The young detective took another drag. “That’s our side of the story, so how about we hear more of yours?” He folded his arms as he waited. “You already said your visit was a personal one like ours, which makes sense. You’re too young to be sent on undercover missions, I would think. And since specter cops are so rare, I can’t imagine they would waste you by sending you into the lion’s den alone like that. But what I don’t understand is why you would risk going in alone when you have more experienced people you could rely on.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I suppose fair is fair,” she began and stirred her coffee with a straw. “I’m Valerie Simone of the NOPD, supernatural division, but like you said, the only reason I’m working there rather than traffic or something basic is because I’m a specter.”
“Whoa, now,” Johnny interrupted and held his hands up. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“I can vouch for him,” Vic said with a nod. “That’s merely his typical charm at work.”
He frowned and flipped the ghost off under the table, but his partner paid no attention. “So Val, how long have you been able to see ghosts?”
“Since birth, I guess,” she stated. “But can’t say for sure. It runs in the family on my mother’s side, but I didn’t see my first ghost until I was about seven—my grandmother visited me just after she died and helped me to understand the ghost world and my ability before she passed over.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.” Vic tilted his head. “She must have had tremendous willpower to not be sucked directly into Limbo after her death.”
“I don’t think she went to Limbo,” Valerie said quietly. “When I finally said goodbye, she disappeared in a bright light. I think—I hoped—she went to Heaven.”
“A ticket straight to the big time, eh?” the ghost mused. “I would believe it. She’s from the good generation.”
“Uh-huh,” Johnny said dismissively and finished his cigarette. “Because nothing bad happened in your day. No sir, not the fifties and sixties.”
“Quiet, you,” his partner muttered. “So, is it only the sight or do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?”
Valerie’s eyes closed and she shook her head. “If you are talking about those special powers some specters have, I can’t say that I do—or at least they haven’t manifested yet.”
The young detective put his cigarette out in an ashtray. “So you’re a specter but not an empath?” he said thoughtfully. “I guess you don’t need to be one to work in the supernatural, but it must bite to not have that little extra something, eh?”
“You have no idea,” she admitted with a huff. “I take it you do?”
He nodded. “Technically speaking, yeah.” He pointed to Vic’s jacket. “I can use ecto weapons without those special bullets everyone else has got—exorcist rounds.” He adjusted his eyepatch strap. “A few other things as well, but I guess the most interesting one is I can enter the ghost world on a whim.”
“Seriously?” Valerie thumped the table with her hand and stood. “Can you take me?”
The partners looked at each other in surprise. Most people Johnny had mentioned this to found it both fascinating and frightening. Tales abounded about what happened to a living being inside the ghost world, none of them great, so someone who wanted to go in willingly was certainly a first.
“I said I can, not that I like too,” he stated and backtracked quickly. “Besides, it’s a little more complicated than I made it out to be. Sure, I can cross over as long as I have something to ‘enter’ it like a door or even a sheet—some kind of divider—but where I end up is a mystery unless I go to certain locations.”
“It’s basically a fast-pass version of what ferrymen and shamans do, although we have a one hundred percent success rate so far,” Vic clarified. “We haven’t tried it with another breather coming with us so maybe you don’t want to be the first.”
Valerie hesitated for a moment before she nodded and sat again. “It does sound a little sketchy,” she admitted with a look of disappointment. “I’ve always wondered what the ghost world looked like. I guess I shouldn’t be in a hurry to find out, huh?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it,” Johnny replied. “You’re more likely to end up there permanently if you aren’t careful, if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She sighed and finished her coffee.
Vic scratched his skull. “You know, you never answered our question.” He tilted his head. “You know, why you were at the market?”
“Oh, right.” She bit her lip. “Like I said, it wasn’t exactly an official investigation, and given that there are people on the force who know about it and don’t do anything, I can guess why they leave it alone. But beyond that, I was looking into weapon purchases during the last few weeks.”
“What for?” Johnny asked and set his empty cup down.
She paused for a moment as she considered her answer before she leaned closer. “I’ll only tell you the basics. You can probably find it in the papers or online so it's not like I’m giving away secret information, but you didn’t hear it from me, all right?” They nodded and eased closer. “We’ve had murders over the last month, which are unfortunately not too surprising in and of themselves. But the way the bodies were left is what’s weirding people out.”
“The bodies?” Vic questioned. “I assume ritualistic mutilation or something? That generally gets lips flapping.”
Valerie shook her head. “Even weirder than that. The bodies are left like…husks. Like corpses left out for years in the sun or something. In fact, a couple of the more recent bodies that had been reported had begun to turn to dust before we could even get there to investigate.”
Bodies turning to dust? They stopped themselves from looking at one another but that sounded very familiar—less than twenty-four hours familiar.
“No rotting corpses and none of them dug-up bodies? Maybe a seriously macabre prank?” The ghost detective tried to think of anything else that might explain it.
