Forgotten Ghosts

by Eric Asher

  To Emily, it might have simply looked like I was trying to intimidate her, and she wouldn’t be wrong. She’d caused me more than one headache over the years, and now she was putting my friends at risk. And that was unacceptable.

  “Ms. Beckers,” Park said, “you’re coming to interrogation with me.”

  “I know my rights,” Emily said. “This is beneath you.”

  “Nothing is beneath me in this war,” Park said. He tipped his head toward Casper, and she moved into action. She placed one hand on Emily’s wrist and the other on her shoulder. To the untrained, it might look like she was gently escorting her out of the room. To me, it looked like she could break the woman’s arm in a split second and put her face into the dirt at the same time. Casper knew how to be prepared, and she was someone I’d never want to cross.

  Park waited a beat before he turned around and closed the door. He stared down at the image in the local newspaper and cursed. “How fast can you get someone to get Enda and her family out?”

  Foster flexed his wings and grimaced. “I don’t know, but I’ll send word now.”

  “It’s time to go see Vicky,” I said.

  “Let me know if we should expect any more dragon sightings,” Park said, glancing at the newspaper.

  Sam stepped closer to Park. “Your soldiers are more than capable of handling a leak to the newspapers. Get them on it. Damian and Foster and I can handle the fairy stuff. Concentrate on what you know.”

  Park sighed. “I know more than I wanted to know. Just when I think I have a handle on it, something else crops up. Dragons, reporters, and I don’t even know which is worse.”

  “I have to go see Vicky,” I said. “I think it’s time to talk to her family, too.”

  “What?” Foster and Sam said at once.

  I nodded. “There’s too much at risk. There’s too much that puts her at risk. I need to be sure they understand everything going on.”

  “Uh huh,” Sam said. “You mean about how you traveled to an alternate dimension and killed the being that was taking over their dead child’s soul before you brought her back to life? I’m sure that’ll go over great!”

  I fidgeted and rubbed my hands together. “Okay, maybe they don’t have to hear all of it.”

  “You want us to come?” Foster asked.

  I shook my head. “Stay here. The training is one of the most important things we have going for us right now. More soldiers mean more allies.”

  “Except for the soldiers that want to kill us,” Foster said. “I’m literally training some of these assholes to kill me.”

  I glanced at Park.

  He gave a half shrug. “A few, yes. Most of the troops are quite fond of Foster, though. At least those that aren’t terrified of him. Stabbing that private probably didn’t help.”

  Foster grunted. “I assumed that idiot knew his right from his left. Bet he won’t make that mistake again.”

  “We’ll stay,” Sam said. “But if you need us, you call. Frank’s doing PT with some of the privates. He’ll be here too if you need him. You know he will.”

  I paused. “Who’s running the shop? I thought Frank was there today.”

  “Aideen is,” Foster said. “She’s back from the Obsidian Inn. Business still hasn’t picked up as much as we’d hoped since the battle with the water witches, so she’s comfortable running things by herself.”

  “Good. Good.” I nodded to myself as if I was silently trying to pump myself up for going to Vicky’s house. I suppose that’s exactly what I was doing.

  “But we’re clear?” I asked, turning to Park. “No shooting the dragon?”

  “You see,” he said, “this is exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about. I’ve been having a relatively normal day, but now I have to tell my men not to shoot at the dragon. A dragon!”

  I nodded sagely. “The dragon’s quite friendly. But if you have any collectible Barbies around, I’d probably hide them.”

  Park muttered under his breath. “No shooting the Barbie-eating dragon.”

  Sam and Foster chuckled as I backed out of the room and closed the door behind me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I walked to the main hallway, my boots echoing around me as I left the dead acoustics of the filing cabinets behind. The light grew brighter, until the sun streaming through the windows washed away the harsh fluorescent light that had surrounded us before.

  Another member of the archives nodded to us as I crossed the threshold and exited onto the steps of the old building. I wondered how much time Koda had spent there, or if the building had even been around when he was still alive. The weight of a great many spirits inside hadn’t escaped me, but Saint Charles was a place where the dead were always close.

  The wide steps led to the uneven brick of the sidewalk. I glanced to the south and frowned at the edge of the site where not so long ago the military had set up thousands of tents, right in the heart of Saint Charles, right in the heart of Main Street. It was still hard to reconcile some days that we’d fought that battle here, but Lewena had brought the water witches to our home and destroyed so much of the riverfront.

  Aeros and the Undine’s had done an amazing job rebuilding things. And I’d seen more than one green man tending to the trees that had survived. But I’d seen something else in the shadows, too. Something I’d once seen in the darkness of Greenville. It towered like a green man, but the savage gouges in the bark-like flesh that formed its face made an unsettling impression. The creature had seemed to have no ill will toward the green men, but anything I couldn’t identify tended to concern me.

  In the last three months, we’d seen a good influx of commoners returning to the area. Some of them thought they’d be safer staying near the supernaturals and the military they’d trained. But others had bought into the propaganda. They’d come to realize who we were. That we were the ones Gwynn Ap Nudd had called out in his infamous television appearance.

  Now we were just as likely, or perhaps far more likely, to receive a death threat at the store’s email as we were to receive an order. Frank had managed to set up some excellent filters, which kept the worst of it out of our sight, but there was still something disconcerting about seeing all that hate documented so thoroughly.

  I turned away from the open patch of ground, now sprinkled with dead grass, and headed north toward Death’s Door. Some of the usual county construction had started up again along Main Street. It was a rare day where you didn’t see some amount of cobblestones torn up, or the sidewalks dug up, to either repair the sewers and pipes beneath them, or simply fix the sidewalk to help keep the pedestrians from snapping their ankles. The old cobblestone roads required quite a bit of upkeep, but I always felt like it was worth the cost to preserve that history. I hoped the city would also continue to believe it to be worth it.

