by D. R. Perry
“Woah, hold your horses, kid.” The Colonial ghost wafted through the picture and hovered in front of it. The brown of his long coat obscured the face in the image. “I don’t need to ask what this is about. You figured it out on your own.”
“Damn straight.” I put my hands on my hips. “How dare you take over and make the kid’s mother help the guy who had him kidnapped?”
“I didn’t.” Rob took his hat off, revealing a shock of curly white hair. “I’m Ed’s partner, not Delilah’s. And it's permanent. The kid here can tell you more. He’s not under a contract and matching compulsion to protect every member of this family.” Rob peered at Ed. I’d given that look to Bianca on the mornings she tried to skip breakfast.
“Mama’s old partner moved on back in March.” Ed avoided Rob’s glare, blinking at Wilfred instead. “Something to do with you, Mr. Harcourt.”
“What?” Wilfred’s shoulders shook.
“Yeah, it was Caleb Jones. Remember him?”
“Name sounds familiar, but no.” Wilfred shrugged. “I don’t. Should I?”
“You rescued his son from a POW camp back in 1942. He wanted you to have a child of your own like you always wanted.” Ed’s lips turned upward, but the grin didn’t touch his eyes. “Mama knew about you and Hertha’s egg almost the same time as you did. As soon as Caleb found out, he moved on.” Ed sighed. “After that, Mama teamed up with a little old lady ghost. They moved on to the Possession level before Mama wanted, but she needed to because Hertha called in a favor with her. Something about finding Edgar Watkins after she kicked Blaine out of the house.”
“A little old lady ghost?” Wilfred straightened in the doorway. “That’s who was following me on the way over here.”
“Oh, no.” I smacked my face so hard the palm went through it, remembering the name on Bianca’s phone earlier. “No. Please tell me Delilah did not team up with Katherine Rogers. She was one of the most feared mediums back before the Reveal. She died this past spring, too. I saw the obituary on Bianca's phone.”
“But why would a medium mess with an Astral Psychic like Nate Watkins?” Rob shook his head. “It makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand it’s the same reason Richard Hopewell stopped teaching at PPC and turned on the school.” Another ghost floated up through the floor. His tusked mouth turned downward in a pout. I was more alarmed by his expression than the protruding teeth; everyone knew Samuel Kazynski had been one of the few trolls in the Sidhe Queen’s court. “Your mother’s partner is one of Richard Hopewell’s aunts, and probably the most powerful Psychic medium in the history of the Rhode Island extrahuman community. Your mother either didn’t remember who Katherine was connected to or thought she could overpower her.”
“Holy…” Ed put his hand over his mouth, glancing at me before removing it to continue. “Hopewell.”
“Nothing holy about the Hopewells besides their holier-than-thou attitude.” Rob shook his head. “That’s not their real family name, either. They changed it after Ignacius died fighting Richard’s grandfather. That’s not on the official Magus records, either.”
“Are you serious?” Ed’s voice shrilled with alarm. “How is there no record?”
“History, kid.” I put one of my hands over his shoulder in what I hoped he considered a comforting gesture. “Not ancient, but distant enough for people to hide documents and wipe people’s memories of them.”
“So, is this why it’s so important to find Edgar Watkins?”
“I assume so.” Wilfred stared at the floor. “But my ideas don’t matter. Drop the wards, please, Edward. I ought to make myself scarce.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Samuel crossed his arms over his chest.
“It means my wife started this particular mess by insisting Delilah take on a new partner too quickly.” Wilfred sighed. “She just had to go poking the tip of her snout in, looking for information by proxy instead of doing it herself. The Gattos want Edgar too, you see. He wiped the memories of just about everyone who knew him. Only three of us got to keep our knowledge of his continued existence.”
I wondered why Wilfred seemed to know about the old Memory Psychic when no one else did. Even Henry, Edgar’s apprentice from before the Big Reveal, hadn’t remembered him until he went looking for stored memories. Could that knowledge be the reason Wilfred got murdered?
Wilfred held out his hand as though he meant to ruffle Ed’s hair but stopped short. “Don’t blame your mother. This mess is mine and Hertha’s, and maybe Ignacius’ too if old Mrs. Donato was right. She said we can’t erase those problems, but we can still try to help your mother.”
