Gheist

by Richard Mosses

  “That’s bullets, for werewolves,” said Amy. “Although sometimes blades work on vampires. But that’s cos it’s anti-bacterial and you know they pass on their infection with a bite.”

  “Guys, can we keep focussed on this,” said Kat. She was too young to be mothering dead kids. “Melchior has given us some charms that we can use to ward three of you against these detectors. The rest of you, assuming that they can’t detect through walls anyway, we’ll need to keep away from these points and try not to have you pass through barriers that are too solid. Did Melchior mention the range of these things?”

  “Just a few feet, which is why they’re at doors or in small rooms,” said Vincent. “They set off an alarm in the penthouse and in the security booth. Although Melchior tells me the protocol in the booth is for them to contact either the floor manager or Mrs Danton.”

  “And on top of this we still need to keep me from being seen on the normal security systems. Amy, we can’t ward you, given the nature of your anchor, and you need to go in and investigate what we’re up against electronically. Are you up to that?”

  “That’s what I signed up for, boss,” said Amy, saluting. “You just need to get me there.”

  On top of all her other sins, even though it was the victim that encouraged her to do so, she needed to download some child abuse from the internet and leave it somewhere in the casino. When she got it back, how would her heart weigh up? Most likely it would be found wanting and thrown to a crocodile for its supper.

  26

  Riding down the electrical highways, Amy felt free. She knew that sooner or later she’d bump into her limits, but it was amazing how far and wide that video file was distributed. With a little effort she could reach out and sense another file storage space and make the leap to that network.

  Here she was confined by the casino’s cabling, but she could still surf round it with abandon. In many ways it was like putting the building on, like a new skin, a new body. Then it was about concentrating on sensation from a particular part of the body, and maybe flexing a few joints. It tickled her every time that she was actually the ghost in the machine. She camped in the nexus of security camera feeds, watched and waited.

  With another virtual eye she reviewed footage from previous days. In the wired world she moved much faster than normal and covered the whole back up drive in a few moments.

  She studied the movements of staff, far too regular. The movement of cash was less so, but they really should vary when on the day the security truck turned up, someone could set an ambush by them. The cash vault, as Vincent put it, was ordered and neat. If there was a second inner vault then no one was going in there through the cash vault. But Amy suspected that just because she didn’t see anyone go in didn’t mean that there wasn’t an entrance there. A cupboard at the back of the cash vault, with a key and keypad combination, was never opened by anyone. It just sat there, unused. And why take up space in your vault if you didn’t need to? Clearly the personal lift from the penthouse was the favoured route in, with this way there as a backup. If they were going to use this route then they needed to be sure it wasn’t just what it seemed. She wasn’t ready to apparate in the vault just yet – it might set off the mystical alarm.

  Amy shifted her attention to the penthouse. There wasn’t a camera inside the room itself, only one in the hall. Several times she watched Mrs Danton enter and leave the room. She was a severe woman, petite and slender. The bone structure of her face was prominent. Once upon a time she would have been a striking woman. Her hair was still thick, dark and lustrous, cut to shoulder length. Her dresses were a little old-fashioned but fitted her well. Round her neck she wore a wadjamacallit, a statement piece of jewellery. She had the demeanour of a well to do woman in her eighties. Perhaps a little frail, but she moved around well without help, straight-backed, which gave her an air of gravitas or even nobility. She was in command and you’d know that immediately. Amy didn’t see her eyes properly, but she was certain they would look intently at her stripping away all the different skins she wore exposing her core. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Danton Junior, her presumed grandson, occasionally loomed beside her, but Amy’s attention was always drawn to Mrs Danton. She noticed that infrequently DJ would be carrying something neither he nor Mrs D left with. These either remained in the room, or moved into the storage vault. Unless they were broken into tiny pieces and taken away by the cleaner. Incidentally it was always the same person who came with a cleaning trolley and left with trash bags, unless the shift rotation was longer than the footage backup period.

