28. Chapter 28

So I can Genre Shift casually...interesting.

Lincoln looked down at his new form with intrigue. He brought his gloved hand to his face and clenched it into a fist. The glove was made of fresh black leather, so when he squeezed there was a faint squeaking sound.

This was all interesting. One, because this was the first time he used his power outside a dire combat situation. With this transformation, he was now aware of a completely new dimension to his abilities. Before, he thought that there might be some kind of situational trigger involved with his ability to take on aspects of his sisters' Archetypes—danger, most likely, or even just the mere presence of Soulless—but no, it appeared that he could do this at will.

The second reason this was all so interesting was because...well, look at him, he looked so cool!

Lincoln, as the typical nerd, had an "edgy" phase when he was in love with all those dark action movies from the 2000s. It all seemed more adult, more dangerous and daring than the usual media he consumed at that age. Of course, he grew out of it, but there was always that lingered appreciation he had for grim men with tragedy in their backgrounds, draped in black trenchcoats, out to fight the dark forces of the world.

Lincoln wasn't necessarily grim himself, but he had the cool coat, he presumably had ghosts to fight, and he was living his tragic backstory right now. Societal ostracization and a childhood friend who now wanted nothing to do with him? Yeah, that had to qualify.

"Lincoln? Lincoln! Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? What?" Lincoln was brought out of his imagination by Luan's voice. She was looking at him with her arms crossed, clearly annoyed that he hadn't been listening to her. He blushed and grinned a sheepish smile, and she rolled her eyes.

"I was just asking you if you knew what to do when you get there."

"Get where?"

Luan looked stunned. "You really weren't paying attention at all, were you?"

Lincoln shook his head.

Luan sighed. "I'll forward you the location on your phone," she said, exasperated. "More importantly, do you actually know what to do? Like, does your Genre Shift thingy tell you how to do an exorcism?"

That was an interesting question, one Lincoln wasn't too sure he knew how to answer. Again, he looked down to his gloved hands and opened and closed them, trying to get a feel for things.

He didn't really dwell on it before, but back when he'd Genre Shifted with Leni and with Luna, he was overcome with a strange sense of...he didn't know how to describe it, really, but there was a small feeling of depersonalization and displacement. He was still Lincoln, yes, but it was like the Lincoln he was had fused with something else, something that made him but also not him. It was hard to put into words, even in his own thoughts.

But I don't feel that way now, he thought, staring at his fingers. Right now, I just feel like me with a costume.

And that was a problem, because that meant he didn't know how to perform an exorcism.

When he was Tuxedo Linky, there was at least something—maybe unconscious, maybe subconscious, maybe completely foreign—that give him the steps to do what he needed to do. Same with his rocker form that made it so that he could rock out alongside Luna and Sam. But right now, he didn't feel that same energy, that same presence of power. He was just a kid dressed up like an urban fantasy detective.

Despite all that, he still answered Luan's question with: "Yeah, I think I can do it."

They'd come this far, and Luan really wanted to go to that mic night. And from the way she smiled, Lincoln knew his little lie was worth it.

Besides, he thought, maybe it'll kick in when I actually get there.

The two siblings departed their own ways; Luan eagerly raced towards the open mic stage that was calling for her, and Lincoln nervously shuffled down the sidewalk towards his haunted house. Of course, the two promised each other to have their phones on at all times, in case someone needed to contact the other, but that only offered Lincoln some comfort. There was still so much that could go wrong.

What if the ghost messed with his phone and made it so he couldn't call Luan? What if Luan didn't show up in time? What if he couldn't really tap into the Excorcist archetype like he needed to and someone ended up getting hurt…

He shivered. "Come on, Lincoln, don't think that," he said to himself. "Happy thoughts. Confident thoughts. Luan believes in you, so you should too."

Then he stopped and grinned. "And besides," he said, putting on a gruff, husky voice, "look at me. I'm a total badass in a leather trenchcoat. I'm like Harry Dresden and John Constantine. I'm not scared of ghosts, ghosts should be scared of me!"

He pounded his chest and raised his fist high. "I'm going to make that ghost wish it had stayed in Hell. Because nothing the Devil could do to it would compare to what I'm going t-"

"Mommy, why is that boy with the weird clothes talking to himself?"

Lincoln crashed back to earth as he saw the mother of the child quickly rush her daughter past him, eyeing him like he was a crazy person. Lincoln weakly smiled, almost apologetically, and squeaked a brief "Sorry" in his regular voice. When they were gone, he completely deflated.

"Let's just get to this place already," he grumbled as he pulled out his phone for directions again.

"You know, you really should have registered ahead of time."

"Sorry, sorry," said Luan to the grouchy girl behind the counter. She took a clipboard from her hands and started filling in her name, her phone, and other miscellaneous details. "I just didn't think I would be coming here at all, is all."

But she was here now, and even just signing a piece of paper was filling with her with more euphoria than she thought possible. She wasn't even on stage telling jokes yet, imagine the rush that would be!

Seriously, Linc, I owe you more than you could ever know. I promise I'll make it up to you somehow.

The image of her massaging his shoulders popped into her mind, and she quickly dispelled it before she blushed.

She handed the clipboard back to the other girl. "There, all done."

"Okay, whatever. You are seriously lucky that we even had a spot left open."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, Ms.—" Luan quickly checked her name tag—"Maggie. I don't doubt I'm lucky at all. Though I hope I'm not so lucky that I don't break a leg. Haha, geddit? Cause break a leg is good, for some reason?"

Maggie just groaned. She groaned so hard it sounded like a growl.

"Ah, it's okay, I'm sure I'll win you over by the end of the night."

"I highly doubt it."

