The Ghost's Story: A Morgan Rook Investigation

by Kit Hallows

  The footsteps started again, clomping toward the basement door.

  Faster now. Purposeful.

  "He's coming," Alaine said. They were the first words she'd spoken, and they were filled with utter despair. I grabbed my gun and hunkered down uncomfortably close to the dead creature that rested amongst the crates. I pulled my handkerchief over my mouth and nose but the stench of the petrified corpse was almost too much to bear.

  The footsteps grew louder but they were still, slow and measured.

  I glanced over as he emerged into the aura of candlelight. He raised his head and sniffed. It was Richard, and yet it wasn't. I reminded myself of what I'd seen of Alaine's memories. Of how the creature, whatever it was, had snatched Richard's body and dragged itself from the grave. It had used dark magic to preserve his corpse, to keep the decaying body intact so it could hide from the world.

  A slow, creeping shiver ran across my shoulders and I had to force my hands to raise the gun.

  Hellish red light flickered in the creature's blazing eyes.

  I felt its gaze, like a magnet, attracting my eye and locking me in. Deep paralysis spread through me. Soon it would stop me dead. I forced my finger against the trigger. The paralysis passed down my arm toward my hand. Within moments I'd be unable to move.

  The gun blazed, the din and flash of light overwhelming in the confined space.

  Alaine's screams filled the air as the man shuddered. The bullet had passed through his chest but there wasn't a single drop of blood, only a scorch mark on his shirt and a hole between his ribs.

  I was about to fire another round when the creature spoke, the noise emerging from Richard's lips a series of clicks and ticks. It held its hand up, its finger pointing almost accusingly at me and then a force of energy flew from it, knocking the gun from my hand.

  Before I could move, the creature tore toward me, thrusting aside the clutter as it came. Pure unbridled fear surged through me. It served to counteract the creature’s spell and I scooped up my gun.

  I ran, shoving aside everything between me and the steps. Alaine's screams rang out but for now the creature had its sights set on me. Which meant I could lead it from her and deal with it elsewhere.

  The steps rumbled as I took them two at a time and emerged into the room upstairs. A heavy tread echoed up from behind me along with the weird clicking sound that spilled from its stolen lips.

  I waited for it to reach the top of the stairs and slammed my fist into its face. Its head flew back and there was a horrible squishing sound as its flesh fell away. I caught sight of dark green scales under Richard's shattered face. "What the hell?" I cried as I raised the gun to fire point blank.

  Its arm sprang up and knocked the gun from my hand and I stumbled back as it fully emerged from the basement stairs. I turned to run, hoping it would follow, but my shoe stuck firm in the webs that had been strewn across the floor.

  A ripping sound came from behind me. I looked back to find the creature standing there, an index finger raised in the air. It twitched and uttered a series of alien noises as a single silvery pearlescent claw burst from its fingers tip. It was using it to tear off its borrowed skin, cutting through it from forehead to groin. The form below was dark green, its limbs mantis-like, its thorax almost a shell. Richard's clothes and skin collapsed in a heap as the creature stretched its arms with a horrible snapping sound.

  I reached into my pocket for a charged crystal and used its magic to singe away the webbing on the floor. I barely had time to stumble back as the creature ran at me. I kicked it hard in the abdomen. It tumbled to the floor, its limbs jumbled and twitching but that one shining claw sank into the floorboards. I fled the room, slamming the door and emerging into the living room.

  The door exploded behind me as I ran through the house and stumbled into a kitchen. The place was a mess, apples and bowls of rancid water were all around me. I rifled through a drawer and managed to seize a carving knife as the scrape of the creature's feet approached and it thundered into the room.

  Its glowing eyes found mine and tried to hook me in with its gaze. I lunged and sliced at its throat. It blocked the knife with its arm, barely reacting as the blade sunk into its hard, taut skin and stuck firm.

  It slashed at me with its silver claw.

