Back From Hell (Revenant Files Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  “Thank God.” Vic sighed as he left the plastic body and his partner scrambled to catch it. “It’s nice to have elbows again.”

  “I forgot how heavy this can be.” The young man grunted as he tossed the body into the trunk and slammed it shut. When he turned, a family walked out of the diner and stared incredulously at him. He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “Don’t worry, that’s his favorite place!” he called before he scrambled into the car and turned it on.

  The ghost entered and passed him the box of pie. “You forgot this.”

  “Oh, I appreciate ya.” He placed the box on top of the center console. “Although it makes me wonder if the family was weirded by the body being thrown in the trunk or the floating box.”

  Vic shrugged as he picked the pack of cigarettes up and lowered the window. “Either way, it’s probably a more eventful day than they had planned. Let’s get going.”

  Johnny looked over his shoulder as he backed out and grimaced when he realized that the family still stood and gawked at them. “Agreed,” he stated, turned away, and eased the vehicle out of the parking lot. He turned left and toward one of the most haunted cities in America.

  For them, of course, it was always a place of potential business.

  Chapter Six

  At Vic’s suggestion, they roared down a backwoods road on their way to New Orleans. His northern upbringing was showing because the tougher it was to drive, the more he admitted that he’d thought they would be able to go faster without worrying about cops. While there might have been fewer officers to ticket them, however, their vehicle wasn’t exactly equipped to handle the rougher terrain at high speeds.

  “I still can’t believe you talked me into buying this.” Johnny grunted as they hit a rough patch. “I could have gotten something more modern that would have made traveling through these areas a little easier.”

  “What are you complaining about?” his partner asked casually and leaned back in his tilted seat. “I got you a great deal.”

  “Why were you so insistent on this car?” he asked as he checked the speedometer and frowned when he realized they were barely pushing fifty-five mph. “You weren’t even alive when this model was out.”

  “Nope, fourteen years dead at that point.” Vic agreed. “I thought it was a good compromise—somewhere between my era and yours.”

  “Except you were dead and I wasn’t born yet,” he pointed out and finally had a chance to accelerate when they reached a long stretch of empty road. “Still, it does feel nice when you can open her up.”

  “Her?” Vic asked with a snicker. “You are growing attached.”

  “Humph,” Johnny muttered and turned the headlights on as the sunlight was beginning to fade. “It looks like a paved road up ahead. I’m taking it.”

  “Do what you like, kid,” his companion said and stretched his arms. “We shouldn’t be too far from New Orleans at this point.”

  The young man turned onto the paved road, which stretched for miles with only grassland on either side. “Do you have any idea where we should start once we get there?”

  “I thought this was your plan,” Vic replied somewhat jokingly. “I have an idea or two, but you are taking the reins on this one for the most part. That way, you’ll get all the credit when we—”

  “Hey, what’s that?” He slowed the car slightly and leaned forward. The ghost straightened in his seat and they both focused on a dark spot in the distance that was coming toward them.

  “Is that a person?” Vic asked as the object got closer. “Running in the middle of the road?”

  “Wait—” The young man’s eyes widened in shock. “He’s bleeding.” He braked sharply. The man was dressed in a blue dress shirt and jeans, both covered in blood with a large tear over the shoulder of his shirt. Johnny got out and ran to him as he collapsed. “What’s going on here? Are you all right?”

  “T-thank God,” he said, his voice hoarse. “P-please, don’t let i-it get me.”

  “An animal attack?” he asked both the man and Vic who appeared at his side.

  The ghost leaned down to examine him. “Not unless animals have smartened up enough to use equipment.”

  “I-it had an ax,” the man responded, raised his head, and looked directly at the ghost. “It’s still coming!”

  “You can see him?” Johnny asked incredulously.

  “Question that later,” Vic ordered and his gaze searched the road ahead. “Who are you? What’s coming?”

  “F-Frank Rossi! We need to get out of—”

  His words died in his throat as the wind picked up. The young detective only now realized how dark it had become and he looked up when he felt a familiar cold presence. He removed his eye patch and was able to see a dark-green glow heading down the road. The wind continued to strengthen and became a howl while the three watched as a dark figure hidden under a long cloak and hood emerged from the light holding a bloody ax.

  “O-oh, God!” the man babbled and forced himself to his feet. “We need to go!”

  Johnny let go of him, drew his pistol, and fired as he walked toward it. The first couple of bullets didn’t seem to do anything to it and he hoped for the first time in his life that he had missed. It staggered when the next few struck home but pressed on despite the shots in its chest.

  “Vic!” he called and tossed the gun to the ghost.

  His partner lined up a shot and fired a spectral bullet at the approaching maniac. This one seemed to affect it as it fell and green light burst from its chest. Before either of them could celebrate, however, the being simply sat and pushed to its feet.

  “I second that guy’s idea.” Vic grasped his shoulder and pulled him away. “Back to the car, Johnny!”

  “Try shooting it aga—” A hatchet whistled past his head and when he looked back, it brandished another. “Good idea—let’s go!” The three of them ran to the car. Johnny scrambled into the driver’s side seat and accelerated at the being.