"Want to make it a bet?" asked Luan smugly.

Maggie thought it over, then shrugged. "Sure," she said. "If you can't make me laugh, then you owe me fifty dollars. And if just one of your lame jokes makes me laugh, then...then..."

"Then you have to buy me dinner!" shouted Luan.

"Shouldn't you have already eaten dinner by now?"

"Some other time, then. The point is, I eat on your dime."

"I'm only accepting that because I know you won't make me laugh."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mags."

"Don't call me that. We just met, don't talk like we're friends."

Luan just smirked. "I'm just planning ahead for the rest of our lives after I win you over with my charm and wit over dinner...Mags."

With Maggie now shaking with barely suppressed fury, Luan thought it would be best not to push and to make her into the establishment itself.

And what an establishment it was! On one side, a restaurant, which displayed all kinds of barbecue and sandwiches and from which floated the beautiful aroma of spices and meats. On the other side, a bar, with flashing neon lights coloring the glass of the infinite bottles behind the bartender. Between them was a vast array of round tables, with four chairs apiece, upon whom sat the young, the trendy, and the interesting of Royal Woods.

And in front of it all: the stage.

In Luan's eyes, the stage was a sublime object of worship. A glowing aura of cleanness emanated from it. In its middle was a mic stand and a small, smooth stool. Her heartbeat quickened, knowing that in a short time, she would be up there, mic in her hand and bottom rested on that comfortable stool.

She wanted so badly to go up there right now.

But she still had her self-control, she went instead to sit on a chair like everyone else. And luckily for her, she knew exactly which chair to sit at, because as she walked towards the tables, a hand shot up and a familiar voice called out, "Luan! Over here, over here!"

Luan smiled. "Giggles! You made it."

"Of course I did," said Giggles as Luan took her seat in front of her. "I wouldn't miss your stand-up for the world. I was just surprised you invited me to it so late. Actually, I was surprised you were coming here at all, I thought you were complaining that you had to do Exorcist stuff earlier?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, my schedule just opened up and I had to rush here too."

"Your schedule opened up?" repeated Giggles curiously. "What, did the ghost just decide to pack his bags and move somewhere warmer?"

"Very funny. And no, I just got someone to fill in for me."

"Oh really? That's a surprise, knowing how busy Exorcists are around here. Who did you get?"

Luan almost answered My brother, Lincoln, but quickly closed her mouth.

"Uh...Ruby. Yeah, Ruby. She said she could cover for me, and honestly, it's for the better. She's way better at exorcism than I am. I think her whole family tree is made up of Exorcists."

That explanation seemed good enough for Giggles. "Well that was nice of her," she said. She then stood up and pointed towards the restaurant. "I'm going to go grab a hot dog. Do you want me to get you something while I'm there?"

"Hmm...just a chocolate bar. I'll need the sugar."

Luan watched Giggles go over to the counter of the restaurant, but her thoughts quickly shifted away from chocolate and to the person she actually sent in her stead. Lincoln...could Lincoln actually handle it? He had gone up against some strong Soulless and even someone as powerful as Whitney before, but ghosts were something completely different. It was impossible to even compare them to anything else, because while Husks and Tainted and evil Archetypes were physical and could therefore at least be hit, ghosts were strange, weird, metaphysical things that needed a certain type of person to know how to deal with.

And Lincoln may have had the clothes, but was he really the kind of person who could combat a ghost?

Maybe I should've checked. Made sure he could show me something so I'd know he was good for it.

But then again, he had assured her, and Luan liked to think she could trust him. She knew her brother could be sneaky and a bit of a liar when he wanted to be, but lately he seemed more genuine and forthright with everything. Luan suspected that, unfortunately, that might have been tied to how he was being treated at school and by Royal Woods at large.

When everyone treats you like you're a scheming creep, you'd naturally want more honesty and trust in your life.

"I can trust him," she decided. "I will trust him."

She lay back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was really saying that for his sake or her own…

It turned out that Lincoln's haunted house was actually a haunted apartment. A long, tall, imposing building that looked less like a Gothic tower and more like a regular, up-to-date, modern housing facility. Lincoln thought that was strange; didn't ghosts mostly show up in older places? There's a lot of old regret in an abandoned hospital or a rundown coal mine, but what could possibly cause such negativity in a place that looked like it was less than five years old?

Lincoln looked around, checking for Bystanders. When he saw the coast was clear, he squinted and spoke again in his tough-guy voice: "It's not my concern. Old, new, it's all the same. I get in without a ghost, and get out with one."

With that, he explained that he was an Exorcist to the security (in his new cool voice of course), who allowed him in. He went into the elevator and pressed the button that dropped him off at the 27th floor. Then, it was a matter of turning to the left, walking two doors down, and then knocking on the wood.

While he waited, Lincoln rubbed his chin, getting a feel for his new stubble. I should keep a stubble like this when I get older, he thought.

He heard footsteps coming, so he quickly pulled his hand away from his face and jammed them in his pockets. But then, he thought, wouldn't it be cooler to have his hands in his coat's pockets rather than his pants'? And how should he stand? Should he stand at all, or instead lean on the door? And man, wouldn't it be cool if he had like a toothpick between his teeth or something?

As he struggled with all this, the door suddenly flew open, surprising Lincoln enough to knock him to the ground. He quickly regained himself, and blushing furiously with embarrassment, he rose to his feet. "Uh, Exorcist here," he said, too late realizing he was speaking in his normal kid voice. As he dusted himself off, he decided to just power through: "You said you were having ghost problems?"

"L-Lincoln? What are you doing here?"

Lincoln stopped patting his clothes and looked up from the ground to the person that knew his name.

When he saw her, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait...Sid?"