by Gareth Otton
A ghost’s biggest frustration is boredom. Charles had been a ghost for a very long time and was not one to let silences, no matter how awkward, linger. Within seconds of his last words he was dredging up information from his centuries of knowledge to fill the silence.
“You want to know something interesting about Cardiff Castle?” he asked.
“No,” Tad, Miriam and Tony answered, but not quick enough.
“The castle was built on top of the ruins of an old roman fort. In fact, part of the ruins still visible today are the ruins of—”
The words sparked an alien tidbit of knowledge in Tad’s mind and he finished the sentence. “The ruins of the fourth fort, built in the 3rd century to deal with a pirate threat along the coast. Yes, I know this—”
“Pirates?” Tony interrupted, interested in spite of knowing that showing Charles attention was like showing an alcoholic whiskey. Let him get his hands on the stuff and there’d be no stopping him until every last drop was gone.
“Tony, don’t encourage him. Charles, be quiet.”
“Well if that’s not of interest, maybe hearing that the old motte-and-bailey castle was either built by William the Conqueror after returning from a pilgrimage to St Davids, or Robert Fitzhamon, who used it as—”
“Oh my God! Why must we do this every time? You’ve been using Proxies for how many centuries now? You know I share every scrap of knowledge in your big head. The second I saw the castle all these useless facts filled my mind. So why, for the love of God, are you telling me them again… in the rain… and the cold… while we’re on our way to potential danger? Why must you always do this?”
“Maybe some facts slipped past your recollection. For example, did you know—”
“Yes, I already knew that.”
“You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say.”
“That’s because I already knew it.”
“Well, what about—”
“I know that too. Now shut up. Tonight is bad enough without you prattling on.”
“Tad, be nice,” Miriam said.
Ganging up on him. Great.
Tad took a breath, forced back an angry response, and struggled for calm.
“Okay, you’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped. But Charles, you know that annoys me, and this weather isn’t making things better. Now please, scout ahead. I haven’t heard from Tommy so who knows what might be waiting for us.”
Even Tony sobered at the mention of Tommy. Like Tad, Tommy had a family of ghosts who lived through him by proxy. Tad wondered if they were as much trouble as his ghosts were. He worried he might not get the chance to ask. He hadn’t seen nor heard from Tommy in three days. That in itself was not unusual. Spending so much time with the dead made Proxies solitary by nature. However, it was good to keep in touch, especially recently.
Nancy warned Tad first. Three of her contacts, all Proxies, had disappeared. She’d gone looking, but hadn't even caught sign of their ghosts. That was three years ago. Nancy herself had been missing for half that time and Tad knew of four others who’d vanished. The worrying thing was that Tad only knew six Proxies, and one of them was Tommy.
“Why do you think he’ll be here?” Miriam asked as they walked up the steps toward the castle.
“One of his ghosts told me she lived here when she was alive.”
“Really? How old was she?”
“Older than Charles,” Tony teased.
On cue Charles snorted. Of the few ghosts who remain after death, most move on after a few decades at the longest. At two-hundred-and-nine, Charles was proud of his age. Thankfully he didn’t take Tony's bait.
“That’s a thin theory,” Miriam said. “Just because she lived here doesn’t mean she’d come back.”
“I have to hope she might. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m out of options.”
The rain was becoming less of an issue. It was less to do with it slowing than it was with it being blocked by the walls of the castle. Whatever the reason, Tad was grateful for the reprieve.
“A little help here would be good,” Tad said as he approached the barred entrance. No further prompting was needed before Tony, Charles and Miriam stepped into his head. It was less of a step and more of a merging. Their physical forms faded and he breathed in their essence.
The feeling was hard to describe. When they were with him he felt… full… stronger… powerful.
He normally only joined with his ghosts when he slept. Until recently merging when awake only increased his strength a little and boosted his senses. However, within the last few years he and his ghosts had been getting stronger. He got that boost by merging with only one now.
Drawing in their strength, he willed himself to be like them. The cold and wet vanished, not to be replaced with warmth but instead with nothingness, just as he was now nothing. The rain passed through him as he became as spectral as any of his ghosts.
He stepped through the solid, locked gate as though it wasn’t there.
He came back to the real world feeling drained as he always did when using that ability. Stepping away from the living was a tiring experience, and he needed time to catch his breath. Through their connection the ghosts sensed this and one by one they stepped from his head
“You wait here,” Miriam suggested. “We’ll search the place. You too, Charles.”
The old ghost hesitated.
“I thought I’d stay with Thaddeus. He’s not looking so well and—”
“And you’re being a wimp again,” Tony teased. “You’re a ghost. What do you think might be waiting here that could hurt you?”
“A great many things,” Charles snapped, anger masking his fear. “There are malicious spirits, cruel Proxies who only want to destroy ghosts… and… and there are… well… a great many other things, I can assure you.”
Tony and Miriam looked to each other, sharing a rare moment of unity as they rolled their eyes.
