by Drew Hayes
Having been without a gut for so long, The Emissary didn’t recognize the sound of one whispering intuition to him.
* * *
After giving the crew of Specter Quest their orders, Velt dragged the three broom-closet spirits into another room to have a “chat” with them. This left Kay, Auggie, and Topher alone for the first time since one of them became incorporeal. For a moment, they stared at each other, uncertain of what to say now that communication was once again possible. Ultimately, it was Topher—had to be Topher—who spoke up and broke the ice.
“You owe me ten dollars.”
“Excuse me?” Auggie tilted his head a bit too far in exaggeration, hitting an angle that would have been supremely uncomfortable had he possessed actual vertebrae.
“First year of filming: I bet you’d believe in ghosts before the show ended its run. Well, we’re still making episodes, and since you’re hovering nearly a foot off the ground, I’d guess you’re finally ready to admit ghosts are real.”
Auggie glanced down and realized he was indeed off the floor again. With a minor exertion of willpower he lowered himself down. Moving in this form was surprisingly easy, so much so that he kept doing it unintentionally.
“Technically, I’ve admitted to nothing. Perhaps what’s happening right now is mass delirium. Or maybe there was a leak of toxic fumes, and we’re all passed out on the floor, hallucinating.”
“I feel like I’d have at least some resistance to that sort of shit,” Kay pointed out, knocking back a gulp from the bottle she’d been prepared to swing at Velt. “I mean, sure, you two would be gone like freshmen, but I spend a lot of my free time putting toxic things in my body. I’m not going out that easy.”
“To that effect, would you mind if I asked why you are still drinking?”
“’Cause the chick who told us that you were a disembodied spirit also said we were the only thing standing between the world and some sort of undead apocalypse.”
“That should provide you with more reason for sobriety,” Auggie said.
“Fuck that. If I’m getting killed, and the world is ending, there is no way in possibly-literal Hell that I’m facing that shit sober.” Kay illustrated the point with another short glug then offered the bottle to Topher, who waved her off.
“World hasn’t ended yet,” Topher said. “And Velt says our best bet for stopping this emcee ghost is to find Auggie’s body. Were you able to get any of the remote cameras up and running?”
“All four of them.” There was a strange note of pride in Auggie’s voice, as though he were a touch insulted that anything, even being ripped from his body, would possibly cause him to leave a job incomplete.
“Great; that should give us a decent look at the main parts of the camp. Now, how do we turn them on?”
“Ooooh, I can do this. I’ve seen Auggie do it dozens of times.” Kay darted over, open bottle still in hand, and dropped into the worn chair that sat in front of Auggie’s hub.
“Absolutely not! Topher, don’t let her touch my equipment.”
“She runs a whole editing setup and works with cameras daily, it’s not like she’s bad with technology.”
“Well . . . maybe, but . . . she’ll get all my settings tweaked up and it will take ages to fix them.” Auggie was perfectly aware of the ridiculousness of the complaint, but rather than acknowledge it, he merely crossed his arms and mentally dug in harder. Luckily, a lifetime of friendship had left Topher with at least some knowledge of how Auggie’s head worked.
“Don’t worry, man. We’ll find him and get your body back, I promise. Then you’ll be the one sitting in your chair and messing with the buttons. Kay is just a temporary sub.”
“That’s right, tech-boy; for the first time in your life a beautiful woman is under your command.” Kay set the bottle down, turned to the multi-monitored hub, and laid her hands on a keyboard. “Now, tell me what to do already.”
Auggie took just a moment, debating whether to respond to her “beautiful woman” jab, but thought better of it. Crude as she was, Kay was trying to make him feel better by settling back in to their usual dynamic. And, strangely enough, it sort of worked.
“Very well, let’s see what the cameras are capturing. Try not to spill any of your near-ethanol intoxicants on my equipment while you’re at it.”
“No promises!” Kay declared proudly.
* * *
“And that’s when you came in, and we decided to hide and see how things went,” Clinton finished explaining. “No one has ever been able to see us before. Well, one guy took some mushrooms back in the early eighties, a few years before Art died, and I think he and I had a conversation. It was hard to tell though. He kept constantly going off topic. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the mushrooms, or if he was just hallucinating a talk that was similar to the one I thought we were having.”
“Could have been either,” Velt told him. “Occasionally, drugs open up the senses, but it takes a really spot-on mix that few people happen across. Plus the dosage and chemicals required vary based on someone’s body.”
“Who cares about a thirty-year-old conversation? I want to know how you plan to get us out of here,” Irwin demanded. He leaned forward in his chair, so much so that he’d have gone tumbling off if he’d had any mass for gravity to take hold of. “You’re a medium; your job is to help lost spirits, so it’s time for you to get to it.”
“First off, I’m not that kind of medium.” Velt’s face was expressionless, but there was a current of violence in her tone that made both Art and Clinton shift in their seats. A living person shouldn’t be able to do anything to injure them, yet every ounce of sense they had told them to treat her as a very real threat. “Secondly, I don’t have to do shit for you. I’ve got bigger problems to worry about. If you want help, I suggest you earn it by taking work off my plate.”
