Ghost Town

by Jason Hawes

  Amber gasped and took a step backward, as if she had been shoved. Her eyes sprang open in surprise, but she closed them again, stepped back to where she had been standing, and resumed concentrating.

  The Gork growled, the sound rumbling forth from deep in its massive chest. It stirred a primitive fear in Trevor, rousing an ancestral memory of what it felt like to be the prey of something much larger, faster, and deadlier than a human could ever be. Trevor felt small and weak, and he was torn between two equally strong but opposing desires: to flee the scene or to stand frozen and hope the Gork would pass him by.

  The creature raised its massive hands, thick fingers ending in unapelike talons. It took another step forward, moving more easily this time. Amber sucked in a hissing breath of air, as if she had just taken a punch to the stomach, but she held her ground. Standing this close to Amber, Trevor could make out her features well enough, and he saw a dark line roll down from one nostril and slide over her lips. She was bleeding.

  “It’s not working,” Drew said. “She’s slowing it down, but she can’t stop it. Not by herself.”

  “Maybe we can pool our psychic resources, like we did in the Lowry House,” Trevor said.

  The Gork growled again, louder this time, and took another step forward. Amber let out a soft cry of pain and doubled over. Drew couldn’t hold back any longer. He put his arm around Amber’s shoulders and helped her to stand upright again.

  The Gork was so large that in three steps, it had crossed two-thirds of the distance between them. Another step, and they would be within reach of those wicked-looking claws. Now that the creature was closer, Trevor should have been able to make out more details, get a better sense of what its facial features and body structure were like. But it still appeared to be a shape carved from shadow, a thing of darkness that only resembled a living creature in the crudest way. A silhouette brought to life and made three-dimensional.

  The Dark Lady created this scenario from our memories of the night we searched for the Gork, Trevor thought. She had gotten the physical details of the setting—river, bank, trees, sky—correct, but since none of them had ever seen the Gork, all she’d had to work with was whatever vague images of the creature existed in their imaginations. And really, what was a monster to a kid but a big scary thing that came at you from out of the darkness? In that sense, the Dark Lady’s version of the Gork was the perfect monster, just detailed enough to be terrifying but not so detailed that it became too real. Something that was real could be understood, could be fought. But how could you fight a shadow?

  “We need to do something fast,” Connie said. “Otherwise, we’re going to end up Gork chow.”

  Blood was streaming from both of Amber’s nostrils now, and she was trembling so hard it looked as if she were having a seizure. If it wasn’t for Drew propping her up, Trevor thought she might have collapsed to the ground.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” he said.

  “Don’t look at me. You’re the expert on the paranormal.” Connie paused. “Although I will point out that it was awfully careless of the Dark Lady to create a scenario with a river on the verge of flooding, considering how she likely died.”

  At first, he didn’t know what Connie was getting at, but then it came to him. Ghosts were often bound to the physical plane of existence by the circumstances of their deaths, a specific location or method of demise. It was part of what gave them their power, but it could be used against them, too.

  He turned to Drew. “I’ve got a riddle for you. What’s the best way to traumatize a drowning victim?”

  Drew thought for a moment and then grinned. “Drown them again.”

  “The Gork is definitely a double-wide,” Connie said. “At least. It’s going to take all four of us to do this—and it’s not going to be fun.”

  “Can you help us?” Drew asked Amber.

  Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clamped tight, body shaking, she nevertheless managed a nod. “Just . . . say . . . when.”

  “When!” Trevor shouted.

  Amber opened her eyes, and the four of them rushed toward the Gork. Now that she was no longer trying to hold the creature back, it stumbled forward, off balance, which gave them the edge they needed. They hit the Gork as a group, coming in from the creature’s left and shoving it toward the water. Trevor expected it to be like hitting a brick wall covered with foul-smelling fur, but the Gork’s body was as cold as ice, and it gave a little with the impact, almost as if it were made of rubber.

