Without argument, the cop hit the trippers and a large discharge of ether, phantasma, and spectral energy launched from the cannon, a cocktail of supernatural devastation. The target roared and arced his ax in defiance. The two young men jumped away and the cannon blast caught him dead on. An eruption of light spread around him, so powerful that Vic and Gabriele leapt aside to avoid it.
When the young detective rolled over, he grimaced at the body of the cop who had fired, his head split open and bleeding on the ground. He focused on the killer. His flesh was gone and he stood motionless, merely a black skeleton again with no lights in his eyes.
“Is it done?” Marco asked and strained to push himself up. “Did he finally croak?”
“He’s not moving,” he replied cautiously and stood slowly. “He’s still in one piece, though.” In the next moment, he noticed wisps of white drifting off the officer and toward the killer. Each traveled up his body. “No.”
The lights in the ghost’s eyes began to flicker and he turned his skeletal head toward Marco and uttered a growl that sounded like a low roar coming from a dark pit.
“The cannon!” the young man shouted and pointed to the weapon that was now bisected and from which ether leaked steadily. “It’s destroyed.”
Gabriele looked at the large cable that funneled ether into the device. It was still functional. “Take the kid and get out of here!” he said and looked at Vic before he scowled at the burns on his arm. “I’ll finish this bastard off.”
“Uncle Gabe, what are you gonna do?” Marco asked and tried to walk forward. Johnny stopped him but he fought against his hold. “Get off me!”
“You get out of here, kid!” the ghost capo instructed as he drew a switchblade and ran to the cable. “Finish the fight for me, all right?”
Vic rushed closer and helped the young detective pull Marco away and to their car at the far end of the parking lot. Gabriele cut the cable and let the ether pour out and burn his ghostly form as he rushed to the killer, who moved slowly toward them. The blue ghost thrust the blade into his adversary’s jaw and pried it open before he forced the cable down his throat. “Feed on this you, pezzo di merda!” The ether poured into the brute but the cable ruptured and continued to burn and melt the capo’s form.
When the monster drove his ax into his chest, he hissed in pain but he did not let go. “I’ll see you in Hell and continue to beat your ass for fucking with my family!” he promised. The ether began to pour out of the killer and rend his skin before he uttered a final roar and his body exploded. Gabriele disappeared in the blast as Johnny, Vic, and Marco drove away. The young man looked back with grief and regret.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The women recognized the voices outside the hotel room door.
“They’re back,” Annie said as her companion stood. “But it sounds like the guards have stopped them for some reason.”
“You’re right,” the officer agreed and checked the peephole. “I wonder wh—oh.” She undid the lock hastily and opened the door. Outside, the two young men leaned on one another, their clothes bloody and cuts and bruising evident on their faces. The guards were baffled and looked at Valerie, who flashed her badge and nodded. “Come on in guys, you look like you could use some rest.”
“Thanks, Val.” Marco’s voice was hoarse and he and Johnny wobbled in. The young detective placed him on one of the beds before he collapsed in a chair. Vic floated out of his body and stretched his arms.
“I had to help get them up here from the parking lot.” He glanced at the news on the TV. “So you are up to speed?”
“Mostly.” Valerie sat in a chair across from Johnny, reached under it for a first aid kit, and scootched the chair closer to him. “It seems the cops got there a little late. What happened?”
“I don’t know how he found us or why he was even there.” Johnny took his jacket and shirt off and showed her the wounds on his chest and shoulders. “Dammit. The old wound is bloody again. Anyway, we were talking to Gabriele and suddenly, that murky jazz starts playing again and the next thing we know, the restaurant was under siege by that bastard.”
“His ax was bigger,” Marco muttered as Annie tended to him. “It looked like something that masked hockey dude would use if he was in Lord of the Rings.” He caught his sister’s hand and looked at her. “Annie…I’m sorry, but I think Uncle Gabe died taking him out.”
