"What do you think they are, Anna?"
"You know a few weeks back when you told me that people had died and I said that I hadn't felt them pass over or become ghosts..."
"Yes?" Moon didn't like where this was going one bit.
"Well, I think I felt this back then but it was so subtle that I just dismissed it as some kind of random fluctuation in the ether."
"Are you saying you think you can sense people are dying but you can't feel what happens to them next?"
"Yes. Jerry, all those earlier deaths you told me about earlier were somehow caused by the ghost of a master vampire… it's not too big a leap to assume there's some kind of connection."
"Any idea where this is happening?"
Anna shook her head. "No, not really. Physical directions don't mean a lot in the Spiritual. It's more governed by emotions and intuition than anything else."
"Damn! We could really do with a lead right now." Moon gazed desperately into the small spirit's fathomless eyes. "No ideas at all?"
"You don't have to do much to hide if you're a ghost." Anna shrugged noncommittally.
"Hmm, I suppose you have a point there. Still, Rurik doesn't seem to be able to kill people without human help."
"I hope he still has that limitation," replied Anna, her tiny face a mask of concern. "He may have grown strong enough to do his own dirty work by now. Look, I've heard on the TV that Bristol's full of hiding holes of one sort or another - mines and quarries and smugglers' caves, that sort of thing. Perhaps he's hiding in one of those places."
"That may be worth looking into," said Moon thoughtfully. "I don't think he's started killing people on his own though. If Uri's description of him is at all accurate he probably wouldn't be able to restrain himself to killing only one or two a week. It's not as if he has to worry about being caught by the police, is it?"
"I suppose not. But he may not want to have to confront you and your vampire friends until he's certain that he’s strong enough to face you."
"I doubt that he sees us as much of a threat to be honest. I didn't come off very well in my only encounter with him and he probably still thinks of Uri as the ‘weakling’ who bested him by chance several centuries ago. I doubt that he would suspect how much of an expert Uri has become in psychic combat since then." Moon paused for thought then shook his head. "No, he's using humans, I'm sure of it. Everything Uri's said about him suggests that he'd prefer to work through minions if he can avoid doing the dirty work himself and the way he's acted since he got here backs that up. We also need to remember that he's not just here on a killing spree. We know he's set his heart on building some sort of power base in this city and that's going to require allies."
"Oh, Jerry," Anna sighed. "I wish I could be properly helpful instead of just sitting here reporting what's happening in the Spiritual. It's so frustrating!"
Moon summoned up his ghost sense and stroked Anna's hair then kissed her on the forehead. "What you're doing is great, sweetheart. You've been loads of help and I'm glad you're not able to go out there and fight. It's not because I don't think you're up to it but because I don't know what I'd do without you if you were turned into one of these little blue blobs." He indicated his host of ghost globes, which had drawn in around them while they talked. The tiny half-lifes seemed to be feeding on the intensity of their emotions.
At that moment, there was a thunder of footsteps coming down the stairs. Moon hardly had time to bend down and pretend to tie his shoelace as Theresa, one of the two girl students who shared the upstairs flat, rushed onto the landing and barely saved herself from colliding with him. "Oh hi, Moon," she said when she had recovered her composure. “What're you doing clogging up the stairs?"
"Shoelace came undone," he replied sheepishly by means of explanation, hoping she didn't notice that he was wearing slip-ons. "See you later, Anna," he vibed to his ghostly friend.
"Oh, Jerry Moon!" she vibed back, giggling. "You must be the world's most unconvincing liar."
Theresa, who was one of those individuals that barge happily through life without taking much notice of their surroundings, simply said, "Okay, see-yah," then stampeded off down the stairs. Moon winked at Anna then continued more sedately in her wake.
