He was toying with my friend because he couldn't actually kill him. It was all about scaring him into doing what he wanted. Marsh backed away, looking around for an escape route, but there was nothing out there but thousands of corpses. They were illusions, but Marsh didn't know that.
Damon stopped and looked down at him. "This will be painful," he said while tapping the bone into his other hand for effect. "This is your choice. I will allow you to stay in the Light if you bring me the poleax."
He started walking again, stalking my friend. I wanted to tell Marsh not to be scared but I didn't have Damon's abilities.
"Answer me," Damon growled. "Do you live in the Light? Or die in the Black?"
Marsh turned away from Damon. I think he was going to run, but his plans changed. Instead of taking off, he stopped short with a shocked look on his face. He stood there with his mouth open and his eyes wide. As the saying goes, it looked like he had just seen a ghost, which was exactly what had happened.
Marshall Seaver was looking at me.
The Watcher had kept his promise. I was in business.
I leaned casually against a marble statue, folded my arms, and with a smug smile looked past Marsh to Damon . . . and gave him the finger.
Damon's eyes flared with anger.
"Is this what you wish?" he called to me. "For him to join you?"
I ignored him and looked to Marsh. "Can you hear me, Ralph?" I asked.
Marsh didn't react. I held my hands up, gesturing for him not to move.
"You can save him," Damon bellowed. "End this now. Make him see."
"Give me a break!" I shouted to Damon. "You can't hurt him. This is all an illusion, just like your new look. Love the dress. Is that what all the cool generals wore back in the day?"
Marsh started moving away, using the opportunity to escape while Damon was focused on me. I didn't want him to do that. Damon's illusions weren't dangerous in themselves, but they made people do things that could hurt, like running somebody over with a speedboat. The safest place for Marsh to be was right where he was, which was the last place he wanted to be.
I held my hands up again and shook my head, trying to get him to stay still but as soon as my hands went up, they flickered. The act of moving took away my ability to be seen. The Watcher was right, whatever power they could give me wasn't much compared to what Damon could do.
Marsh stopped moving, but when he did, Damon charged. With nowhere to go, Marsh cowered to the ground. Damon raised the bone high as if ready to bash him. It was his last desperate attempt to get Marsh to do what he asked.
"I will let you live," he snarled at Marsh. "If you bring me the poleax."
I had to let Marsh know that Damon's threat wasn't real. I took a few steps closer so he could get a good look at me. If he believed that he was really seeing my spirit, he would listen. I lifted both my hands, and as they flickered between ghostly and invisible, I flashed Marsh the double okay sign.
The effort cost me. I disappeared. I could no longer see my hands and from the confused look on Marsh's face, neither could he. I could only hope that I'd gotten my message across.
"What is your answer?" Damon bellowed.
Marsh was my best friend. There were a lot of reasons for that but one was that he trusted me. I'd given him a hard time about not wanting to grow up and face reality, but I was wrong. Marsh had grown up, all right. He was the exact guy he should be.
And he still trusted me.
I watched with pride as he got up off the ground, dusted off his pants, and stared Damon square in the eye.
"I'm not helping you," he said to Damon of Epirus. Damon the Butcher.
Damon the Vanquished.
"Raaaaaa!" Damon screamed so loud I felt the ground shake.
He brought the bone down hard, jamming it into the ground. The bone exploded into a million sharp bits that blew out from the point of impact, spreading impossibly across the cemetery. They flew through Marsh like tiny white phantoms that had no more effect on him than if they were shadows.
The corpses weren't so lucky. As the wave of bone fragments spread, it erased the horrifying zombies. In seconds, every last one was gone, leaving only the destroyed cemetery.
And Damon.
The warrior spirit was down on one knee, his face to the ground. Beaten.
Marsh said, "You have no physical power, do you? Cooper knew that."
"There are worse things than physical pain," Damon said, breathing hard. "I gave you a choice. Now you must live with the consequences. How much are you willing to endure before giving me what I seek?"