She shook her head. “Homicide already considered something like that. But we have a few positive IDs, at least, and in some cases, their friends or family who called in or talked to us said they had seen them only hours before. I can’t think of a natural way for a killer to turn bodies into something like that in such a short space of time.”
“I can’t either but then again, it’s not something I think about in my spare time.” Johnny tapped his finger against the table as he considered what she’d said. “Do you think you could give us an address of one of the victim’s houses?”
“Do you intend to go and take a look?” she asked. “You know, I guess I assumed you guys were detectives but you look about as young as I am. Who are you really?”
“Technically, we’re supernatural bounty hunters,” Johnny confessed reluctantly. “But we aren’t merely lugs with guns and a desire to hunt abnormal game. We bring a more sophisticated approach to our investigations.”
“And you would be right. I was a detective in both life and death and taught this kid everything he knows.” Vic rapped his knuckles against the table. “Even if he forgets chunks of it.”
Valerie pursed her lips again and they could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “So you guys don’t have an agency?”
“Not yet. We’re working on it, though.” Johnny folded his arms again as he frowned. “Look, we want to help. We’re not exactly here on a gig but this has turned into something and we’re looking for evidence. As part of the supernatural division, I would think you wouldn’t mind a little help.”
She leaned back, dejection visible in her eyes. “Yeah, you would be right. The department is looking into the murders, but New Orleans has no shortage of supernatural cases so we’re stretched thin. I’ve worked on this case out in the streets instead of on whiteboards and computers, mostly on my own. I can’t get clearance for many things because of how green I am—plus, you know, not being an empath means I’m more of a liability to s
ome.” She removed her phone from her pocket. “What’s your number?”
Johnny gave it to her and retrieved his phone. She sent him a text with an address. “And whose home is this?”
“Jessy Thompson, possibly the first victim. I’m not sure if you will find much as I’m certain we picked it clean, but you might turn something up or at least find things out for yourself.” Valerie stood and the other two followed suit. “I’ll head back to the precinct. Thanks for your help at the market and if you do find anything else, let me know, all right?”
“No problem,” the young detective promised with a nod. “A favor for a favor, and we always pay those. Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone on the inside.”
“And it’ll be nice to work with someone who’s willing to do a little legwork.” She waved goodbye and they separated. He stepped into the street while she headed to her car.
“So these killings have been going on for a month, huh?” Vic said thoughtfully as his partner waved down a cab.
“At least,” he replied as the cab pulled up. “It seems we stumbled onto something seriously screwed up this time, Vic.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” The ghost chuckled. “A real case and a potentially big payday.”
Johnny opened the cab door. “Assuming whoever is doing this doesn’t turn me into something that looks like you,” he said as he slid into the back seat.
Vic floated in and adjusted his cap. “You wish you would look this good when you’re dead.”
“1202 Canal street,” the young detective instructed as the taxi began to pull into the traffic. “I also wish I won’t find out for a while.”
Chapter Ten
Johnny tipped the driver and watched him drive away before he turned toward the small light-blue house across the street. “Is this the place?”
“It’s the right address,” Vic replied, took a cigarette out, and looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “It doesn’t look like anyone is home, though. Do you have the lighter?”
The young detective dug in his pocket and handed it to his partner before he stepped into the street and crossed to the front of the house. He took a couple of minutes to study it carefully and quickly came to the same conclusion as the ghost had before he stepped onto the walkway that led to the front door. “No yellow tape. I guess the blues are done here?”
“Most likely. Val said they had picked it clean, at least to their knowledge.” Vic tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the lighter and pack. He put them away and retrieved a pair of gloves before he turned the knob. It only allowed a quarter-turn before it stopped, infuriatingly locked. He looked at the side of the door and the small, decorative glass windows there.
With a furtive glance in both directions of the street, he walked onto the lawn and found a rock. He used it to break one of the small windows before he reached inside and unlocked the door.
“You know, I could have simply flown through and unlocked it for you,” his partner pointed out as he pushed the door open.
“I didn’t wanna hear you whine about having to put your cig down.” He looked at the ghost. “Besides, how much energy did you waste doing that little stunt at the market? Maybe chill with the interaction for now.”
Vic mulled it over for a moment before he nodded in agreement and the two entered the home. As Johnny walked from the entry into the hall, he noticed how barren the area was. Either most of the small objects and decorations had been taken as evidence or this lady had lived a rather spartan life. As he approached the bedroom, he saw that the left side of the doorframe was damaged. He knelt, examined the hole, and noticed a faint, glowing light within. “Vic, take a look at this,” he said as he removed his eyepatch.
The ghost detective peered into the hole. “That’s phantasma, all right.” The lights in his eyes narrowed. “The destruction was caused by either a hammer or a very blunt ax.”
“Given what he did to our car, we can’t call that a blunt ax by any stretch of the imagination.” The young detective peered into the crevasse. “I don’t see any stygia. Do you think there could be more than one of them?”
