Kelvin’s eyes went wide. He roared and threw himself at Magrath, but he simply passed through the old man, falling to the floor. He stared up, terror replacing anger. And then, a few moments later, he too was gone.
Magrath sighed and leaned on the porch post again. Only now did he notice that where it had been plain before it was now carved around with dragons. He smiled. He liked that touch, even if he didn’t like the way things had turned out.
“I’m sorry,” he said to a pale form standing beside him, so translucent none of the others had noticed it. “I know he wasn’t truly your grandson, not in the blood, but still…”
“Blood has nothing to do with it,” said the ghostly figure. “I know for a fact my third son Jasrek wasn’t actually mine by blood, but I never treated him any diffe