  I ducked aside and punched the creature hard in the face but it barely registered the blow. Instead it snatched my throat and its long tapering fingers squeezed. I brought my knee up into its groin and felt a glint of satisfaction as it dropped me. I had to get out, had to lead it away from the house and hope Alaine would take the opportunity to escape. I stumbled across the kitchen to the back door, wrenched it open and raced into the night.

  The air was icy cold, the scent of apples ripe as I hurtled through the little orchard. I glanced over my shoulder as the creature emerged from the door, its eyes like lanterns in the murk.

  I ran hard and threaded my way through the trees, the sound of its clicking limbs growing louder by the moment. Houses appeared as I stumbled down a slight incline before staggering onto the sidewalk. I turned to see the creature standing above me, its eyes almost locked onto mine. The sound of an approaching car caught my attention. I grabbed a branch and wielded it before me to hold the creature at bay.

  An SUV drove toward us, and two teenagers gazed nervously out. They looked terrified as they stared at the creature above me. "Drive!" I shouted. "Go!"

  The vehicle slowed as one of them raised their cell phone like a camera. Idiot.

  I pulled my gun and fired at the creature. The round glanced off its exo-skeleton as it descended toward me. I threw the branch. It swept its arm toward it, its gleaming claw slicing through it as if it were butter.

  And then its limbs began to tremble.

  It was going to leap. Right onto me.

  I raised my gun and fired over the roof of the SUV. Its engine thrummed and its wheels shot forward. I lunged across its path, landed hard, and turned to watch as the creature sprang through the air to follow me...

  ... and struck the vehicles windshield with an almighty whack.

  There was a booming thud and crash and then it broke apart in a cloud of noxious brown vapors.

  "What the hell!" The driver emerged from the SUV. He couldn't have been any more than twenty and he looked stoned as he gazed from the shattered windscreen to me. "What... what-"

  "Here." I pulled all the cash from my wallet. It was everything I had. "For the windscreen." I glanced past him as he numbly took the money. The passenger was emerging, cell phone in hand.

  "Put the phone away and delete everything you've filmed." I stepped toward her. She met my eyes and nodded, her finger brushing over the screen.

  "What was that thing?" the driver asked. He looked like he was slowly recovering his facilities.

  "A deer," I said. "Now go on your way."

  "That wasn't a deer."

  "It was." I moved toward him until he took a step back. "Now get in your car, drive carefully, and go get some sleep. Got it?"

  He swallowed and climbed back into the SUV along with the girl and they both slammed their doors in unison. I doubted they'd forget this night in a hurry.

  I returned to the house and made my way to the basement. Alaine was where I'd left her. She'd stopped shaking but still stared blankly at the wall.

  "It's gone," I said as I gently pulled her up from the chair. She shuddered, and tried to protest but I gripped her firmly and led her from the basement.

  It seemed to take an age to get her upstairs. I guided her to an armchair in the living room and made a fire in the grate. She gazed into the flames as they began to take hold, her face unreadable.

  I grabbed a throw from a sofa and draped it round her and went to the kitchen and made her a hot cup of tea, adding a few drops of a potion along with some sugar. It was nothing heavy; just enough to take the edge off her shock and to allow her to sleep. When she woke, it would all seem like a distant nightmare. Which wasn't far from the truth. "Her
e," I handed her the cup.

  "Who are you?" she asked. "And what are you doing in my house?" The spell the creature had placed her under was lifting. Soon she'd remember everything.

  "Please, drink the tea, it'll settle your nerves. My name's Morgan Rook. I came to help you. Richard sent me."

  "Richard?" Her face went pale in the light of the fire. "Richard... Richard passed away."

  “I know. But… but you’re going to have to trust me when I tell you he’s still looking out for you. He loves you Alaine. He wanted me to tell you that."

  "I don't understand what happened. I've lost... weeks." She glanced at the tea and for a moment I thought she was going to set it down, but instead she took a long sip.

  "Something bad happened, but it's over now. I promise."