  The creature let out an ear-splitting howl, the sound both angry and afraid. It tipped over the edge of the riverbank and hung there, fighting to regain its balance. For a moment, Trevor feared the creature wasn’t going to go in, but then Amber stabbed her hand toward it, palm up and fingers splayed as if she were pushing air. The Gork flew backward several feet, and then, still howling, it plunged into the water with a tremendous splash. A small wave rushed toward them, and Trevor steeled himself for the sensation of being hit by cold river water. But the sensation never came.

  Instead, his vision blurred, and he felt a few seconds of dizziness. When his vision cleared and his vertigo faded, he saw that the four of them were standing in an aisle between two bookshelves. Fake white webbing and black plastic spiders had been hung from the books, and life-size plastic skulls had been placed at intervals on the shelves. Spooky sound effects echoed around them, and light pulsed from strobes mounted on top of the shelves.

  “We did it,” Trevor said, grinning.

  “We couldn’t have defeated her that easily,” Drew said. “Could we?”

  Connie shook her head. “Not a chance. At best, we irritated her, like a bee stinging a lion. She’ll try to get us again.”

  Trevor turned to Connie. “All right, whatever’s going on with you, spill it. How did you gain your sudden insight into the supernatural?”

  Before Connie could respond, Drew said, “I should think it’s obvious. Her knowledge of the paranormal, her altered speech patterns, her smartass attitude . . . none of them fits the Connie Flaxman I know. That’s because she’s not Connie.”

  Trevor and Amber looked at Drew and then at Connie, comprehension dawning on their faces.

  “Miss me?” Greg said.

  THIRTEEN

  “Can you loosen the ropes? They’re cutting off my circulation.”

  Jenn sat tied to a wooden chair at her breakfast nook. Mitch was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, watching a movie on her DVR player. When Harry Met Sally. She thought it a strange choice for a creep like him, but although he kept muttering, “Man, that’s so fucking stupid!” he seemed to be enjoying the film well enough. Who would have thought a kidnapping skuzzball like him would be into romantic comedies? From the looks of him, she would have guessed he was more into torture porn, films like Hostel, Saw, and Turistas. Considering her profession, she supposed she should have known better than to judge a book by its cover.

  She strained at the ropes binding her. Then again, she doubted that his choice of entertainment meant that there was a kind heart concealed beneath his crazy-bastard exterior.

  “Please?” she added. Mitch had turned the chair around to face the couch before tying her up. At first, she had thought it was because he wanted to keep an eye on her, but he hadn’t paid any attention to her since the movie started.

  He didn’t take his gaze from the screen as he answered. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.”

  “I’m not trying to get you to loosen the ropes so I can attempt to escape. My hands and feet are going numb.”

  It was true. While she would have loved to get the hell away from him, this wasn’t a movie and she wasn’t a kickass heroine. Even if she got free from her bonds, what could she do? She didn’t know martial arts, although given her Asian heritage, many people assumed she had at least a passing acquaintance with them. And while Mitch wasn’t a bodybuilder or anything, she was certain he was stronger than she was. But all that aside, she wouldn’t try to e
scape for the simple reason that she didn’t have it in her to do violence. Right now, she wished to God she did, though. There was nothing she’d like better than to beat the crap out of the sonofabitch who was holding her captive in her own home. But thinking about it and doing it were two very different things.

  He sprang off the couch so fast that he was standing in front of her before she realized it. He gripped her wrists and leaned forward, pressing his weight down on them. Pain shot up her forearms, and she felt the bones in her wrist grind together. He leaned in further, until his face was only inches from hers. She imagined lunging forward, fastening her teeth on his nose, and biting down as hard as she could. But she didn’t. Instead, she wrinkled her own nose at the stink of his foul breath, and she turned her head to the side, as if in a futile attempt to hide from him. As if there was anywhere she could go.

  “Let’s get something clear between us.” His voice was low and dangerous. “You think I want to sit on your couch and watch one of your stupid movies? There are more fun things I can think of to do with a good-looking woman like you. A lot more.”