“Whatever. Charles, partner with Tony and he’ll keep you safe—”
“I don’t need a boy to keep me safe. I’m thinking of what’s best for Thaddeus. We need someone to stay here and keep an eye on him.”
“Whatever. If you’re comfortable knowing you’re not as brave as a fourteen-year-old boy then—”
“What? Fine. If you want to be like that, I’ll lead the way.” Charles rushed past them, taking two steps into the darkness before stopping and nervously glancing back. “Aren’t you coming?”
Tony’s mocking laughter cut off abruptly as Miriam smacked the back of his head.
“Of course we are,” she said, before doing just that and leading them on a tour of the castle.
Light headed and happy to see them go, Tad told them to be careful before falling against the gate and closing his eyes.
He didn’t like to go insubstantial often. It was mentally draining for a ghost to remain in the living world. The longer a ghost remained, the harder it was to hold themselves together. Only spending the night in a Proxy’s mind grounded them in reality and gave them a limited reprieve from the madness that approached if they lost the fight. When Tad became like them he got a sense for that feeling, like being pulled apart.
He was slowly recovering when he felt them.
Tad was accompanied by death daily. He knew it intimately and could sense when it was near. He could feel his ghosts searching the castle, but there was another flavour of death present. As much as he might wish otherwise, he didn't think it was Tommy’s ghosts.
There was a bitterness to this presence, a foul taste that spiked Tad’s heart rate. He'd encountered it before and as with all aspects of his peculiar world, it was a phenomenon that was increasing every year.
Something was wrong with the world. He knew it in his soul. The trouble was that he was one of the few left who could clean up the mess.
He pushed himself away from the gate and walked into the large, round courtyard. The rain came at him again, though the high walls kept out the worst of the wind.
He could live with that.
Three figures materialised from the shadows at the other side of the courtyard. They had been human once. Unlike most ghosts they had neither moved on nor found a Proxy to keep the madness away.
They were twisted. Humanoid only in the vaguest sense. They stepped from the darkness, pale where they tried to imitate human features and billowing tendrils of shadow everywhere else.
The biggest downside to being a Proxy was that just as he could interact with the dead, they could interact with him. Ghosts this crazy troubled normal people, messing with him was that much easier.
It was an element of danger most people didn’t face. He’d dealt with it before but had never been good with it. He was that kid who was bullied at school and had to live with it because he wasn’t built for fighting. Other than arguing with friends, confrontation was alien to him. Situations like this rarely ended well. He was lucky to have escaped with his life in previous encounters.
It left only one thought that he couldn't keep from verbalising.
“Oh, shit.”
As if that were the starter pistol in a race, all three spectres left their marks.
The central one was fastest. It flew across the ground as pale shadows of hair whipped back from a face more skeleton than skin. Its jaw opened inhumanly wide as it wailed and reached for him.
Tad moved at the last second, an act as much luck as timing. He turned, the outstretched hand passing by his face, nearly clawing his eyes.
He fled. There was nowhere to go and he would tire long before the ghosts, but what choice did he have?
He didn’t get far.
Only a few steps away and already the ghost caught up. Its fingers sank into the meat of his left shoulder and numbness spread as the ghost pulled his life through their contact. Tad grunted in pain, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t pull away. To survive, he needed to do the opposite.
He clasped the ghost’s hand and held it in place, forcing contact. Now he was touching it with naked skin he could feel it in his mind. It was a writhing mass of chaotic emotions, completely alien and almost overwhelming.
Tad fought his panic and searched for his spiritual centre. When he touched it, a calm washed over him. He took that calm and projected it outward, forcing it through his link to the crazed spirit and soothing the madness.
Lucidity spread fast, changing the ghost from a spectral nightmare to a frightened, young woman.
“It won’t last long,” Tad said before she had a chance to speak. “You need to choose. Move on or be destroyed.”
Lucid for the first time in years, she realised what she had become and a ghostly tear spilled from her eye. She whispered a single thank you before she grew hazy and lost her shape. Her form collapsed until there was a sphere of glowing light that was ever shrinking until suddenly it was gone.
She vanished from this world and Tad was pleased to feel a supernatural, warm satisfaction from her departure. Sometimes a spirit departed and he felt the icy dread of nightmare, it was a feeling he was happy not to experience again.
The incident took only seconds, but it was long enough. Distracted by the warmth of that other place, he failed to notice the next ghost on a collision course with him. When he finally saw it, there was nothing to do but cringe.
The impact never came. At least, not the one he expected.
Another shape collided with the ghost, knocking it aside with an almighty roar that was part anger and a larger part terror. The shape rolled with the impact before breaking apart from the mad ghost.
Charles scrambled to his feet, his round face flushed with blood he no longer had and his eyes wild. He shook as he faced down the ghost, with fear not anger.
That he interceded in spite of such fear was one of the reasons Tad loved him like family. What kind of friend would Tad be without repaying the favour? For the first time he pushed back his distaste for conflict and hurried to Charles’ aid.
