Erin suddenly raised her head, interested in what Abby was saying. “Wait. Sixth and twenty-sixth?”
She looked around the room, then jumped up and ripped down the New York map that had been tacked to the wall. “Where’d we find the first device?”
“At the subway,” Patty said.
Erin bent over the map. “Here’s the theater. Give me the other sightings.” Abby read the addresses and she filled in the map, drawing two lines straight through Manhattan.
“What do those look like to you?” Erin asked the others.
“I can’t see,” Kevin said, still rubbing his eyes.
“Ley lines,” Abby and Holtzmann said at the same time.
“What are ley lines?” Patty asked.
“A hidden network of energy lines across the Earth. Currents of supernatural energy. Let me see if there’s a ley line map of New York City,” Abby said.
“Supposedly if you look at sacred sites and weird events around the world, you can draw a line between them. And where lines intersect create an unusually powerful spot. Abby and I always dismissed it, because it seemed too likely to happen at random to have any merit.”
Holtzmann pulled an old ley line map book from under a pile. Abby overlaid it with her marked New York City map. The lines matched up perfectly.
“I guess there is some merit,” Abby said. They were on the edge of a dangerous discovery.
“He’s been using those devices to charge up the ley lines,” Erin said about whoever was behind this recent increase in hauntings. “He’s creating a vortex!”
“If he has something powerful enough in here, he could rip a hole right through the barrier,” Abby declared.
“Letting everything out there, come in here!” Holtzmann paced the room.
“What’s there now?” Patty asked, looking at the site where the ley lines intersected on the map.
“The Mercado,” Holtzmann said.
“The Mercado.” Patty considered it. “Well, that makes sense.”
“Why’s that?” Holtzmann asked.
Patty went on to explain. “The Mercado has one of the weirdest histories of any building in New York City. Check out these online reviews.” She scrolled to the page and turned the computer. “ ‘Half a star: I felt strange there.’ ‘Loud noises in my closet throughout the night.’ ”
Holtzmann asked Patty, “So it’s a haunted building?”
“Nah, this is even before it was a building. All sorts of massacres happened there,” Patty said. “Like a peaceful trade with Captain Warren and the Lenape Indians, and suddenly everyone dies.” She went on, “You know, no other section of New York has more power outages? Also a ton of pedestrian deaths. My cousin got hit by a car in front of there. But he’s an idiot.”
Erin stood at the computer with Patty. They were looking at the Mercado’s website. There was a picture of the entire staff standing in the lobby smiling. Only one person was straight-faced. . . . It was Rowan in his maintenance uniform.
“Hold on!” Patty poked a finger at the screen. “That’s the dude from the subway! Talking about cataclysms.”
“Bingo,” Erin shouted.
“Fire up the car and let’s get over to this hotel of horrors.” Abby started gathering equipment.
The Ecto-1 screeched to a stop in front of the Mercado. The Ghostbusters jumped out and headed in. At the front desk, the clerk was on the phone.
“And did you try adjusting the thermostat before making this call? Oh, what a wonderful tone you’ve decided to use with me. I see the cold draft has not cooled your temperament.”
“Excuse me,” Erin interrupted.
The desk clerk turned toward them and raised a finger, silently asking for a minute. Then into the phone, he said, “Uh-huh. Well that sounds more like a you problem. Hold on.” To the Ghostbusters, he asked, “What do you want?”
“Where’s your janitor?” Abby asked.
“Ugh, that guy? What has he done?” The clerk pointed to where they could find Rowan. “I don’t care. Take the stairs down.”
The Ghostbusters rushed to the door, down the stairs, and to the metal door of the boiler room. Beneath the door, a light flashed. They readied their proton packs and entered.
The first thing they all saw was the mirror. Behind the glass, glimpses of nightmarish ghosts were trying to break free. The creepy sounds were terrifying.
Rowan was there too. His fingers flew over a keyboard connected to a large machine that seemed to be controlling the ghosts.
