“Yeah. A terrible piano player and even more terrible singer.”
“No. You’re a ghost.”
Waves of regrettable worry washed over his spectral body, coursing through his every molecule of static-magnetic energy. Their cover was blown. If they ever had a cover to begin with. From the very beginning they all knew.
“If you know, then why am I sitting here right now?”
With that, the bartender splashed a glass of blended alcohol on the bar, spilling a little before wiping it up with a rag.
“Anything else?” he eyed Rev a little too suspiciously. Rev probed the man’s mind, being as inconspicuous as possible. When he received nothing, it bothered the hell out of him. “For the gentleman?”
Rev tried shifting the attention from his glass, which still had most of its contents. Usually by now he’d found a way to extricate the liquid surreptitiously, either by watering the nearest potted plant, having a little accident, or simply letting some liquor hound have at it. But, with the conversation being so engrossing, he discovered he still had most of his gin and tonic remaining.
“No, I—”
“Top his drink off, Lloyd,” Rev felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and concentrated deeply on making his form as solid as possible. He looked up and met the steely stare of a man in his fifties, well dressed in a flawlessly ironed Brioni suit. Perfect hair, teeth, and a small goatee/mustache combination with clean, straight lines. Everything about his appearance was immaculate. Rev wondered if he wasn’t a ghost as well, he snuck up so quietly and looked so impeccable. “And make sure it’s on the house.”
“The lady already took care of it,” Lloyd motioned with his eyes toward Katherine.
“Oh, she did, did she?” the man smiled cordially. He extended his hand. “Name’s Ronald Ward. Friends call me Ron.”
“Tyler,” he took Ron’s hand. A firm grip, the grip of a captain of industry. “Tyler.Z. Friends call me TZ.”
“Tyler it is,” Ron chortled out loud, his gregariousness a difficult thing to consume. The overpowering aftershave, the machismo emanating out of every pore. The fake tan and surgically enhanced smile and hair plugs.
“I’m sorry,” he patted Rev on the back, holding his hand there for a little rub of the neck, playful and manly, but still this guy didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. “Just a little joke at your expense, hope you don’t mind. You’re the band, right?”
“CassiX3.”
“Interesting name. You two should enjoy this place. It can be a little, should I say…uninhibited,” his eyes made a scandalous sojourn to Katherine, then shot back to Rev. “Cassi. She’s an attractive woman. I’m sure she enjoys the finer things.”
Ron snapped his fingers and the bartender, as if reading a script, opened a large flask of single malt scotch. He poured a healthy dose into Ron’s awaiting tumbler and then lit a long match. He nursed the match into a three inch flame, which he used to light Ron’s cigar. After several smoky puffs, Ron sat back, winking at Lloyd.
Rev stood by coolly and calmly. Inside he was nervous about the one thing over which he had no control—the smoke from the cigar. No matter how solid he made himself, he was still a ghost. And ghosts can’t reflect smoke. It goes right through them, no matter how much they’ve manifested.
“We’d love to have you and your wife join us for dinner before your performance,” Ron exhaled a cumulus gray puff as he spoke.
“That sounds lovely,” Rev tried to get a read on Ron, and was frustrated at every turn. He also tried to get something from Katherine other than downcast glances and furtive looks. She couldn’t keep her sad eyes off of him, and when he glanced at her, she turned her gaze at her margarita, sipping slowly. Her mind wasn’t so guarded, and he read from her the same things she was saying to him before Ron showed up. He felt terror from this woman, like she was a bird cooped up in a gilded cage. He felt sorry for her at that moment, almost as if she was the lost soul that needed Ghost Guard’s help.
However, the more Rev contemplated the situation, the more he came to the conclusion that Ghost Guard was in no position to help anyone. Abby was all he could think about now. She wasn’t sending him anything. No updates. No reassuring mental messages. Nothing. That scared him. He was going crazy with worry, yet on the surface displayed the placidity of a reflecting pool. His thoughts were much different, and when he believed he could take it no longer, Abby made an appearance.