“But how?” Ed blinked up at Wilfred. “You’re not ghostly mediums. Mama can kick yours and Ignacius’ butts with one hand behind her back.”
“They’ll have help.” I grinned at the kid. “As soon as Tony, Olivia, and I get Bianca out of Dodge, we’ve got this.”
“Horace!” The shout came from outside the window. I turned to see Ignacius peering at us from the other side of the wards.
“I’ll drop the wards for—”
“No time,” Ignacius hollered. “Blaine and Lynn are both down-city at the PD.”
“Well, that’s good—”
“No, they’re in custody.” Ignacius shook his head. “Delilah Redford called in a tip, and now there’s an APB out on half the kids we’ve been helping. I can’t find Tony or Olivia anywhere. It’s up to us ghosts to get Bianca out.”
“I’m helping,” said Ed.
“No way, kid.” Rob waved a hand over his pint-sized partner’s face. “It’s naptime now. I’ll give you the play-by-play later.”
Ed shuffled over to his bed, practically asleep on his feet. He folded himself under a blanket, then let out a snore that sounded a bit like a purring tomcat. He pointed with one hand at the window. The wards dropped.
“I think I know where Tony and Olivia went.” Rob gazed west out the window, toward Federal Hill. “I’ll need help to see them, though. They might be under a glamour. Sam?”
“I’ll help.” The troll ghost floated toward Rob. Neither of them gave any explanation about why they thought a couple of shifters could cast a glamour, but I didn't care.
“We gotta go before he zonks all the way out.” Rob jerked his chin at Ed. “If he’s unconscious, the wards come back up.”
The five of us sailed out the window, the tingle of the wards coming up behind us letting us know we wouldn’t get back in until Ed dropped them again. We split off in different directions, Ignacius and Wilfred toward Rhode Island Hospital for the professor, Rob and Samuel toward campus to fetch the owl and the pussycat, and me back to Olneyville for my better half.
Chapter Twelve
Bianca
Everything was fuzzy except the bare mattress beneath my calf. I wanted to reach down and adjust the left leg on my jeans so there’d be something between it and the scratchy polyester fabric and frayed ticking, but I couldn’t. My limbs felt weighted down, as though I lay under one of the lead shields they put on you for x-rays.
Ignacius had gone, and so had his ghostly smoke. I figured he would, but being alone as everything started graying out at the edges had given me one last surge of fear. I knew it well—my old buddy survival instinct. But my body wasn’t strong enough to respond with more than this vestige of consciousness. Soon, I’d be comatose. I wondered whether the Gattos intended that. Would whoever gave them their orders reward them or punish them for my probable brain damage or possible death?
I puffed out something like a dry laugh. This was the second time I’d approached this particular diabetic disaster. The first time, I’d become a medium. This time, I’d become a ghost.
“Should be three times,” I croaked. “Charm.”
Something thudded against the window. I couldn’t turn my head to look before it hit twice more. The glass shattered and wood splintered, peppering my hair. I heard a scratch and catch of fabric, then watched a scaly, gray talon pr
ess the mattress in front of my face. It morphed, cracking like knuckles under pressure until it turned pale and delicate, its nails painted with moon-silvery gloss.
“Shh,” Olivia breathed. She fumbled with stuff that rustled and then something tiny and shiny and filled with a clear liquid. I rolled my eyes to peer up at her. She’d just been an owl; couldn’t have fit through that little round window otherwise. I figured I was hallucinating.
“I’m telling you guys, we have to move the ghost whisperer.” Tony’s voice came from somewhere through the floorboards. “There’s a wraith here. What if she gets it to help her escape?”
“Nothing doing, kid,” I remembered that voice from the Olneyville excursion. “And how would you know anything about haunts?”
Tony mumbled something, then I heard the smack of a fist on flesh. I wondered who’d been knocked out. Heavy footsteps pounded creaky stairs, stomping inexorably toward the door. Something clinked on the floor. The doorknob turned and Olivia dove on top of me like an extrahuman shield. I still couldn’t move, not even when the door burst open and the goon with the yellow cat-eyes picked Olivia up by the neck with one meaty hand.
