“Indeed I did.” His partner handed him the pack and lighter and pointed to Romeo. “Johnny, meet Romeo, the fine boss and owner of Carnivale.”
“Johnny?” The orange ghost looked at him as he lit a cigarette. “That eye…are you Rev. Johnny?”
He nodded as he took a drag and put the pack down. “Mmmhmm,” he mumbled. “It’s nice to meet you. I guess it's good to be recognized from time to time— Wait, what have you heard?”
Romeo looked at Vic. “So that means you were the one who brought him back to life using your soul?”
“More like stopped him from dying,” the ghost detective clarified. “And I’m honestly not sure how that all worked out. It’s still a work in progress.”
“It’s been almost eight years,” Johnny remarked and studied the bar hopefully, even though he knew he’d be disappointed. His partner was right and he hadn’t expected to find anything he could drink. Although technically, he could drink what was meant for ghosts given what he was, even the fumes from some of it made him lightheaded. He wasn’t desperate enough to try it yet. “So what do you have for us, Mr. Romeo?”
“I told Vic most of what I know already,” the man replied. “The only other thing I have for you is that you aren’t the only ones on the hunt. The mafia, gangs, regular ghosts turned vigilantes, and hell, even some of the breathers are getting in on it. Hordes of people are after this guy although not openly.”
“Is that so?” He looked at his partner. “Do you think we have enough to claim that finder’s fee before it’s too late?”
The ghost detective nodded and undid the buttons on his coat. “Yeah, especially with the weapon on hand.”
“The weapon? What weapon? The ax?” he asked and frowned quizzically at him. “Where did you hide that? You don’t even have an ass to shove it in.”
Vic shook his head, opened his jacket, and pulled his shirt up to reveal his ribcage and the ax hidden there. “You have to get inventive sometimes.”
“Oh, wow.” Johnny put his glove on and poked the weapon. “That must be uncomfortable. No wonder you’ve walked around straighter than usual.”
Romeo stared at it. “Wait, that’s the killer’s ax?”
Now, it was the ghost detective’s turn to tell him to calm down. “Not this one specifically. He doesn’t seem to use his own weapon and takes them from wherever he is. It seems axes are a memento with him. He turns them from old, busted tools left in the shed to something that could belong in an executioner’s private collection.”
He buttoned his coat, took a card from his pocket, and handed it to the proprietor. “You might want to toss all your axes into a safe. Corkscrews too—you know, just in case. That has our number. Call us if anything comes up or you have something new to tell us.”
The other ghost took the card and looked at it before he slipped it into his vest pocket and patted it. The two partners were about to leave when Vic turned quickly to the bar, snatched the remaining whiskey, and brought it with him. “Hey, I paid for it so might as well finish it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Johnny told him as he pushed open the doors. “I’m used to it.” When they stepped outside, it was still drizzling and a very light fog had begun to form. “So what now? Did you learn anything interesting?”
“Well, besides the fact that most of the info isn’t getting out of the city because of mafia intervention and other nonsense, it seems this guy is a boogieman to both the living and dead.” The ghost detective unscrewed the cap and took a swig from the bottle. “For now, let’s head to the hotel and think it over. We should go to Limbo tomorrow morning and see if we can’t get that finder’s fee. Hopefully, it’ll get attention after that.”
Johnny nodded. “I’m with you. I’ll look at the books and find a crossway to Big Daddy’s.” He looked around and frowned. “Ah, hell. How are we supposed to get back into town? It’s not like there are cab drivers in the haunts.” Vic placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud, repeated whistle. “How is that possible with no lips?”
“I’m gifted,” the ghost stated and took another quick swig before he capped the bottle. “And there are cab drivers here, just not living ones.”
Before he had a chance to ask what he was talking about, a black cab pulled up behind them. The young detective turned, walked up to it, and peered inside. The cab driver wore dark glasses, a scarf around his mouth despite it being summer, and a large coat with an afro that was clearly a wig. He pointed and looked at Vic. “Mannequin?” he asked and his partner nodded as he drifted past. “Man, I thought that was something we came up with.”
“I came up with,” the ghost corrected and opened the taxi door. “And where do you think I got the idea? Get in here and stop staring. It’s rude.”
Valerie took her gloves off as she exited the house. A crowd had gathered and the other officers tried to hold them back with assurances that there was nothing to see. This was true given that she had taken what remained of the attacker to the precinct when she took Annie and Marco there. They had found more traces of phantasma but she assumed that when they ran it, they wouldn’t find anything, exactly like all the other times.
She sighed and glanced in the other direction at nothing but a long field of uncut grass and hedges behind a fence. Not quite sure why, she strolled forward to lean against the fence and her gaze traced the large phone lines that cut across the plains while dark clouds drifted in.
When she looked down to ease her neck, something caught her eye and she frowned at an odd shimmer in the brush. She stood on her toes to get a better look, but there was too much foliage in the way. Intrigued, she hopped the fence and put her gloves on quickly as she strode closer.