Damon looked up to Marsh. Marsh didn't even flinch. "You will walk the road with me," he said. "And you will suffer."
Damon raised his fist and punched the ground. The impact created a violent earthquake. Marsh stumbled, though I wasn't sure if it was because the ground was actually moving or because he thought it was. Either way, he tripped and fell into the reflecting pool.
The whole world went blurry as if it was being shaken out of focus. As the rumbling lessened, I was able to make out details once again and realized that the cemetery had returned to normal. Grass covered the graves. Tombstones were no longer strewn about. The sun even poked through the cloud cover, turning the haunted day into a beautiful, warm afternoon.
And Damon was nowhere to be seen.
Marsh, on the other hand, was lying in the reflecting pool, soaking wet. I walked toward him and was surprised to see my own legs. I was still semitransparent, but I was no longer invisible. I wished more than anything else that he could hear me. I wanted him to know how proud I was of him. But he also had to know that it wasn't over and that I was going to do everything I could to help him.
But all I could think of saying was, "Man, I thought for sure you were going to take off."
Marsh looked up quickly. He had heard me!
I couldn't help but laugh. "Kinda creepy to be swimming in a cemetery, Ralph."
He spun around and we made eye contact. He could see me too. I had no idea why it was happening, but I didn't question it.
"Close your mouth, you look like a trout," I said.
The effort was too much. I disappeared, but then suddenly found myself looking at Marsh from the other side of the reflecting pool, as if I had been blown there by the wind.
Marsh looked around frantically until he saw me. He stepped out of the pool and walked toward me in a daze.
"I . . . I don't understand . . . Cooper? What's happening?"
"Very cool, Ralph. That took guts," I said.
"Not really. I trusted you."
"I'm trying my best," I said. "It's hard. I don't have much control."
I disappeared again, and reappeared a few feet to my left. It was totally annoying.
"Are you okay?" Marsh asked.
"Well, no. I'm kind of dead, Ralph. But it's cool in the Black. Sort of."
"What is the Black?"
I disappeared again. It was clear that my time and abilities were limited. I had to make the most of it.
"Cooper!" Marsh called out.
I reappeared again on the far side of the memorial garden. "You're in Trouble Town, Ralph."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Who is Damon?" he asked.
I disappeared again and showed up on the other side of the pool.
"A total foul ball," I answered. "But you know that. Don't help him. Whatever happens, whatever you see, don't help him."
"What is the poleax?" he asked.
"I don't know for sure, but he wants it bad. It's why he killed me, Ralph. To get to you, to get the poleax."
Marsh looked about as confused as I'd ever seen him.
"But why?" he cried. "I . . . I don't know anything about a poleax."
I disappeared again, and then showed up directly in front of Marsh. He jumped back in surprise. Oops. It wasn't like I had a choice.
"I'm doing what I can to help you," I said. "You know that, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Keep your head on straight. Don't believe the impossible. Damon can do stuff I can't. He's had a lot more practice than me. But remember, it's all an illusion."
"So what happens if he gets the poleax?" Marsh asked, clicking into analytical mode.
"Then it won't be an illusion anymore." There was no better way to say it than that. Marsh had to know what was at stake.
"I got your back," I said, flickering. "Just like always."
"I miss you, Coop."
There were so many things I had to tell him, but it seemed like my time was limited.
"Me too," I said quickly. "Those things I said? I'm sorry. I was mad."
"I know."
"And tell Sydney I think she's cool for what she's doing."
"She really cares about you," he said.
"Of course she does. She's not a total Agnes."
Marsh looked at me with wide eyes. I couldn't imagine how he was processing all of this.
"Don't be sad for me, Marsh. I'm okay. There's a lot going on. Some of it is pretty sweet. Then again . . ."
"Yeah," Marsh said. "Then again."
Marsh reached out for me, but I was fading. I felt the colorful mist rise up around me.
