Restless Spirits

by Sharon Stevenson

  “Well, I’m fine and I’ve got shit to do, so back up before I get pissed off.”

  He took a single step back. “I promised her. I can’t let you go.”

  I stared at him. He had to be joking. There was no chance I was having him trail home after me. Pete’s mum would know something was wrong.

  “Back off,” I told him, moving to push him. Something weird happened as I touched his t-shirt. A flash of blue under my hands made my fingers feel tingly and warm. The dead guy went flying back down the hall. He crashed into the wall and stared at me in shock. I glanced at my hands. The blue tint had gone, but now I knew what it was.

  “What the hell?” American Animate clambered to his feet.

  “Stay here,” I told him. “In fact, stay exactly where you are.”

  I felt the magic pulse from my fingers. I sent it to him, and it pinned him in place.

  He stared at me in horror. “What did you do?”

  I didn’t have another second to waste, so I didn’t. I closed my eyes and imagined my room at Auntie Jackie’s house. When I opened them again, I was standing in the centre of my man cave. I tore off my clothes and headed straight for my en suite bathroom. Running the shower, I watched the sparks of blue that looked like electricity between my fingers. Every time I thought of magic I could feel it flow through me. I didn’t know when this had happened, but I was a User. Maybe I had been for years, maybe all the drugs and alcohol and vampire-bite highs had concealed my talents. Maybe I was always supposed to be this powerful. Or maybe it had grown inside me after everything I’d been through. It was my reward for enduring so much pain and loss. It was to allow me to avenge Pete and Tim. My lips curled as I washed up. I made the soap levitate and spin when I was done with it. I let it drop to the shower basin as I stepped out, turning the water off without touching the tap. I dried off and wiped the bathroom mirror down. The blue tint I’d noticed in my eyes before was back. I grinned. The King was never going to see this coming.

  I dressed quickly, teleporting out when I heard Auntie Jackie’s voice outside the door.

  Tim’s room in the castle was a mess. One of his suits lay on the floor at his side of the bed. It was covered in blood and other things that smelled awful and looked worse.

  Something had happened. He hadn’t just been reassigned. He’d been punished. I tightened my hold on his blood-stained shirt. The flow of magic through my body made me shudder uncontrollably. I was letting my anger fuel it. I realised that when I saw I was burning the fabric through my blue-tinted fingers. I dropped the shirt and the bed burst into flames. My nightmares returned to me as the flames rose, crackling and bright. I held my hands out, willing the fire to extinguish. It only grew, fresh waves of heat pulsing from my fingers and fanning the flames. Smoke started to burn my lungs. I backed away from the bed, watching it burn. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I found the door and unlocked it with my magic. The hallway was dark. I closed the door on the burning room and started down the corridor. The King had to be around here somewhere.

  My ability to start an unstoppable fire would come in handy when I finally found him.

  Seventeen – Kit

  I’d overslept for opening the pub, I knew this and yet I couldn’t seem to make myself move. What does it matter? I couldn’t think of an answer that would prompt me to get out of bed. The daily grind wasn’t claiming me as its prisoner. Not today. I stared at the ceiling. I should care that I’m on a slippery slope right now. Too many days like this and I’d have to learn to live without electricity, and food, and whatever else I wouldn’t be able to pay for anymore. Mild guilt set in, but it wasn’t enough to make me get out of bed. One day off wouldn’t kill the pub. I could claim bereavement. So what if Pete hadn’t really been a friend? He’d died for me. I was entitled to grieve. Right?

  I sighed. My feelings over what Pete had done were too tangled to straighten out. I couldn’t quite believe he was gone. It seemed wrong, somehow. That was the only thing I could really hang on to. That Pete wasn’t supposed to die. Well, he had anyway. Nothing was going to change that. Still, I couldn’t totally believe I’d never see his smart-arse smirk ever again. I was in denial, clearly.

  I hated to think how Mickey must be feeling. Losing a guy I’d barely liked for five minutes was nothing compared to what he’d been through. Pete had been like a brother to him ever since they were kids. Mickey. I should go check on Mickey.

