The Parchment (The Memory of Blood)

by Sylvie Brisset

  Upon returning to the shop, he seemed to have seen a luminous soul, which was lying outside. He had not really paid attention, his mind too busy with the disappearance of Mystie. But maybe one of his contacts wanted to talk to him and did not know where to reach him. In his condition, no way to receive calls or SMS. In terms of distant communication, there were still many fields of improvements for souls!

  He rose and looked around the store, hoping that his intuition had been correct. Someone was there, he felt him, although he could not see him. His friends would come to him immediately. It was something else or rather someone else.

  He decided to wait. Maybe it was a young ghost still afraid of his condition. Or a bright spirit who had learnt that in this street lived human beings capable to see the souls.

  Casper was trying to relax. His nervousness and his fear at the thought of his disappeared friends showed through. He knew it. He must not worry his mysterious visitor.

  He hummed "Give me all your lovin" from ZZ Top, while continuing to watch the lights in the sky. Nothing was better than music for putting people at ease. Especially since he also mimicked the gestures of the musicians. Who could fear a ghost sometimes playing guitar, sometimes drums, on imaginary instruments?

  Finally, something moved. A ghost approached. A young woman he did not know, advanced cautiously toward him while looking around her. She progressed by fits and starts. Newborn ghost, Casper diagnosed. He took care not to move, not to frighten her. But he gave her a big smile to encourage her.

  She was now facing him, staring at him without a word.

  "Hi!" Casper said.

  She seemed to hesitate, and then replied in an unsteady voice. "Hello!"

  Shit! Casper thought. An English or an American.

  He was more and more excited. She could help him, he was sure about it. But she seemed so scared, that Casper feared of seeing her disappear under his eyes.

  "My name is Casper!" he said proudly.

  She smiled, thinking no doubt of the character of the Friendly Ghost cartoon.

  She looked at him, pointed to her chest and said, "Michaela."

  Casper immediately thought of the young woman who Silvo had spoken at their first meeting. Unfortunately, the American cop had guessed right in thinking she was dead. But he still wanted all the same to verify.

  "Jones?" Casper asked.

  Her face brightened, and she kept repeating "Yes! Yes! Michaela Jones."

  Clearly, she was relieved and happy that he knew her. This comforted her. She had contacted the right person. Doubtless she looked for somebody knowing her story, at least in part.

  Casper's English was quite limited. He knew it especially by the lyrics he hummed, and did not want to talk about rock 'n roll. And aside from expressions like "Where is John? John is in the kitchen", he had few memories of his schoolwork. Knowing that John was in the kitchen didn't help in the matter! Michaela on her side had not uttered a word of French. Things were off to a bad start!

  He could have asked Silvo to be the interpreter. He, at least, spoke English. But if Michaela had not come into the shop, it was probably for good reason. He tried his luck anyway, and invited Michaela to follow him. She did so, awkwardly. But when she saw they were coming down to the shop, she stopped and shook her head.

  Casper encouraged her, but she folded her arms in a voluntary attitude and, obstinate, ascended to the roofs. Casper followed her with a sigh.

  Yet, there were only Silvo and Clothilde down there. Perhaps she did not know that Silvo was a member of law enforcement and could therefore be trusted. Or maybe she was afraid of the police. But how to convince her?

  She stared at Casper, seeming to say, "I await your suggestions." Casper scratched his head. These Americans! It was not because English was the international language that only those among whom it was not the mother tongue had to make efforts!

  Best was to communicate by images projection, universal language. But she did not seem ready for that. Besides, in his knowledge, he was the only ghost to achieve it. Telepathy was more of a vampire trick. If Casper had learned the technique, at least the basics, it was by spying on the explanations that Delatour had given to Mystie in the art and the way to master this ability. And as Mystie did not like this too invasive method of communication, the course did not last long. Casper had to improvise with what he had.

  It would have been surprising if Michaela succeeded, given her young ghost age. She already had difficulties moving...And anyway he did not how to explain the technique. It was more difficult than it seemed. Think of something, yes, but project the image to the other one, that was another matter. This required mind control and mental strength. He only succeeded in sending images and for one person in front of him. He was unable to hold a discussion, much less at a distance.

  He did not want to scare Michaela by bombarding her mind directly. He projected the image of a basket of cherries, and she smiled at the vision. Well, she received his images. He banged his head from his index finger to make her understand that he thought of the basket of cherries. Then he pretended to take his thoughts in his head and to throw them to her.

  She shook her head in understanding.

  Michaela frowned. Clearly she was trying to do like him, but Casper received nothing. He waved her not to insist.

  "Wait! Uh, wait! Me!" he added, pointing at himself.

  It was time for him to take over. He projected the image of Mystie, but she looked at him blankly. Obviously this meant nothing to her.

  He projected that of Delatour. She had a backlash, frightened. She knew that Delatour was a black soul and therefore had seen him.

  Casper did not know how to make her understand that the vampire was not that bad, the whole with simple pictures. He imagined a big teddy bear, stuck him the face of Delatour, what made Michaela laughed.

