by A C Spahn
Still holding Desmond’s hand, I turned onto the aisle where Kendall and Sam were. As I passed Sam’s cubicle, she suddenly looked up. One hand brushed her blonde bangs off her forehead. She flashed me a nervous smile. “I think I’m done.”
“Let me see.” I entered the cube, and Sam stepped back, revealing the half tire I’d assigned her to work on months ago.
It sat on its intact side, so that both severed ends stuck up in the air like a half-pipe. Or they had, before she’d started cutting them. She’d slashed one end of the half-pipe to pieces, jagged angles and haphazard strips. My eyes followed the unnerving mess along to where she’d started to braid the pieces together at the bottom of the arc, making a meshed lattice of rubber fragments. That lattice curved up to the far end of the tire, where it had been cut and sculpted into the shape of a woman balanced on one leg, arms outstretched, with a gown flowing out behind her. A dancer, I realized after staring at it for a moment, a ballerina poised on her toes.
“Tell me about it,” I asked Sam, studying the piece from a new angle.
Sam swallowed audibly. “Well, it’s trash, you know. Roadside junk. But you told me to turn it into something beautiful. And I thought maybe if a tire could be art, then anything junky can be art. And that’s what I was trying to say with this.” Her shoe scuffed the carpet. “I know it’s probably not good.”
“I love it.” True, there was sloppy workmanship to some of the cutting, and the dancer was lopsided, but for Sam’s first real attempt at crafting, it was fabulous. More importantly, she’d gotten the spirit of what I was trying to teach her through the project. “You did a great job. I’m very proud of you.”
A rising sun had nothing on the smile that overtook her face. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Something panged in my heart, but I stuffed it down. This moment, at least, was a happy one. Not something to be tainted. I opened my arms in an offered hug, and Sam came to them willingly. She gave me a quick squeeze, then murmured, “I’m glad you know how to make something worthwhile out of trash.”
Dammit, I thought I might cry.
A sudden alarm blared throughout the floor. Sam jumped away from me, her posture hunching. I felt my own body do the same, bracing to fight or flee like a trapped animal. “What is it? What’s that alarm mean?” I asked.
Desmond shouted the question toward Axel, but the padded cubicle walls muffled the reply. Desmond slipped inside the cramped cube. “Some kind of disturbance in the psych ward.”
Kendall popped her head over the cube wall. She had to be kneeling on the desk next door to accomplish it. “Isn’t that only two floors up?” she asked.
“The other Voids will take care of it.”
“We should help,” I said. “If any of those patients get loose in the city, they could kill a lot of people.” Beside me, Sam studied the ground, guilt over her victims plain on her face.
“Bad idea,” said Desmond. “The fleshwriters might wonder why the warm bodies they’re tracking suddenly start moving around.”
I sighed. “We don’t know for sure they’ll have one of those heat readers.”
“Always assume your enemy is more prepared than you think.”
“That something Axel said?”
“No. My longsword teacher. Then she kicked me in the head.”
Kendall snorted.
Another alarm began blaring. This one also flashed a red light that gave the wall above the elevators a hellish gleam. Every one of us froze.
“That’s it,” Sam whispered. The security system had gone off. Someone had triggered the incapacitating gas in the stairwell.
Desmond’s hand went to the scabbard attached to his belt, where his sword lay sheathed. “Be ready. Some of them might make it through. We should get somewhere more open.”
“Could they be the ones causing problems in the psych ward?” Sam asked, voice high.
“Before they even entered the building?” Desmond said. “I don’t see how.”
Sam shot a questioning look at me, and I shook my head. Magic could reach a short distance from its caster, if they had enough power and focus. With the strange behavior of magic lately, maybe an enchantment could stretch that range. But nobody could throw magic nine stories in the air.