Vic took a drag. “I hope not. One is enough of a pain in the ass if we’re trying to catch them.” He clicked his teeth together. “Val said this was the first victim.”
“That NOPD is aware of, at least.” He stood and looked at his partner. “What are you thinking?”
“I said before that the ax being used was probably a memento.” Vic peeked into the bedroom. “Mementos are tied to the ghost using them, which means that if the ghost was weak or not all here, the memento would also not be in the best state. It is entirely possible that this killer was in an exhausted or possibly emaciated condition and his ax therefore wasn’t as deadly as it was when we encountered it.”
“So ‘it wasn’t all here’ means it was a ghost possessing a body it didn’t have complete control of?” Johnny looked at the damage again. “I didn’t notice any stygia marks but they would have disappeared after a couple of weeks anyway.”
“Val didn’t mention seeing anything like this when we talked to her, although I guess we never asked how involved she is or was with the case until now. Even to me, those traces of phantasma looked weak. How about you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but I was able to see it with my patch on.” He placed said patch in his pocket. “I needed to take it off to see the stuff on the car.”
“That’s probably because it was controlled.” Vic turned and pointed his cigarette at him. “I’ll forgive you not knowing this part, kid, mostly because I’m very sure I haven’t explained it to you yet. Strong ghosts, whether through their power, a good supply of stygia, or having a damn strong connection to their host, are able to exert control over their phantasma—within reason. The stuff naturally seeps out of their bodies and mementos but with proper control and a calm mind, they can make sure it doesn’t spill everywhere.”
“So you’re saying that because he was weak or agitated when he came for this victim, he spilled it everywhere?” Johnny asked. “Wait, are you saying that if it is the same guy from the road, that was him when he was calm?”
“Well, it’s not what I would call it, certainly.” The ghost floated to a dresser and a small framed picture of a young black woman with curly hair and a black man with a big beaming smile. “But it was powerful enough to survive multiple shots and a gouged eye. Whatever it is, it seems to not need stygia—or not anymore, at least. It’s found something else to fuel itself with while in the living world.”
“The souls,” he stated solemnly. “I’ve thought about the options you tossed out earlier. Wraith’s don’t possess, they puppet, and they contain souls and don’t drain them. Geist devour souls to keep themselves functional, but they don’t gain any power from them—or, at least, it doesn’t last long and they aren’t particularly sturdy. That leaves demons.”
“And if there is anything that will push both the ghost world and living world into hysterics, it’s a demon running around,” his partner concluded. “And it doesn’t seem like this one is doing a great job at hiding. But we can toss that out as well.”
“Because if it was a demon we’d already be dead?”
“That, or chained in some dark pit having our insides torn out slowly—or your insides, at least—depending on how playful the demon is.” The ghost picked the picture up and threw it to him.
“If this picture is recent, she was in her late twenties or early thirties,” Johnny deduced. “Do you think this is a boyfriend or sibling?”
Vic shrugged and drifted across the bed. “It could be either but he didn’t live here. From what little décor there is, nothing suggests that a man lived here. I suppose I could be going by stereotypes but this is a queen-sized mattress. If they were a couple or siblings, they certainly cared about personal space.”
“There are other rooms,” the young detective pointed out as he placed the picture on the dresser. “So she was a black woman and the man we ran into on th
e road appeared to be in his forties and was white. It doesn't seem like he has a preference.”
“Maybe not gender or race.” Vic had moved to the other side of the bed and examined the window and more specifically, the curtains. He pointed at the rod. “But the guy could see me. Bring this down, would you?”
“The curtain?” Johnny asked as he walked over, stretched, and lowered the rod. His partner gestured for him to pull it apart and when he did so, a small cylindrical container popped out and fell to the floor. “What the— How did you know there was something in there?”
“There’s a small gap between the rods. I’ve seen many a hidey-hole in my time. It’s not exactly a classic but still somewhat common,” he explained.
The young man picked it up and examined it closely. It was black and in the shape of a lipstick container, but a familiar smell emanated from it. “Stygia.”
He opened it slightly and his eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head and capped it quickly. “Uh…like smelling salts and gasoline. What would she need with this?”
“It could be any number of things,” Vic postulated. “If she was an empath, stygia increases their abilities and even a tiny dose does it. She could have been selling it too, although such a small amount would last a ghost maybe half a day.” Johnny handed it to him and the container fell into the ghost’s hand. “I’m not tangible and I can still hold the container so it’s probably coated in the stuff. That means she used it often.”
“And it also means that whether she used it for herself or another ghost, she was a specter.” Johnny folded his arms. “All empaths are specters and if she was selling it to ghosts, she would need to see them in the first place.”
“I see you’re finally bringing all those lessons on deductive reasoning together.” The ghost detective tossed the container to him. “One of these days, I might feel a tinge of pride to call you my apprentice.”
“If you feel that bad, I wonder how you feel calling me partner,” he retorted snidely as he studied the container again.
Back From Hell (Revenant Files Book 1) Page 6