“You would try to extort the dead?” Irwin’s indignation was made that much more absurd by his willful discounting of the fact that he’d been trying to extort a medium.
“I’ll bargain with them, when they have something I can use. In this case, you three might just be handy. You can cover lots of ground quickly, and The Emissary will be on the lookout for me and the other living folks. I doubt he would ever consider hiding from spirits.”
“You want us to go huntin’ for him. We find the fella, you stop the dead-world-risin’ madness, and then you help us move on, or at least get off this damn campground. That about sum it up?” Art asked.
“Look at that: thirty years apart and we still speak the same language,” Velt said, gracing Art with a smile. “You hit the nail on the head. In fact, I think solving my problem will also solve yours. You’ve all been stuck here because this place is a combination spirit-trap and magnet. It draws in every soul that dies in its reach, and then holds them in place, all building toward today. Once we stop the ritual, the magic will dissipate, and you should be free to go to whatever is waiting for you.”
“How convenient. The thing we want just happens to coincide with giving you exactly what you want.” Irwin sat back and crossed his arms. “I don’t buy it. I want assurances that our efforts will be properly rewarded.”
“I can assure you that I’ll knock that stupid look off your face if you keep slowing me down with your bullshit. That work for you?”
“Empty threat. I’ve been dead long enough to know that we can only interact with the physical world through incredible effort, and nothing living can so much as touch us.”
Velt stared down Irwin with a smile very different from the genial one she’d flashed at Art. This was not a social conveyance; it was a predator baring its teeth.
“You’ve been dead ‘long enough’? What, a whole year? You have no fucking idea what the rules of your world are. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by spirits; I saw them before I even knew there was a distinction between living and dead. I’ve made a life, a career out of dealing with the shittiest of your lot, and I’ve gotten damne
d good at it. Oh, and one more thing: I never make empty threats.”
Things very well might have escalated in that moment, as Irwin’s stupidity beat out his survival instincts in the race to his tongue, but fortunately (for him), Kay’s voice bounced off the walls and interrupted their discussion.
“Velt! Come here!”
“What’s wrong? Did you see a clue?”
“Fuck a clue! We see Auggie, on screen, right now. He’s down by the cabins.”
Velt turned back to the spirits. “Anyone who wants to earn a ticket out of here, come with me. Hopefully, we can end this whole shitshow right now.”
Chapter 7
Velt led the charge with Topher several steps behind her. The native ghosts spread out in the air, scanning for Auggie’s body. The big, blue-haired man was doing a surprisingly good job keeping up, and that was given the fact that Velt was actively trying to shake him. She didn’t need a human getting mixed up in this. If she were facing a normal ghast, some low-level evil spirit feeding on negative emotion, then she wouldn’t have sweated a tagalong. Even if it were a poltergeist, the big bad brother of the ghast, things might have been okay. Unfortunately, her opponent was neither of those things. It was a wraith: an evil spirit so powerful and rare that she’d spent most of her career believing them to be pure myth. If Topher made a wrong move, there was a very real possibility he’d end up floating alongside Auggie, only there wouldn’t be any way to reverse his condition.
At least she’d convinced Kay and Auggie to stay back and man the hub. Having eyes on their target made things much easier, plus it kept those two out of harm’s way. If she’d had more time, she’d have talked Topher in to staying as well, but there was no telling how long The Emissary would stay put. It was possible he was preparing to activate the second site, which was all the more reason to hurry. Once that one was started up, her job got a whole lot harder.
“What’s the plan?” Topher asked. His breathing was heavy, but not as labored as it should be for how much muscle he was hauling around. Velt revised her assessment of his physique; evidently, he did work in some cardio.
“We find The Emissary, and I kick his ass.” She leapt over a small root cluster with practiced grace. Topher mimicked her motion, refusing to fall behind.
“That’s what I’m wondering about. How do you beat up a ghost? And more importantly, how are you getting it out of my friend’s body?”
“Same method for both: lots of punching, and maybe some kicks.”
“You’re going to attack Auggie?” Topher quickened his pace, narrowing the gap between him and the woman who was casually talking about assaulting his best friend.
“Nothing permanent.” She glanced back and noticed the expression of doubt on Topher’s face. Biting back a sigh of exasperation, she tried to explain. “Look, right now, the best thing we have going for us is that the spirit driving Auggie’s body around hasn’t been corporeal in millennia. I’m hoping it forgot what pain feels like and the shock will drive it out.”
“Please tell me there’s a Plan B.”
“Plan B is kick the shit out of your friend until The Emissary realizes it can’t win. Then it will abandon the body to take me on with all its spirit abilities.”
Topher’s eyes widened in shock, not that Velt could see it from her position. “Your plan is to mercilessly beat my friend and hope that knocks out an evil spirit. Then, if it does somehow work, you’re stuck facing down a ghost that, apparently, has insane supernatural abilities and that you can’t touch. And people think I’m dumb.”
“I’m not as helpless as you’d think. Just stay back when we find it. The last thing I need is it jumping over and grabbing your body instead. Then I’d have two disembodied idiots to deal with.”
