“Harold! You’re a genius!” I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled by my shoulder. “But I got the idea from you. Remember?”
The other ghosts were right behind Skeleton Man. First Lipless, followed by Skinny Man, Burning Girl, the Spider Twins, Sad Clown and Inside-Out Thing. The other ghosts joined them, closing in all around us. They yelled and screamed and moaned, but none of them were able to cross the circle of salt.
“The new problem is,” Harold said, “we’re kinda stuck.”
How long would the ghosts wait around the ring? Probably forever. How long until Harold and I starved to death or died of dehydration? Maybe a week or ten days, tops. How long before we lost our minds? My guess was one day. Probably less.
I waved off his concern and made a pfft sound with my lips. “Just wait. We’ll think of something.” That’s when I caught a glimpse of the Cuckoo Girl through the motley crew of ghosts. She was still on the Citadel wall, but something south of the fort had caught her attention. It was hard to tell for sure from such a distance, but she looked concerned, or at the very least surprised. She flew off the wall and dropped out of sight.
It wasn’t long before I saw what the Cuckoo Girl had seen. Ten seconds after she’d jumped off the wall, another ghost took her place.
It was Tie-Dye, the old man with the grey beard.
I couldn’t believe it, nor could I figure out how one old ghost had scared off such an intimidating spirit as the Cuckoo Girl.
And then it became clear.
Tie-Dye wasn’t alone.
He had brought his friends. The ghosts who had stopped me on the street as I’d walked toward the fog-enshrouded Citadel.
And, by the looks of it, about two hundred more ghosts.
They took up places on the wall. And as I turned around in a circle I saw that they had surrounded the Citadel.
“Harold? Can you see what I see?”
He nodded. “It’s an army,” he said in awe.
I smiled. “An army that’s come to make a final stand.”
And then the battle began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We have a chance, I thought. But we weren’t free and clear yet. The two sides were roughly equal in number, but there was no way Tie-Dye’s ghosts were as ferocious as the spirits of the Netherrealm.
The worst of the worst — Skeleton Man and his crew — were still surrounding Harold’s ring of salt.
They were within striking distance.
“Harold,” I whispered. “Let’s grab some salt—”
“And even the playing field,” he whispered back.
While the ghosts stared at the newcomers on the walls and waited for whatever was about to happen next — the calm before the storm — Harold and I crouched and grabbed two boxes each. We opened them, stood up slowly, and—
“Now!” I shouted.
We flung the salt as quickly and as widely as possible, covering the ghosts closest to us. The effect on them was immediate and totally gross. It hissed and crackled and steamed on contact. The ghosts screamed in pain. The salt burned their bodies, causing their skin to bubble and split and disintegrate. It covered Skeleton Man’s forearm, and his skin slid off his bones like a latex glove. A large amount of salt landed on the back of one of the Spider Twins as he skittered in circles. After a while the salt split him clean in half. Lipless’s cheeks and forehead were hit first by me from the right and second by Harold from the left, and soon her lips weren’t the only part of her face to be missing.
We sprayed the others too — Skinny Man, Burning Girl, the second Spider Twin, Sad Clown and Inside-Out Thing. That last ghost was the worst of all. For a moment I had this weird idea that the salt might make Inside-Out Thing turn right side out or something. But it didn’t. When the salt hit it … Let’s just say it was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Harold laughed, sounding half relieved and half insane. I knew how he felt.
“It worked!” he said. “That was awesome!”
Flinging all that salt around had made me feel a little like a professional athlete who’d just won the World Series and was dousing her coach and teammates in Gatorade. Only, of course, I’d used salt and I’d doused the enemy, not my teammates. But still, I felt pretty good.
“Hopefully that helps them,” I said.
Tie-Dye had led the charge while we’d taken out Skeleton Man and the others closest to us, and the good ghosts had swarmed off the walls and were dragging the evil spirits back down to the Netherrealm through the crack in the ground. They were putting up a good fight, too, but I was still worried.
I picked up the shovel and then the wrench, which I handed to Harold. He took it, and I noticed his grip was a lot firmer now.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to sit out the rest of this fight,” I said.
“Me neither,” he responded. “We need to help them.”
I slapped Harold’s shoulder, offered him a smile, and stepped out of the salt ring. A Netherrealm ghost floated past and I swung the shovel through her chest. She howled, dissipated, swirled in the air and flew down through the ground.
A ghost shrieked in my ear, so close that I could feel a slight, icy breeze on the back of my neck. I wouldn’t have time to turn and defend myself. I hadn’t tricked myself into thinking I’d make it out of this alive, but I hadn’t thought I’d be killed so soon.
The ghost shrieked again, and I waited for it to dig into me with its teeth or nails or whatever.
Nothing happened.
A second or two passed and my shoulders and neck relaxed. I turned slowly.
Harold was smiling at me with a slightly goofy grin. The ghost was gone.
“You owe me one, V,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
We stood back to back and continued to swing. I took out three more ghosts. Harold took out four. I didn’t know he had it in him. I doubt he knew he had it in him. But my arms were getting tired and, by the look on Harold’s face, he seemed to be fatiguing too. The Wisp’s ghosts were slowly overtaking Tie-Dye’s ghosts. I scanned the square but couldn’t see Tie-Dye anywhere. I hoped he was okay.