We all filed out into the aisle between cubicle rows. By the elevators, Axel moved back and faced the stairs, braced to hurl himself at the first body through the door. He probably wanted to draw the gun holstered at his waist, but this was still a part of a major city. We didn’t want the cops to come check out reports of weapons fire and discover a bunch of bullet-riddled bodies. The Voids could brush aside most investigations, but if dozens of people reported gunfire, there’d be a mess to clean up.
Several Voids who had been stationed around the floor filed down the stairs, donning gas masks on their way to head off our approaching attackers. A few took the stairs upward, toward whatever was going on in the psych ward. I had no idea how many were left on the floor, or whether they’d be enough if any fleshwriters fought their way through.
Long seconds ticked past, each one like a pinprick in my spine. Soon they’d come in. Soon this would be over. Any minute now.
Now.
Okay, now.
Nothing continued to happen.
“Could the gas have gotten them all?” Kendall squeaked.
“Unlikely,” said Desmond. “Somebody would have been at the back and known to hold their breath.”
“Then what’s ...”
The stairwell door burst open. Axel jumped for the figure that came in.
He passed right through it.
Burning eyes stared out from a translucent form, a grey-white shape hovering a few feet off the floor. The boy’s shade was smaller than his real body, more childlike than the form of a near-adult. He wore nondescript clothes, but a shape glowed through his hazy t-shirt - a circular pattern around his heart formed of an unbroken line.
The ghost of the dead enchanted boy, whose name I had never learned, flowed through Axel without taking notice. Misty arms stretched out, fingers lengthening to claws. Teeth flashed as his mouth gaped in a wordless howl. He hurled himself at Desmond, the closest person in his view, nails raking for exposed skin.
Desmond ducked the attack and spun aside, drawing the ghost’s attention. “I don’t have any silver on me!”
At the same time, Sam shouted, “How did he get up here?”
Beside me, Kendall’s clothes fell in a heap as she shifted. A red squirrel dashed under the closest desk, visibly trembling. I dumped out my purse contents atop the desk and took a second to glance through them, but my suspicions were accurate. No silver. This was not a contingency I’d thought possible.
The ghost slashed at Desmond again, catching him on the forearm. He hissed in pain as rents tore through his sleeve and red welts rose on the skin beneath. Axel bounded through the stairwell door and formed a human barricade alongside Desmond, glowering at the ghost as if his scowl could intimidate the dead back into his corpse.
Thinking fast, I grabbed Sam’s elbow and shoved her toward the elevator. “Get to the morgue and remove the rest of the enchantments from the boy’s body.”
“W-what?”
“He had multiple enchantments, and the smaller ones weren’t dissipating after his death. One of those is fueling this ghost. Go down there, strip the enchantments off, and channel the magic into something else.”
“What about the big one? The, er, bomb?”
“That dissipated into the air already. It’s only showing up on his ghost because he saw it as a part of himself when he was alive.” I tried not to think about how my own shade would probably wear a similar tattoo, after so long wearing it in life. “Go, and hurry.” I spotted a pair of Voids who had risen from cover when the ghost entered. “You two, go with her! Get her to the morgue!”
They glanced at each other, hesitating until Axel roared, “Obey her!” At that, they moved.
Sam tripped over
her own feet, but caught herself on the nearest cubicle wall. She darted into the elevator with her two escorts, frantically jamming the button until the doors closed.
With my apprentice safe, I whirled to face the ghost. It had backed Desmond and Axel toward one corner of the floor. Desmond had his sword out, but his slashes did nothing but cut through the misty body, which immediately re-formed. Axel was having a bit better luck. A ring on his right index finger seemed to contain some silver, and his punches made the ghost hiss in pain. But neither of them stood a chance of trapping it, much less putting it down entirely.
Two bracelets, two rings, two anklets. That was my arsenal, equipment I’d donned hours ago in preparation for fighting fleshwriters. Not the ideal setup for facing a ghost, but I had no time to rummage through my stuff for other options. Tapping the magic in my right ring, I raised the shield of purple light in front of me and threw myself in front of the ghost, just as his claws raked toward Desmond’s throat.