“Stop!” Abby stepped forward. “Okay, I know you’re having a ball bringing all these ghosts into New York, but the thing is, we happen to like this world the way it is.”
“I don’t,” Rowan replied. “I think it’s garbage. And when the barrier is destroyed, the armies of the undead will return to pester the living.”
“ ‘Pester’ doesn’t sound too bad—” Erin said.
“They will pester the living with unspeakable pain and torment. Everyone will be eliminated,” Rowan went on.
“Different meaning of ‘pester,’ ” Erin acknowledged.
“Yeah. That’s something else,” Holtzmann agreed.
Abby went for the compassionate approach. “You don’t like people? People can do terrible things. I get it. Don’t get me started on this one.” She gave a small nod toward Erin. “But then there’s good things! All sorts of good things like, like soup and . . . hmm, why is the only thing I can think about soup?! I’m very stressed out. Just stop the machine!”
Rowan brushed her off and turned up the power.
Abby pointed her proton wand at him. Rowan froze.
They all heard sirens wailing outside the hotel.
“Don’t take another step!” Abby warned Rowan. “The police are on their way down.”
“Well, in that case . . . bye.” Rowan grabbed onto the electrified ghostly mist his machine was creating and electrocuted himself. He fell to the floor—dead.
The Ghostbusters were stunned.
“What?” Erin didn’t know what else to say.
“Turn the machine off!” Abby told Holtzmann. She ran over to shut it down. They all looked at Rowan’s body.
Holtzmann frowned. “Weird move.”
“Holtz, are we okay?” Erin asked.
Holtzmann read the machine meters. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, at least it’s over.” Erin continued to look at Rowan.
Abby called up to the police, “Hey! Down here!”
Police and Homeland Security surrounded the Mercado. Erin walked over to Abby, who was now looking at Rowan’s ghost machine.
“What’s up?” Erin asked.
“It’s so strange, a lot of his technology isn’t that different from ours. It’s the same science behind our apparition catching,” Abby said.
“That is strange.” Erin looked closer.
“I think I know why that is.” Holtzmann was holding a book from Rowan’s bedside table. It was the one Abby and Erin had written.
“Well, it’s a very powerful book,” Abby said.
Jennifer Lynch entered the room. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You saved us all. The mayor privately thanks you as well. Let me walk you out.”
As they walked out, Erin watched the police and Homeland Security forces dismantling Rowan’s machine. She breathed a sigh of relief. The vortex would be closed. The danger was over . . . or was it?
CHAPTER 12
Hawkins and Rorke were waiting by the door to the Mercado.
“Now, you get some rest,” Ms. Lynch told the Ghostbusters. “Let these guys get you out of here.”
“That sounds nice, thank you,” Abby said.
“I just have to say a few words. You know how it is.” Jennifer Lynch opened the door, revealing the press waiting outside. Agents Rorke and Hawkins moved to arrest the Ghostbusters, while Jennifer told the reporters, “Everything’s fine, just another publicity stunt by these incredibly sad, lonely women. I mean, giv
e it a rest, am I right?”
Back in the Mercado basement, Homeland Security agents finished putting up crime scene tape around the disassembled machine and sealed the maintenance room. In the chaos, Abby had left her PKE meter on the floor. The indicators slowly began to blink.
The Ghostbusters were let go near Times Square. Since it was over, they wanted to celebrate.
“Mission accomplished. Let’s celebrate.” Abby grinned wildly while Holtzmann and Patty high-fived. Erin looked bummed and preoccupied.
“Erin, you in?” Abby asked her. “My treat.”
A blogger from the press conference caught up to them. He was holding up his phone to record the impromptu interview. “How do you feel about wasting tax payer money and government resources with your pranks?”
Abby got between him and Erin. “Back off, buddy. We’ve got nothing to say to the press.”
He got closer to Erin. “Miss Gilbert, I asked around your hometown. Talked to someone you went to school with. They told me when you were a kid you made up a ghost. Tell me, were you born a fraud, ‘ghost girl?’ ”
Erin lost her cool. She lunged at the reporter.
