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Between Lynche’s expertise with all things supernatural, and Morphy’s brilliant strategic and technical mind, the two made quite a research-and-development team – despite the tension between them.
The first order of business was to seal the breach in Lynche’s shielding that had allowed Morphy to sneak into the house in the first place. Lynche set the new shielding up with a passcode to temporarily disable it so Morphy could come and go freely.
For the following few weeks, they worked hard to determine a way for the ecto-nuke to deliver a blast that would undo the Voodoo hex, rather than destroy the ghosts.
But their work was not without danger.
Attacks on the house increased, making it harder and harder to venture out to resupply.
“We’re connected, you see,” said Morphy, as Lynche leaned over the bomb, tweaking one of the incorporeal potentiometers on the device’s detonator. Morphy leaned back against the counter.
“They can read your mind – know what we’re up to here?” asked Lynche.
“No, no – we have a sort of a hive mind – not directly fused thoughts, but as though we’re all in the same swimming pool, aware of the movement of the water caused by one another’s actions. They can’t read my thoughts, but they are generally aware of what’s happening here – as aware as they can be in their frenzied state. Their minds are still addled with the hex – but they do have a base survival instinct, which is why they have been converging on this home and trying to kill you. I suppose they’d try to kill me and Karla, if they could.”
“Ghosts killing ghosts?” asked Karla, gliding into the kitchen. “How could that be possible?”
“I do not know,” said Morphy, frowning deeply. “But if there’s a way, they’ll do it. They see us as a threat, even though we are actually trying to help them.”
“I’ve almost got it,” said Lynche, making another adjustment to the eidolon power converter. “But there’s something missing.”
“I know,” said Morphy. “It needs a sample. A way to duplicate the logical algorithms I utilized to throw off the hex. It needs a piece of me.”
“But I have no experience removing a part of a ghost’s mind,” said Lynche. “How can I do that?”
Morphy stepped toward the ecto-nuke, and leaned in for a closer look. “What if you reverse the polarity of the phantom-wave inducer?” he said thoughtfully. “That should allow you to extract a portion of my ectoplasmic neurons.”
“How do you know that?” asked Lynche, his eyes wide. “You’re a nineteenth century man. What do you know about neurons – let alone ectoplasmic ones?”
“Do you think that when you die, you stop learning and growing and enlarging your intellect? Young man, you have much to learn about death.”
Lynche shook his head in awe, then proceeded with the technical modification.
“Okay, ready?” he asked Morphy, powering up the device.
Morphy stood next to the machine, and with a flourish, said, “I hereby donate this portion of my sanity, in order to benefit all of humanity!” He smiled at his rhyme, then bent over, placing his head directly inside the machine – a bizarre feat to witness.
Lynche pressed a button on the console, and the deed was done. Morphy raised his head and said, “Tada! None the worse for wear.”
Karla smiled.
Lynche didn’t. He still had trouble accepting that this man had killed Karla – even if she was content to be dead. Working with Morphy was a struggle sometimes, despite their common goal. Other times, however, he couldn’t help but like the guy – he was charming and smart.
“I suppose all that’s left is to test it,” said Lynche. “If all goes right, it’ll erase the Voodoo hex, leaving the spirit intact.”
“Better yet,” said Morphy, “if it works as I hope, it will also enable a ghost to return to his own realm, where he belongs. It will set things right.”
Lynche looked at the ethereal Karla. She looked him in the eyes, and nodded.
Checkmate Page 3