Desmond slid back, just out of range, and the ghost’s long nails clashed with my shield. Sparks rippled across the translucent purple field. Rage kindled in the dead eyes. He struck again, scraping off more magical energy motes that winked out in the air.
Before he wound up his next slash, I called up the magic in my left anklet, a brown-beaded chain tied just above my purple sneaker. I raised my knee and kicked. My heel slammed into the ghost. Where it hit, a corona of fire exploded, rippling through the ghost’s body.
He screamed, a wretched, unearthly howl. His flaming arms snapped forward to wrap me in a deadly embrace. Just before the burning limbs caught me, I angled my body so I faced the wall and stomped my other foot, activating the magic in the braided anklet there.
Instantly I transported three feet to the right, appearing behind the ghost. His arms closed on empty air, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t been sure that would work. Teleportation magic was extremely complex, and you had to face exactly the right direction or risk transporting yourself into a wall. It also didn’t last long. That one jump had probably sapped half the strength of the anklet already.
Confused by my disappearance, the ghost again lunged for Desmond and Axel. But my distraction had bought the two men time. Desmond darted right, Axel left, and they closed on the ghost in a pincer. Axel rained silver-infused jabs into the ghost’s body, while Desmond slashed off its head, ankles, arms, in a flurry of blade work. Each time the ghost recovered without damage, but those blows slowed it, confused it. Its head turned side to side, unsure where to focus its attention.
Come on, Sam, I thought. She should be in the morgue by now. Until the magic was stripped from the ghost’s body, we were only playing for time up here.
Axel ducked a swipe from the ghost, before Desmond thrust his sword through its belly again. As the ghost lurched away from the blade, Axel went low and scraped his silver-ringed finger along the ghost’s ankle, drawing out a screech of pain. The ghost stumbled, as if hamstrung, and I seized the opportunity to deliver another fiery kick to its back.
Desmond feinted to attack the ghost, then ducked its counterstroke and slashed off its foot once more. “We can’t keep this up. Axel, if the fleshwriters attack now ...”
“I know,” Axel grunted. “Thinking. Shut up.”
The ghost moved toward me, forcing me back a few steps before I managed another kick with my fire enchantment. We had formed a triangle around it, keeping it contained, but once it realized it could focus on one fighter and overwhelm them, it would break free. “I have my sensory ring in my pocket,” I said, “but that won’t help without a weapon. One of my bracelets shoots punches of compressed air, which would go right through him.”
“What about the other bracelet?” Desmond hopped to the side, and the ghost lunged for the opening he’d made, but a punch from Axel drew its attention back again.
“Another shield.”
“Crap.”
“Sam should nearly be done. Any minute now she’ll remove the magic and the ghost should–” As if it heard, the boy’s shade spun toward me. It surged forward with unnatural speed, and I barely brought my shield up in time. Claws, teeth, and ghostly flesh collided with the purple light with the force of a full-bodied tackle. I stumbled, and my feet went out from under me. My back smashed into the floor.
The ghost shot over me, flying toward the stairwell. His body flickered, magical ripples disrupting his form.
“He senses her taking out his enchantment!” I shouted. “He’s going for Sam!” Even as I spoke, I knew we were too late. With the ghost’s attention now focused, he’d use his powers to their full potential, flying faster than we could catch up.
A red, furry blur sprang up from a cubicle in front of the ghost. Kendall sprinted along the narrow wall between cubes, tail stretched out behind her, paws propelling her forward in huge bounds. Light glinted off something metallic in her mouth. She launched herself from the end of the wall, straight into the ghost’s path.
Her tiny form soared right through the ghost’s body, with such force that she smacked into the opposite wall.
She fell in a heap. The shiny thing tumbled from her jaws.
And the ghost screamed.
Kendall’s path had cut away a swath of the ghost’s body, but the translucent form didn’t immediately regenerate. Furious, maddened, the ghost raised its claws over Kendall’s unmoving form.