  Then he mimed a Sioux chief scrutinizing the horizon. She seemed to understand his request, but hesitated. She managed a finger towards her, then put it on her lips as a sign of silence. Casper nodded. Okay, she did not want him talking about her. He pretended to pull a zipper on his lips. He did not understand why she distrusted Silvo, especially being a ghost. But he understood that she could be afraid of a black soul. He would respect her request.

  She smiled again and beckoned him to follow her. Casper hastened to comply.

  ***

  Minutes later Casper entered without warning by shouting in a cheerful voice in the spirit of Silvo.

  "Obi-Wan! I felt a great disturbance in the force!"

  "What?" Clothilde and Silvo asked simultaneously.

  "Well yes! You do not know Star Wars?"

  "Casper, I like you very much," Clothilde said. "But sometimes I have trouble in following your film references. What does this have to do with our situation?"

  "At one point, Obi-Wan felt that the planet Alderaan was destroyed by the Empire and he said he felt a disturbance in the force."

  "I still do not see the link," Silvo said, trying, with increasing difficulty, to remain calm.

  "This afternoon, I went dragging around, and chatted with other ghosts who have helped me."

  "Some friends of yours?"

  Casper did not answer. He promised the silence to Michaela. He would keep his promise. He had to put Silvo on track, without revealing his sources.

  "About twenty miles west of Paris there is a weird thing."

  "Something? What stuff?"

  "Waves are strange. It's like jamming."

  "An aluminum plant?" Silvo asked.

  "No. It's not that the waves do not pass, or badly. It is rather that there are too many. And they are different all the time. That tells you something?"

  Silvo sat up, suddenly feverish. "That could indeed be a jamming. The principle is to send waves to various frequencies to blur the communications."

  "Looks like that's it. It might be them. They seem to like high-tech gadgets. And people who spy on others, in turn, tend to believe that the world is li
ke them."

  "And we can imagine that it also disrupts telepathy. I have not gotten any report about this, but I'll look at my emails on Mystie’s computer."

  We’re losing time! Casper thought. He had to be more convincing.

  "I doubt that the military spotted this event. Too localized. And not near an airport or building of this kind. It only covers a small area, but the ghosts bypass it."

  "I called immediately the specialists so they can locate the source. You can position me the geographical area?"

  "I can do better than that. It comes from a suburban house. I went there. But I have not yet dared to cross the barrier."

  "Take no risk Casper!" Clothilde asked. "Two are missing. I do not want to add you to the list."

  "Do not worry. It would just tickle me in the time it takes to cross it."

  "Casper, I think you hit the jackpot! Congratulations! But Clothilde is right. Wait till my team is on hand to diagnose the cause before you venture there. Too few people can perceive you so that your safety cannot be guaranteed. Do not forget the vacuum tube. If Mystie had not been there..."

  "Do not worry. I'm not a kamikaze."

  "I will gather my intervention brigade, and we'll see on site," Silvo said, taking out his phone to contact his men.

  "I go on reconnaissance," Casper announced. "If I am wrong, I come around to tell you. Otherwise I'll tell you what I found, for you to decide how to free her. And I'll be careful."

  "Me, I will stay here," Clothilde announced. "I do not want to risk being absent if Mystie tries to contact me."

  "Agreed. The first who has news will call the others," Silvo confirmed.

  He was leaving the shop, phone already stuck on his ear, but retraced his steps, this time to embrace Clothilde.

  "We will find her. Trust me."

  CHAPTER - 21 -

  Casper needed only a few seconds to get there. The overload of sounds came from a suburban house, which, if they were undetectable by humans living nearby, made it difficult for a ghost to materialize in spectral shape. The house was under a phonic bell. Casper had never seen anything like it.

  Aside from the fact that the neighbors were probably having trouble with their Wi-Fi connections, nothing seemed unusual. The house looked like the others, with its garden not very well maintained, and the van in the inside path. The shutters were closed. No light filtered through. Located off the city, the house was slightly behind the others. The hedges around the garden offered relative discretion, but did not totally hide either the view from the possible curious, like this lady who while walking her dog was trying to get a look at her neighbors.

  Casper wondered if he had not drawn the wrong conclusions. Who knows? Maybe it was a normal family with a teenager who was testing a new musical concept without noticing that he was creating a noise disturbance. The ghost did not want to give false hope to his friends. He had maybe mobilized many men who would have been more useful to continue their investigations.

  But Michaela had led him to this house. Without her, he would never have found this place. After having driven him there, the young woman had disappeared without a trace. He did not know where she was. She was terrified, it was obvious. And perhaps as much because of Delatour’s nature as because of her murderers and their sound protections. He could not sit there and wait. There was only one way to find out.

  He forced the passage and had the unpleasant impression that his vital spark had disintegrated to the four winds, diluted in the anarchic waves. He pursued his progress with more and more difficulties. He was too far now to go back, but he began to fear that nothing would remain of him at the end of the passage. It was better to accelerate to exit this area of turbulence as quickly as possible. Bringing together his remaining strength, he sank even more, and succeeded to reach a quieter area. The pressure was more bearable. He made it! Protection formed a bell around the house. He was now in the place. Jamming still affected him, but at least his energy remained concentrated.

