by H. P. Bayne
What was equally clear was there was no sign of Greg anywhere on the lake.
Sully next turned his attention to the bushes and trees bordering the lake, watching for a flash of light. Nothing showed itself to the left, nor could he hear any sounds to indicate someone moving through the brush. Sully next turned right.
And stopped dead.
There, on the shore less than fifty yards ahead, the Ice Man faced him.
Sully’s heart hammered solidly twice in his chest.
Though Dez wasn’t psychic, he had something very near a sixth sense when it came to timing of questions. “Sully?” came his tinny voice from the front pocket of Sully’s coat. “I’d love an update, man.”
Keeping eyes on the Ice Man—knowing full well the ghost’s eyes were trained on him—Sully pulled out the phone. He felt for the bottom edge of the device without looking and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece.
“You’re not going to like this, but the Ice Man is on the shore, watching me.”
“How far?”
“Doesn’t really matter. Ghosts don’t travel how we do. One blink and he could be standing in front of me.”
“Crap. You sure he sees you?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”
“Hang on. You said shore. You told me you weren’t going down to the lake.”
“You can crap on me later, Dez. I’m moving out.”
Sully took a couple of steps before stopping. Rather than move toward Sully, the Ice Man drifted nearer the trees. Then he paused, as Sully had.
“It looks like he’s trying to walk into the woods,” Sully told Dez. “I can’t be certain, but I think maybe he wants me to follow him.”
“No. Don’t you even think about it.”
“I’m not. Not exactly, anyway. I still need to find Greg.”
“Forget Greg for now, all right? Get yourself back to your vehicle and wait for me.”
“You’re at least half an hour out yet, aren’t you?”
“What’s the difference?”
Sully gave it a little more thought, forcing his brain to work around the anxiety. “Okay, listen, if the Ice Man wanted to do something to me, he could have tried to lure me onto the lake. He’s not. He’s trying to go into the bush.”
“Hey, may I remind you we haven’t tangled with him in the bush before? Just because he’s not in the water right now doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of coming at you some other way.”
It was true. Sully knew it. On the other hand, he had a job to do and hated letting a ghost get in the way of it. Anyway, if it came to it, Sully could control the spirit. He cringed at the idea of sucking its energy into himself, but even a couple of psychic tugs on the Ice Man might be enough to scare the ghost away. Sully’s unusual gift—reverse possession he called it, for lack of a better term—had freaked out more than one spirit since he’d learned to use it.
Another unsettling possibility remained.
“Dez, what if the Ice Man is going after Greg? Maybe he’s only watching me because he thinks I might interfere. If that’s what’s going on, I can’t walk away.”
Dez heaved a defeated sigh. “Damn it, Sull. Okay, go and check. But be careful.”
“Yeah,” Sully said, then returned the phone and Dez to his pocket.
Mind made up, Sully put the Ice Man out of his sight and made his way back up through the bush toward the parking lot. From there, he could take the hiking trail pathway and see if he could find any sign of Greg along it. Need be, he was still hoping on ducking out of sight behind a tree from which he could monitor Greg’s movements and ensure he wasn’t in danger.
Sully cast one more glance at Greg’s half-ton as he passed by, assuring himself it was still empty. Then he located the pathway to the vehicle’s left, a few yards away through the snow. As he neared, he caught sight of a pair of footprints, heavily sunk into a snowbank as if the maker of them had stumbled on his way through. They were clearly fresh; clean white snow from within the pile had been pulled free so it rested atop the darker, dirtier heap around it.
Greg had come this way, all right. Now all Sully had to do was find him.
He made his way up the path, back to treading quietly and slowly, ears open and alert to any movement not his own. Nothing sounded, nothing beyond Sully’s own footsteps and breathing and the night noises of the woods. He cast another glance around him, seeking the shadows for either Greg or the Ice Man.
Nothing.
He kept going.
A walking path in summer, it had been converted to a snowshoe and cross-country skiing trail in the winter. Snow had been packed down in the centre, making it next to impossible for Sully to make out recent footprints in the dark. But the moon was bright tonight, and Sully’s eyes had fully adjusted. Places touched by the light stood out in shades of blue, allowing him to easily make out and recognize images. Staring too long into the shadows, he sometimes sensed movement where there none existed.
Then again, how could he be sure movement wasn’t exactly what he saw?
He pushed dark thoughts away as he continued, staying as close to the trees as possible while remaining on the beaten trail, obscuring his own footprints amid the multitude of others.
A turn in the path and Sully spotted a footprint, partially buried in the deeper snow, having departed the pathway. He knelt to examine it more closely, risking the use of his phone’s flashlight to better check it out.
The edges were crisp, flecks of snow pulled from the track and scattered around it. Recent, then. Following the toe, Sully spotted a second, then a third similar track.
He shut off the flashlight, pausing to allow his eyes to readjust before moving forward. No question these tracks had just been made, and the treads were those of heavy work boots, the likes of which Greg always wore. He’d passed this way. Why he’d strayed from the path, Sully had yet to discover.