Desmond and Axel caught up just before it could slash her to pieces. I came right on their heels, delivering another fire kick to the ghost’s kneecap. Its body was rippling regularly now, like the surface of water being peppered with pebbles.
We struck in turns as we had before, forcing the ghost to turn one way and then another to face our attacks. Confused, surrounded, the ghost spun faster and faster, its defenses growing less precise, its attacks less deliberate. Its form distorted and shifted, shrinking, then fading, patches of white body growing less and less opaque.
It screamed and lunged for me in one last desperate attack. Its body slammed into my shield. The purple light faltered, then died, its magic expended. The ghost collided with me. Undead nails dug into my chest. I braced for searing pain.
It never came. From one heartbeat to the next, the ghost vanished, only the echo of its scream and the light scratches on my skin proving it had ever existed.
My heart hammered my ribs. Exhausted, I lowered my now useless ring. My limbs suddenly felt heavy, my clothes sticky on my sweaty skin.
“Is it gone?” Desmond asked quietly.
“I think so. Sam must have finished stripping off its magic.”
“Can it keep itself alive like that shifter’s ghost did in the graveyard?”
“No. There’s no ambient magic in the building. There’s nothing for it to draw on.” I took a shaky breath and lowered my hands from their defensive position. “It’s dead. Actually dead, I mean.”
“Are you sure?”
I paused. With the strange behavior of magic lately, could I really be certain? “No,” I finally answered. “But it’s not here anymore. Where else could it have gone?”
Desmond looked around the room as if the ghost might pop out of a cubicle and shout boo. But after several moments of surveillance, he gave an accepting nod and sheathed his sword.
Kendall’s squirrel form staggered to her feet, swaying slightly. She flicked her ears and tail, then shook her head. A jagged piece of what looked like a circuit board lay on the ground beside her, its wires sloppily severed.
“Kendall, did you eat a computer?” I asked.
She shot me a squirrely glare, then darted back into the cubicle aisles. A moment later her human voice rose above the rustle of clothing. “Old computers have some silver in their components,” she said. “I figured we could use some weaponry.”
“I thought you were going to hide. Prey instincts, and all that.”
“I was. But it sounded like things weren’t going well.” Kendall rounded the aisle corner ahead of us, dressed once more. She tri
ed to hide it, but her hands were shaking.
I stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you. That can’t have been easy.”
“Yeah, well ... sometimes fight or flight isn’t a choice.” She flashed a shaky smile, which faltered a moment later as she looked over my shoulder.
I glanced back. Axel stood over me, his expression grim. “This wasn’t accidental.”
Slowly I inhaled and exhaled, then acknowledged what all of us had probably realized by now. “I know. That boy’s ghost should have risen days ago. And it should have stayed near its body. But I’m guessing instead it went up to the psych ward and released all the patients, then went downstairs and triggered the security traps. Those extra enchantments on the boy’s body must have contained magic that could influence his ghost. Maybe that was their only purpose. Geralt set this up.”
“Why, though?” asked Desmond. “If he meant to throw us off guard so he could attack, where is he? He should have come after you.”
“I know.”
We all fell silent. In the quiet I could make out distant pounding sounds, and what sounded like shouts. They weren’t anywhere near our floor. The uneasiness I’d felt before returned, magnified. I reclaimed my purse and rummaged for an enchanted ring to replace the shield I’d expended. “We’re missing something. Axel, are these spare computers hooked up to the headquarters network?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” asked Kendall. “Do you host giant LAN parties?”
Axel gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Kendall,” I said, donning a ring of lightning, “can you hack into the security system? Figure out what’s going on up in the psych ward? Maybe there’s a clue there that will show us what the ghost was meant to do.”
Kendall stared down her pointy nose at me. “That’s a terribly criminal misuse of my abilities, and my professors would be ashamed.”
“But can you?”
“Duh. I’ll have us inside in ten minutes.” She headed for one of the computers.
Axel folded his arms. “Impossible. We use top-of-the-line encryption.”