  The technique was good, but it was not worth the protection of Clothilde!

  Casper suddenly struck his head and treated himself of fool. That's why Michaela had not wanted to go to the shop. In fact, it was not that she did not want, but she could not! Clothilde had set in her store and her flat magical protections that prevent the spirits from entering. Only himself and Delatour were allowed to pass.

  Michaela had probably thought it was a trap of the same style as that used by her captors. That was no way to earn her trust!

  He crossed the front door and entered the ground floor. No furniture, he immediately noticed. He was probably on the right track. Who would stay in an empty house? In the kitchen, he found two men in conversation. One of them was sitting on a box and sipping a beer. The other was trying to cool a soda by passing it under running cold water from the sink. Casper did not understand what the guy said. Americans! he thought excitedly. He crossed the lounge. No furniture there either but the ground was littered with perfectly aligned boxes, filled with electronic equipment. No trace of Mystie or Delatour.

  He continued his visit, going upstairs. But he found only empty rooms with faded wallpaper and stained carpet. The trapdoor leading to the attic was opened. He crossed the ceiling and found the machine responsible for the interference, in balanced on the framework. He would have like to study it more closely, but he had to find his friends. For now, he just wanted to check the place.

  While returning to the ground floor, he saw a third man in military fatigues going down to what should be a basement or garage. Where did he come from? Probably from the bathroom. Casper followed in his direction.

  He heard Delatour’s voice even before having reached the bottom of the staircase. Casper was jubilant, proud of his discovery. Delatour seemed to be in a completely different mindset.

  "But I have already said it to you dozens of times! Are you deaf or something?"

  "We will start again from the beginning, Delatour."

  It had to be a laundry room. Even there, the shutters were closed. Single room with concrete wall and floor, it had water inlets, and an electric meter. Compared to other parts of the house, it was doubtless the most furnished.

  At the entrance, an open laptop rested on a table. The man who Casper had followed was sitting in front of it, following on the computer a list of questions to ask to Delatour. By looking more closely at the screen, Casper saw an area of live exchange. The man reported to a third party what was happening in the room. This smart guy was connected to the Internet via a telephone line that ran along the ground towards the floor. Of course, if he had a wireless connection, he would have had problems with the jamming. In any case, he quickly tapped the keys on his keyboard. If he wanted to change vocation, the jailer could become a secretary.

  Another sidekick, this one skinny, listed vials on the second table cluttered with devices used in medical laboratories. He was young compared with the others, who were about forty. He even still had the stigma of teenage acne. He was wearing a white coat and Casper wondered why he had bothered to wear a gown in such circumstances. It was maybe like a uniform. Perhaps he believed that it gave some legitimacy to his acts. Casper recognized a microscope, a centrifuge, blood samples in a shaker. He did not know the use of the other machines that whirred quietly could be.

  When the lab assistant bent to open what had to be a mini fridge, Casper discovered Delatour.

  He was tied to a chair. Electrodes were connected to his head and to a machine that oscillated slowly onto graph paper, which hissed as it unrolled.

  Delatour was not pretty. He had deep cuts on his face and arms. Blood was still trickling, forming a pool of red blood mixed with concrete dust at the foot of his chair. Burn marks appeared on his right hand. The left hung in an unnatural angle. He looked like a boxer at the end of a fight. His eyelids were swollen and bruising almost closed his eyes. His pupils were dilated. Casper knew this glance well. He had been drugged. He was conscious, but drugged.

 
The lab assistant stood up and without paying any attention to the prisoner watched the EEG. He occasionally wrote marks in ink on the lined paper.

  The other man, about two hundred pounds, led the interrogation. Their conversation was recorded. A microphone was placed on a shelf near Delatour. Their instruments did not seem affected by the jamming and Casper wondered why. But it was true that he was a musician. He was not an expert in anarchic decibels. Even if this point of view was not shared by all.

  The ghost was convinced that Delatour had seen him, although the vampire has shown nothing. Casper would have liked to get in the head of the vampire just for a chat. But he was not certain that this damn machine would not reveal his presence, or at least an anomaly difficult to explain.

  Seeing Delatour in this state made him even more worried for Mystie. The vampire would heal. The injuries were impressive, but nothing irreparable. Moreover, knowing the power of Delatour, he had chosen to allow torture. At least, at the beginning.

  Casper resumed his search of the house. He even visited the shed in the garden, but found no trace of Mystie.

  Silvo had not yet arrived. Casper had time to spy a little longer to learn more and perhaps get in touch with the vampire, one way or another.

  He decided, however, not to mention Mystie’s abduction, not yet. Anyway, Delatour was offside at the moment and who knew how he would react when he would be aware of it?

  Casper returned in the laundry room and apostrophized the vampire.

  "Well Dracul! You holding up? The cavalry is coming! Your look of dark, tall and handsome stranger has turned ugly."

  "How long is it going to last?" Delatour blew, without Casper knowing if he was talking to him or to his torturers.

  "A matter of minutes," Casper said.

  "The necessary time!" The man replied at the same time.

  "Uh...Say. Did you see something interesting? I looked everywhere, but I did not find much, apart from the two other upstairs."