugo nodded.

  Wallace sniffed. “Damn right you do. You’re very lucky to have—”

  Hugo kissed him once more.

  “I think,” Wallace said against Hugo’s lips, “that we should forgo the tea, at least for now.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Hugo asked, nose brushing against Wallace’s own.

  Wallace shrugged. “Perhaps you could give me a tour of your bedroom.”

  “You’ve seen it before.”

  “Yes,” Wallace said. “But that was when I was wearing clothes. I expect it’ll be different if we got rid of—” He yelped when the world tilted as Hugo lifted him up, throwing him over his shoulder. He was stronger than he looked. “Oh my god. Hugo, put me down!” He beat his hands against Hugo’s back, laughing as he did so.

  “Never,” Hugo said. “Never, ever, ever.”

  Wallace raised his head and looked up at the door as Hugo headed for the stairs. For a brief moment, he saw the flowers and leaves growing along the wood. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  But the door was just that: a door.

  It didn’t respond.

  It would, one day. It waited for all of them.

  * * *

  The tour of Hugo’s bedroom went smashingly. It really was better without clothing.

  EPILOGUE

  On an evening in the middle of summer, Nelson Freeman said, “I think it’s time.”

  Wallace looked up. He was washing the counter after another day manning the register of Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats. Hugo and Mei were in the kitchen, getting their prep done for the following morning. It was good work, hard work. He was tired more than he wasn’t, but he went to bed every night with a sense of accomplishment.

  It certainly didn’t hurt that he and Hugo worked as well together as they did. After the Manager had left, and once the fiery shine of living had faded slightly, Wallace worried that it was too much too soon. It was one thing having a ghost living in your home. It was something else entirely to have them made flesh and blood and sharing a bed. He’d thought about moving somewhere in town to give them some space or, at the very least, to another room in the house.

  Nancy had decided to move back to where she’d come from, and her apartment had become available. She’d come to say goodbye, hugging Hugo before she left. She looked … brighter, somehow. She wasn’t healed, and probably wouldn’t be for a long time, if ever, but life was slowly returning to her. She told Hugo, “I’m starting again. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. But I won’t forget what happened here.”

  And with that, she left.

  Hugo had shot down the idea of Wallace taking her apartment over with a grumpy expression, arms folded. “You can stay here.”

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve got the hard part out of the way, Wallace. I want you here.” He frowned, looking unsure. “Unless you want to leave.”

  “No, no,” Wallace said hastily. “I rather like where I’m at.”

  Hugo grinned at him. “Do you? And what exactly do you like about it?”

  Wallace blushed, mumbling under his breath how cocky Hugo had become.

  And that was the last time he’d mentioned it.

  Shortly after his resurrection (a word he tried not to think too much about), he had Hugo call his former law firm. At first, no one would listen, but Hugo was persistent, Wallace feeding him the right words to say. Wallace had made an awful mistake, and Patricia Ryan should be rehired immediately, her daughter’s scholarship restored. It took nearly a week for Hugo to get one of the partners on the phone—Worthington—and when Hugo told him why he was calling, Worthington said, “Wallace wanted this? Wallace Price? Are you sure? He was the one who fired her. And if you knew Wallace, you know he never admitted to mistakes.”

  “He did this time,” Hugo said. “Before he died, he sent me a handwritten letter. I didn’t receive it until a few days ago.”

  “Post office,” Worthington said. “Always running behind.” Silence. Then, “You’re not having me on, right? This isn’t some joke from beyond the grave that Wallace wanted you to pull?” He snorted. “Never mind, that can’t be it. Wallace didn’t know how to joke.”

  Wallace muttered under his breath about the ridiculousness of lawyers.

  “I can send you the letter,” Hugo said. “You can verify his handwriting. He’s very clear about wanting Mrs. Ryan to have her job back.”

  Sweat trickled down the back of Wallace’s neck as he waited, staring down at the phone on the counter.

  Worthington sighed. “I never thought she deserved what happened to her. She was good. More than, even. I’ve actually been thinking about calling her and…” He paused. “Tell you what: send me what you have, and I’ll take a look at it and go from there. If she wants to come back to work with us, then we’d be glad to have her.”

  “Thank you,” Hugo said as Wallace cheered silently. “I appreciate that. I know Wallace would—”

  “How did you know Wallace?” Worthington asked.

  Wallace froze.

  Hugo did not. He looked at Wallace as he said, “I loved him. I love him still.”

  “Oh,” Worthington said. “That’s—I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know he … had someone.”

  “He does,” Hugo said simply.

  Worthington disconnected, and Wallace hugged Hugo as hard as he could. “Thank you,” he whispered into Hugo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t easy. Of course it wasn’t. Wallace was learning how to live again, an adjustment that proved harder than he expected. He still made mistakes. But he wasn’t like he’d been before his heart had stopped.

  They argued, sometimes, but it was always small, and they didn’t leave things unsaid. They were making it work. Wallace was sure they always would.

  And it wasn’t as if they were in each other’s back pockets all the time. They all had jobs to do. Mei took on her role as Wallace’s trainer with gusto. She was quick to point out when he messed up, but never held it against him. She worked him hard but only because she knew what he was capable of. “One day,” she told him, “you’ll be doing this on your own. You gotta believe in yourself, man. I know I do.”

  It was more than he expected. He never thought about death until he died. And now that he’d returned, he sometimes struggled with the bigger picture, the point of it all. But he had Mei and Nelson and Apollo to fall back on when things got confusing. And Hugo, of course. Always Hugo.