To both their dismay, nothing else seemed to happen for the rest of that Sunday. It wasn’t to say that absolutely nothing happened - neither of them wanted to climb into the attic to confirm, and so they spent the rest of the day downstairs huddled together and trying to figure out how to add yokai to the new painting. To Alexa, that was the sort of cowardice she saw far too often around her, but having Aerin flip through the images on the Federation database for her and pick out the inoffensive ones was a luxury she hadn't thought she could afford. In no time at all, some of the figures on the ground and in the office building gained extra features, some in the form of folded wings, some got horns, and others got winding tails obscured by their silhouettes.

At night, the sound of the rain accompanied them to bed. They had closed up the ladder and the key now sat on the bedside table, directly within reach of Alexa as she stared upwards. There were no stomps, no sounds of movement, only the pitter-patter of rain against the roof.

Yet they both just laid there under the covers, hand in hand, their eyes directed to the ceiling. It was a matter of what would come first: the ghost, or sleep itself. Only when Aerin began to snore did Alexa let go of her hand, and sat up against the headrest and pillow.

A mercy, in her mind. That wraith she had witnessed could have easily been a trick of the light, or some errant construction of the overexcited pardolia circuit she had been born with. The car, probably, was one of Kurt’s men watching her. In isolation, she could have explained them away as the results of her typical imagination. Together, and with their consistency, it made her want to take a shuttle to the next core world to put as much distance between herself and that buried spaceship as possible. Cowardice was the name of the game, and she was winning.

Sleep came, but she didn’t dream. There was no hall, no crowd, and no spectre. There was only darkness.

“Do you take credit chips?” Alexa asked.

The robot’s eyes on the display blinked, and then a drawer popped open on the side, awaiting payment.

She counted out some of the chips Kurt had paid her, coming to the exact total for two iced coffees, and dumped them into the slot, which pulled shut. The machine took several seconds longer than what she had come to expect from a wireless transaction, and then it made the same happy expression before filling their drink cups.

“You know what, it’s growing on me,” Aerin said, reaching out to tap the body of the machine under its little awning. She rubbed the tips of her fingers along the painted metal surface above the screen.

“...what are you doing?” Alexa grabbed their cups from the compartment underneath.

“Giving it headpats!”

“I don’t think they programmed it to react to that.”

“You seriously don’t do that? I thought that’s why you liked this so much.”

Alexa checked which cup was which, and handed Aerin her order. “No, I just…I don’t like ordering people around.” She looked at the drink in her hand for a second. “Come on. Let’s not have Kurt catch us late.”

Aerin had no protests against that, and they began the long climb up the way towards the museum. The reason Alexa took Mondays off became clear when they found the sidewalk crowded, and the usually-empty streets packed with all sorts of cars and buses vying for the highway that Alexa knew was just beyond the Forum on the side of the hill. Hecate was enormous, but its past as a fortress town and present as mostly residential land meant it would never have as many jobs as it had denizens. And so at the beginning of each week, the exodus began: hundreds of thousands of workers - mostly manual labourers, equipment operators, on-site IT technicians - left for the various satellite cities, filling whatever gaps remained in their infrastructure. At least half would stay there for the rest of the week, only returning for a two- or three-day weekend, before starting the journey all over again once Sunday slipped away.

Alexa kept close to the shopfronts, watching Aerin’s shoes as she used her as a buffer against the tide of people moving in both directions. She ducked into the space in front of the Roman fountain, almost bumping into someone drinking from it, and then slipped into the next available break in the flow.

“What are you doing?”

She looked up.

Aerin was frowning at her, moved aside just enough to avoid impeding the streams of people. “I don’t remember it being this bad.”

“I told you, I don’t like ordering people around.”

“Expecting people to walk with or against you isn’t controlling them.” She held out a hand. “We’re gonna be late.”

Alexa took it, and she was dragged up the hill, barely managing to point out where there was a shortcut that would put them on the winding road before the museum. As soon as they crossed the first road, and were under the shade of the trees before the next one, she pulled away, leaning against a tree. She gave herself a few seconds to slow her breathing, and then found Aerin judging her again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s with me today. I just didn’t want to look at anybody.”

“Are we sure it wasn’t the thing yesterday?”