Moon had intended to walk to Sonia's place but the conversation with Anna had taken up too much time. He decided to catch a bus to the bottom of Park Street and walk from there, which should shave about twenty minutes off his journey. He did have his driving licence but owning a car was an expensive luxury if you lived near the centre of Bristol; most necessities were in easy walking distance and he liked to walk when he could. Moon didn’t have time to fit his life around visits to the gym so walking and cycling to most places was a convenient form of exercise. He only used public transport when it was necessary.
He arrived promptly outside Sonia's building at around half past five, just as Avril was letting herself in through the front door. He called out to her and jogged the last few yards so they could enter together. Avril worked as a clerk for the Department of Transport, which had offices east of the city centre. The work was mainly number crunching and, because she hated every minute of it, she was always a bit grumpy when she got home from work. A half-hearted, "Hello, Moon," was all that she could manage as she let him through the door.
The air in the hallway was pungent with the smell of freshly squeezed limes with undertones of curry and peanut butter. Sonia popped her head out of the door of the kitchen-diner. "Hi Avril..." she started. "Oh, hi Jerry," she finished when she saw him. "Come on in and make yourself a cup of tea, supper's well on its way."
"Smells great," observed Moon, kissing her briefly on the lips as he entered the room. He took off his jacket and started to fill the kettle at the sink. "All set for tonight?" he asked over the sound of Avril stomping upstairs to her bedroom.
"I suppose so," Sonia nodded unconvincingly. "I'm just not sure how much help I'm likely to be."
"Don't put yourself down. At the very least you'll be an extra set of 'eyes'. Anyway, communicating with the spirits isn't just a matter of having the Sight. There are also all their emotions, affinities and aversions to take into account. Over on Stapleton Road it's almost certain that we'll be dealing with the ghosts of prostitutes."
"Well, won't they be more likely to talk to you, seeing as you're a man?" asked Sonia.
"A 'client', you mean?" Moon shook his head. "No, they might approach me, but I doubt they've got too much respect for men. I think they'll be more likely to confide in you."
"Hmm, I suppose you're right," Sonia brightened. "So maybe you do need me after all." She kissed him.
Tea was ready in a few minutes and a call from Sonia brought a slightly less grumpy Avril downstairs. "Thank God it's Friday," she muttered as she plonked herself down in one of the mismatched kitchen chairs. "I’ve had a crap day! Not only did I have to input MOT results until I was bleeding from the ears with boredom but then I was accosted at the bus stop by a handful of nutters in robes banging on about their 'Returned Master' or some such gumph."
Sonia paused while serving out the kebabs and asked with a puzzled frown, "Hari Krishnas?"
Avril shook her head irritably. "I don't think so. You don't often see Hari Krishnas in robes nowadays and these guys were wearing cotton robes: a bit like the Hari Krishna ones but these were all darkish grey and purple. Their heads were shaved down the sides as well, you know like some kind of tonsure. Whatever they were, they gave me the creeps. I just ignored them and jumped onto the bus as soon as it arrived."
"Maybe you should try to look less miserable coming home from work," Moon teased. "I'm not surprised people think you need converting if you make habit of wearing a face like the one you greeted me with earlier..."
"Jerry...!" Sonia whacked him with the edge of the teacloth she was holding.
"Oh, sod you, Moon." Avril scowled at him. "Not all of us have the luxury of a fulfilling job you know; I consider it my right when I come home at the end
of another God-awful week of collating MOT statistics to look as miserable as I feel."
Moon relented. "Sorry, Avril. I know I can overdo it with the teasing sometimes. First round's on me when we're next at the Rest, eh?"
Avril gave them the first hint of a smile they'd seen since she came in. "Okay, but mine's a double."
Moon grinned. "Sure, make it a triple if you like."
"No, a double will do but you can pay for the snacks as well."
"Done!" Moon held out his hand and they shook on it, both laughing as they did so.
"Well, if you two have made up can we start tea," asked Sonia with mock primness.