Whatever this was, it was not something she had seen before. For a moment, she thought the dark sludge was simply mud and her tired mind was messing with her, but a closer inspection changed her mind. This was inky-black and the shimmer came from dots of white—something within it. She took a vial out and collected some of it, capped it, and prepared to return to give it to an analyst but saw more a little farther down. When she reached that batch, she realized that a trail of this substance led deeper into the weeds and straight across the plains.
In the back of her mind, she knew she needed to call it in but when she looked at the liquid—the same color as the spirit that had fled from the home after she shot its body—she knew this could be a phantasma trail. After another look at the substance on one of the bushes, she wasn’t so sure that was all. If this was phantasma, it was…diseased.
She ran hastily to the other officers, located one of the scientists, and showed her the vial. “Take this back with you.”
“Why? What is it?” The woman looked at the contents. “Mud? No, it’s too inky.”
“Don’t you see the white spots?” she asked.
“White spots?” The analyst examined the vial again. “No, I can’t say I do. But your eyes are much better than most specters so maybe the lab will come up with something.” She placed it into a container and sealed it. “Where did you find it?”
Valerie pointed to the side of the house. “In the grass over the fence. Do you think we can get a search team?”
The scientist shook her head. “It’s not my call but we’re stretched thin right now, Val. I’ll make sure to examine this and get back to you before—hey, where are you going?”
“I’m going to go check something. Get back to the precinct.” She hopped the fence again and retrieved her flashlight. It was getting dark fairly quickly. She jogged a short distance and identified more of the substance as she proceeded. It seemed to cross the entire plains to a swamp in the far distance. She nodded, took a map out, and marked the area before she returned to her car. This would be a long night for her.
Chapter Nineteen
It took Valerie some time to drive to the swamp and when she arrived, she had to hop over the guard rails onto the plains to find any sign of the black substance she had seen earlier. Fo
rtunately, she was now able to see the white very clearly in the dark of night and as she’d suspected, it led her deeper into the swamp.
She popped her trunk, put her wet boots on, and traded her jacket for a slicker and a beanie to tuck her hair into. The little warning voice in her head that insisted she should come back in the morning made her pause for a moment, but she didn’t want to risk losing a lead. Her mind made up, she shut the trunk and headed into the swamp using the lights on her gun and vest.
Although she tried to keep to the main track as much as she could, the substance trailed through the muck and she was forced to follow. Fireflies helped with the light, along with a few lamps stuck in the ground by the rangers or maintenance teams, but the deeper she got, the more she worried about hearing banjos and pig squeals.
The amount of substance decreased noticeably, not helped by the fact that it was now in and sometimes obscured by the swampy water and possibly moved with the currents. Finally, she stepped through some tall weeds and stopped when her gaze located a small shack in the distance with a single light or lamp barely illuminating the interior. She doused her lights and pressed forward and when she reached the entrance, she saw a small spot of the substance on the door frame. This logically suggested the end of her trail, and she leaned against the wall and readied herself to break in but hesitated when she heard crying.
She crept cautiously around the side of the shack and found a small space between the planks to peer inside. A man was gagged and tied to a chair and the lone electric lamp flickered beside him. Well, she had her probable cause, at least.
Valerie hurried to the front door, kicked it in, and checked the kitchen and the only other room in the shack before she focused on the man.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” she assured him as she removed the gag and drew her knife to cut the ropes. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “I was walking in the park and o-only blackness and then…I woke up here. Some ghost stood over me and said I was next b-but wouldn’t say what I was next for.”
“A ghost?” she asked and severed the last binding on his hands. “Are you a specter?”
“I-I guess. I can only see them sometimes but this guy was as clear as day. Can we get out of here before he gets back? He—”
“It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.” The victim’s next words died in his throat and Valerie spun with her gun ready. She aimed it at a green-hued ghost that had appeared from nowhere with the black substance running over his bones. He had a long gray beard and wore a flannel shirt and jeans along with a look of rage. His glare at Valerie chilled her. “How the hell did you get here, bitch?”
Her only response was to shoot him in the chest and the impact hurled him into the other room. She was about to turn and cut through the ropes around the man’s feet but a bellow of fury preempted her attempt. The ghost was already on his feet and now swung a hatchet at her. She ducked instinctively before she dove through him, spun, and fired.
The ghost dodged the shots and flung his weapon, and it embedded itself in the wall above her. He turned to the man who was trying to crawl away and cackled. “Well, it looks like you’re starting early, boy!”
Valerie fired again but it was too late. He lunged into the man and disappeared into his body. She stood, aimed at the man, and waited for him to turn and reveal the shimmering, ghostly eyes of someone recently possessed. Confused, she frowned when nothing happened.
In the silence that lasted for several moments, she wondered if the victim was able to fight the possession. He remained utterly motionless until, with no warning, he began to flail violently. His frenzy knocked the lamp over and it shattered, and he pulled his legs free of the chair and broke it in the process.