“TZ!” she strode quickly, disregarding the lounge’s subdued atmosphere. She turned heads for her brashness, but also for her uncommon beauty. Abby locked eyes with Katherine for a contentious moment, then fixed her sights on Rev. “There you are.”
“Ah, the famous CassiX3,” Ron grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Looking forward to your performance.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to TZ about,” she thought on her feet quickly. “We have a situation and I need his help.”
“Is it anything I can help you with?”
“No, no,” she insisted with a raised palm. “It’s just a little equipment issue. We can handle it. Please excuse us,” she politely extricated Rev from the lounge, dragging him to the grand staircase and heading to their room. While walking with him stride for stride, she spoke to Rev furtively.
“We’ve got problems.”
“I’ll say. They know.”
“Who’s they and what do they know?”
“Them,” he motioned toward the lounge where Ron, Katherine, and a dozen other couples were eating and drinking. “All of them. They know who we are and why we’re here.”
Abby didn’t skip a beat at this devastating news. “Scratch that. We don’t just have problems. We have all kinds of problems.”
Chapter 14
“They lied to us!” Abby wouldn’t keep her voice down even though she knew the walls had ears. “Mahoney, that son of a bitch, lied…again!”
“What else is new,” Rev shook his head at her incredulity.
“Rev is correct,” Morris came through on the encrypted radio. “ParaIntell has had a track record of withholding information from us, so we shouldn’t be surprised.”
“That doesn’t make it okay. And it doesn’t help us, either.”
“Neither does complaining about it,” Rev said, and right away realized he shouldn’t have.
“It’s my method. Besides, I have a right to complain. You guys didn’t see all those weird contraptions down there. They had dozens of captured spirits. Not just the Petrovics.”
“But you did see them?” Morris needed confirmation. “The Petrovics, I mean.”
“Of course I saw them,” Abby answered. “That’s not the problem. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”
“Yes, but I have a hunch the Petrovics are at the center of all of this,” Morris deduced. “I believe if we extract them from the equation, then Hatman won’t be able to use them for whatever vile purpose he has in mind, thereby making those souls useless to him.”
“But hasn’t Hatman had control of the Petrovics for decades now?” Rev pointed out. “If he’s had the doctor that long, you’d think he would have forced Petrovic to do whatever he wants by now.”
“All I know is we have a ton of innocent souls trapped down there, and we can’t turn our backs on them.” Abby shuddered at the image her own declaration summoned.
“And I’m saying if we rescue the Petrovics, it will make saving the other souls that much easier,” Morris said.
“I hope you’re right.”
“What are we waiting for?” Rev paced the floor without his legs. He needed to save energy, and manifesting to his toes continually exhausted him more than he cared to admit. “The jig is up. The secret’s no longer a secret. They know all about us. I’m not altogether sure why they’re not coming for us right now.”
“They’re waiting for us to make the next move. Waiting for us to panic and do something stupid,” Abby postulated.
“I say we j
ust do it. We know where they’re holding the souls. Let’s go get them right now.”
“There’s a problem,” Abby answered. “That spectral inhibitor. There’s no way you and Brutus can get past it. And there’s no way I’m going in there alone again. Not with Hatman around.”
“So you saw Hatman?”
“Yeah…I told you.”
“Where was Brutus?”
“He couldn’t come in. I told you.”
“When Hatman came after you, how’d you get away if Brutus wasn’t there to help?”
“I-I-” she stammered and stuttered. “I had some help.”
“Help? Who?”
“Someone.”
“Abby. You know damn well that’s not going to cut it. Who helped you?”
“All right. Fine. I’ll tell you. It was Tom Riley.”
“Riley! How the…what the…where did Riley come from?”
“He’s undercover. Delta X was sent in by none other than ParaIntell.”
Rev frowned. “I should have known. From Mahoney I expect a little deception. But from you, Abby?”
“I wasn’t being deceptive!”
“Oh? When were you going to tell me about Riley?”