“Neither of us is—”
Topher stopped talking as Velt came to an abrupt halt and held up her hand. For a moment, he couldn’t see what had given her pause. Then Topher noticed one of the ghosts from the broom closet floating about twenty feet high in the air, trying to look like he was casually passing by as he frantically pointed down at one of the cabins. Velt met the ghost’s eye and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. That was clearly all it needed; her head had barely stopped moving before the ghost picked up speed, doing its best to get clear of the area.
“Stay here,” Velt whispered. “Maybe stay a little farther back, actually. No matter what you hear, or think you hear, do not approach until I physically walk out and wave you over. Wraiths are tricky bastards, especially when they have access to a living vessel.”
“How will I know it didn’t take over your body?”
Velt let out an odd sound, some curious combination of a snort and a laugh. “It’s not an issue, I promise. Now stay put, camera-boy. I’m going to go try and beat your friend’s body back into his possession.”
With that she was gone, darting off toward a half-collapsed cabin that would have made any safety inspector shit a chicken. Topher watched her go, unsure if he was intrigued by her mystery, annoyed by her attitude, or blinded by the looks of this very strange woman.
In truth, it was, of course, all three.
* * *
Auggie’s body had wandered in to and out of shot periodically since they’d first caught sight of it. The camera at the top of a small hill overlooking the cabins was currently trained on it, so as the man who both was and wasn’t Auggie went through the various dilapidated structures, Kay and Auggie’s spirit were able to watch his movements.
“This is surreal. I mean, that’s me. That’s me walking around out there, combing through those cabins. I’m watching myself do things with utter disconnection.”
“Welcome to the joys of Internet video and blackout drinking,” Kay replied. “At least you’re not trying to ride a mechanical bull with the top half of your ass sticking out of your low-rider jeans.”
“True, but the night is still young. Who knows what my body will do before it’s back in my rightful possession?”
Kay swiveled around, looking up at the floating form of her coworker. “August Parrish, did you just make a joke?”
“You could try to act a little less surprised. I’m only the surly professional when we’re working. In my off time, I’m as carefree and fun as anyone.”
“Last weekend, I did shots of Everclear while illegally base-jumping off a downtown bank building.”
“Okay, fine, anyone normal,” Auggie amended.
“Maybe one day, I’ll actually get to see that. You say you’re fun when we’re off, but honestly, Auggie, when are you ever not working? I’ve been with you two since the end of season one, and I can’t think of a single time when you weren’t talking about, worrying about, or dealing with the show.”
“One of us has to,” Auggie said. “Topher has the passion, but none of the logistical know-how, and while you are admittedly excellent with everything film-related, that still leaves a tremendous amount of technical work on my shoulders. If I don’t do the work, it doesn’t get done.”
“Auggie, I’ve seen our profits. You could easily afford someone to lessen your workload,” Kay told him. “You know what I think?”
“Heaven save me from such knowledge.”
“Cute. I think you like having the weight of the show on your shoulders. Because Topher is the one wooing the audience and driving up the ratings, you want to feel like his equal, so you make sure that every other aspect of the show depends on you. Otherwise, you might just feel like a friend Topher was bringing along on his train to success.”
Auggie stared at the woman hard then let out a small sigh. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to be insecure about that, given that I made peace with it decades ago. Topher has always been a force of nature. His gregariousness, enthusiasm, and social acumen are appealing to those around him. I’m objectively smarter than he is, yet his capability of making people like him has opened impossible doors for him. Of course, my own skillset afforded me different opportunities; academic and social i
ntelligence each have their own rewards. Individually, we could have found success in the worlds geared toward our talents, but working together, we can do something utterly different: we’ve been able to make a place in the world that’s all our own. I’m quite happy with that achievement, even if Topher is in the flashier, more prestigious role.”
“That was surprisingly poetic, and you didn’t even get huffy once,” Kay said. She glanced at the monitor and started in surprise. “Speaking of Topher, he and Velt just arrived at the cabins. It looks like they’re talking.”
“Hopefully discussing a strategic and meticulous plan to retrieve my body.”
“Velt really didn’t strike me as that kind of gal.”
“Nor me. That was a weak attempt at humor to alleviate my anxiety.” Auggie leaned forward to watch the feed. “It looks as though she’s going into the cabin. Why is Topher staying put?”
“No clue, but he’s got a mic and an earpiece. Want me to ask?”
“I suppose we should give them a moment,” Auggie replied.
He and Kay kept their eyes trained on the monitor, waiting for the slightest sign that something was happening. For several minutes, there was nothing aside from Topher standing there, looking increasingly concerned. Just as Kay was about to ask Topher for an update, something finally happened.
Specifically, Velt burst through the half-crumbled remains of the eastern wall, flew through the air, and landed hard on a grassy hill. When she landed, she lay there, unmoving save for a slight stirring as she breathed. Unfortunately, Auggie’s body did not share her embargo on action, as it emerged from the cabin’s remains with a murderous expression unlike anything the real Auggie would have ever worn.
“Any chance that was part of the plan?” Kay asked.
Auggie merely shook his head, eyes on the monitor. He dearly hoped his body wasn’t about to commit murder, but with every step it took closer to the downed Velt, the likelihood diminished significantly.