A swarm of ghosts caught on to what Harold and I were doing and formed a line. There were eight or ten, and instead of blindly rushing toward us they waited, murmuring something I couldn’t quite hear. And then they bent their line into the shape of a horseshoe, curving around us and slowly approached from three sides.
“I think this is it,” I told Harold.
He didn’t respond, because the horseshoe gang froze, then turned to look behind them. They heard something. Soon I heard it too.
A great whoosh, as if a dam had broken and a rush of water was racing toward us.
It was coming from the crack in the ground. It wasn’t water. It was blue, and bright …
Ghosts. More ghosts. They didn’t look quite so … human as Tie-Dye and his group, but they certainly didn’t look as twisted as the ghosts that were attacking us.
I’d never been so happy to see dead people in my life.
They swirled and flew through the fort. The Wisp’s ghosts were completely overwhelmed and, in a few short minutes, the last few had been dragged back down to where they came from.
There was a great cheer from the remaining fifty or so ghosts who’d been part of the first attack with Tie-Dye. The crowd parted and the old man walked toward us.
“Tie-Dye!” I shouted, racing to his side.
He looked at me quizzically, not quite sure what to make of what I’d said.
I pointed at his chest. “Because of your shirt.”
He smiled and nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Evie,” I said. “But my friends call me V.”
A lot of ghosts — the ones he’d come with — had disappeared during the fight.
“I’m sorry that you lost so many of your friends,” I said.
His smile
faltered for a second but then returned, bigger and more genuine than before. He even smiled with his eyes, and the pinpoints of light in his irises danced. “No, Evie, you have no need to apologize to us. We were scared and you gave us hope. But more importantly, we were adrift and you gave us purpose. If anything, we need to thank you.”
The ghosts formed a ring around Harold and me and thanked us. Even though I knew we had one last thing to do I was happy.
The ground shook and began to shift beneath my feet. The crack was sealing itself up.
Tie-Dye looked at the other spirits and stroked his beard in thought. “I think … I think I’m ready to move on.”
The others nodded agreement.
“Thank you again, V,” Tie-Dye said.
“Maybe we’ll meet again,” I said.
“But not too soon.”
“If you see a ghost called Leda, tell her Harold and V say thanks,” Harold said.
“I will.” Tie-Dye followed the others and was the last to slip into the crack, a moment before it resealed itself.
The afternoon was once again quiet. I was exhausted and sore, right down to my bones.
“What now?” Harold asked.
“I think you know.”
“The Wisp.”
“That’s right.”
“Where do you think she is?” Harold asked.
I thought back. Something had stuck in my mind. The Cuckoo Girl, when she had stood on the wall near the entrance. She’d seen Tie-Dye and the others and had fled. But thinking about it then, it was obvious she wouldn’t leave. She was committed to helping the Wisp. She would have gone to her.
Find the Cuckoo Girl, find the Wisp.
“I know where we have to go,” I said. “The Old Town Clock.”
“That’s it!” Harold said. “Tick-tock,” he added grimly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We came up with a plan as we ran, carrying our bags in one hand (they were now much lighter) and our iron weapons in the other.
I half expected either the Cuckoo Girl or the Wisp to jump out of the fog, but we managed to reach the Old Town Clock without incident. We stopped at the door to catch our breath.
Harold nodded. He was ready.
So was I. I nodded back, then gripped the door handle. “You remember the plan?”
“Yeah, we literally just came up with it,” he said with a nod. “I also remember how weak it is.”
“Well, we don’t have time to come up with anything else.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” Harold said with an exaggerated eye roll.
“Glad to hear it,” I said as I threw open the door.
We rushed into the darkness.
***
Old Town Clock wasn’t large, so even though it was denser with fog than the entire fort had been, it didn’t take us long to determine that the first floor was empty.
Harold groaned loudly.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. As close as he was, I could barely see him.
“Before we stepped inside I should have said, ‘Ready Player One.’ And then you could have said, ‘Ready Player Two.’ That would have been cool.”
“Next time we do something like this we can …”
I trailed off. I’d spotted something.
“V?” Harold asked. “What is it?”
I pointed up the stairs. Wreathed in fog and staring down at us with a wicked smile was the Cuckoo Girl.
“You came,” she said, sounding both surprised and delighted. “I can’t believe it. Well, you’re almost out of time. Let’s have some fun.”
“That’s exactly what we came for,” I said, and without giving her time to respond, both Harold and I charged up the stairs. We raised our weapons and yelled.
The Cuckoo Girl was caught off guard — maybe even a little afraid, judging by the look on her face — and ran away from us. We hoped she’d lead us to the Wisp.
And she did.
Although it hadn’t been long since I’d released the Wisp, I’d already forgotten what it felt like to be in her presence — her overpowering yet gentle stature, her odd way of talking, her contradictory essence.
Looking at her floating in the air, surrounded by mist and holding that glowing orb in front of her chest, made my knees go weak and my head feel heavy.