  “What are you doing?” the shade demanded. “That is some kind of ghost. You can’t run it down!”

  The young man swerved to the left a second before they made impact. The being turned and slashed at the side of the car with its ax as they drove past and the weapon gouged the metal noisily. “What the hell?”

  “The bastard ruined the finish!” Vic growled, held the pistol up, and leaned out of the window to fire as they fled but his quarry had disappeared. “What the hell? He’s gone.”

  “Keep driving!” the man hollered in the back. “Get into town. We can find a place to hide there!” At a loud thump above, the man, already pale from blood loss, somehow grew whiter. “Oh no.”

  “Vic, he’s on the roof!” Johnny yelled. “Blast him off!”

  His partner tried to shift position to fire but the back window shattered and spewed shards of glass inside the car. The young man braked as he tried to cover his face. Vic cursed vociferously and he turned to fire behind him as the wounded man was hauled out and the being jumped down with him in tow.

  When the car stopped completely, both partners pushed out. The ghost detective fired at the attacker and a bullet caught it in the back. It hissed angrily, turned, and launched the hatchet, which struck Vic’s hand and knocked the gun out of it. They looked at the ax buried in his hand with astonishment before Johnny snapped back to reality and lunged to snatch the gun up and fire. As before, his bullets did nothing.

  The being held its victim down with one foot as it raised its weapon. The man cried out in terror for a brief moment before the blade drove into his chest to unleash a burst of blood and end his life. It reached into the wound and white light poured out of it and into its hand.

  “It’s taking his soul,” Vic said as he pried the hatchet out of his hand.

  “What the hell is it?” Johnny asked but his partner had no answer.

  The being finished his theft of the man’s soul and to the young detective’s horror, the body crumbled to dust. It uttered another angry h
iss. “Not the one.” Its voice sounded like a heavy smoker gargling gravel.

  He moved his hand to the back of his belt, unclipped a sheath, and drew a dagger. “Your other hand is good, right?”

  “Yeah, give it here,” Vic said and he threw him the gun. The ghost fired on the being and drew its attention again. It began to race toward them but he held his ground as Johnny moved to the side. It raised its ax to strike at the living man, but Vic shot it in the side and deflected the attack while his partner thrust the dagger into the being’s eye.

  It howled in pain and rage and thrust the young man off. The shade was knocked down at the same time, a surprise for both of its attackers. It yanked the dagger out of its eye to reveal a dark-green glow within, folded its arms across its chest, and turned into an orb of green light. Vic stumbled to his feet and fired at it, but the orb simply moved out of the way of the shots before it glided away toward New Orleans.

  Johnny stood slowly, picked the dagger up, and sheathed it as he walked to his companion. The wind began to die down around them. “What in both worlds was that, Vic?”

  “I have no idea, kid.” The ghost detective holstered the pistol and sighed. “It’s like it was three different types of ghosts in one. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “What ghost can take a soul like that?” he asked.

  “Wraith, demon, geist.” He listed the names quickly after a moment’s thought. “But it didn’t act like any of those. Maybe a wraith but I’ve never seen one that can travel that freely or possess a body like that. It should have been knocked out by a shot or two.”

  Johnny sighed and scowled at their car. “Well, I guess we have our evidence. I should have got it on my phone.”

  “Well, you have me convinced, at least,” his companion muttered and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “This seems like something for the bureau.”

  “Should we bail?” he asked and folded his arms as he awaited his partner’s answer.

  Vic took his good hand out and adjusted his cap. “Probably.” He looked at Johnny. “That’s not how we work, though, is it?”

  The young man looked down the road. “It was headed to NOLA and we were heading that way anyway.”

  “Back to the car.” His partner nodded and they returned to the vehicle. Johnny threw some of the broken glass out while Vic looked at the horizon. “Always something going down in New Orleans indeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Man, he scuffed it good, huh?” Johnny muttered unhappily. They were in the motel parking lot and took a proper look at the damage in the morning light. A long slice had been gouged through the right side of the car, along with a dent on top and the broken back windshield.

  “Not only the body damage,” Vic commented. “Take your eyepatch off and have another look.”

  He complied and saw traces of the dark-green glow in the huge tear. “Man, what the— Why can’t I see this with my eyepatch on? I can see ghosts fine normally.”

  “It’s phantasma, Johnny. You’re not used to seeing it outside of me and the ghost world, huh?” his partner explained. “It’s the pure ghost…blood, for lack of a better word, that I’m made of—what the cranks used to call ectoplasm back in the day. The reason you can see ghosts normally is…well, because of me. But what you see is the stygia in their bodies, which enables them to sustain themselves in this world. Well, that and the ether you have, but you mostly use that to shoot things.”

  “So the fact that this guy glowed like the one light remaining in a blackout is what?” he asked with a frown.

  Vic took a drag of his cigarette. “Bad, for one. It means he’s a stocky bastard. Did it seem like he was possessed when you touched him?”

  “He felt solid.” He leaned against the car. “But Ciro was solid too, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but that’s because he was so chock full of stygia that he might as well had an IV bag full of it on him at all times.” Vic patted the gun under his jacket. “Plus, he was obliterated by one shot. We blasted that guy with dozens and he still flew off.”