When she activated the flashlight attachment on her gun, her eyes widened in disbelief. The man seemed to mutate while she watched. His muscles bulged, his skin turned ashen-gray, and his hands seemed to grow to twice the size while black veins showed through his skin.
When he turned to her, his eyes shined and he grinned wickedly. “Is something wrong, little lady?” he asked, his voice the same as the ghost’s now. “You haven’t seen something like this before, have you?”
He lunged at her and bulldozed through the door frame. As she fell, she yanked the hatchet off the wall and swung it into his leg, but for all the force she put into it, it seemed to make a mark no bigger than a paper cut. The giant lifted a leg to crush her but she managed to grasp the front doorframe and tucked in as she pulled herself away a second before his leg pounded through the flooring.
Valerie was able to stand and jump down the stairs into the swamp. She opened a small case on her belt to reveal bullets with a silver fog inside. The monstrosity didn’t remove his foot from the floor. He merely continued his chase and destroyed the timber along his path.
Calmly, she opened a side compartment on her gun, loaded one of the bullets, and shut it quickly to aim at her adversary. He hurled the hatchet at her again but she simply moved her head and it whistled past before she fired the ether bullet. It shattered as it left the barrel and launched the gray smoke at her target. When it struck the head, the ghost flew out and the body seized up and fell.
She ran to the victim. Ether bullets were meant to be used on recent possessions and should knock the ghost out and free the host without harming them. In this case, however, the man’s body began to return to normal but simply continued to wither. The gray skin did not revert to human flesh and began to crack apart. Whatever this ghost had done during the transformation, there was no going back.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered before she focused on the shack and rushed forward to find her quarry.
He had crawled into the original room and his body faded steadily. “Damn you!” He hissed in fury and turned to face her. “You have no idea who you are fucking with!”
“I don’t care to know,” she responded, her weapon aimed at his head as she took some stygia bindings out. “But many at the precinct would probably love to know what you’ve been up to these last couple of months.”
The ghost looked confused for a moment, then smiled and ended with a weary chuckle. “Months? Try weeks.” His laughter grew. “It don’t matter. Oblivion is probably better than Hell anyway. And at least I know I can go with you on the list.”
“The list? What list? Who are you working for?” she demanded.
He rasped a laugh. “Someone who will bring about one hell of a party soon. He’s gonna change the way the entire world works.” The ghost snatched one of the broken chair legs and studied the sharp end. “He sees everything we do and he has you now. I know he’ll make sure you suffer.”
She was ready when he lunged at her and she blasted him in the head and forced him back. He growled and tried again and she fired three shots, all to the chest. The ghost contorted and his body began to shatter and spill his phantasma and the black sludge over the floor.
“I’ll be happier in nothingness than you are in life or death,” he said and cackled crazily. “Because death won’t be the end for any of you, I promise.” His last remains disintegrated and turned into phantasma, and she was left alone in the dark.
The young officer holstered her weapon, walked out of the shack, and took a moment to sit. She wrapped her arms around her legs and drew a shaky breath. When she’d composed herself, she stood and turned her radio on.
“Hello, dispatch? This is Officer Simone. I need a team at my position.” She looked at the shack and the decaying body. “Send everyone you can and make it fast.”
Valerie signed off and retrieved her phone. It had cracked but she tried to turn it on and scowled at the empty battery icon. She sighed and put it away. The next time she met the out-of-town detectives, she would have something new to share, at least.
Chapter Twenty
Vic looked at the manhole cover while Johnny double-checked a map and used his crystal pendulum to verify the location. T
he ghost looked at his partner and chuckled dryly. “Do you wanna head into town and get some rain boots? Or are you still hoping you’re wrong? It would be the first time for that.”
The pendulum swung around a position the young detective had marked on the map and he sighed, put it away, and stood as he closed the map. “Why the hell did it end up here?”
“This is merely the one nearby.” His companion gestured to their repaired car. “We have the wheels back so maybe you want to look around more. There could be something better in Baton Rouge.”
Johnny frowned at him as he shoved the map into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. “You know that crossing points to the same location aren’t that close. We’d be lucky if there was one in Texas or in Arkans—oh. You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”
The ghost detective shrugged but his playful smirk betrayed his intentions. “Maybe I’m simply holding out hope.” He knelt and took hold of the lid. “But if that is the case, we should probably get moving, shouldn’t we?” When he lifted it, the young man looked inside and backed away quickly when the smell hit him.
“I guess we can’t wait a couple of days for it to potentially move, can we?” He thought about it for a moment. “Technically, I can pass through any area as long as I ‘cross’ through it. We can go back to that gas station and try one of their doors—there are cabs in Limbo, right?”
“True, but depending on where we end up, that could cost a chunk of coin. Plus, we don’t know where we’d end up on the way back. Probably not too far given our experiments, but if we come through twenty miles away and we gotta get here on foot… Well, we just got the car back. Do you wanna get it towed already?”
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