by John Conroe
I had had regular text chats with Mack, Jetta, Ashley, even a couple of short exchanges with Delwood, but none with Caeco since she had entered the modified training program the FBI had come up with for her. Now she was on my screen and asking to meet me… in New York City.
“Ah, Chris? You think I could grab a couple of hours to take care of something when we land?”
He looked surprised but almost immediately started nodding. “Of course. We’ve been working you like a dog. You want a driver and car?”
“No, I’ll be okay with the subway and my feet. Worse comes to worst and I’ll grab a taxi. And I can handle myself with Anvil,” I said.
He smiled. “No doubt. Sure, take whatever time you need. Anticipate some more training tonight, though, when you get back, plus some brainstorming on the trap idea.”
“I’m already thinking about that, but honestly, Chet will likely have some better ideas in a few hours,” I said.
We landed and I grabbed a taxi to take me to the address Caeco had given me. It was on the West Side of Manhattan and my driver nodded and smiled. “Hell’s Kitchen.”
I must have looked uncertain because he chuckled and shook his head. “Some nice little restaurants there. It’s right near the theater district.”
I realized that I had heard of it before and its name had something to do with early immigrants, which was a relief. When your boss has actually been to Hell and is number one on Satan’s hit list, you pay attention to anything with Hell in its title.
The taxi let me out on 11th Ave between a two bay Bridgestone tire place and a neighborhood deli. I paid the driver and looked around. Not what I expected with a name like Hell’s Kitchen. Looked like a normal city street. Bunch of multi-story buildings ranging from five stories to twelve or fifteen, with a bigger apartment tower every so often. Every kind of business imaginable, from markets to shops and auto repair places to plumbing supply houses. I only managed one glance around before I spotted a trio of women headed my way. Caeco was in front, dressed in a black pantsuit that made her look older than I was used to. Behind her, looking hard and unyielding, was Agent Krupp, and next to her was the intensely curious Agent Mazar, both in suits similar to Caeco’s.
“Hey,” Caeco said, brushing at her short hair. It was a nervous gesture, one she rarely exhibited.
“Hey yourself, G Woman,” I said.
“She does fit right in, doesn’t she?” Krupp asked, giving me a tight smile.
“She does at that. So what brings you three to the Big Apple?” I asked.
“We were requested. The local Bureau head had heard our unit was being developed for, shall we say, special cases and asked us to assist his team,” Krupp said.
“So, something vampy, or what?” I asked.
“Something that we can’t explain through normal means. Caeco thought it might be up your alley and knew you were here in the city,” Mazar said.
“So what do you have?”
“We have an office space that seems to be… hostile,” Krupp said.
“An office is hostile?” I asked.
“Feeling of oppression, random flying objects that have caused injury, missing forensic equipment, among other things,” Mazar said.
Poltergeist, Sorrow suggested.
“Oh. Like a ghost?” I asked.
“Or possibly demonic or even some type of witchcraft,” Krupp suggested.
“Like a warded space,” Mazar added.
“Do you have foul smells or sudden cold spots?” I asked.
“No odors, but plenty of cold spots, usually just prior to some type of activity,” Caeco said, speaking up for the first time since she had greeted me. She had been studying me while the other two had been talking.
“So it doesn’t sound necessarily demonic. Did you want me to look at it?”
“That was our intent,” Mazar said.
“Where is it?” I asked.
Caeco pointed across the street at a nondescript building that rose only four stories above the street. “Office space in the basement,” she said.
We crossed the street without getting hit by traffic and Krupp led the way into the building, opening a stairwell door and heading down. At the bottom, she gestured toward the steel fire door, letting me go first.
Opening my senses, I opened the heavy door and stepped through.
The hallway was painted neutral beige and the carpet was dark industrial gray. One of the overhead fluorescent lights flickered ominously at the other end of the short hall.
Immediately, I felt a pressure, a probing hostile watchfulness. Something here was angry. My shields snapped instantly in place, a reflex Tanya would approve of, but nothing happened as we started down the hall. Caeco pointed to a door on the left and I touched the doorknob, the metal much colder than it should have been.
The space on the other side was well lit, with bright white walls, an off-white drop ceiling and tan carpeting. The spaces were all empty of furniture but I could see the imprints of desk legs and chairs still in the carpet. The air was musty and stale. That’s as far as I got before a large floppy book, which some part of my brain recognized as a phone book, picked itself off the floor and flew at my head.
My shields certainly would have blocked it, but I was now pretty much hardwired for response and my own kinetic push first stopped it, then slammed it flat on the floor. “Stop that,” I said automatically, instantly feeling slightly stupid for speaking to what seemed an empty room.
The temperature came up a few degrees, although I think it was more due to the entity having shot its wad than any command on my part.