She took his hand in hers. “I know, Marco. We saw the blast go off onscreen before it cut for a while.” She squeezed his hand and pursed her lips. “Is he gone for good or…”
They both looked at Vic, who opened the door to the patio. “I wish I could tell you. An explosion of ether like that…well, it is possible it simply blew his body up.” He took the pack of cigarettes and the last cigar out, then placed the latter on the table as he opened the top of the pack. “He could eventually reform in Limbo if a keeper gets to him in time.”
“Keeper?” Marco questioned. “What’s that?”
Johnny winced as Valerie applied some alcohol to one of his open wounds. “One of the big boys or girls in Limbo,” he explained. “They keep an eye on both the living and dead and make sure nothing is screwing with the system.” She placed some gauze over the wound and he held it down. “I haven’t seen it myself but sometimes, they can intervene and save a soul or be bargained with to do so.”
“Can we get in touch with one?” Marco asked. “Even only to see if my uncle can be saved.”
After lighting his cigarette, Vic closed the lighter and took a drag. “It’s not easy to get in touch with a keeper unless they want to find you or you have something they want or are in the mood for a laugh.” The smoke poured out of his skull. “There is also a chance your uncle was simply blown back into Limbo. He had enough stygia to give him more defense against ether than a normal ghost, but if it blew all that away, he would immediately be pulled back. He might have to serve some time in Purgatory, but at least he wouldn’t be obliterated.”
The siblings nodded. “Damn, now I wish I had spent more time with the geezer.” Marco sighed and stood but his sister tried to keep him down. “I’m fine, Annie. I’ll patch myself up but I need to shower.” He rolled his shoulders and sighed again. “Hopefully, our parents didn’t see the news. We don’t need them to worry.”
Annie sighed and rubbed her head. “Tell me, is it over now?” She looked at Vic. “Was that the real one?”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. He managed to get hold of Marco for a brief moment and said he wasn’t the right one but that he would do.”
“The right one?” she asked as her brother entered the bathroom. “Do you think he was talking about me?”
Johnny helped bandage the gauze in place. “Probably. Have you been able to think of any reason why they would be so obsessed with you?”
The woman frowned. “Not off the top of my head.”
“They seem to be on the lookout for a specific kind of specter,” Valerie commented and handed Johnny a small bottle of whiskey from the mini bar. When he looked quizzically at her, she pointed to a large gash on his arm before she brandished a needle and thread. “What they are specifically looking for in them I’m not sure yet, but they appear to need them to do their transformation.”
The young detective unscrewed the cap on the bottle and swallowed it in one gulp. “Still, they seem fixated on her specifically. Do you think she is better…uh, material?”
She threaded the needle. “There is probably a better way to say that but it could be. We don’t seem to know these guys' endgame and that is starting to get to me.”
“Well, we need to try something different,” Vic muttered, finished his cigarette, and flicked it over the balcony. “Because these guys keep coming and they are getting stronger. We need to get some stronger weapons just in case, and after you finished getting patched up, I say we head to Carnivale and see what the reaction is over there.”
“Yeah, sure,” Johnny said hesitantly, his focus on the needle
as Valerie prepared to stitch him. “Do you have any other suggestions?”
There was a knock at the door and some conversation behind it. “If that is who I think it is, she may have another option.” The officer looked at Vic. “Here, finish him for me, would you?” The ghost shrugged and floated forward to take the needle and thread as she stood and moved to the door.
“Hold still, kid,” he muttered and leaned closer. “I might be a little shaky after all that chaos earlier.”
“Uh…Val, I can wait,” the young detective whined as she turned the doorknob.
When she opened the door, she told the guards it was fine and ushered a woman in. She had tanned skin and was dressed in a long red jacket and a red wide-brimmed hat. Her long black hair offset white earrings in the shape of fangs or claws and she carried a striped satchel. She and Valerie greeted each other warmly as they entered the main room. “Guys, meet Aiyana Baptiste, a friend of mine.”