  I pushed back the covers. I made myself shower and dress, sighing every few minutes and wishing I didn’t feel so damned tired and useless. I didn’t bother with breakfast, and I barely remembered to brush my teeth before I left the house. I felt like a teenager again, half-asleep and stumbling around like a zombie to get ready for another shitty day of school.

  I almost wished myself back to fifteen right then and there, anything to avoid the harsh reality of now. Sighing one last time, I locked the flat door behind me and made my way to Pete’s flat.

  A drizzle was starting up as I walked, bumping into people every few steps and muttering half-felt apologies. I really needed to wake the hell up. My hand wandered up to my necklace as I slowed my pace and managed to avoid smacking into any more strangers. I’d seen Pete when I’d taken the necklace off before. Maybe I’d see him again if I took it off now…

  I clenched my jaw. There was no way I was taking the necklace off again. It was protecting me against magic. I needed that a hell of a lot more than I needed to see some stupid dead guy. It wasn’t as if I could date a ghost, anyway.

  I didn’t bother to knock. Mickey would most likely be crashed out. I wondered how the squeamish Animate had coped with my friend’s dodgy stomach. The door swung inwards, and I jumped back. Cal was standing in the hall staring at the door. He looked like a creepy, realistic statue in a haunted house. I shuddered and got over my scare, blaming my tired brain for the reaction.

  “Sorry,” I said, a yawn chasing the apology down quickly.

  “It’s good you’re here, you have to help me,” he said.

  The terror in his eyes wasn’t just my imagination then. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t move. Mickey cast a spell on me.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Mickey’s not a User.”

  “I don’t know how he did it, but it didn’t look like User magic.”

  I could feel a frown coming on. “What do you mean, it didn’t look like User magic?”

  He blew out a breath. “Like, it wasn’t red. It was blue, like you get with ghosts. Or with Animates. I read the manual. I think this is bad.”

  I sighed as I unclasped my necklace. I was going to need to be able to see this for myself. I half expected Pete to be in the room when I put it down on the floor. I suppose he had better things to do that follow me around. I was kind of disappointed, though.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Was I actually moping that a dead guy wasn’t stalking me? I seriously needed my head examined. I took a breath and looked the Animate over. It was easier to see than the pinkish tint of User magic anyway, but the blue sheen of death seemed a lot brighter on him than it should have been. “Crap.”

  “What do we do?” He shot me a hopeful look.

  “Where did Mickey go?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I told him he couldn’t leave, and he did this to me.”

  I tried to think about where he might have gone, and I could only think of one place. I swallowed. “Wait right there.”

  “Ha ha,” he said.

  I picked the necklace back up and stuffed it into my pocket. The vampire who’d made it was probably drinking Mickey’s blood right now. The thought made me shiver.

  The alarm in Cal’s expression made me hesitate as I reached for the door handle.

  “Wait, what are you…”

  “I’ll be back, with Mickey.”

  Eighteen – Pete

  The blue glow of death magic lit up the darkness of the corridor outside the cell. I got up and shoved Timmy’s face aga
inst the cold steel and tried to get a good look down the way. It was useless. As thin as he was, his head was too big to fit through the bars. Footsteps echoed. Someone was definitely coming our way. I moved back.

  “Angie?” I hoped to hell it was that bitch. I’d been stuck in this cunt’s body far too long as it was. If I could rip his skin off to get out, I would. My grip tightened on the bars. I breathed in deeply. Apparently ‘dank’ has a taste; it’s one part metal and two parts old socks. Oh aye, and it’s fuzzy on the tongue as well. I blanched just as the blue tint brightened. An Animate was coming my way. Well, this was interesting. Maybe Timmy wouldn’t have to die in this dank little hole after all. And maybe that meant he could haul his ass to where Angie was at so I could threaten to kill her all over again if she didn’t pull me out of his body.

  The Animate was dressed like one of the King’s guard, which was coincidentally a bit like an usher at a wedding. I narrowed Timmy’s eyes at him. Recognition hit, and I felt Timmy’s jaw slacken.