Abby grabbed her, pulling her back. “Whoa, whoa! Let it go!”
But Erin was out of control. She snagged the blogger’s shirt, while Patty and Holtzmann tried to stop her.
“You freak!” the blogger shouted as he broke free. Erin chased him down the street, and when she caught up, she punched him in the nose.
The next morning’s newspaper had a huge photo of Erin punching the blogger. The headline read: NOSEBUSTERS! She pushed back the paper and buried her face in her hands.
Holtzmann came in, taking off her proton gloves. “I’m working on some new treats. No spoilers. But let’s just say I’ve always wanted to throw a proton grenade.” She casually reached over for the newspaper and started reading.
Erin waited for her reaction, but Holtzmann didn’t say a word. She just sipped her coffee and flipped pages. She finally said, “These guys really have their finger on the pulse.”
“Just read it to me,” Erin sighed.
“Okay.” Holtzmann read the article out loud. “ ‘Midtown movie theater owner claims basset hound regularly attends matinees by himself.’ ”
Erin groaned. “The story about me.”
“Oh.” Holtzmann flipped back to the front page. “I really didn’t notice. . . .” She read a bit to herself. “It’s not that interesting.”
Erin turned on the TV’s local newscast.
The reporter was saying, “We spoke to Harold Filmore, Physics Department Chair at Columbia University, where Ms. Gilbert used to teach. . . .”
“Oh no,” Erin sighed heavily.
The camera switched over to Dr. Filmore’s office at the university. Behind Dr. Filmore, the blogger’s video was playing. Erin looked like a maniac.
“It’s unfortunate that we have these former ties with Ms. Gilbert,” Filmore said. “At Columbia University, we’re about real science, discovering truths, not lying for a sad moment of fame.”
The blogger’s cell phone video froze on a particularly insane and unattractive frame of Erin.
Abby came in. “Doesn’t matter what those people think.”
Then the news anchor said, “We also spoke with the Dean of the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute.”
The camera moved to an image of the dean at his desk, finishing his sack lunch.
“A terrible shame on the Kenneth P. Higgins name.”
Patty turned off the TV. “Forget those dudes. You gotta just walk that off. Think about how many people you saved.”
“Yeah, let’s just grab something to eat and find that basset hound,” Holtzmann suggested.
Erin had to get away. “I think I’m gonna take a walk.” She left alone.
Kevin approached Abby at her desk, saying, “Hey, Abby, can we talk about the paranormal? I got a bunch of ideas and theories about—”
“Not now, Kevin.” Abby left the room.
Kevin walked back to his desk with a frown.
At Columbia University, Dr. Filmore was in his office, at his desk. Erin was showing him her files and explaining about the proton pack. He seemed interested. . . .
“Of course in a million years if someone asked if I believed in ley lines, I would’ve said no. But as you can see, the incidents lined up. Our equipment is real. We really saved New York City.”
“Oh, Erin,” Filmore said with enthusiasm. “I had no idea. This evidence is undeniable. I have to apologize for doubting you. Would you ever consider rejoining us? You can head up a legitimate science-based paranormal department.”
Erin beamed. “Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you, sir.” She was back where she wanted to be.
“Thank you,” Filmore said, and then he glanced behind her.
Erin’s heart sank as two security guards entered and grabbed her arms.
“What took you so long?” Filmore asked them as the guards led Erin out of his office. “That was uncomfortable.”
If Erin thought being fired was bad, being escorted out by security was worse. She struggled to carry her proton pack and files.
Playing it off, she called back to Filmore, “Okay, so we’ll just finish that up later.”
People in the hallway avoided eye contact.
“Look, I’m not crazy,” Erin told anyone who would listen. “I know when people say that, they’re usually crazy, but I’m pointing that out, so I obviously have an intelligent perspective in the situation.”
Security left Erin on the street. She didn’t know where to go next or what to do, when Abby arrived.