  Slowly, her eyes began to close. She set the mug down and sat back on the sofa. I pulled the blanket around her and returned to the cellar to remove the dead creature. I felt like I was carrying a prop from a horror film as I dragged it up the stairs and away from the house. I had no idea why it hadn't turned to smoke like the others, but I wished it had. I laid it on the remnants of an old bonfire, grabbed a gas can from the nearby shed and dowsed it well. Then I lit it and stepped away from the burning stench of its remains.

  Whatever the creatures had been, they were dead now. And gone, just like I needed to be. I used the key I'd found on the front porch and locked the front door, before slipping it back underneath the pot. And then I headed out, glad to be back under starlight.

  It was creeping toward the wee hours by the time I got to Mrs. Fitz's house but I still needed to talk to her unwanted guest. I rang the doorbell and stood back, my eyes drawn to the sleek black cat watching from the shadows of the wall.

  The door opened and Mrs. Fitz looked tired as she gazed up at me over her glasses.

  "Sorry to disturb you so late," I said. "I just wanted to let you know the situation's been resolved."

  "It's certainly later than I usually prefer, but I was expecting you. And you struck me as the kind of man who works the wrong side of midnight the moment I set eyes on you. Come in, Mr. Rook."

  She ushered me into the hall and then upstairs, but I nodded to the cellar. "I need to go down there first."

  "Oh," she said. Her eyebrows furrowed. "I..."

  "Your guest in the attic told me about him. You should have said something, Mrs. Fitz."

  "I don't understand how these things work. I'm not..." she gave me an odd look, "not like you, Mr. Rook. But I know I felt a great pain in the house. Anger too, and sorrow." Her face darkened.

  "It's settled now," I told her. "But I need to speak with him and make sure he leaves. Once that's done I'll come and see you."

  She nodded and scurried up the stairs, her eyes flitting to the cellar door once more. I waited for her to go before turning my attention to the banshee that had been standing in the gloom at the end of the hall watching us.

  "Need a hand?" she asked, as she stepped into the light.

  "Yes. Please.”

  She smiled as she took my hand in hers and led me down the steps. I glanced through the door to find Richard sitting on a chair he'd righted. "Thank you," he said as we entered the room. "I felt it… go. Like a shadow lifting." He stood and nodded stiffly.

  "Alaine is safe and the creature... whatever the hell it was, along with its kin, has gone."

  "Can I go back?"

  "Maybe one last time," I said, as my eyes strayed to the wound on his chest. It had grown deeper since I'd last seen him.

  He glanced down and gave a short, stiff nod, before peering around the cellar. "I'm sorry I frightened the lady who lives here."

  "Forget it. It's done and dusted."

  "Very well." Richard gave me a bittersweet smile and strode from the cellar before vanishing into the gloom.

  I turned back to the banshee as she released my hand. "Meet me outside and I'll take you to your new home. I think you'll like it."

  She smiled and there was a gleam in her eye as she said, "I like you, Morgan Rook."

  "I... I like you too." I felt my cheeks flush as she flitted from the cellar. I took one last look round, climbed the stairs and knocked on Mrs. Fitz's door. She opened it and loitered on the threshold, warm light spilling out from behind her. She smiled, but it faltered as she glanced into the shadows on the stairs.

  "It's dealt with, Mrs. Fitz," I said, "They've both gone so you don't need to worry."

  She reached into her nightgown and handed me a roll of notes. A cursory glance revealed most were hundreds. It pained me to have to take them, but I needed a deposit, and quickly.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Rook."

  "No problem. And if you ever find yourself in one of these situations again, don't hesitate to call me." I started down the landing. "I'll see myself out."

  "Wait." Mrs. Fitz held out her hand for me to shake. It seemed an oddly formal and unnecessary gesture until I felt a tickle of static running up my arm. She was reading me. I could have put up psychic defenses, but it was too late, and besides, she was harmless. "You know," Mrs. Fitz said. "It's awfully cold out there, Mr. Rook. You'd be welcome to sleep upstairs now that the attic apartment is empty."

  I was tempted, but I had to show the banshee to her new home and find one of my own. "Thanks, but I've got things I need to take care of."

  "You're a wandering soul, aren't you, Mr. Rook."

  "I guess I am."