  “My shots did next to nothing to him.” Johnny sighed as he recalled the previous night. “I need to go back over that guide you gave me.”

  “Yeah, then maybe I won’t have to repeat myself as often,” Vic agreed and rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah.” The young detective grimaced. “I probably need to take the car in for repairs first thing.”

  “No kidding.” His partner took one last drag and stamped his vice out. “It’s not exactly an inconspicuous ride now with that cut running through it. If this baby turns heads, we want it to be for the right reasons.”

  “Do you have any idea where we should look after we do that?” Johnny asked. “I assume it will lay low for now, at least. There isn’t any glowing green stuff in the distance.”

  “We might have to look around and check on any killings in the area,” Vic suggested and checked his wounded hand. “What gets me is the fact that it drains souls. You saw what it did to that guy. I would think there would be more reports about people turning to dust.”

  “It probably doesn’t leave witnesses,” he reasoned. “We were an exception because we could hurt it. So maybe we should look into missing persons.”

  “Agreed.” The shade floated to the car and settled into the passenger seat. “Do you have any thoughts on the ax?”

  “It glowed green like he did, although I can’t tell if that was the ax or him.” He checked the damage again before he sighed dejectedly and moved to the driver’s side. “It was also strong to be able to tear a hole in a car going sixty without breaking apart.”

  “It’s probably a memento,” Vic muttered as Johnny turned the car on.

  “His ax?” The young man chuckled. “You have to have a special attachment to something in life for it to be a memento, right? What, did he cuddle with it at night when he got scared?”

  “It doesn’t have to be his ax necessarily,” his partner stated. “Merely that he has some connection to axes. Mementos have unique properties and how he feels about the ax plays a part in that.”

  “So he has some kind of super-ax and Ciro’s watch was what? Always shiny?” Johnny asked as he put his seat belt on.

  “And it probably also never stopped working.”

  The young man chuckled again as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. “Remind me to have strong feelings about something worth a damn, like a gun.”

  “Speaking of which,” Vic began and looked at theirs. “When we’re done at the shop, I want to visit the market.”

  Johnny gave him an odd look. “What, do you have a hankering for Beignets?”

  “Not the food market, dumbass,” his companion chided, turned to him, and waved his bag of coins. “The market.”

  He stopped the car in front of the exit and thought for a moment. “Oh… Do we even know one we can get into around here?”

  The ghost nodded and put the bag down. “Trust me, I’ll get us in.”

  At a repair shop, Johnny came up with a story about an accident that they didn’t seem to buy completely but he paid up front and the questions stopped. He had taken a streetcar from there into St. Charles and Vic led him to a parish house a couple of miles from their drop-off.

  “How did you find this?”

  “I learned about several Limbo markets when I had my agency,” the ghost explained. “If you know the right people, you can get maps, although it’s better to commit them to memory. I could never remember where I put the damn things.”

  “You can memorize shady market locations but not where you put the maps?” The young man hung over the fence and studied the off-white house. “You know, you don’t talk about your time in Limbo much.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. My afterlife was very similar to my normal life.” He looked at one of his boney hands before he adjusted his cap. “Well, there were some differences but that’s neither here nor there.”

  “I gotcha,” Johnny stated and ope
ned the front gate. “We’re heading in but don’t we need a password or something?”

  “It’s down the stairs on the side, kid.” They moved through the weeds and tall grass to a somewhat hidden alcove with a stairway. “And a password? What pulp have you been reading?”

  “My life,” he retorted and knocked on the heavy door at the bottom. “So any curious passerby can get in?”

  Vic moved in front of the door. “Not exactly.” A panel on the top slid open and a pair of glaring eyes turned to wide, shocked ones as they studied the ghost. “Hey there, buddy. Do you wanna let us in?” He took his sack of coins out. “We wanna make a few purchases.”

  “Uh…what’s the password?” the doorman asked. Johnny chuckled and his partner clenched his jaw and passed him the bag.

  “Hold onto this for a moment, would you?” The young man took it with a small grimace because it felt like ice in his hands. The ghost suddenly flung himself through the door and surprised shouts and pained grunts ensued inside, together with arguing and demands.

  After a few minutes, the door opened and a bouncer with blood trickling down his head waved him in. A couple of bodies—one ghost and the other human—lay sprawled on the floor and Vic straightened his jacket while he and another ghost bickered. Johnny looked at the bouncer and motioned to his eyes.

  “Are you a specter?” he asked, although the man still seemed to be reeling from the blow to the head and merely stared at him. “Come on. It’s an easy question, man. Specters can see ghosts. You can see them, right?” The man shut the door and nodded before he slumped into a nearby chair and closed his eyes. While he probably shouldn’t nap on the job, this maybe wasn’t the time to judge.

  Johnny heard the jangle of coins and turned to where Vic handed some to the ghost he was talking to. He checked the sack and it seemed a little lighter than before. His partner beckoned him closer, tipped his hat to the ghost, and descended another flight of stairs. “I smoothed things over with them. We’re good.”