She found herself at a loss for words. Whether it was some deep-seated, unresolved feelings or a mere stressful reaction due to her near-death experience, Rev couldn’t be sure. Abby kept her feelings close to her chest and her mind guarded.
“Don’t even try it,” he said. “You’re busted.”
“What? Why? It’s not like I asked him to be here.”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“Because I said so.”
He chuckled ironically.
“You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“Are you implying I don’t care what you think?”
He snorted a quick puff of icy vapor, a signal of annoyance.
“And you’re such an angel?” she countered. “I mean come on. I leave you alone for ten minutes and where do I find you? In a bar having drinks with a beautiful woman.”
“And her husband,” he argued. “Besides, she bought me the damn drink. What was I supposed to do, be rude and ignore her?”
“You do this every time,” she glared at him. “Do you even have a concept of mission protocols? Do you have any idea how much added risk you bring to us when you stray off script? Not to mention my feelings.”
“Ah-ha!” he pointed a finger, it whisked in a whirl of iridescent electricity. “That’s what this is really about. All you can do is feed your childish jealousies. There’s a word for that. It’s called immature. And this thing with Riley. It’s just a way to get back at me. I got news for you, sister. It’s not gonna work.”
“That’s not true. Riley is here on orders from ParaIntell. I have nothing to do with it, dammit!”
“Guys, guys,” Morris spoke for the rest of the team.
“And I suppose you and Riley are now coordinating your actions, right?” Rev crossed his arms and tapped his newly manifested toe. “A little secret covert op sans Yours Truly?”
“Hold on, Rev,” Abby held up her palm. Her supernatural senses had suddenly hit high alert. She knew Brutus had left, though she didn’t know where he went or why. But she had a hunch, and didn’t like it.
“Don’t tell me to hold on. I don’t need that guy around. We can handle this mission just fine.”
“Would you be quiet for second?”
“Abby, I—”
“Shut UP!” she glared flames at him. “Brutus is gone again. I want to know where he went.”
“I saw it all on video,” confirmed Morris. At the same time as he said it, Ruby went wild, predicting a terrible outcome if something wasn’t done right away to reel Brutus in from such reckless and inadvisable actions.
“She has a point,” Abby said. “We can’t let Brutus do this by himself. I know that’s what he wants to do.”
“I’ll go get him.” Rev dissolved through the door. His quick exit took Abby by surprise.
“Rev, wait!” She flung open the door and followed the amorphous specter he’d become. Not fully human. Not totally imperceptible or unrecognizable. “Stop, wait for me!”
He rematerialized in front of her. His clothes had changed. All black, with a skull cap that covered his face like a cat burglar.
“What are you doing?” she scoffed at his outfit.
“Going to help Brutus. What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you.”
“If you think I’m letting you go back down there after what happened, you’re smoking something. No. It’s too dangerous, Abby.”
“You just don’t want me to see Riley again.”
“That’s not it at—”
He froze. She froze. Both of them, each in different ways, heard the same thing. Inaudible to most human ears, it was a distress signal sent over the psychic frequencies only accessible to the dead or ones sensitive enough to see and speak to the dead.
“Brutus!” they shouted in unison, and the hunt was on.
Despite his supernatural abilities, Rev kept to the hallways and stairways, pragmatic and pedestrian like a breather. Took much too much time. Cumbersome as hell. But he had to do it. Abby insisted on joining the search and he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
Their movements and thoughts were in unison. Rushing headlong, Abby led the way to the lodge’s main floor. Silently and swiftly, she navigated to the semi-hidden stairway that led down into that abysmal place.
Down the long hallway they went, into unknown and unfathomed depths. Rev’s senses were electric with activity, receiving communications of all kinds. He felt a sea of discontent, starting as a trickle, a tiny stream flowing into a great fall, cascading into a torrent of hopelessness and pain. An emotional explosion with a shockwave that hit him as he closed in on the bottom of the staircase.
And then the doorway. A large and thick monolith left open wide, which was strange, since the door was so dense and festooned with such an array of locks and bolts. A virtual vault. Yet it sat gaping, an orifice of welcome but also one of doom.