“The ghost?”

“Ghosts don't do that as far as I can tell. At least not normal ghosts.” She looked up towards the museum. “Are you sure we’re gonna tell Kurt about this?”

“Why not?”

“That car. What if he already knows?”

“Then worse case, won’t he just pretend not to know what we’re talking about?” Alexa straightened up. “It’s just a working theory. I’m not sure why he’d even just watch me being haunted. I don’t get what it gives him?”

“That’s worse, in my book,” Aerin said quietly. “ He might be using you as a test subject or something. Do you think he’s-”

A black limousine tore itself away from the general traffic towards the highway, and turned up the slope. From what Alexa could glimpse, its windows were heavily reinforced, and there was the symbol of crossed keys painted on the door. It rounded the first curve and came to a stop over the second crossing.

The tinted window in the back rolled down, until a woman with dark hair and sunglasses peeked out. “Hello.”

Alexa’s fight-or-flight reflex was triggered, but she forced herself to root still. Dozens of possible responses ran through her head, none of which really fit the unorthodox situation well enough for her to give real consideration to. “W-Uh—he—”

“Good morning, Mrs. Whitlock.” Aerin gave a little wave.

“You too, Miss Williams,” the woman replied. Her tone was flat. Bored.

Though she was wearing sunglasses, Alexa felt the woman’s eyes on her.

“Which means you must be Alexa Romilly.” Whitlock lowered her shades, exposing pale blue eyes. They looked nothing like Kurt’s simple brown irises, but the way she looked at her felt the same. Behind them were secrets easily kept, and the willingness to exercise that privilege.

“That’s me.” Alexa chuckled. “You must be…Thalia Whitlock. Sorry, I’m not sure I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh, I’m very careful not to plaster my face all over the Q-net. My children handle all the publicity these days.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but…why are you here?”

Thalia smiled, showcasing her rows of perfect white teeth. “Same reason as you, I suppose. I was summoned by Kurt. He seems to want us to all see something.”

“That’s all he said?”

“He has his projects. Guess I’ll see you at the top, ladies.” She rolled the window back up, and the limousine continued on its winding path.

Alexa sighed. “I guess my project will have to wait.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Aerin gave her a peck on the cheek.

They continued up the slope, the intensity of their torture all the greater as the heat was dialed up by progressing into the late morning. By the time they passed the parking lot where the limo now was, and the statues by the entrance stairs, Alexa was sweating like a sinner in church.

The front doors were wide open, men in overalls carrying large crates inside and then coming back out to get another from a pile that had materialised in the space between two of the ornate columns. Alexa took the initiative this time, slipping past the workers going up and down the stairs in the centre of the rotunda.

Kurt, naturally, was in the place of the security guard, with his shields kicked up on the edge of the table. “Morning, Alexa.”

“What’s all this?” she jabbed a thumb over at the workers.

“I already explained. This is all the stuff I was able to catalogue before the Stateship stepped in.”

“There was this much when I came out of the ship.”

“Well…” Kurt hopped out of the chair. “I might have distributed a little extra to the guys before she showed up. Especially Bloom, guy’s a sucker for overtime pay.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I hate the way you said that.”

“Oh just you wait, his phrasing gets a lot worse.” Aerin grabbed both of her shoulders from behind. “I just saw Thalia.”

“The director’s dragged her off, if you’re asking. There might be a couple million in donations by the end of the day,” Kurt said. “But that’s not what I wanted you to see.” He started down the steps. “You’re gonna love this one, Aerin!”

Aerin mumbled something under her breath, only to be grabbed by Alexa and led downwards. Whatever Kurt had said or done, it seemed all the usual security measures had been relaxed, and the door to the staff area that Alexa normally took was held open. The sound of excited and overly dramatic talking told her that Kurt was in one of the smaller labs closer to that entrance.

She found him almost immediately - or rather, them, as he stood beside Jerod and Salman Mishkin, who owned the space. Not a member of staff Alexa was well-acquainted with outside of the occasional lunch function, but there was no bad blood between them. In fact, Alexa had no bad blood with any of the staff, given she generally made a point to stay in her own lane.

The thought made her wince. She could predict exactly what Steven would say about that attitude.