“Good evening.” She glanced at Johnny and noticed his wounds. “It seems you weren’t exaggerating about the severity of the situation.”
The young officer shook her head. “Nope. Some shit went down while you were on the way here.”
Johnny was struck by her features. She was quite beautiful but also had something emanating from her he could best describe as a glow. Although clearly a specter, she was something else as well. A stab of pain snapped him out of his daze. “Ow!” He yelped and glared at his partner. “This is supposed to heal me, not hurt.”
“Sometimes, it hurts to heal, kid,” Vic replied calmly and continued his stitch work. “And don’t jump like that. I’m more liable to skewer you.”
Aiyana approached and knelt beside them. “Pardon me if this is a little forward.” She rummaged in her satchel and took a small container out. “But this is a salve I made. You still have some cuts and bruises and it should help.”
The young detective took it. “I appreciate it. My name’s Johnny and this is my partner Vic Kane.” He unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents, and his eyes widened as he stifled a cough. “That’s strong, lady.”
“It might burn a little when you apply it,” she warned him with a smile. “But as your partner said, it sometimes hurts to heal.”
“See? Good advice.” Vic chortled as he dug in the first aid box, took a pair of scissors out, and cut the thread. “Did you bring a change of clothes in your go-bag?”
Johnny nodded. He took a small dollop of the salve, placed it on one of his wounds, and immediately hissed in surprise and pain. “Y-yeah… W-wow, that’s a…uh, fresh.” He rubbed the salve gently into the injury and noticed that the ends of the wound were already beginning to scab over. “What the… This stuff works unnaturally fast.”
“It’s not entirely natural,” Aiyana confirmed. “I’m a shaman by trade. Valerie called me in to help with the investigation and offer my knowledge and abilities.”
“A fresh pair of eyes certainly couldn’t hurt.” Vic proffered his hand. “I’m glad to have you on board.”
She nodded and shook his hand. “I hope I can help. I had hoped to be brought on earlier but the police didn’t want any outside help so technically, I’ll be working with you.”
The ghost chuckled and glanced at Valerie. “Smart move, Val.”
She shrugged and nodded. “Will you head to the bar now?”
He looked at Johnny as the shower turned off. “Let the kid dunk his head and change, then we’ll be off.”
“That sounds good.” Her phone buzzed and she retrieved it and looked at the message. “We’ll probably have to meet tomorrow. They are sending in extra security for the night as a precaution given what happened earlier.”
“We’ll meet for breakfast,” Vic suggested and lobbed his partner’s bag at him. “New girl, we’re heading to a ghost bar. Do you wanna come?”
Aiyana nodded. “Sure thing. We can trade information on the way.”
He clapped briskly. “A go-getter I like that. Like a young version of me.”
The young detective stood and headed to the bathroom as Marco came out. “Not really. She doesn’t strike me as an alcoholic,” he muttered as he stepped inside.
His partner rolled his eyes. “Wise ass,” he retorted as the door closed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Johnny, Vic, and Aiyana were in the car and on their way to Carnivale. “So, Aiyana, tell us about yourself,” Johnny said and glanced at her. “I’ve heard about shamans but never had the chance to work with one.”
She dug in her satchel as she replied. “It depends on the tribe, but the numbers of shaman or medicine men dwindled over the centuries, at least until the Veil between humans and spirits opened during the later half of the nineteenth century.”
Vic chuckled from the back. “Yeah, they probably became quite in vogue when the breathers threw everything they could at ghosts when that first happened. Druids, witches, and hell, even witch doctors came back in abundance. It must have been a blast.”
“Indeed. I’ve worked with a couple of witches in my travels. Exorcists too, and ghost bounty hunters.”
She took a small object out that appeared to be a white trinket of some kind made of carved wood with etchings in it. “What’s that?” Johnny asked.