  Amy was starting to feel bored. She wanted to stretch out and go beyond the confines of the security system. She nearly missed it as a result. A curious tick, a trick of the light, or something else? Mrs D’s face changed, it filled out for a moment, still old and lined but healthier, younger looking. It was enough to make her check and recheck the file. There was no corruption, no alteration. Amy rechecked the other footage and it didn’t recur. Didn’t the Evil Queen normally try to look younger? She didn’t know what to make of it, it only happened once after all. Was she being ghost-ridden, possessed? Whatever it was she’d let Kat know.

  She had a choice – each route likely to set off the alarm if she wasn’t careful. Either she entered the vault or the penthouse to see what more she could find. It seemed that the vault was the better bet. They could learn more if there was a way into the other vault area.

  Focussing herself completely inside the camera’s electrics, she found herself in the power lines and in the lighting for the room. Her presence caused the strip-lights to flicker ominously, if there’d been anyone there to scare. Keeping herself as far from the door, and the ward, as possible, Amy left the electrics and formed in front of the cabinet.

  No alarms went off, but how would she know? They had no idea what would actually happen if they did. Melchior and Vincent said there would be an alert. But it had been twenty years or something like that. The system could have been upgraded. The ward might do something to ghosts. For the moment she was in the clear.

  The cabinet was made of metal finished in a dark green paint. She could explore the electric part of the lock, open it that way, but it would ruin it and the need for repair would raise suspicion. This would have to be done the old fashioned way. Amy stepped into the cabinet, the metal as thin as it appeared to be. No winter-wrapped magical lands with mythological creatures in here. But there were no shelves, no money, no chips, not even stationary. She was facing a blank wall. This was good. No one made cupboards without backs. Well maybe some of her flat-packed Scandi furniture had ended up that way, but it wasn’t intentional.

  So where was the catch, lock or other means to open this part? Was there another lock around here or did it open automatically with the cabinet being opened? Maybe it just needed a push? Yes, that was it. There was an area that looked slightly dirty, just natural oil collecting dust. Amy reached out her hand to hover over it.

  There was a tingle in her palm – she normally didn’t feel anything but pressure. An intricate shape illuminated beneath her hand. She tried to snatch it back, but it was held by something, like thick tarry treacle. She pulled and pulled and it seemed her arm actually stretched out. She emerged backwards into the cash vault, her hand and arm stuck inside the cabinet. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. What could she do? Amy was stuck, like literally. She tried to jump up to the lighting circuit. Most of her made it, but her arm was stretched from the fluorescent strip down through the door like some weird taffy. Was this a trap or had she triggered the alarm after all?

  In desperation, Amy channelled electricity to the cabinet. A blue white arc crackled down her arm, scorching the cabinet where they met, wreathing it in fine lightning.

  All the lights went out.

  She must have blown a fuse or something. Without the electrical current she had nothing to inhabit and reformed beside the cupboard.

  The vault door began to open, slowly given its w
eight.

  Amy went back inside the cupboard and instead of pulling away from the trap, she tried pushing. She put all her willpower into moving the inner door without passing through it. She wasn’t used to this type of effort. Very quickly she found herself tiring and the door hadn’t moved a millimetre. Her sight began to fade as everything turned dark.

  She was becoming confused and forgetful, so it wasn’t clear what happened next. She just had momentary glimpses with darkness in between, like in a teaser trailer for a moody superhero movie; brief money shots, blaring horn.

  The door opened a crack. A room was lined with terracotta pots and swords and wooden crates. Her hand was released from its grip. She was back in the cash vault. The vault door was open, with Mrs Danton in silhouette in the doorway. Amy leaped for the camera.

  Then she knew no more.

  27

  Where was Amy? It had been a real effort to get a copy of that file into the casino. Maybe someone had found it and deleted it? What would happen to Amy, would she be trapped there, or thrown out?