“So, how’d that go?” Abby asked.
Erin let out a long breath.
“You just can’t handle those scientists thinking we’re a big joke,” Abby said.
Erin slumped onto a bench, putting the proton pack by her feet. “Is that some sort of big reveal? Yes, that bothers me. I don’t like being dragged through the mud. I mean, any shot of being on a faculty or having any kind of reputation is gone. Believe it or not, my dream was not to start a ghost detective agency above a Chinese restaurant. I mean, Abby, we don’t even look like idiots, we look like maniacs. I know you don’t care, but I do!”
Abby, usually so calm, exploded with frustration and anger. “You think I don’t care? You think it’s been easy, devoting my life to all this? Of course I care. I’ve been called ‘weird’ every day of my life since I was four years old, and I hate it. But I focus on what matters. We discovered all sorts of new things. I get to work with my friends. I felt pretty lucky. The only thing that makes me sad is that after all this time, you haven’t changed one bit!”
“Well, I’m not going to take that as an insult, because I happen to like myself,” Erin said, rising.
“No, you don’t,” Abby said.
Erin slunk back down onto the bench. That hurt.
“Take care of yourself,” Abby said, then she walked away.
As she passed a few students, they snickered at her Ghostbusters uniform, but Abby kept her head up high and kept on walking.
CHAPTER 13
Erin was getting ready for bed. She tossed her Ghostbusters uniform into the laundry basket, then sat down at the computer and went online. She clicked on the old University of Michigan interview, the one Abby did alone after she didn’t show up.
The host asked Abby snarky questions about their book, while Abby looked uncomfortable.
“So, you’re saying that ghosts are actually real? And you can back this up with science? What could be less scientific than that? Have you actually ever even seen a ghost?” he asked, face filled with doubt.
“We have . . . um. . . I mean . . .” Abby was nervous and sputtering. “I have experienced . . . um . . . theoretical contact with . . . the . . . um . . . spirit world.”
“I’m sorry but I find that hard to—” the host was saying when Erin turned the video off. She picked up a copy of her and Abby’s book and looked at their p
hoto.
Flipping through a few pages, Erin realized that this was not her copy of the book. It was Rowan’s. His notes were scribbled inside.
She shuddered, thinking about how she’d last seen him. Turning pages, Erin noticed that in a chapter called “Attracting the Paranormal,” Rowan had sketched a design for his massive machine on the page. “The First Cataclysm” was written underneath.
A few more pages in, Erin found an illustration of an electrocution. Another few pages and Rowan had circled the words: “Vengeful Spirits and the Dangers of their Return to Our World.” By the time Erin reached the last pages, she discovered an intricate vision of ghosts terrorizing New York City. There was one massive being in the background.
The drawing was of Rowan himself, with the headline: “The Fourth Cataclysm—I will lead them.”
“Oh no,” Erin muttered.
Abby sat in an almost empty lab, staring sadly at a picture of her and Erin onstage at the rock concert, holding the smoking ghost trap.
Holtzmann and Patty put on their coats.
“Holtz and I are gonna pick up a snack, something light,” Patty told Abby. “Probably a cheesesteak. Want one?”
Abby frowned. “I’m good, thanks.” After they left, Abby’s eyes drifted to the empty spot where Erin’s proton pack should have been. She looked quickly away, then headed to the bathroom.
A knock on the front door made her stop.
“Did you forget your keys again? Wear them on a lanyard.” Abby opened the door. There was no one there. She checked the hall. Empty. “Very funny,” she said, as if it were one of Holtzmann’s pranks. “Spooky.”
She closed the door and started to the bathroom again.
Another knock.
“What are we? In kindergarten?” She opened the door again, saying, “I’m not in the mood.”
No one was there. The hall was dark. She shut the door one more time, and this time, bolted it shut. Then she hurried to the bathroom.
When the knock came for the third time, it was on the bathroom door. She turned the lock and stumbled back against the sink.
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