Gheist

by Richard Mosses

  “What’s inside?”

  Kat shook it. It made no noise. She shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Just an ornament.”

  “Where can we find you if we have some follow up questions?” The detective looked sceptical, alternating red and blue lit up her homely face.

  Kat gave her her old address. The detective raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for your help, Ms McKay.”

  While the EMTs were able to stitch up Kat’s slash wounds on her forearms, Melchior had to be taken to the nearest A&E to get his injuries seen to.

  Kat sat in her car for a few minutes, chaos all around her. She rested her head on the cool window beside her. She never felt to tired. She started the drive home, her forearms prickling every time she moved, the dressings catching on her shirt. She stopped in the desert to pick up the buried anchors. Before she could get back in the car her whole body was wracked with tremors as she came down from the enormous adrenaline high she’d been on. Kneeling in the dust, Kat shook and tried to vomit, but nothing but sticky saliva strings would come out. Eventually it passed and Kat was alone in the cold morning, the bright stars overhead starting to disappear as the night turned dark blue. Sore and drained of energy, Kat drove back, weeping the whole way. The sun rose in the desert, a golden ray illuminating the jar on the passenger seat, Kat’s heart beating.

  35

  Kat pulled in behind the Church of the Holy Spirit. It was where they’d all agreed to meet in case anything went wrong. Kat hadn’t wanted to come here, but the others insisted once they knew that George Danton had been to her motel room. Of course this was before they’d learned the church was practically started with money from Mrs D.

  She really needed some sleep. A few hours would do it. Kat had never felt this tired before. Actually there were those days after she’d first lost her heart, when even simple things like brushing her teeth had been too much. This was worse than that.

  Kat picked up the jar and went round to the front. Her legs felt like lead, she shuffled along like a zombie. The doors were closed but unlocked. With a great deal of effort she pushed on the door, thin slices of pain ran up her arms. A swirl of fine debris littered the floor inside, the candles weren’t lit, a film of grey covered every surface. What was going on here? Where was Evelyn? Kat hadn’t been keen to run into her again, but it looked like the church had been abandoned. There weren’t even any drones here.

  Never mind that, where was Clint? She hadn’t expected Melchior, under the circumstances, but not even Vincent had shown up. There’s been no sign of Amy since the vault opened. Had something happened? She’d already seen how vicious Mrs Danton could be in a fight. It wouldn’t be hard for her to go back on her word. Had they all met some unfortunate end and followed Jack into mindlessness?

  Well that was it, they’d all gone. Her crew had sacrificed themselves so she could get her heart back. It had been one thing for them to help her, quite another to lose themselves.

  She found a box of long stemmed matches at the back of the candelabra. The phosphor flared and Kat put it to the blackened wicks, the tiny flames caught and grew. A warm yellow light danced around the church.

  Kat brushed the desert dust from a crimson kneeler and sat down. She put the jar at her feet. Her head was heavy and before she knew it a hand was gently on her arm. Kat started awake. Had George come to finish her off? Her second thought was for the jar. Her hand searched for it until she felt the dry rasp under her fingertips.

  “It’s okay,” said Evelyn. “You look like you’ve been to Hell and back.”

  Evelyn’s eyes were the same kind ones from so many months ago, but there was something else there. The old Evelyn had been closed off, guarded, timid, tense. This one had confidence projecting from her.

  “Have you changed your hair?” said Kat.

  “I’ve been travelling,” said Evelyn, smiling.

  “The journey seems to have done you some good.” Kat sat up in the pew. She felt stiff, thirsty and needed to pee. How long had it been? Many of the candles had left long folds of wax hanging down like discarded robes or shed cocoons, something bright and naked had escaped from their confinement.

  “I’m glad you left me,” said Evelyn.

  “Careful,” said Kat. “I’m still mad about all that.” Was she really? She moved her neck, the joints cracking like twigs underfoot. Right now she was still too tired to care, but given that she could actually feel something, there was nothing there. Kat looked round the church. She was still the only one who’d come. Surely Clint had gotten out? He’d taken his own grandson hostage after all.