He arrived just in time to push Charles aside as the ghost relaunched its attack. They narrowly avoided clawing hands and snapping teeth, but never made up any ground. It was advancing quicker than they could retreat and even without contact, Tad felt the cold of death. This ghost was strong, able to pull the life from an area without touching anything.
Its skeletal mouth was snapping as it came closer, opening wide enough to bite off his head. The third time it did this Tad felt icy teeth brush at the skin on his nose. In panic he reached up to push the spirit away, catching the spectral figure in his bare, outstretched right hand. As soon as he touched it, he was ready and this time he was quicker in forcing lucidity on it.
Another woman. Older, wider, more haggard and meaner even in her lucid state. But she was no more hesitant. She didn’t need to hear the deal. She took advantage of her sanity and moved on. The warmth was not as strong with this passing.
“Are you alright?” Tad asked his friend as he sought the last spirit. He found it pinned between Miriam and Tony. The normally bickering pair worked together and were more than a match for it.
Charles blinked slowly, checking himself for injuries and shaking his head. “Your adventures are getting too dangerous, my boy. I'm suited to the classroom, not this.”
Tad clasped him on the shoulder and nodded. “Well, tonight I’m glad you came.”
Tad didn’t wait for the small twitch of a smile from Charles before he moved to the other fight. After dealing with two crazed spirits a strange state of confidence slipped over him. He quite liked the feeling. Something told him it wouldn’t last long.
Even in madness the ghost recognised its fate. Suddenly it was fighting to get away rather than to attack. It lunged for a gap by Tony only to be caught by Miriam. The spectre turned to face her, hissing and biting only to have Tony strike it from behind.
It turned again and this time it was Tad who interceded.
A simple touch. Calm thoughts. The ghost stilled.
The man under his fingers was enormous. His shaggy hair and beard were dark enough to make Tad think he had not changed from his shadow form. Deepest eyes of midnight black stared hard at Tad and the ghost grinned in defiance.
“Do your worst,” he dared. Then, even lucid, he swung to attack.
He was ancient, Tad could feel that much. Broad of the shoulder, well muscled and almost as tall as Tad himself, he had been a warrior in life where Tad was certainly not. But no matter how quick or strong, he was not as fast as thought.
Tad hated to do this, but he was left no choice. He reached into the ghost with his mind, seeking its core. Once he found it, Tad sent his energy into it until the ghost’s energy reached critical mass.
The man stiffened, his arms going rigid and his eyes widening as he started to glow from within. Red and orange at first, slowly turning to white. Soon the light was blinding to all but Tad, his gifts giving him protection against it.
Then it was gone.
The energy exploded outward and vanished into the world. The spirit had not moved on, but had been destroyed. Tad felt empty for having to do it.
He closed his eyes and fought back the tears that always came. It pained his soul to complete that task, and it was all he could do to keep from sobbing. His strength came from a simple touch, Miriam’s hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve never seen three together before,” she said.
“Neither have I,” Charles noted; a much bolder statement considering his vast age.
“What does it mean?” Tony asked.
Tad shook his head. “Nothing good. None of this is good. The disappearances. The boost in my powers. Your strength increases. None of it feels natural. It’s all just…”
He let his words fade into a sigh. He was exhausted, right to his core.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Miriam said, echoing his thoughts. “We keep searching for these Proxies, but we’re not finding answers. It’s getting dangerous. I saw how close that first one came to grabbing you, and I doubt the second one was easier.”
Actually, both were easier than he remembered. Now the fear had passed, he recognised that, but didn’t verbalise the thought.
“I know, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t give up. Tommy’s the last Proxy I know other than Jen. I need to make sure he’s okay. We need to know what’s happening to them or you all know what'll be next.”
“They’ll be coming for you,” Tony said.
Tad shook his head. “I don’t care about that… Well, actually I do. But that’s not important.”
“Jen,” Miriam said, her voice suddenly hard. “You’re right. You need to figure this out and stop it. That means you need to get better at this sort of thing. This isn’t the first time we’ve run into trouble. You need to up your game, fast. If you die out here, Jen will be on her own and whatever is happening to Proxies will come for her next.”
“I know,” Tad snapped. He’d reached the realisation himself and didn’t need reminding. His sharp tone was short lived as he remembered his ghosts risking themselves to save him. More softly he added, “I know. I have to get better. I will, I promise. Just not tonight. Right now, I need my bed and rest. We can figure out what’s next tomorrow.”
At his weakest and most vulnerable he was suddenly bathed in bright, artificial light, and the chance to rest was taken from him.
“You there, stay where you are. This is the police.”
What choice did he have? Tad raised his hands over his head and waited.
2
Monday, 16th November 2015
00:08
Sitting in wet clothes for two hours was unbearable. As midnight came and went, Tad was considering escaping. A moment before his patience snapped the door opened.
The woman standing in the door looked like she’d stepped out of a movie. With silky black locks straight from a shampoo commercial and eyes bluer than a summer sky, this woman knew exactly how good she looked. Her tanned calves were bare beneath her knee-length skirt, and her tight, white blouse had enough buttons undone to make Tad blush. She had perfected the sexy executive look.