“Greg left the trail,” Sully whispered into his phone. “I’m going to follow. As long as I stick to the tracks he already made, he shouldn’t figure out he’s being followed.”
“Be careful,” Dez said. He didn’t argue further, which Sully counted as a win.
Sully did as he’d told Dez, carefully placing his feet where Greg had. Now off the path, the snow was deeper, allowing him to even better hide his duplicate tracks. Unfortunately, it also meant slower going, any misstep one that would show when Greg returned this way. It didn’t help the snow at times came nearly to Sully’s knees. Lots had melted, but here in the shadow of the woods, the warmth of the sunlight was slow to touch.
Five minutes might have passed, maybe ten. He didn’t check the time, not daring to remove his phone again and risk any light that might give him away. Another few steps, and Sully spotted a bend in the trail of footprints as they wound around a rocky hill.
And suddenly, he saw the light. Literally.
A flashlight beam played on the ground ahead and down a decline at perhaps one hundred yards. He’d found Greg.
Sully checked his location. He was probably too far to be seen should Greg turn and aim a flashlight in his direction, and given he could hear nothing from here, he expected Greg wouldn’t hear his movements either.
Yet Greg would have to come back this way at some point. Sully scanned the immediate area. The trees here were largely pine, spruce and birch with a few poplars scattered throughout. Nothing near him with a trunk sizeable enough to conceal him. The rocky hill might work though. Plus it would give him a better vantage point.
Taking his eyes off the movement ahead, Sully checked what he had for footing nearby. He didn’t want to leave any obvious prints and risk Greg’s getting wise to the fact he was being followed.
Not a problem. A flattish rock—largely free of snow cover and lit subtly by the moon—rested a short jump away. Sully sprang over to it and planted his feet, holding his balance without a problem. From there, he focused on scaling the jutting rock face next to him. Though the hill wasn’t overly tall, it was sufficient to t
ake him off the path and make himself more difficult to see if he positioned himself well as Greg passed by.
Toward the top, Sully found himself a fairly wide gap in the rock into which he could slip. It was freezing with ice-cold stone either side of him, but as long as Greg wasn’t planning on being out for too long, Sully was happy to stay put.
He remained there, largely unmoving, until Dez’s muffled voice emerged again from his pocket.
“Sully?”
“I found Greg. He’s about a hundred yards ahead of me. He seems to be searching for something, best I can tell. I mean, I can’t see him really well, but I’m watching the beam from his flashlight. He’s focused on a pretty small area.”
“Will he be able to hear us talking?”
“No, he’s too far. As long as I talk quietly, I should be okay.”
“Well, let’s keep it short anyway, huh? Any sign of the Ice Man?”
Good question. Sully had been so transfixed by Greg’s actions, he’d forgotten the dead man. Now he gave his surroundings another thorough once-over, scanning right to left through the depths of the woods toward the area leading down to the lakefront. Nothing revealed itself.
At first.
Then he saw it, a dull glow visible only once Greg’s flashlight beam had moved from one spot to the next.
“I see him, I think,” Sully said. “He’s near Greg.”
“Ah, hell. What do you think? Do you need to warn him?”
Sully had been wondering the same thing. He shook his head before realizing Dez wouldn’t see. “Not yet. If I’m right and that’s the Ice Man, he’s just standing there at the moment. If I get the impression he’s going after Greg, I’ll run over.”
“Or maybe you won’t have to,” Dez said. “Could you do your thing?”
“Seems a bit far.”
“You told me distance doesn’t really matter in the spirit world. Why should it make any difference to what you can do?”
For a non-psychic who battled anxiety over the paranormal world, Dez often had a way of grasping the logic behind it in a way even Sully sometimes missed.
“Huh,” Sully said. “Good point. I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Good. Because if it comes to it, God forbid, at least it’ll keep you from having to blow our cover.”
Sully kept watch over the scene as the flashlight, presumably with Greg behind it, continued to move over the ground. Once in a while, it would pause, drop fully to the ground and stall there. In those moments, Sully would see slight, rapid movement in the light, like someone digging. As for the duller light—the one Sully believed belonged to the Ice Man—it drifted around at time yet made no effort to draw truly close to Greg.
Sully kept his ears open, nonetheless. He couldn’t hear Greg’s movements from here, no, but he was abundantly certain he’d know if the man screamed. If that happened, Sully would do what he had to do.
His phone out anyway and held low, Sully used the stone before him as a shield to allow him to watch the time. Since first he’d checked, he’d been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes. Occasional shivers had evolved into non-stop shakes. His teeth were chattering, and he knew he wouldn’t keep the tremble from his voice the next time he spoke to Dez. As he sheltered between the chilly rocks, Sully envied Greg his pacing and digging, if only for the added blood flow his movements must be bringing him.
Five more minutes and the beam shifted, not in the same area but back down the pathway he’d created—back in the direction Sully was concealed. He watched as the beam bobbed closer, drawing ever nearer to the spot right below the rocks.
Somewhere along the way, the dull glow had vanished, leaving Sully to wonder where the Ice Man had ended up. Right now, it didn’t matter.