  They didn’t have the facilities to hack into Inferno Creek’s network, so Kat had persuaded Carlos to do her a favour. She hated asking, even though she reckoned she was owed more than a fourth-hand car. It felt like there was an accounting going on. She didn’t owe him, because he owed her, but she felt like she owed him. She could almost see him calculating what this favour was worth and putting it on some tab. And she wasn’t sure if she was encouraging him too. She wasn’t certain as her usual senses for this sort of thing were out of whack, but she thought part of the reason he kept turning up and bugging her was that he fancied her. It meant every interaction with him felt transactional. Nevertheless, he had acquired a cheap burner phone that could access the Internet, downloaded the file from some dubious source Amy pointed them too, promised hand on heart that he wouldn’t look at it and driven to the casino where he had hidden the phone in a sealed plastic bag inside a toilet cistern.

  Perhaps this was all some weird prank? Amy was just winding them up. Had been all along. Playing on their sympathy to establish credibility, just as capricious as Kat had suspected she was.

  Maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe Amy had gotten herself into trouble. Triggered an alarm, exhausted herself. Either way, what could they do but wait a while longer?

  Why was she being so hard on this girl? Why assume they’d been betrayed first? It wasn’t that she didn’t like Amy, and certainly had sympathy for her, there was just something about her Kat didn’t trust. She had been nothing like her as a kid. She’d had none of her confidence or balls. Chutzpah, that was it. Then she realised, neither really did Amy. It was all a mask, brittle bravado, hiding the timid girl underneath. Amy had been like her when she was young. Flighty, insecure, just wanting to be included. Except Amy had died trying to break out, to be more than she was, wearing the clothes of someone else until they fitted. Kat had died by not trying at all. Was she jealous, of a dead girl?

  There was a knock at the door. Surely not Carlos, again? It didn’t sound frantic enough. It was Connie, just in jeans and crisp polo shirt, no doubt her shift was finished. “Hi, Kat. I thought you should know, your boyfriend was looking for you.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you mean Carlos, they guy who was asking for me before?” She frowned. Why would it be Carlos, he knew where to find her.

  “How many men you got visiting you?” Connie smiled. “You should be careful, round here someone might think you’re in a different line of work, come looking for their cut.”

  “What did he look like?” Was it Tony? Was Tony back? How did he find her here? If Carlos could find her, probably anybody could.

  “He was a big guy. Huge muscles. Must eat like a horse every day.”

  Shit. “Tattoo of a crow on his arm?”

  “No, nothing like that. He said you had stolen his heart and he couldn’t live without you. What’s your secret that you have these handsome men chasing after you? I know it’s not your perfume. I clean your room and you don’t have any.”

  Didn’t sound like Tony, or Danton Jnr. Shit. Who was it this time? “It must just be my accent.” Maybe it was one of the Danton family’s goons. No need to look for any new people involved in all this. Had they got Amy after all and she’d spilled the beans? Goddammit why could nothing go right for long? “Thank you, Connie. I think I need to move.”

  “He not your boyfriend? We deny knowing you to anyone after that man was in your room, just to be sure.”

  “No. But I owe his boss a lot of money.”

  “How much? We can lend you some, til you get back on your feet.”

  “That’s too kind of you, Connie.” Kat almost felt her heart squeeze. “I’m afraid it’s way more than either of us can afford. It will literally take me a lifetime to pay him back.”

  “Well you know us girls need to stick together. I’ll see if I know of a place you can go.”

  “Oh, Connie. You really are a sweetheart. One day I swear I’ll pay back all your kindness.”

  “You’re making me go red. I better go before we both start crying.”

  Kat was crying? She felt her face. It was wet.

  28

  “I want you to concentrate, but not too much, obviously,” Melchior said.

  Clint was reminded of Marlene Dietrich, especially having seen her wearing top hat and tails. All that was missing was the cigarette hanging louche from Melchior’s mouth. He nodded.