  Frankie looked concerned. That had been an expression I’d seen a lot as a kid. Mum had been through some seriously messed up shit courtesy of my dad. I remembered hearing her cry a lot back in those days. This was really him. What the fuck?

  “Possession, great,” Frankie murmured. He cleared his throat. “What is it that you want, ghost?”

  “Frankie?”

  He blinked. “Who’s in there?”

  I laughed, and it came out sharp and weird. I blinked, wondering when the hell I’d developed a strange new laugh. Oh aye, it wasn’t actually mine; it was Timmy’s. He had a pretty sarcastic sounding laugh.

  “It’s me,” I said, rolling Timmy’s eyes when I realised how dumb that sounded. I hesitated. Would he even remember me? I cleared Timmy’s throat. “It’s Pete. MacDonald. You dated my…”

  A smile broke through the concern on his face. “Pete?”

  I couldn’t help smiling back. He remembered.

  His smile faded as his dark eyes met Timmy’s. “Oh. Oh no. What happened?”

  I sighed. “It’s a long story. I kind of need to get out of this body. Can you help?”

  Animates were capable of calling on ghosts, after all. I quickly formulated a plan to get me out of Piss-Face’s body.

  “So, you didn’t possess him by choice then?”

  I laughed again, startling myself a second time. “No. Can you summon Angela Hawthorne, Frankie? Apparently, she’s the only one who can get me out of this guy.”

  He nodded slowly and did as I asked. Angie appeared in the cell beside me, folding her arms and looking pissed. I smiled at her. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing…” Her eyes fell on the Animate, and she scowled. “Are you some kind of idiot? What am I saying, of course you’re an idiot! They’ll disrupt our energy signatures for this, you do realise?”

  “They’ll what?” Why did Angie sound like an episode of Star Trek? She didn’t seem like the type to get off on sci-fi adventure shows. “You know what, who cares. Get me out of this body.”

  She shook her head. “Screw you, Pete.”

  Frankie coughed. We turned to him and he smiled wryly. “Angela, I presume? Would you mind releasing Pete’s spirit from Tim’s body, please?”

  She just stared at him. I groaned inwardly.

  “I didn’t think you were a quitter,” I snapped at her. “This is pathetic. If you’re so convinced you were murdered you shouldn’t be giving up so damned easily.”

  “Peter MacDonald, you are released,” she said with a terrifyingly sweet smile stretching out her full lips.

  I felt the tug at my centre as I was pulled out of Timmy’s body. A second later, I was standing in front of Angie and she was pulling at my hair. Damn it, why can ghosts touch each other? It just doesn’t seem right. I tried to push her off, but she’d clearly had more experience with hair-pulling than I did. I growled at her as she petted my face, nails raking and her touch becoming rougher. She pulled her hand back, and I steeled myself for the slap that was coming.

  Frankie frowned. “Let him go, Angela.” His commanding tone was followed by a tingle of magic I felt wash over us both. She let go of my hair and folded her arms under her chest.

  Her anger redirected itself to Frankie. “Who the hell are you and why do you care what I do to this idiot?”

  “That would be none of your business,” I cut in with, hoping Frankie didn’t try to answer her. I didn’t need her knowing anything more about me than she already did.

  Timmy sighed behind me, reminding me of his presence. He was gazing at Frankie as I turned.

  “Thank God that’s over,” he muttered, smoothing down the front of his suit. “What are you doing back here anyway?”

  I ignored Angie’s annoyed hissing as I watched Frankie’s face change. Bad news was coming. I’d seen that look before. He gave a resigned sigh as he looked at Timmy. “Your execution has been ordered. I’m here to take requests for your last meal.”

  Timmy closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he nodded. There was no fight, no freaking out. Nothing.

  “I don’t need a last meal,” Timmy said, sounding as calm as he looked. “When am I being hung?”