  He leaned even closer and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. He moistened his lips with his tongue, and for a moment, she feared he was going to try to kiss her or lick her skin. She couldn’t decide which would be worse. But then he pulled back, although he didn’t release her wrists.

  “So keep your mouth shut and count yourself lucky.”

  “Why?” The question was out of her mouth before she realized it.

  He frowned. “Because I said so, that’s why!”

  “No, I mean why are you leaving me alone? It sounds like you don’t really want to. So why are you?”

  She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Mitch had as much as come right out and said that he wanted to rape her, and there she was asking him why he was holding back.

  When he had first approached her in the Exhibition Hall and told her that he had come to get her because Trevor, Drew, and Amber were in trouble and needed help, she hadn’t questioned him. So many strange things had happened that day already, and this was just one more. So she had followed Mitch outside, got into his car, and let him drive her away from the hotel.

  During the drive, she had peppered him with questions, but he hadn’t answered. He had driven without looking at her, as if she no longer existed as far as he was concerned. At one point, she had reached out to touch his arm, hoping to get his attention. It had been a gentle touch, but he whirled on her as if she had punched him, teeth bared, eyes blazing with anger.

  The mask of rage before her was so unlike the kind, concerned man who had walked up to her in the Exhibition Hall that for a moment, she didn’t believe what she was seeing. But then he spoke, and the coldness in his voice convinced her that his transformation was genuine.

  “Shut the fuck up, and don’t give me any trouble, or you’ll be the second person I’ve killed today.”

  He faced forward again, and she shut up. And when he drove her to Forgotten Lore, parked in the alley behind the building, and told her to get out of the car, she did. She also unlocked the back door at his command and led him up the stairs to her living quarters above the store. At first, she had been relieved when he tied her to the chair—she had been expecting him to force her into the bedroom—but as the minutes dragged on, the fear had returned. She’d wanted to believe that if he tied her up, it was because he wanted to keep her alive. But a new thought had crept into her mind, a dark, nasty, skittering cockroach of a thought: maybe he was saving her for later.

  Maybe he was building up an appetite.

  Now, as he looked at her, expression unreadable, her heart thudded in her chest, and cold nausea churned in her stomach. She didn’t want to goad him into hurting her, but she could no longer sit in silence, waiting to see what he would do.

  He frowned as he considered her question. “Because it’s what I’m supposed to do. Besides, you’re not her.”

  “Not Amber.”

  He didn’t respond, but she knew she was right.

  “If you’re not supposed to hurt me, why don’t you let me go?” She doubted it would be so easy to get him to release her, but she had to try. Besides, he might go for it. He was crazy, after all.

  He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t want to talk about it. But he answered anyway. “If I do what she says, she’ll give me Amber.”

  “She?” Jenn was confused. The only other woman involved in this mess that she knew of was Connie. Then it came to her. “You mean the Dark Lady?”

  He said nothing, but his lowered gaze and subdued expression answered for him.

  “She’s like, what? Your boss?”

  Mitch’s hand lashed out, bright pain flared in her jaw, and an instant later, she found herself lying on the floor without any idea how she had gotten there. Had she blacked out, just for an instant? She thought she might have.

  Mitch crouched down and leaned his face in close to hers. “I’m my own man. No one tells me what to do, least of all some freakyass ghost bitch. Got it?”

  Her jaw throbbed, and the side of her head ached. She wondered if she had cracked her skull on the floor when the chair tipped over. When she didn’t respond right away, he grabbed hold of her ear and gave it a sharp twist.

  “Got it?”

  Wincing, she nodded.

  He gave her ear a last hard pinch before releasing it and standing. He looked down at her for a moment, as if considering. “I think I’ll leave you lying there. You’re still tied up nice and tight. Maybe you’ll take a nap or something and let me watch my goddamned movie in peace.”