“Nothing personal, understand.” The goon glanced down at me before smacking the owl shifter against one crumbled-plaster wall, then shook her like a terrier with a rat. “That goes for both of youse. You’re known threats to my boss and his associates. If I don’t take care of you, the whole place goes up in flames.”
I had my answer to my earlier questions. I closed my eyes, ready for my own end, but not Olivia’s or Tony’s. They’d meant well, but I wished they hadn’t come for me. They should have sent Blaine to roast this goon instead, but it was too late for regrets. Or so I thought.
“Bianca, you need to let me in.”
“Horace?” The word went unspoken. I knew my lips hadn’t moved. He wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Yeah, in the ectoplasm.” I felt his energy and imagined his hand on my shoulder.
I wished I could have opened my eyes to look at him, then banished the thought. But I’d see him soon enough once I crossed over. And if he could somehow hear my thoughts, I figured why not go ahead and communicate? “Can’t. I’m on the way out.”
“No. Stay put and let me in.” I felt cold invade my limbs, shooting up them like cracks in melting ice. “Olivia dropped an insulin syringe. There’s time to save everyone, but we have to share. I didn’t want to because you’d find out I’m in love with you, and it’s okay if, when I get there, I find out that you aren’t. Saving your life is worth eternity in the friend zone.”
Possession. I finally understood why Horace had waited so long. He had nothing to worry about, but I couldn’t open my mouth to tell him so. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could still smile. I did and then moved my lips, thinking at him as hard as I could as though the words weren’t enough, “Come in, then.”
Bianca and Horace
Our eyes opened and we sat up, mingled Psychic energy surging through the living form that housed us both. We felt our cheeks heat as we understood the feelings we’d hidden until then. Later there’d be time to explore them, but our body needed insulin and other forms of safety first.
Our left arm swung down, fingertips brushing the dust off the floor along with what we needed to make ourselves well. One of us sighed and the other winced as the needle pierced the flesh on our belly, then we stood and swung the business end of the syringe at the goon’s neck. We missed, exactly as planned.
He roared and spun, flinging Olivia at us. We ducked, catching a glimpse of bloodshot eyes and a gasping mouth before she crashed to the mattress. We knew she hadn’t landed on the largest shard of glass because we had it in our other hand.
One of us hit the Mafioso with a sucker punch to the cheek and the other looked on in horror as blood pattered like rain to the cracked tiles between us. The droplets stopped, so we swung again, both of us ignoring the pain in our right hand. Even with the mitten on, we’d gotten a shallow cut.
The goon had hit the ground before our blow landed. We looked up into Tony’s wide-eyed and somehow misshapen face. One of us realized his jaw was dislocated. We looked down to see a dagger coated in blood. He dropped it and rushed past us to Olivia.
“Copper?” Our voices came out mingled. Tony blinked at us and shook his head like his ears were ringing.
“Yeah.” Even that one-syllable word came out garbled. Tony pressed one hand to Olivia’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He clocked himself in the jaw with the other, then opened and closed his mouth. A hollow pop made us wince again. “Silver doesn’t do it for cat shifters, but big or small, copper's a killer.” He breathed out a relieved sigh, taking his fingers away from Olivia’s neck but leaving behind a smear of blood. “Finally. You’re both in there. ‘Bout time.”
“Yeah.” One of us took up a defensive stance, getting between Tony and the bloodied copper blade. “You stabbed him.” It wasn’t a question from either of us.
“Had to.” Tony closed his eyes. “It’s the third time Paul tried to kill my friends. He won't die if EME gets here in time. Turn me in later if you want, as long as Olivia’s safe.”
We weren’t sure what he meant by “later” because we intended to turn him immediately. We reached for our phone before remembering it wasn’t there. Tony knocked the glass from our hand and scooped up the dagger before we could stop him.
He didn’t attack, just turned the knife’s blade so he could wipe it on his shirt under that trench coat he always wore. The blood blended in with the black cotton fabric. We wondered how many times he’d hidden blood that way. Then, he sheathed it.