“You’ve got a ghost,” I said. “A nasty, angry ghost.”
The temperature started to drop, so I immediately opened my Sight. Across the room, something was gathering, a cloud of energy, building up. Sorrow suggested a spell. I took it and used it to take the ghost’s energy. Just reached out mentally and yanked it away. Kinda cruel really, and must be frustrating as hell to build up enough energy to do something and some living dude steals it.
It started again, this time on the opposite wall, and again I yanked all the power into myself. “I can do this all night,” I said, which was true. My family specialized in taking power. A mental scream of frustration beat at my senses and then the room brightened, the oppressive feeling dissipating.
“Wow, that’s a seriously pissed-off ghost. Just what is this office?” I asked, turning to the three behind me.
Caeco was watching me, arms folded. Mazar was delighted and Krupp looked wary.
“It’s been a hundred different businesses. But for the last seven years, it’s been a medical clinic, now defunct. The local Bureau has been working on an organ trafficking case, which led them to this clinic,” Mazar said.
“Organs? Like human kidneys and stuff?” I clarified, queasy at the thought.
“Exactly. Big black market trade. The legal waiting lists are long, and sometimes a wealthy patient will jump line by paying for an illegal organ. Organized crime has gotten into the business, and there are some less-than-ethical doctors who will participate if the price is right,” Krupp said. “So the team came here to investigate, found the clinic gone and this… thing started throwing large objects at them and stealing their equipment. It’s a ghost, you say?” Krupp asked. “Now they’re real too?”
I nodded. “Look, everything is made of energy—atoms bound together in structures. We know if we split an atom, we get a massive energy dump. So the quantum particles that make up an atom are all energetic in one form or another. Living objects are very energy intense, and that can leave an impression. There are psychometric kids at school that can tell us what you ate for lunch last week by holding the shoe you were wearing when you ate it. That’s because the act of living leaves records behind. Sometimes those records get stuck in a building and when the conditions are right, replay themselves. That’s a residual haunting. Then there is the kind we have here—an active, intelligent haunting,” I said.
>
“A pissed-off one,” Krupp muttered.
“Exactly. If life is energetic, then the moment of death can be doubly or triply so. Like splitting the atom. When someone is forcibly, violently separated from life, massive psychic energy is released. A part can be left behind, a copy sort of,” I said, struck instantly by the correlation to Anvil leaving copies everywhere.
“So it’s not the whole soul?” Mazar asked.
“Who knows? My aunt, who is much better with ghosts than I am by the way, thinks they are residual pieces of the soul that got trapped here at death. I listen to her on this stuff,” I said. “Seems like this one is a big piece, though. Also, it feels male, at least its anger does.”
The room seemed to darken, even though the lights stayed even.
“So how do we find out about this one?” Caeco asked.
I was watching the corner of the room, opposite of where we were standing, focusing my Sight. Something was occupying space there.
“Generally, we just ask it,” I said. A five-foot-high form, a black blob really, was becoming visible to me, even though the others didn’t seem to see it. They must have felt something though, as Krupp rubbed her arms and Mazar was looking all around. Caeco still watched me and I could see her, in my peripheral vision, looking where I was looking. “Any EMF fluctuations?” I asked her. I think she frowned, but it was hard to tell with my side vision. The blob got darker.
“Really high in that corner,” she said. “Temperature dropping over there, too.”
“You can pick that up?” Krupp asked.
“Some,” Caeco answered. Oops, maybe she hadn’t let them know her full capabilities.
“How about radio waves? Pick them up, too?” Krupp asked casually.
Caeco didn’t answer. “Son of a bitch! No wonder the instructors could never surprise you,” Krupp said.
I felt a chill of another sort and carefully avoided looking Caeco’s way.
“How will it communicate—if it even wants to?” Mazar asked, completely ignoring the tension.
“My aunt would just have a conversation with it. One of the gifts of her Air affinity. Me, I’m pretty weak with that, so we’ll see. Ghost hunter types use digital recorders and thermal cameras and stuff to connect,” I said, still watching the motionless blob that radiated hate and suspicion. “Did you die here?” I asked it.
It jerked, like a person surprised at being addressed. I felt its regard, could almost swear that the head-shaped lump above what might pass for shoulders tilted a bit to one side.
“These people you’ve been harassing are law enforcement officers, investigating crimes. Was your death a crime? Were you murdered?” I asked it.
It moved suddenly, impossibly fast, faster even than vampires. In its corner one moment, right up in front of me in the next. I couldn’t make out any features or even its sex, but I could feel its curiosity as it focused on me, standing just outside my shields.
“Where is it?” Krupp asked.