Getting from Hotwell Road to Stapleton Road was a two bus trip, so Moon and Sonia were at the first bus stop by about six-thirty to give themselves plenty of time. They caught one of the out of town buses from outside the oddly designed Trinity Chapel, which was on the corner of the main road, a few yards down the hill from Sonia's flat. Moon had studied the building curiously while they waited for the bus, wondering why the architect had thought it was a good idea to make a Christian church look like an ancient pagan temple – perhaps it was some kind of historical joke framed in classical architecture.
The bus took them to the city centre, then after short walk and a few minutes wait they hopped onto a number 5 which took them to Stapleton Road. "I used to take this route a lot when I worked out at Frenchay Hospital," Moon told Sonia. "You could spot the prostitutes on virtually every corner, even quite early in the morning, trying to catch the office guys on their way to work I guess. Who's going to notice at the office if you come in a bit later when you work flexi time, eh? Not a very safe profession though; a friend of mine who used to live around here said that there are several ‘working girls’ murdered every year just in this small area."
"Shit!" Sonia shook her head. "I wish we could get away from these stupid Victorian values and create a legal framework for prostitution. Then these poor women could work in a safer environment. I mean it's not something that's going to go away… not as long as men are willing to pay for sex anyway, so why the hell do the politicians and the authorities insist on sweeping it under the carpet and leaving so many people vulnerable to violence and exploitation?"
"It's not a vote winner I guess," replied Moon philosophically. "While your middle-class conservative types might be quite willing to pay for sex, they're not too keen to admit it."
"Well, it stinks!" said Sonia, loud enough to turn a few heads and elicit an approving "Right on girl!" in reply from a matronly black woman wearing a colourful, ethnically patterned cotton dress and turban, who was sitting a couple of seats behind them, and who must have been listening in on their conversation.
Moon looked up as the bus passed under a railway track. "Our stop's next," he said, pressing the request button.
The bus stopped a short walk up the road from the railway bridge where Moon had arranged to meet Inspector Whatley. As they strolled down the road arm in arm they noticed a number of provocatively dressed women and girls standing at fairly even distances on either side of the road. They all looked like they were waiting for someone.
"God!" exclaimed Sonia. "I didn't expect there to be so many of them."
Moon shook his head. "I suppose it's a matter of supply and demand. Bristol's a big city." He pointed ahead to where the harsh glow of a streetlight threw the shape of a burly figure into silhouette against the misted windows of a dark coloured Mercedes. The car was parked just off the main road, at the corner of a path that ran up one side of the railway bridge to Stapleton Road Station. "That looks like our man over there."
As they approached, Whatley stepped out of his car. "You took your sweet time," he said. "Pity I'm not working Vice - I've been propositioned three times in the last half hour."
"Hi Inspector," replied Moon. "Do you think we could get on with it? The atmosphere around here isn't too pleasant for people of our particularly sensitive nature."
Sonia looked up sharply at Moon. "Is that what I've been feeling since we got off the bus?"
Moon sighed. "Yeah, there’s been decades worth of far too much human nastiness going on around here. That sort of everyday evil eventually seeps into the spiritual pores of a place. From a psychic’s viewpoint, it's a bit like standing next to an open sewer." He looked quizzically at Whatley, "Okay, Inspector, where do you want to start?"
"Well, most of the victims went missing in the area of the Three Blackbirds, so it would seem logical to head up past there and work our way down. Hop in the car and I'll drive us up the hill."
Moon and Sonia climbed into the back of Whatley's car and he drove up the road. He parked just off the main road near the corner of Boswell Street, which was a few hundred metres uphill from the Three Blackbirds Tavern. As they strolled down the road, trying to look as inconspicuous as the could, considering they were an incongruous trio of two Goths and a plain clothes policeman, Moon was aware of Sonia casting about with her extra senses. "What feels weird?" she asked looking warily up and down the road.