“-prised that you’re making such a significant contribution to our collection,” Mishkin was saying, motioning to the device in the corner. An old, faded banner was pressed between two panes of glass, being scanned by the instruments from underneath. “And I thought the dig had been suspended.”

“There’s a lot more where this comes from, we’re just limited by security concerns at the moment.”

Not a lie exactly, Alexa thought. He was a remarkably natural liar.

“It’s a shame Dr. Klein isn’t here to see this. I understand this was his sort of expertise,” Kurt continued. “Where did you say he went?”

“Eden-II,” Alexa piped up, inserting herself into the conversation. “To see family. Are you the current senior restorer, Mr. Mishkin?”

“Ah, Alexa.” He beamed. “It was supposed to be Kovacs, but she’s on leave as well. Also family matters, so it’s my job.”

Aerin glanced over to the banner being scanned. “Whoa.”

“Oh, Aerin,” Alexa said quietly, moving her towards Jerod. “This is the caretaker, Jerod. Jerod, this is Aerin, my…uh…”

“Girlfriend,” Aerin said quickly, reaching out to shake the older man’s hand. “She’s told me a little bit about you. I’m surprised you’re a magician.”

Alexa felt her cheeks heat up. It was a mercy her complexion was dark enough that it hid the colour well.

“Only a kinetics user,” Jerod admitted. “But I do have my moments. I’m afraid I’m not classically trained.”

“It’s not all it’s banged up to be.” Aerin took the opportunity to shake Mishkin’s hand as well. “So what’s happening? Kurt said I would like this.”

“That’s the banner that scared the shit out of you and Suthers on the lower floor,” Kurt said. “It’s painted over, but I’m pretty sure I know what’s underneath.”

“Here.” Mishkin sat down, adjusted his glasses and spun a computer monitor towards them.

Kurt had been right: it was the exact banner that moved in the ship, drawn over in red ink by who she now knew were the yokai. No. Warded.

“This is the topmost layer. And you probably know this, Alexa, but different types of ink can fluoresce under IR and UV. The top layer, if I’m to believe the context of the discovery, is likely a cinnabar-based solution. Which is to say it’ll reflect infrared rather than absorb it.” Mishkin pressed a button, and the machine flashed for a second with a red light.

The image on the screen changed to a one where the areas of red paint were pure opaque white, blinding white, and yet, there were specks of something darker within them.

Aerin leaned in.

“I just have to turn the contrast up a little, perhaps darken it…” Mishkin messed with some sliders, and the white became more transparent, revealing that the specks were dark lines, forming into shapes, into characters. They were detailed drawings, arranged in neat columns.

Alexa was momentarily stunned. Not by the fact that the text underneath did exist, but that she recognised them almost immediately. Like Guernica, there was scarcely an art history textbook that didn’t mention pictograms in the context of ancient art.

“Heiroglyphs,” Aerin breathed. “How the hell are there hieroglyphs?"

“Confirm they’re ancient Egyptian?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah. Old Kingdom, I think. It’s very detailed.” She traced a rectangle of two columns with her finger on the screen. “Kind of arranged in blocks. These two.” She pointed at two symbols, similar birds. “I think that’s ‘imnt’. West. Both of them, but they’re not drawn consistently. Probably predates standardisation and simplification.”

“Remarkable!” Mishkin leaned into the screen. “Onmyo red ink and…Egyptian hieroglyphs? How is that possible?”

Kurt grinned. “Somehow this ship made it to Frindalis and was found by the yokai, who tried to seal it. I assume everyone was already dead by that point.”

Alexa crossed her arms. “How do you know that?”

“There was another…piece. We never got to look at it closely, but from the few pictures I have, it was a funerary seal. Had hieroglyphs on it too, probably just as detailed. I would guess it’s from that big gash in the side if we still had it. Bastard stole it out from under me.”

“Wait, who?”

“He’s right.” Aerin said excitedly. “So that word, right. West. The West in Egyptian mythology is where the sun sets, where the dead go to enter the afterlife.” She looked at Alexa. “No wonder you’re seeing ghosts!”

Silence.

Alexa grit her teeth. Dammit, Aerin.

Kurt cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, you’re seeing what?”