“Tony?” The rasp of Olivia’s voice made us turn. “Oh, no. You didn’t—”
“He’d have killed all three of us.” Tony was by her side faster than he’d moved to retrieve his dagger. “But there’s something more important we gotta do.”
“Yeah, there is,” we said. “Call the police.”
“I said later.” Tony grabbed Olivia’s hand and turned. “Gotta get out of here before Dad’s insurance policy hits the—”
An explosion downstairs cut him off. We scrambled to keep our feet under us as the floor tilted. The exterior wall cracked, shingled siding falling into the street, along with plaster and wood splinters.
“Out!” Tony grabbed our arm and pulled. “Move!”
“They can’t fly!” Olivia’s eyes went wider than usual. “Neither can you!”
“Don’t matter.” Tony hauled Olivia’s arm, then let go, and she sailed out, fingertips stark against the twilit sky.
We fought. We grappled Tony’s arm, trying to take him down with us if he insisted on defenestrating us. When the goon behind Tony groaned, we let him push. The last thing we saw before falling below the third floor was an angry Gatto holding Tony back from the edge. His thick arm stood out stark white against Tony’s black coat and shirt. Tony’s eyes bulged.
Our back hit something springy that bounced us back up. We sat, looking left to see Olivia holding out one hand to help us down from something we couldn’t quite see. She looked just as confused about how it got there as we were. Our brow furrowed as we ran down the sidewalk after a glance back revealed the contraption’s identity. Had it been under a glamour? But why? Who could have known ahead of time that people would fall out of that window? Before we could wonder how a trampoline had come to be on a side street in Olneyville, a wave of heat and light flared up behind us as the house burst into flames.
“Stand back!” Nox Phillips turned the corner, pulling a length of wood from her sleeve. It looked gray and weathered like dry and sun-bleached driftwood, but shone with a high-gloss as though it was wet. Flanking her were two Magi I recognized from school, bespectacled Ian and purple-haired Charles. Ian held a length of wood as yellow as a pencil in his right hand, and his left clasped Charles’ right. Charles pointed a shimmering pink wand at the burning building and narrowed his eyes. “Move, already,” he called in an almost sing-song voice.
/>
We got out of the way, dragging Olivia with us. The frantic owl shifter flailed and screamed as she tried to go back toward the house after Tony. We couldn’t let her. Tony’s best chance was to let the Kelpie and the two Magi put the fire out.
Water rushing from Nox’s wand increased the commotion. A gust of air from Ian’s wand widened the spray, helping it spread out to reach more of the blaze. Charles kicked everything into high gear, amplifying Nox’s stream to add even more water. Magically-enhanced water should have stopped any regular fire in its tracks, but there was nothing mundane about that conflagration. We pulled out the magipsychic monocle from our pocket and peered at the burning building. The fire was magical too, and even stronger than a Kelpie channeling water from the Deeps of the Under.
Nox cried out in frustration and stalked closer to the house than we would have dared. We watched Ian’s knuckles whiten as he and Charles stepped up with her. A shadow blotted out the last of the daylight, and we looked up, expecting to see smoke. We blinked at the pair of jet-black dragon wings, then shivered as a rain of ice crystals blanketed the house.
The fire guttered and started to die. The house had mostly collapsed. Sirens sounded in the distance.
A howl rang through the air behind us as the alley filled with furred cavalry. A tall white wolf rushed past us, followed closely by a brown one who went on three legs. Flanking them were bears, one with deep brown fur and the other with a golden pelt.
One of us was baffled, the other understood that Josh Dennison, Tinfoil Hat’s Alpha, had ordered the charge to rescue their fallen packmate. Josh’s sister Beth pointed her nose at a pile of shingles and siding. The bear cousins, Bobby and Jeannie, got to work digging and shouldering past pieces of masonry the wolves couldn’t have managed.
Josh howled, then red and blue lights painted the alley in an urgent display that reminded us of 3-D glasses—the old kind. We tried to hand Olivia off to Charles and Ian, but our body wouldn’t cooperate. So we looked up, watching Ian’s spectacles go from blue to red and then back again, his brow above the glasses a crinkling visual to match the aural crackle of a cellophane wrapper. What had he seen that we couldn't?