Moon focused on what was going on around them. It had been dusk when they arrived and too light for ghosts to manifest fully but now, as the darkness deepened, shadowy figures were beginning to appear around the living prostitutes who lingered on the pavements on either side of the road. Every street corner seemed to have at least one ghostly female silhouette hovering under a street light, wearing what would have been considered risqué attire for her particular period of history. Judging by the variety of clothing he saw, there had been ladies of the night working along here for at least four centuries. "It’s the ghosts of prostitutes," he whispered to Sonia. "…Generations of them."
As they approached the next corner the shade of a plumpish woman in regency clothes detached herself from the shadow of a doorway. "'Ullo moy lover," she vibed conspiratorially to Moon. "Woy don't ee ditch that skinny doxie and 'ook up wi' me? She
don't look too 'ealthy if'n ee asks me, know what Oy means?" Eyeing up the inspector, she winked suggestively. "Oy can take on ee and yer 'andsome friend 'ere together fer a special rate."
Whatley, latent psychic that he was, jumped like a startled rabbit when her ghostly elbow dug him in the ribs. "What the fuck was that?" he exclaimed.
"Just an over familiar ghostly whore," replied Sonia, emphasising the last word acidly. "Who'll piss off if she knows what's good for her." Sonia had gone into full glower and Moon worried that she might cause serious bodily harm to their potential witness.
"Calm down, love, she's just a working girl trying to ply her trade," he cautioned.
"Damn right,Oy is!" said the ghost bitterly, placing her fists on her ample hips. "An' trade's bin awful slow of late wi' all these 'ere pesky newcomers takin' ower me patch an' wearin' next t' nothin'. Oy tells 'em t' sling their 'ooks but they just ignores me. An' all me pertential clients ignores me too! Oy mean wot is a girl t' do. Am Oy losin' me looks do yer think?"
She burst into tears and rested her head on Sonia's shoulder. Sonia gave Moon a look of sheer panic. "I thought she didn't like me," she mouth in surprise. Moon shrugged, looking helpless, gesturing that he had no more experiences than Sonia in comforting distraught, eighteenth century prostitutes. Small blue sparks illuminated the night as she summoned her ghost sense and patted the sobbing spirit on the back. "It's okay, love. I'm sure business will pick up soon," she lied consolingly, while signalling to Moon with her eyes that she could do with a bit more help than he was currently providing.
The more contemporary ‘working girls’, who stood under the nearby street lights on either side of the road, watched the apparent pantomime with puzzled interest. Street theatre didn't usually come this far out from the city centre.
"What's your name?" Moon asked the ghost, touching her gently on the arm.
"Rosie," she vibed tearfully. "Oy’m Rosie 'Ardy."
Moon paused, trying to think what to say next. "We're sorry to hear of your troubles but we're trying to help some girls who've gone
missing around here. I don't know if you've seen anything over the last few weeks. Like girls being taken away somewhere, possibly after a struggle?"
Rosie composed herself, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Well, Oy've seed a lot o' bad things 'appenin' roun' 'ere over the years but just recently Oy've thought there moight be a gang o' them whoite slavers in town. They’s weird lookin' coves in dark robes, mostly, but one o' 'em’ll be dressed pretty normal like an' ‘e goes up t' one o' the girls on the street an then she'll follow 'im t' some out o' the way spot. She’ll probably be thinkin’ ‘e jus’ wants t’ do their trade in private, like. But then ‘alf a dozen of 'is mates leaps out o’ the dark an’ they 'ave at 'er an' bundle 'er off into the shadows."
Moon explained this to Inspector Whatley, who asked, "How often has she seen this happen?"
"Is yer friend deaf?" asked Rosie when Moon turned back to her."You could say," replied Moon. He tried to remember what would have passed for a police force in Rosie's day. "He works for the parish constable sometimes."
Rosie looked Whatley up and down. "Poor sod. Looks well enough on it, though."
Moon stifled a laugh. "What did she say?" asked Whatley, looking a little defensive.
Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) Page 23