“About a foot in front of me,” I answered. “Did you die in this office?” I asked it again. It quivered, then was gone. I looked around for it, but the doorknob behind us suddenly rattled. We all spun around, seeing nothing. The knob rattled again.
Caeco crossed the room in a blur, grabbing the door and whipping it open. No one was there, but down low, where the floor met the hall wall, a shadow slipped away.
I moved up next to her, brushing past to look out the doorway and down the hall. Even as I studied the flickering light and the doors at the far end, I was almost painfully aware of her body brushing against mine. I moved into the hall, immediately missing the brief contact, but then my Sight caught another shadow slipping under one of the far doors.
“What’s this one?” I asked as I walked down and tried the door, finding it locked.
Mazar looked at a tablet. “Building plans says it’s the utility room. Furnace and stuff,” she said.
Caeco reached past me and tried the doorknob herself. I saw her fingers tighten, heard a tiny, tinny snap, and the door swung open. “You must have loosened it for me,” she said with a smirk.
“Humpf,” Krupp muttered, eyeing Caeco with a mildly stern expression. Mazar just brushed by both of us, pulling out one of those small, powerful flashlights that all television and movie cops seem to be religiously equipped with.
Krupp went past us and Caeco gave me a quick grin before following her boss. That left me last, but I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to admire the nice fit of her suit.
Inside, the room was dark and dusty, just a bare concrete floor with a furnace and water heater taking up a good portion of it. The circuit breaker box was on one wall, illuminated by a single incandescent bulb that flickered to life when Mazar found the light switch.
We looked around, but there seemed to be very little to see. The outer wall was the bare concrete of the original poured foundation; two other walls were sheetrock on the far side and open framing on this side. The last wall was brick, which struck me as odd. A push broom, tucked into the sheetrock and two-by-four framing space that was the hall wall, suddenly tilted over and smacked into the brick wall, clattering down to the floor.
“I’m no paranormal expert,” Krupp said, which was ironic, as she headed a paranormal team, “but that seems like a hint?”
I moved over and spread my hands against the wall, while Caeco simultaneously rapped the brick with one hand and listened with a tilted head.
“Hollow space behind it,” she said, giving me a challenging look.
“Open cavity approximately three feet high, by seven… no eight feet deep and four-and-a-half feet wide. Disturbed dirt floor,” I said, listening to what Earth had to tell me.
“Show off,” Caeco said, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Now, kids,” Krupp admonished, moving over to study the brick. “This is much newer construction than the rest of the room.”
“We need to expand the warrant,” Mazar said.
The anger was back, five fold, and a loud thump sounded on the other side of the brick. Against the brick. Hard. And then again, harder.
Mazar leaned down to put her ear to the wall but I pulled her away just before the portion of bricks nearest her head bulged outward at a third, much more forceful hit.
Mortar pattered down to the floor and visible cracks between the now-bowed-out wall appeared at its center. The entity seemed drained but I could literally feel its frustration. So I lent it some power. Just fed it to it like I might lend power to another witch.
I had only just pushed the others back a step before the last and most powerful hit knocked three bricks loose from the middle of the wall. A black opening gapped in the center and when none of the other three moved, I stepped forward, pulling my phone and turning on the flashlight app.
“Can’t see much with this light, but there’s something in there, and by the smell of it, it’s dead,” I said.
Mazar and Krupp shouldered me aside, not roughly but with authority. Both produced flashlights, which they pointed into the opening. They looked inside, head to head, then pulled back and glanced at each other. They must have come to some common agreement, as Mazar stepped back and pulled out her phone while Krupp turned to Caeco. “Help me open this wall a bit, Caeco,” she ordered.
The wall was bowed and partially opened, but the mortar was far from weak. Krupp managed to pull a single brick loose but struggled with the others. It was Caeco’s turn to move the senior agent aside and then proceed to yank the wall apart with a casual strength that made Krupp step back and distracted Mazar from her phone conversation with whatever FBI resource she was talking to. The two senior agents exchanged a quick look as their protégé dismantled the barrier.
Krupp glanced at me, a slight look of disbelief on her face. I shrugged and grinned. “Her mother does good work,” I said, earning myself a glance from Caeco, which I grinned back at.
“That college of yours is a real piece of work, isn’t
it?” Krupp asked.
“You should see it during finals week,” I said. Caeco just nodded in agreement while ripping a few final bricks free from the wall.
“Do ghosts usually have that much power?” Krupp asked me, getting Mazar’s complete attention as she shut off her phone.
“No. Only the really, really angry ones. Sometimes they grow with power over the years; other times, they fade. This one isn’t the fading type and I think he’s been dead a few years at least. I suspect his remains are in that hole,” I answered. “I lent him a bit of power to get that last strike in, though.”