  Evelyn nodded. “I would be too, but what you said finally made me stop and think about what I was doing, and why.”

  “I recently met Mrs Danton.”

  “Mrs Danton?” said Evelyn.

  “Yeah, the power behind the throne. Anyway, she told me she had been in bed with your grandfather. Not literally, but it sounds like it wouldn’t necessarily have been out of the question.”

  “I’m not too surprised. Seems my grandpa’s approach was somewhat heretical - even if it was for the best of intentions.”

  “My dad used to say the road to Hell was paved with good intention,” said Kat. She shrugged.

  “Do you fancy a cup of coffee?” said Evelyn.

  “I could use your bathroom,” said Kat. “I need to wait for the others.”

  Evelyn laughed. “I thought I asked you not to do your planning here.”

  “We honoured your request. Just agreed to find each other and sanctuary here.”

  “Sanctuary? That’s nice. What if I refused?”

  “Can you do that?” said Kat. “This is a church, isn’t it?”

  “Registered as such for Federal tax purposes, sure. This isn’t mediaeval Europe though.”

  “I’ve not done anything wrong either,” said Kat.

  “Where’d you get the jar from?” said Evelyn.

  “A private vault in a casino,” said Kat. “I was given it by the person who was holding on to it.”

  “You’re welcome to stay. Do you need to change those?” Evelyn was looking at the plastic film covering the wounds and stitching on Kat’s forearms.

  “No. Apparently I’ll be all healed by the time these come off of their own accord. How I’ll get my heart back into my chest is another matter. Not sure I can go to a cardiac surgeon and ask for help.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” said Evelyn.

  “How?” Really, how? What would Evelyn know about it? Then she remembered; her grandfather had been doing this for Mrs D. So why not Evelyn?

  “Upgrades,” said Evelyn. “But it’ll cost you.”

  “If you think something’s free in Vegas, then you’ve already paid for it. I don’t have anything,” said Kat. “You know that as well as anyone.”

  “I don’t want your money,” said Evelyn. “Go home. That’s my fee. Leave town, return to Scotland. Go back to college. Start a new life there.”

  Kat smiled a thin smile. No more heat, no grit blowing in from the desert, no more sun. But perversely she did miss the rain, the green, the soft roll of the Campsies, the warm hop-infused smell of the brewery wafting through Glasgow on a chill winter day, those brief moments of sunlight on Sunday mornings before the city woke up.

  “OK,” she said. It was time to go back.

  Kat helped Evelyn tidy the place rather than sit idly by and watch her while she waited. The two of them barely spoke but there was no tension. Some dusting, sweeping, mopping and a bit of polishing and the stray leaves were gone, dust devils dispelled and the pew-wood glowing in the light from the fresh banks of candles.

  Coming back with coffees and sandwiches, Kat’s curiosity got the better of her. “You must have been away for a while. Where did you go on your road trip?”

  “Went to see my Great Uncle in Louisiana,” said Evelyn.

  “Gumbo and jazz,” said Kat. “Nice. Would’ve been good to visit. Some other time, I guess. Still that’s practicall
y the other side of the country. How long did it take? A week?”

  “Guess you could do it in twenty-four hours if you were superhuman. For a mere mortal like me it took four days.” Evelyn laughed. “I’d not left the city before, never mind the state. There I was hurtling down the freeway in my little car scared out of my wits.”

  Kat toasted her with a coffee. “The important thing is that you went, and lived to tell the tale.”

  “It was good timing and bad. I got to see my relatives for the first time in years. My uncle was the default head of the church and taught me a few things I’d been sorely missing from my education.”

  “Was?”

  “Sadly he died. So I was down there for longer than expected helping with arrangements.”

  Kat nodded. “I don’t know whether to hope he has passed on or if he’s still around to help you.” She hated it when people apologised for the death of someone they’d never met and with this church things were more complicated.