"Be cool," I said. "I'm around."
"Coop?" he called, but it was too late.
I was gone. Completely gone. Not just invisible. I was no longer in the cemetery. I found myself standing in the center of Stony Brook Avenue. The Ave. My vision in the Black.
It was the right place to be. It was my home, or at least what passed for it in the afterlife. I was standing in front of Meade's Pharmacy. I wanted to go inside and talk to Donna the soda jerk and order a malted . . . and find out what a malted was. I wanted to stare at the pictures behind the soda fountain that had been a familiar part of my life since I was little. I wanted to share a booth with Gramps and talk about growing tomatoes, then go to the toy shop next door and claim my teddy bear. I wanted to do all the things that would make me comfortable and convince me that everything was going to be okay.
But I couldn't do any of those things, because Meade's Pharmacy was destroyed. It looked as if a bomb had hit it, or maybe a World War I tank. The doors were blown in, the windows were shattered, and the roof was caved in.
The rest of the Ave looked even worse.
I stood in the center of the empty street, alone. There was no traffic. No pedestrians strolled along the sidewalks. Bernie the mailman wasn't making his rounds. My vision was as dead as Ree's. And Maggie's. And Gramps'. The only difference was that my vision wasn't just deserted, it was destroyed.
It was as if a mechanized army had driven through, firing randomly at the buildings, blowing out huge chunks of the brick walls. I walked up the Ave, in a daze, scanning for signs of life. The building that had housed Santoro's Trophies was gone. All that was left was a rubble-strewn hole as if it had taken a direct hit from a bomb. The street itself was torn up, possibly from the treads of tanks. The church that had held my funeral was desecrated. The entire front wall had been ripped down, revealing the wreckage of the pews and statues within. Across the street was the library. Hundreds of books were scattered across the front lawn of the beautiful building that was beautiful no more. Looking in through the shattered window, I saw nothing but black ash, the result of a fire that hadn't spared a single volume. The pocket park between two buildings was filled with piles of brick and wooden beams from the building next to it that had collapsed. The Garden Poultry deli, home to the greatest fries in the universe, was no more.
As violent as the scene appeared, it was strangely quiet. There was no sound that would have hinted at the destruction that had happened. A slight breeze blew up from Long Island Sound, moaning in anguish as it passed the forlorn remains of what was once my hometown.
No, that was once the vision of my hometown. This wasn't the real Stony Brook. It was my home in the Black, which is why it was destroyed.
Damon had taken his revenge.
The Rift was sealed. His soldiers had been sent to the Blood. The Guardians had stood up to him and triumphed. I stood up to him, and for that, he destroyed my vision.
I didn't believe for a second that Damon was finished after his defeat in Grand Central Terminal, but I never imagined that he still had the power to create such destruction. I thought that protecting Marsh was going to be the final challenge with this monster, but I couldn't have been more wrong.
Seeing my vision was proof of that.
The disappearance of Maggie, Ree, and Gramps was proof of that.
The desperate Watcher was proof of that.
Damon was willing to destroy the Black to finish his quest. This was no longer about protecting Marsh and getting my life back.
This was about preventing the complete destruction of the Morpheus Road.
Epilogue
If I had told anyone a few short weeks ago that things would work out the way they have, I would have been called delusional. At best. At worst, insane. But I can't deny reality. What seemed far-fetched not that long ago has come to pass. At times I still question it, but the answer I come back to is always the same, as unbelievable as it may be.
Sydney Foley is in love with me.
Believe it. I do. Okay, maybe "love" is a strong word, but we are definitely in serious like. Would it have happened under normal circumstances? Probably not, but so what? People are brought together through shared experiences all the time, and what Sydney and I went through was definitely an experience. I only wish it had been less tragic. And horrifying.