It was the mouth of hell. He hated the unrelenting pulse of despair from the neglected and tortured souls. Hated the eternal flame of misery. He hated the very thing The Singulate stood for. Yet he didn’t hesitate, save for one thing, a curious device in the doorpost emitting a faint residue of nefarious energy. This was the spectral inhibitor. He was sure of it. Strange thing though. The machine’s lights and display screen were dark. Blacked out. Off.
Rev was overcome with the irresistible need to end the suffering of the souls at any cost immediately. He heard the alarm in his subconscious telling him not to. He also heard Abby, imploring him not to.
“Rev! Stop…it may be a trap!”
“Wait here,” he ignored every call to reason. “This will only take a minute.”
He disappeared into the sinister gulf of blackness, from which Abby knew, if that spectral inhibitor was to start up again, Rev (and probably Brutus too) would never return.
Abby heard footsteps from behind yet saw no one. The distorted architecture in that strange underground passageway allowed her enough room to slip away unseen, but she knew her pursuer was gaining. Fast.
She found an alcove behind a support column with an arched cornice extending to the floor. Like a child playing hide and seek, she curled in the tight little place, constricting every muscle to make herself as small as possible. She even clenched her jaw and crunched her eyelids. Everything and anything to make herself invisible. She sometimes wished she could just disappear into the ether like Rev. But that would mean she would have to die. And she didn’t want to die.
So she kept quiet and still, hoping beyond hope whoever it was would go by quickly. Which they did. Two of them. She knew they were large men from the way the floor rumbled as they ran past. Relief washed over her. She never was afraid of a man, even two men. In this case her sen
se of malice made an exception. She just didn’t feel like getting into a tangle with these guys. Not when Hatman was lurking about.
Then her relief eroded away when she felt two arms wrap around her waist and drag her into the light.
“Son of a bitch!” she swung her right arm. It swished through the air where the face of her sudden attacker should have been. The bridge of his nose was her mark, and she never missed. When she missed, it surprised her so much she twisted and lost her balance. She almost fell, and would have if not for the strong arms that had started the whole thing.
“Nice punch, Dempsey,” Rev chuckled, but his levity only went so far. He knew the men were following Abby and that they’d decided her trail had gone cold. One of them even had the idea to double back and investigate the tiny alcove. A perfect place to hide, he told his partner. Rev had precious little time for an escape with Abby, and wasted none of it in taking her hand, if not a little brusquely. “Let’s go…Now!”
With a whisk of air he carried her up a level, where the indoor pool and spa was located. A large open space with steam rising from every corner. The perfect place for a ghost to hide.
Through the vapor he hauled her, swiftly and surely. She felt like she was riding the steam itself. Rev wasn’t using his physical feet, so the sensation was like gliding. She loved and hated it at the same time. Rev didn’t care. He had to have the same, no, more of the dogged determinism than their pursuers. Had to be faster and more agile. Quicker and cleverer.
“Where are we going!” Abby whispered loudly. She saw the hallway was about to end. The pool and spa area was gone, and now they were headed toward what looked to be the only way out—a door at the end of a dead-end.
He crashed through the door and there they were, on a balcony overlooking the river valley. Rolling foothills speckled by the occasional ponderosa pine, an elk drinking from a clear, clean stream, a red-tailed hawk screeching high above.
Rev, with supernatural quickness, rushed Abby into a lounge chair and then took a chair next to her. With a sudden flash of otherworldly translocation, he caused a champagne bottle to appear on the table between them, chilling in a bucket of ice. Then, just as suddenly, a flute of bubbly appeared in her right hand as another appeared in Rev’s left. Candles, on the table and on the sconce behind them, lit up automatically, and their clothes disappeared, replaced by two soft, overly fluffy white bath robes. The overall effect was an atmosphere of relaxed tranquility, and it appeared they had been lounging for some time.
Ghost Guard 2: Agents of Injustice Page 11