  “I don’t think he’s going to be looking over my shoulder telling me when to trust in the Force, but spirits don’t often appear right after death unless they’re really pissed off. Nevertheless, there’s going to be a few changes around here.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  “No more drones for a start.”

  “I thought it kind of weird there weren’t any here when I came in.”

  “They seemed to have moved on of their own accord. Which is indeed weird. But I would have encouraged them to go if they hadn’t.”

  “Where am I?” said Fingers, appearing before them.

  Kat started in surprise. Then laughed at herself. It had been a long time since shock and fear had affected her. Fingers looked ghastly from her angle, rotten swollen flesh suppurating from bone. She still had his glasses in the cash box in the car. She still hadn’t had time to think through all that had happened and while she wanted to hate Fingers for what he did, in the circumstances it was no worse, and probably less, than what Evelyn had done. Fingers had been used. Evelyn had acted against them.

  Evelyn looked at Kat who shrugged. She’d not told her about the heist at the casino, or Fingers’ treachery. “Mickey Parker, you’re in the Church of the Holy Spirit,” said Evelyn with some authority. “Do you remember being here before?”

  “I think so. You look familiar too. Evelyn, right? And Kat, yeah?” said Fingers.

  Was he playing daft or did the destruction of his anchor, or indeed the storm of debris Jack created, cause him to lose too much memory? After he’d winked out in Mrs D’s penthouse Kat had hoped he’d been lost like Jack. Since meeting her was quite a recent experience it seemed odd that he remembered Kat, but Clint had often said how his memories were like Swiss cheese.

  “Do you remember being at the Inferno Creek Casino?” said Kat. “How about opening the vault? What about telling Mrs Danton what we were planning? Do you remember what happened to Jack?” She started quiet enough, but ended shouting. Her anger rose and boiled over. Mostly she was angry at herself for not planning properly, but they could have gotten out of there in one piece if he’d lied to the Dantons instead of her.

  Fingers looked at her with dead eyes. “What did happen to Jack? Last I recall we were in the Monterey casino and getting dragged out of there by something.”

  Did he really have that much missing time? It occurred to Kat, what if this actually was Fingers, and he had been gone until now? What if the Fingers they’d been with was some kind of doppelganger? It was far simpler that Fingers had forgotten, or was pretending to.

  “Jack lost himself,” Kat said. “He was so scared and upset that he got really angry, couldn’t control it. Took out the whole floor of a building. Shredded it with his power. Turned the Star of Irem, your anchor, to dust.”

  “Shit, I really loved that jewel,” said Fingers, although he didn’t look surprised or concerned to hear this. “But it might explain why my recollection is fucked.”

  “Why was he so afraid?” said Evelyn.

  What had Jack been so scared of? “He was always going on about the Commissars,” said Kat. Could they take on the faces of other dead? “A power amongst the dead who prevent interference with the living.

  “Never heard of them,” said Fingers.

  Evelyn shrugged. “We do have some traditions in the church that there are forces out there, mostly dormant, or deep in the underworld, rarely seen, like giant squid.”

  “He seemed to think this was a more active group. Like ghost cops,” Kat said. “He was always warning us that they were watching everything we did.”

  “Howdy,” said Clint. “How is everyone?”

  Kat jumped again. “Oh, I could hug you,” said Kat. “You were great. What happened to you after I left?”

  Clint laughed. He wove an ectoplasm avatar and stepped into it, before embracing Kat briefly. “I went to find my son. Seems the university he’s at is beyond my range.”

  “Cool moves,” said Fingers.

  The university was only a few blocks from the Strip. Surely Clint could go there no problem? “I’m happy to take you,” said Kat. “If you want?”

  “Thank you, that would be most appreciated.”

  “Don’t forget, you owe me too,” said Amy.

  “Thank god for that,” said Kat. “Everyone’s present and accounted for. Where’ve you been?”

  “I was lying low,” said Amy. “Waiting to make my move. When Jack nuked out it screwed up most of the electrics. I tried to get out, but I guess he went off and the EM knocked me out after all. Nice place.”