I always thought ghosts were the stuff of fables and urban legends until a vengeful spirit found his way into my head, discovered my most personal fears, and made them real. I would hunt down a dozen poleaxes if I thought it would keep that spirit away from me. But I've been warned against that by my best friend, who happens to be a ghost. And since Cooper has been protecting me from beyond the grave, I have to believe he knows what he's talking about. I trust Coop. Always have.
Now that I know life continues beyond death, I guess I'll trust him forever.
A month has gone by since his funeral. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since then, other than my relationship with his sister. At first I worried that we were only together because of the haunting and that once it was over we'd realize we had nothing in common. I'm happy to say that I was wrong. To try and get back some form of normal life I helped her study for the SATs. In return she sat through a screening of my entire DVD collection of The Prisoner. And she liked it. Who knew Sydney was a closet geek? The irony! After what we had been through I needed a silver lining. Sydney is my silver lining and I hope that I am hers.
It took a few weeks before I could relax enough to get a full night's sleep. It was still summer vacation so I went back to work at Santoro's Trophies and Sydney tutored math at Stony Brook Junior High summer school. At night we hung out together. We never went so far as to pretend like the haunting didn't happen, but after a few weeks of normal I began to allow myself some hope that it was over. For good. That hope grew stronger with the passing of each uneventful day, each time Sydney and I kissed and laughed, and every night that went by without a disturbing dream.
There was a moment. A great moment. One I'll never forget. After weeks of looking over my shoulder and wondering what might be around the next corner, I finally allowed myself to believe that I was no longer going to be tormented by spirits from the afterlife. It happened while I was riding my bike home from Sydney's house. The sun was going down and I wanted to get home before dark, so instead of riding along the street, I took a shortcut that Coop and I always used when we rode to each other's house. It was a well-worn path through a field of dry grass that served as our baseball diamond, army battlefield, and rocket launching zone. When I turned my bike onto the dirt path, I instantly thought of my friend. I couldn't help it. The place held so many great memories.
I hadn't sensed Coop's presence since the cemetery and my day of reckoning with Damon. Ridi
ng along that path gave me a feeling of peace. As comforting as it was to look back and remember, I knew it was time to move on to whatever the next adventure would bring. It was a moment I will never forget. I would do anything to recapture it because an instant later it ended . . .
. . . and the next adventure began.
I came over a rise to see a girl standing in the path several yards ahead. The wild grass was tall, making it impossible to ride around her so I stopped.
"Hey, how's it going?" I called out.
She didn't react. I didn't recognize her, which was odd because I thought I knew pretty much everybody around my age in Stony Brook, even if they didn't know me. She had long, curly dark hair and wore a man's business suit, which seemed odd but . . . whatever. Her dark eyes were fixed on me. Staring. Unblinking. Sad.
I got off my bike and walked it toward her.
"Do you live around here? I've never seen you—"
The girl vanished.
I stopped short, my heart in my throat.
"Oh no," I muttered. "No, no, no . . ."
I wheeled the bike around to head back the other way but saw another visitor blocking my way. It was an old man with thick, oversized glasses wearing a plaid flannel shirt. There was nothing threatening about him, except for the fact that he was there. No way he could have snuck up behind me that fast. The guy was looking my way but his gaze traveled straight through me.
It took a second for me to realize that I knew who it was. "Mr. Foley?" I said, barely whispering.
It was Cooper's grandfather. Cooper's dead grandfather. "What do you want?" I yelled. "What are you doing here?"
He answered me by disappearing.
I fought to control my breathing. "Home. Home," I said to myself, like a mantra. "Gotta get home. Gotta be around people."
I dropped my bike and turned to run for home. For Dad. For sanity. I didn't get more than a step because a third spirit had arrived. I had already seen two ghosts, but I could have seen a hundred and still would not have been prepared for the vision that stood facing me in that deserted field. Standing in the path, as real as the others, was my mother.
I fell to my knees. Whatever sense of well-being and stability I'd managed to put together over the past few weeks was shattered, as wounds that had taken years to heal were ripped wide open.
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