“This is one of my totems,” she explained and placed it on the front of the car. “Shamans, witches, druids, and everyone who is able to tap into the power of the spirits are grouped together and called…well, spirit callers. We share some traits, runes, and old phrases that hold power over spirits, but we also have abilities that make us unique. For us shamans, that would be our totems.” She held her palm up, closed her eyes, and made a sing-song hum under her breath. The etching on the totem glowed momentarily and a ball of light appeared in front of the car.
“Whoa—hey, what’s going on?” Johnny asked and leaned forward to look at it. Although bright, he didn’t feel his eyes straining as he focused.
“A demonstration,” she explained with a giggle. “This is a spirit guide, one of the more simple totems I can create. It helps me track ghosts although in this case, it is pointless since you already know where to go and I have the general idea of the area even though I haven’t been there personally before now. But if I have something from the ghost I’m tracking—a piece of their clothes or phantasma—I can put it on the totem and it can find them.” She closed her eyes again, snatched the totem, and hummed and the orb disappeared.
“Spirit guide? How do you make something like that?” Vic asked. “What is it made of? Phantasma?”
“It is made of the skills of spirits.” She put the totem away. “I suppose that is a little vague for you. We are taught to treat spirits—ghosts as you are more familiar with—differently. You could say that this guide is made from the phantasma of a ghost, but it is better to say that the phantasma used to make it is the essence of that ghost’s skills, a tracker in this case.”
“That’s wild,” Johnny said in amazement and returned his gaze hastily to the road. “And I thought my ability was something special. But you shamans can learn these skills? Any of those…uh, spirit callers can?”
She shook her head. “We can be taught to some extent, but there is both the issue of having the skill and the dedication to do so. I cannot speak for the other callers but for shamans, it is having a close connection to the spirits we commune with, formerly human, animal, and elements.”
“Animal and elements?” Vic asked thoughtfully. “I do see animal ghosts, although they are rare, but elements? They don’t have a life to speak of.”
Aiyana nodded. “True, perhaps not in the conventional sense. But that is why we think of ghosts as a whole as spirits. They are the essence of what they formerly were and that can change. The elements were worshiped by many cultures. Who is to say that does not have some effect on them in the realm of spirits?”
He shrugged. “I guess I can kind of see that but to be honest, with how much people like animated chicks and video game characters,
I hope to not run into anything like that.”
“They are liked, not worshiped,” she clarified but paused for a moment to think it over. “Although perhaps it would be cute to see that cartoon bear from my childhood.”
The car began to slow. “Well, before we get too far into that idea, we’re here.” Johnny pointed out the window as Vic straightened and looked out. “Fewer ghosts are walking around now,” he continued. “I know it’s nighttime but—”
“That makes it more worrisome,” his partner stated and tried to peer into some of the stores. “Ghosts are usually more comfortable running around at night.”
“Is that the bar?” Aiyana asked and pointed to the lights in the windows. “It still seems to be busy.”
“The band is certainly in full swing,” Johnny agreed and glanced at Vic. “Maybe most of the ghosts are in there.”
“Drinking and partying their worries away?” the ghost detective asked and nodded as two ghosts entered. “That’s certainly normal given the situation. Come on. Let’s take a look and see if Romeo has anything new.”
Johnny nodded and turned the car off, then locked it behind them before they headed inside.
The bar was certainly still packed but there was a new wrinkle. “Look at the restrooms,” the young detective yelled over the music as he nodded at the large crowd gathered in front of the doors. “It’s not like ghosts get the runs.”
“No kidding,” his partner muttered and stepped forward when he located their contact. “Romeo’s at the bar. Let’s go say hi.” The other two followed him and he sat and waved at the bar owner. “Hello again, Romeo.” He jerked a thumb toward the group at the restrooms. “Did you get a bad batch of beer?”
With a sigh, the orange ghost rested his large hands on the bar. “They are jumping ship,” he explained. “The ferryman’s portal is gonna move soon. This one has been here for a few months and most don’t know when the next one will appear nearby. The closest one to here is in Greensburg.”
Back From Hell (Revenant Files Book 1) Page 15