  “What the fuck?” I couldn’t believe this. This couldn’t be the same abrasive arsehole who’d snogged a girl I liked for the hell of it and then loudly announced with a shit-eating-grin that she tasted like she’d been sucking dick. The Piss-Face I knew wouldn’t take this lying down.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Frankie said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Timmy said with a soft sigh.

  Looked like he’d known this was coming, and he was going to just let it happen.

  “Frankie,” I said, knowing that Timmy couldn’t see me or hear me anymore. I was relieved, truth be told, because I didn’t want him thinking I gave a shit. “This guy is my cousin’s boyfriend. You remember Mickey, right? You can’t just let the King execute him. Mickey would be devastated.”

  Frankie’s eyes were sad. I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

  “There’s no getting out of this,” he told me, turning back to Timmy. “If you have any last request at all, now would be the time to make it known.”

  I stared at Timmy. He was frowning, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head slowly. “No last requests.” He sounded distracted.

  “Are you fucking shitting me?” I shouted it in his face. He walked right through me and sat down on the rock that was serving as his bed.

  I couldn’t believe this. I wished I was still in possession of his body so I could ask what the hell he was thinking. He couldn’t do this. There was no way Mickey would survive it. Not after everything else. Shit! I looked at Angie and she glowered back.

  “I have to fix this.” I couldn’t stand around and just let it happen. I had to do something. I stood in that cell and tried not to sink into the pit of hopelessness Timmy and Frankie were both silently simmering in. There had to be something I could do.

  “The King is the most powerful man in the country,” Angie finally said, anger still present in her tone. “He has an army. His magic is too strong to go up against. He has too much back-up.”

  “And he’s the reason you’re dead,” I told her.

  “He’s the reason a lot of people are dead!” Her eyes had narrowed to slits but I heard the sliver of hope in her voice, and I knew she’d help me. Just as long as I didn’t do anything to piss her off too badly in the meantime.

  “The magic doesn’t belong to him. It just allows him to use it,” I said, a plan finally beginning to pull together in my head. “I think we need to go to the source.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “The source?”

  “Vampires,” I said, knowing the second the word fell out of my mouth that I was on to something.

  Frankie smiled at me. “Good luck, Pete.”

  Angie shuddered. “Vampires. You have got to be jokin
g.”

  I shook my head. “I even know where we can find one.”

  She rolled her eyes as I grabbed her hand. The joint teleport was going to suck, but I had a feeling I was going to need all the help I could get. Angie was in this with me if I had to drag her kicking and screaming. I glanced at Frankie one last time. “Mum isn’t afraid of Animates anymore. I just thought you should know.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I couldn’t believe he was here, and he hadn’t changed. My memory of him as a terrifying monster hauling Timmy’s dead father away seemed warped now, unreal. Had I really seen nothing in his eyes back then? Or had he just been protecting me, keeping me from missing him? I wanted the whole story, but there wasn’t time. I smiled back and said goodbye. We had one night to figure this out; one night to save my childhood enemy from certain death. I sighed as I thought of the place we needed to teleport to. It was going to be a hell of a night.

  Nineteen – Mickey

  It didn’t take long to figure out how to create a ball of fire I could contain just above my magically enhanced fingers, ready and waiting to be thrown at a target of my choosing. The King would burn for Pete, for Tim. I just had to find him first. My hands were pulsing with heat, with magic. There was a blue haze over everything. I had to concentrate to keep the fire ball where it was. I was itching to use it.

  The long, dark, twisting corridors tested my patience. I wanted to find the King and destroy him. I didn’t want to spend days wandering around this hell hole. I wanted justice and I wanted it now. Every door I tried led to an empty room, most of which were uninhabitable due to a partially crumbling wall or a missing patch of ground. Tim hadn’t had any neighbours in the rooms surrounding his own. This part of the castle seemed otherwise abandoned. I kept striding forward, checking every door I came across, the heat of my created fireball becoming painful. I knew I would have to throw it soon, but I didn’t want to waste it. I went down a set of spiral stairs, wondering when the more inhabited area would be found. The second I came across a member of the Royal Guard, I would use my pre-loaded weapon and create another.