This is it, V, I told myself. Don’t get cold feet now.
But it was cold, and not because of my nerves. I could see my breath in front of me and the windows were covered in frost.
The Wisp looked at me with the slightest hint of a smile, but her eyes were like ice. They penetrated my skin and observed my soul, poked at my brain and read my thoughts. “We meet again, Evie Vanstone. But now, unlike last time, you are no longer a friend of the Netherrealm.”
“They brought the army of ghosts to the fort,” the Cuckoo Girl spat. “They snuffed out the Grey Lady and the Sergeant.”
“Is this true?” the Wisp asked as gently as a mother wishing her sleeping baby goodnight.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even open my mouth. My tongue felt like it was swollen and my throat was painfully dry.
The Wisp laughed, a sound without joy. “No need to answer, Evie. I know what you’ve done, and I know why you’re here.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve come to kill us.”
I still couldn’t speak, but Harold picked up my slack. “There’s no use denying it,” he said, and raised the wrench.
I’d temporarily lost my courage, and Harold had found it. Seeing that broke me out of my frozen state. I raised the shovel, but the Wisp raised her free hand and made a fist, then quickly spread her fingers. The shovel flew out of my hand and smashed through one of the narrow corner windows. Harold’s wrench broke through one of the opposite windows, and the bags of salt followed the shovel and wrench out through the shattered glass. I heard everything hit the ground below.
We were defenceless.
“Wait a minute. Your name. Evie Vanstone … Evie Vanstone … Evie Vanstone,” the Wisp said, rolling my name around her mouth like a morsel of meat she was savouring. “I know your parents.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“My parents?” I said, not quite believing my own ears. That was a game changer.
I was vaguely aware of Harold beside me, whispering. Something about “stick to the,” but I couldn’t focus on him. If the Wisp knew my parents …
She nodded. “Yes. They died two years and thirty-seven days ago. They’ve been trapped in the Netherrealm ever since.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, hating the way I sounded, high-pitched and panicked. “You’re lying.”
“I promise you I am not,” she said, but there was a glint in her eyes that made me question what she was saying. “They came to the Netherrealm and, like so many before them and so many since, they couldn’t leave. But you have no need to worry that they’re neglected …” Her orb grew brighter and the room grew darker. “I make sure to torment them daily.”
Whether or not it was true, I had heard enough. I gave Harold a slight nod, then uttered the line I’d said so many times playing Kill Screen: “I have come to send you back to the Netherrealm. You are an agent of darkness and are not welcome here among the living.” I paused, then added, “This is for my parents.”
Harold and I both lunged forward, throwing all of our weight into the ghosts. He into the Cuckoo Girl and me into the Wisp. For this part of the plan to work we needed neither of them to suspect that we’d attack them unarmed, which is why we tricked the Wisp into getting rid of the shovel, wrench and salt.
It worked. Neither the Wisp nor the Cuckoo Girl put up much of a fight, at least not at first. Harold yelled in pain but managed to push the Cuckoo Girl through the back wall and into one of the clock faces outside. Her body came into contact with the minute and hour hands, which we’d guessed were made of iron. We couldn’t see what happened, but we heard it. She screamed — an anguished sound that, after a brief struggle, ended abruptly
.
As Harold took care of the Cuckoo Girl, I struggled with the Wisp. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight. Touching her didn’t hurt, so I pushed her toward the side wall, which also had an iron clock on its exterior. But she yanked me to the corner and we fell backwards through one of the broken windows, then plummeted. I thought I was dead meat, but she pulled us both up just before we hit the ground.
We flew through the air, wrapped around each other, heading east. First over Carmichael Street, through the Grand Parade, then over George Street, past a large-scale recreation of Theodore the Tugboat docked on the wharf and then over the harbour. It had taken only a few seconds to reach the water.
“You thought you could push me into the clock face and I’d disappear? Die?” The Wisp spoke directly into my ear. I cringed. Her voice sounded like a mixture of a snake’s hiss and nails on a chalkboard. “Foolish girl. You can’t kill me. Once I’ve disposed of you I’ll return to the Citadel, claim your friend’s soul and begin summoning more Netherrealm ghosts. And no one will be able to stop me.”
“You’re right, no one would be able to stop you,” I said as I dug my hand into my cargo pants pocket. I looked down. We were high above the harbour and moving fast. I steeled my nerve. “Which is why I need to stop you now!”
I pulled free the box of salt I’d had in my pocket ever since Pete’s Fine Foods and sprayed it onto the Wisp’s face and neck.
“Waste not, want not,” I said, thinking of Grandma and her collection of fast-food salt and pepper packs.
The Wisp howled and shrieked as the salt bit into her flesh, opening an angry cut just below her left eye that ran down to the top of her collarbone. She didn’t disappear, like the Netherrealm ghosts, but she did use her hands — both of them — to cover her face.
The orb was suspended in mid-air between us.
I grabbed the orb — it was surprisingly cool — and held it tight to my chest, like a wide receiver afraid of dropping a football when the end zone is only ten yards away. As soon as I did, I started to fall. The Wisp continued to soar away, but only for a beat before she realized what had happened.
Kill Screen Page 8
