He stares at me, bug eyed. I'm beginning to wonder if he has any other kind of facial expressions.
"Well it's been lovely chatting to you," I say sarcastically "but I have a schedule I'd like to keep to."
"Huh? What are you doing?!"
I wince, crack open an eye. Was he this annoying alive?
"Calling up the pixies of doom to vapourise your undead ass." He blinked.
"Of course not you idiot."
"Wha-" I cut him off, grab the front of his ethereal shirt. Scared and, get this, wide (what else?) blue eyes look back into my own dark eyes.
"I'm only going to say this once so listen real careful. I have better things to do with my afterlife than answer every idiotic question that falls out of your mouth. Now, I'm gonna ask real nice- SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Letting go of his shirt, he stumbles back a step. A quiet step. A little piece of solace for my bleeding eardrums. I finally have enough quiet to concentrate.
I focus, hold out a hand. The air currents flow past my fingers. I search for a darker thread. I catch it and wrap it around my knuckles. Finally, I pull. The purple black electricty flows through my fingers and through my body. There's a howling in my ears, an unholy wind whipping my hair. I throw my head back and laugh, knowing what I look like. A demon, a harbinger, a nightmare. A black hole opens outwards from my hand, a swirling inky matrix. The doorway through the Veil.
Turning around, I find the boy cowering in the corner. I know what I look like. I know my eyes are glowing coals in the light of the doorway. My hair a fiery halo.
"Ready for that picnic?"