  He started back toward the couch, but halfway there, he stopped. Standing in the middle of the room was a black-garbed woman with long raven hair and marble-white skin. She was soaking wet, and rivulets of water ran off her and pooled on the floor around her pale feet. Mitch’s back was turned toward Jenn, so she couldn’t see his face, but from the way he froze at the sight of the Dark Lady, she knew he was terrified of the apparition.

  She supposed she should have been afraid, too, but instead, she felt only awe.

  I’m looking at a ghost, she thought. An honest-to-God house-haunting, chain-rattling ghost. Although why the Dark Lady was soaking wet from head to toe, she had no idea. Not that it mattered. Jenn knew that whatever happened after that moment, however long, or short, her life might be, she would never again doubt the existence of the paranormal. She hoped she would get a chance to tell Trevor. She could imagine how he would joke about it, using humor to try to take away some of the pain she had experienced.

  She could almost hear him say, “If I’d known that all it would take to open your mind was getting kidnapped by a psycho, I’d have abducted you myself years ago.” Despite the situation, the thought made her smile. It was a comfort to have Trevor there with her, even if only in spirit.

  “I did like you said.” Mitch’s tone was defensive. “I brought her here, and I haven’t touched her.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jenn lying on the floor. When he turned back to face the Dark Lady, his words tumbled out in a rush. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to hit her so hard! She—”

  The Dark Lady became an ebony blur as she darted forward and fastened marble-white hands around Mitch’s throat. He made a strained gurgling sound as his airway was cut off, and he reached up and grabbed the Dark Lady’s wrists. He attempted to pull her hands away, but although he was physically larger than she, he couldn’t break her grip.

  “I told you: she is not to be harmed.”

  The Dark Lady didn’t open her mouth as she spoke. Instead, Jenn heard her words in her mind, as if they were her own thoughts. The “voice” was a cold one, though, as harsh and unforgiving as a blast of winter wind.

  Mitch tried to answer, but all he could get out was a few wet clicks. The Dark Lady maintained her grip on his throat a moment longer, and then she released him. He crumpled to his hands and knees, gasping for air.

  The Dark Lady turned her att
ention to Jenn. Although the ghost made no move toward her, didn’t so much as gesture, Jenn’s chair gently righted itself.

  “My apologies.”

  Not knowing how else to respond, Jenn nodded. She felt it best not to speak. The Dark Lady might not have shown any aggression toward her yet, but Jenn knew better than to think the ghost was benign. After all, if Trevor and his friends were right, she was the one who’d killed Tonya. Jenn feared that if she said the wrong thing, it would be her turn to feel those cold white hands encircling her neck.

  The Dark Lady looked down at Mitch, and her impassive features became an expression of contempt. “Get up.”

  Mitch rose to his feet. His breathing was raspy, but otherwise he seemed OK.

  Too bad, Jenn thought.

  “Put a gag on her, and double-check her bonds to make sure she can’t get loose. You and I have more work to do.” She glanced at Jenn. “When this is all over, if you still want her, you can have her, too.”

  Mitch gave Jenn a grin that was full of dark promise. It scared her just as much as the Dark Lady did.

  Maybe more.

  Amber didn’t think she had any more tears to shed, but when the medical examiner’s people wheeled Ray’s sheet-covered body away, more started falling. Drew had kept his arm around her ever since they had driven the Dark Lady from the library, and she was more grateful than ever for his support. Confronting a supernatural force was hard enough, but dealing with the aftermath of that force’s attack was far worse. Especially when it resulted in the death of someone you knew.

  “I’ve never understood why a ghost would want to kill a living person,” Trevor said. “I mean, all that does is create another ghost.”

  “Once a soul is brought over into the afterworld, it’s much easier to torment,” Greg said. “Trying to harass someone across the dimensional boundary is like sending threatening e-mails to a person on the other side of the planet. There’s only so much harm you can do. But once you’ve dragged a soul over to your side of the metaphysical fence, there’s no end to the fun you can have with them.”