  The library in Melchior’s museum was an unusual place to practice being seen. But then Melchior was a famous magician, he couldn’t just walk down the street talking to himself with a flickering cowboy, now could he?

  “You need to keep a picture of yourself in your mind,” Melchior added.

  Clint formed a picture of himself, making sure to keep the details too. His hat for instance. He thought hard, trying to make the image real. It strung together in front of him, like it was made of strands of plastic. He stepped into the plastic which wrapped around him like Saran Wrap.

  “That’s it,” said Melchior. “I can see you. Try moving too.”

  He tried harder, putting even more into keeping the image intact. At the corner of his vision he could see the darkness creeping in as he tired. He stepped forward. The image and the film had turned into a lead apron and the air around him felt thick like molasses. He moved his other foot, but the darkness got too much. He stopped and his image faded from normal sight, a few tendrils dropped to the floor and curled up, thin slugs salted.

  “This isn’t working. What else can you do?” Melchior said.

  Clint looked at Melchior. He still didn’t really know what to make of him. Growing up black in a white man’s world he knew like anyone of his generation what it was like to stand out, be different. But in many ways he’d had it easy, in others he still got a beating for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Men loving other men, it didn’t make sense to him as a kid. But by the time he’d died he’d seen enough to think it was better anyone loved anyone. Clearly he respected women too. He’d seen men dressed as women in Europe before he got shipped home and in some of the bars in town, but Melchior was both at the same time. Hell, did it really matter? Everyone had shit to deal with. Some more than others. “Do? I’m dead, cowboy. I don’t do anythin’.”

  “Some of the dead can do things. Throw things around, make objects move, cause blood to run down the walls. All that spooky stuff.” Melchior smiled.

  “I can’t do any of that,” said Clint.

  “Have you tried?”

  “Never had a need to make locusts appear.”

  “What about when you get angry?”

  “I’m not a violent man,” said Clint. “I don’t remember getting angry.”

  “No one ever cut in line, stole your parking space, slept with your girl?”

  “Steady on there, Slim. What you trying to say?”

  “See, you do get angry, even if just a little bit. What happens when you get mad?
”

  “I told you, that sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.”

  “Ha, you’re full of crap, lying to yourself. What was her name? Did everyone but you know it was going on? Did you find them together? Did she call out his name one night while you were inside her?”

  Clint threw a punch at Melchior. Instead of passing through his face, like he would normally, it was like he got sucked inside instead. He felt himself within Melchior’s body. It was like wearing the image, but heavier, warmer, substantial. When was the last time he’d felt warm? Without thinking he walked forward and the body, like a good suit, moved with him.

  He felt another presence beside him, inside Melchior. Lady Melchior. She pushed and he popped out again. The absence of weight and warmth was an almost painful loss. It had only been a moment or two, but he yearned to return.

  “I guess you do have another talent after all – possession,” said Melchior. “And like most of our talents, it helps if you’re a little worked up.”

  Clint looked down at his hand like it was an alien being, something that didn’t belong to him. “How?” he said. “It’s not like it seems related to anythin’ I did before.”

  “But you used to control things, your horse, and through your horse a herd? Manipulating meat through remote control.”

  “Seems a bit of a leap,” said Clint.

  “Why don’t we go downstairs and see if you can spook some of my customers?”

  “That don’t seem right, frightening folks unnecessarily.”

  “Think of it as practice. How else are you going to help Kat? We’ll start with the vocal stuff and try appearing. Nothing much, just a whisper, then a shout. Then we’ll move on to seeing if you can jump into someone else other than me. My body’s open to it after all these years.”

  They emerged from the changing room. The sex shop, which in general made Clint uncomfortable, was unusually busy. At Melchior’s urging he walked behind a woman looking at herself holding a strap on like she was seeing if a shirt suited her, twisting her body to see how it looked at different angles.