Sully ducked his head as Greg—he could see now it was definitely Greg behind the flashlight, the beam low on the ground and the moon glancing off his silver hair—neared. Sully spoke quietly to Dez.
“Don’t talk. He’s coming this way. I’ve got good cover, so don’t worry.” That done, Sully slipped the phone back into his pocket and glanced back up.
Glassy, white eyes stared back at him.
With a gasp, Sully clamped a hand over his own mouth. The Ice Man stood within two feet of him, death-twisted face level with Sully’s own, body partially disappearing through the rock hiding Sully from mortal view.
No point wondering how the Ice Man had found him. Invisible as he could make himself to the living, Marc Echoles—who had the ability to read auras—had told him his was incredibly bright. Like the beacon of a lighthouse, Marc had said. It guided the dead to him, for better or for worse.
As Sully stared wide-eyed into the frozen face before him, this definitely felt like worse.
11
Unable to speak now with Greg so close, Sully willed his thoughts to colour his expression, hoping the Ice Man could see something through those milky-white eyes.
I’m not a threat. I’m not a threat. Please, leave me alone.
The Ice Man didn’t leave him alone, but he didn’t reach for him either. Sully took it as a win.
Around the pulse pounding in his ears, Sully heard the crunch of Greg’s boots against the snow as he walked below. Sully did his best to listen for a pause in his gait, something to indicate Greg had noticed he was being followed by a second track-maker. However, his pace didn’t slow.
Small blessings.
As badly as Sully wanted to peer over his shoulder to see where Greg was and to ensure he was continuing back down his self-made path without stopping, Sully didn’t dare tear his eyes from the Ice Man. He was the bigger problem right now; diverting his attention in any significant way could prove disastrous.
Greg’s footsteps had become distant, and Sully was confident he’d be out of sight now around the nearest bend.
“What do you want?” Sully whispered to the ghost.
The question drew a sound from his pocket. “Sully? Jeezus, the Ice Man’s there, isn’t he?”
Sully chewed his lip. Without Dez here to extract him if needed, he didn’t dare remind the Ice Man they could communicate through touch.
“Sully, answer me.”
Dez.
“Yeah, he’s here,” Sully said. “Right in front of me.”
“Shit. And he sees you?”
Under the circumstances, seeing was at best a loose definition. “He’s definitely aware of me.”
“Run.”
“What’s the point. He could appear wherever I go, depending on how tied his energy is to location. Besides, Greg would hear.”
“At this point, better Greg than the ghost, and maybe the Ice Man can’t go too far from where he is now.”
Reluctant as he was to stay near the Ice Man another moment, Sully forced himself to think through it. “He hasn’t tried to hurt me, Dez. He’s just watching me. I think he’s curious. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Not the way you normally do, all right? No visions, man.”
“All over that,” Sully assured him, then dropped the phone back into his pocket. If he ran into any problems, Dez would have no trouble hearing him through the material.
Sully turned his attention fully to the ghost. “My name is Sullivan Gray. Maybe you remember from the last time we met. I might be able to help you, but you can’t touch me, all right?”
No sign of understanding came. Not unexpected, given the poor guy was frozen stiff.
So to speak.
“The area the man was just searching—does it mean anything to you?” Sully asked.
Again, no nods or head shakes. What Sully got instead was better. The Ice Man vanished from in front of him, reappearing a couple of seconds later back down in the area Greg had been scouring.
Sully pushed himself with some difficulty out of the crack into which he was wedged.
“The Ice Man’s back at the spot Greg was searching,” Sully said for Dez’s benefit. “I’m heading over there now.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I wanted to check out the spot anyway, to see what Greg was looking at. This seems a good way to kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’d rather you avoided any expression containing the word ‘kill.’”
Sully smiled and continued forward anyway. He climbed down most of the rocky hill he’d scaled, then jumped the final distance to the ground. One chilled knee gave out upon landing, dropping him partially into the snow. Swearing, he picked himself up, rubbing a little feeling back into his legs before heading toward the area Greg had recently left.
The Ice Man stood there, facing Sully, providing a guidepost in the dark. Sully didn’t bother anymore to match Greg’s prints as he wound his way down the slope. Once within easy sight of the Ice Man, Sully forced his eyes away to scope out the area.
Greg had dug through the snow in many spots, tracks suggesting he’d paced and searched like a treasure hunter coveting buried pirate riches. Though doubtful Greg had found anything of the sort, Sully was astounded by what he did see.
Sully pulled out his phone. “It’s a destroyed cabin,” he told Dez. “Hang on, I’m going to send you a couple of photos.”
Confident Greg was a safe distance away, Sully snapped a couple of photos with his cellphone camera, flash exposing collapsed beams and metal shelves, a crumbled stone fireplace and the blackened remains of a headboard and mattress springs. The roof was gone, and as Sully checked the surrounding area, he saw what he assumed were large pieces of it lying off to the side as if someone had purposefully disassembled its remains and placed it there. If Greg had needed access to whatever lay beneath, quite possible he’d been the one to do it.
Photos taken, Sully fired them off to Dez.