  "Well," Mrs. Fitz patted my wrist and pulled her hand away, "even a wandering soul needs to set up camp somewhere. My offer for the attic apartment wasn't just for the night. I need a tenant, Mr. Rook. A living tenant. One that will keep unwanted guests from my house."

  I smiled. I was fairly sure the entire place was little better than a nut house, and its owner the maddest of all. Which meant it was perfect. "Thank you, Mrs. Fitz. You know, I think I'll have to take you up on your offer."

  THE END

  HOW TO KILL A WITCH

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  Dark City is available NOW. Read on for a free preview

  Dark City

  Chapter One

  Bury Street was riddled with death. Its houses were long-abandoned empty husks, their shattered windows reflected the broken moon in web-like cracks while weeds sprung from gaps in the sidewalk and choked the wild flowers swaying in the dilapidated gardens. The only cars left in the street were propped up on cinder blocks, their windscreens smashed, the fragments glittering on the pavement like spilled jewels.

  The families that had lived here were long gone. Foreclosures and evictions mainly, but shakedowns and violence quickly drove away any holdouts. Now it was like a ghost town.

  All in all, the perfect place for my quarry to ply his grim trade.

  The Organization hadn't supplied an exact address, just a street, but that was good enough for me. I reached into my battered leather bag and pulled out a pair of brass-rimmed glasses. The lenses, ground from thin pieces of magically charged crystal, granted me a temporary gift of enhanced sight. Usually I'd see thumping hearts, dim glowing lumps of meat pulsing in darkness, but my quarry had no heart. My quarry was dead.

  Or should I say, undead.

  A cool breeze swept through my hair as I glanced down the long row of dark houses.

  And then I saw it, a glint of blood-red light.

  A dying heart.

  His victim.

  I pulled the glasses off and waited for the world to reassemble itself. The heartbeat was situated somewhere in the upper part of a house at the end of the street. It was a nondescript building, its windows boarded with plywood, the paintwork cracked and peeled. The front door, a warped rectangle of graffitied wood.

  It was hard to imagine the place had ever seen a happy day, but the rusted bicycle in th
e tangled clumps of ragweed might have told a different story.

  Light flickered between the cracks of the boarded upstairs window and muffled music drifted down, faint but clear. Jazz, recorded by people long gone from our world.

  It was an unnerving sound, a joyous clatter and racket in this place of pain. Celebratory almost.

  I glanced up at the moon as if she might bring me luck, but there was no blessing from that full scarlet orb tonight.

  The garden gate creaked as I pushed it open, like a sound effect from a vintage horror movie. I paused before the front door and checked my gun was loaded.

  And then I heard it. A faint, strangled whimper.

  A plea.

  She was still alive.

  For now at least.

  I ran my hand across the rough wooden door until I reached the lock. The shard of crystal around my neck still held enough magic for what I needed. I closed my eyes and focused as I visualized the deadbolts rusting to brown and red dust.

  I pushed the door and it swung open.

  I switched my flashlight on and swept it over the threshold to the sprawling pile of circulars and take-out menus that had piled up beneath the mail slot. Damp discolorations on the putrid yellow wallpaper gave testimony to the furniture that had once been there. Aside from that, the hall was empty. No obvious traps.

  A gleam of light twinkled from the landing of the second floor. The staircase was carpeted, a lucky break, providing my quarry was adequately distracted.

  Another whelp rose over the music as it changed to a jaunty, brassy refrain, the mood totally at odds with the suffering whimpers. They were painful to hear but at least they meant he hadn't started feeding yet.

  Because if he had, there'd have been no sounds at all. Still, my blood, already hot on this balmy September night, was beginning to boil lava-hot with rage.

  I hated vampires. At least the unreformed ones. There was plenty of technology to assuage their need for human blood but some seemed to have a hard time changing old habits and instincts. While others yearned for the thrill of the chase, the bedazzlement of seduction, and the pulse of the vein. Others like my quarry, Mr. Tudor. But his lust for suffering was coming to an end, along with the trail of corpses he’d left across the city.