  “Looks like all I need is a good sleep and a laptop,” said Kat. She wanted her heart back now, but she’d not be able to help Clint and Amy if she lost the ability to perceive them.

  The office wasn’t too hard to find in the Liberal Arts building which looked fairly new on the outside but depressingly familiar within. Clint’s son wasn’t in his office though and the corridor was a strange place to wait. Kat would have preferred they go to one of the many breakout areas and sit on a bright cushion with a coffee. It would have made talking to Clint awkward, but she could blend in with the students, despite being older than most. It would help her get a feel for what it would be like to go back to university and finish a course in something she was interested in, honour her promise to Evelyn. She still didn’t know how she’d pay for it. Back home tuition fees still had to be paid, then there were living costs, even staying at home like she’d done before. In the back of her head the tables on the Strip were calling to her.

  She adjusted the pack she’d bought to carry the jar around with her without looking like a weird archaeology intern. Clint paced up and down the hallway. It was odd seeing a ghost be nervous. Jack had always been highly strung, but still kept it together. Mostly. Clint was normally so cool he was frosty.

  “It’ll be all right,” Kat said, holding her phone in case someone went past.

  “That’s easy for you to say, sweet…dearest, Kat.” Clint caught himself in time. “You’ve not been a deadbeat dad.”

  “It’s not like you deliberately abandoned him. Besides, I know what it’s like to be a deadbeat daughter. My parents have hardly heard from me. I think I called them once, told them to let my flat, that I was still alive. Didn’t want them to get the police involved, but I couldn’t face telling them what had happened. How could I?”

  The flood of students in the corridor suggested it was the end of the teaching period, everyone shifting rooms. They all looked immaculately dressed, clutching laptops, tablets and designer bags. Kat had had to buy most of her clothes second hand and bring in her own bottle of water from the tap when she was last at university.

  After the waves receded they saw a man approach down the corridor. He wasn’t fat exactly. It was like his body had been pumped up with too much air and was swollen trying to keep it in. He smiled to see them, but the smile was uncertain.

  “Professor Danton?” said Kat. The man nodded. Kat caught Clint’s eye too
. He nodded also. “Sorry to drop in on you unannounced, but I was hoping to have a word with you?”

  “I’m afraid I’m very busy today,” said Danton, standing outside his door, keys in hand. “What is this about?”

  “You could say it was a family matter.”

  “I know you’re not one of my assigned students for counselling. You should speak to your counsellor.”

  “I’m sorry, Professor. It’s your family that I wanted to talk about.”

  The avuncular face vanished. “I don’t have any family. And I certainly don’t want to discuss it with strangers.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Kat. “It isn’t…look I really don’t want to do this in the corridor. Can we just go into your office and talk for a minute?” Her conciliatory tone was dropped for a more firm one.

  “Are you police? Has something happened?”

  “Your office?” said Kat.

  “Yes, OK.” He opened the door and Kat followed him into the room. It was far too neat to belong to a real professor. You should be in danger of a stack of papers avalanching you in a professor’s office. This place was empty of anything save the obligatory large Apple desktop computer. Even the keyboard and mouse were out of sight. Where were his books?

  He showed Kat to a seat but hovered by the door as though he might need to make a quick getaway. “Is it George? Is he OK? Please don’t tell me it’s George. I never should have let him go, but he was young. I didn’t want to put boundaries up he’d only want to cross. You should know I have nothing to do with my mother or her affairs and never have. I can’t help you there. We don’t even exchange Christmas cards.”

  “It’s okay, Professor. This isn’t about your mother. Actually, it’s your father I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “My father?” Clinton Danton stopped wringing his hands and looked out the window. He didn’t see the students enjoying the bright sunshine. “I never met him. I understand he died before I was born.”

  “You may want to sit down,” said Kat. Professor Danton came back to the room and sank heavily into his swivel chair. “This might be hard to believe but your father is still about.”