  The rains had stopped. Puddles still waited in the uneven cobblestones across Main Street. A few brave souls had already ventured out, unsure if the last wave of the thunderstorm had already passed, or if they’d be trapped in another deluge. A family of red-haired children stood on the corner, seemingly beyond the worry of rains or the coming storm. I suspected the family may not have been entirely human. We’d been seeing more Fae lately around Saint Charles. Some who had moved from Falias, and others who claimed to have done the same. I wasn’t the only one who was concerned that there might be spies among them. Foster and Aideen were already looking into that.

  A few large drops of rain crashed against the glass plates of the gas streetlamps. A flurry of umbrellas rose across the sidewalks, shielding those less tolerant of the rain. Lightning lit the brick of the restaurant beside me and thunder shook the sky a moment later. It was perhaps an omen of things to come, the gathering clouds of a storm none of us would want to be in.

  I made my way past the print shop where we sometimes had flyers done for the store, dodging around another bit of street repair. Farther up the street, I paused in front of Main Street Books. It was a modern shop,
and while they didn’t carry the things I was generally looking for, they did stock quite a few titles on the history of Saint Charles, written by modern historians. But instead of the bookstore, I’d been sequestered away in the attic of Death’s Door, nose deep in the library doing research. It had been months since I’d read a book simply for entertainment, and the thought made me groan.

  When this was over, the first thing I’d be doing would be turning off my phone and locking myself in that library with a good read.

  I passed a couple of bars, and eyed the crowd gathered around an old antique store. The rain started to pick up, and I frowned at the old metal awning declaring the area historic Saint Charles. That part of the street always looked dark to me in the rain. Like some ominous thing, ready to swallow anyone who wandered too close.

  I picked up my pace, passing restaurants and the occasional pedestrian and only a handful of soldiers. The rain was a steady drizzle, but by the time I made it to the shop I was still soaked.

  The bell jingled on the front door as I walked in, the old handle cold beneath my fingers.

  “Damian,” Aideen said as I stepped inside.

  “Hey.”

  “That’s 15.98 with tax,” Aideen said, turning her attention back to the customer at the counter. I smiled as the fairy danced barefoot across the tablet, before shoving it toward the customer. “Just swipe your card, and you’re all set.”

  A little girl with light brown hair stepped out from behind what I supposed was her mom. She went up on her tiptoes and smiled up at Aideen. “She’s beautiful.” And it was said in that matter-of-fact way only a child can speak. There was no deception to her words, no exaggeration or manipulation. She was simply stating what she felt was the truth.

  “Thank you, dear,” Aideen said. “That’s always nice to hear as we get older.”

  The mother ran her hand through the child’s hair. She looked back to Aideen. “You can’t be that old. You look like you’re in your twenties.”

  “We do not age quite the same as humans,” Aideen said, giving the pair a broad smile. “I am much older than you might think. Although I did have a very good friend that lived to be almost 5000 years old. Now that’s old.”

  The child giggled, and the mother just stared blankly at Aideen for a moment. She shook herself and signed the tablet.

  “Thank you, dears,” Aideen said. “If you’d like a bag, feel free to help yourself. I hope to see you again.”

  The customers thanked our Fae proprietor, gathered up their purchases, and headed for the front door. I stepped into the far aisle to give them plenty of room to pass. The mother’s steps slowed when she saw me, and I braced myself for whatever words she might have to say. Her arm wrapped around her child’s shoulders in a protective stance.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Some people in the city don’t understand what you’ve done for us. They say you brought hell to our streets. We saw what you fought back in the river. Thank you.”

  It was my turn to stare blankly, as the woman took her leave and the bell jingled on her way out into the rain.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked, waving at the front window as the little girl waved back.

  “They stayed in town when the water witches attacked,” Aideen said. “They saw you and Bubbles and Nixie take down the harbinger.”

  “We didn’t take it down,” I said.

  Aideen held up her hand. “They saw what they saw Damian, nothing can change that. I for one am grateful we have goodwill among some of the commoners.” She glanced at the now-empty window. “And perhaps we have more than we realized.”

  “Thanks for watching over the shop,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I’m heading to Vicky’s now.”

  “You never responded to their letter. The letter her parents sent you?”

  I grimaced. “I know. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?”

  “I’m sure they’ve grown more accustomed to her by now. They may have missed out on some years, but they have their child once more. They’ll understand you don’t have all the answers they’re looking for.”

  “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come up. Because now I have to talk to them about their daughter’s dragon.”

  Aideen gave me a huge grin. “Good luck.”

  I narrowed my eyes and pushed my way through the saloon-style doors, passing the Formica table and the old grandfather clock before Bubbles ripped an enormous snore from the safety of her lair. The closet door creaked when I pulled it open, pondering a change of shirts. I could don one of the vampire-skull T-shirts Vicky had given me. The vampires certainly seemed to be amused by them, but this wasn’t exactly a social call. I hadn’t even talked to Vicky in a few months. It felt best to leave her be, so she could have a normal life.

  The umbrella on the shelf caught my eye, so I grabbed it and headed through the back door. I glanced back at the deadbolt, surprised it hadn’t harassed me. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn it was sleeping. It made me wonder if Aideen had found an effective way to threaten it into silence. The thought made me happy.

  I pulled the door open on my thirty-two Ford, the car I’d taken to calling Vicky before the little ghost had taken on that name. Before she’d been trapped in the Burning Lands. Before she’d been resurrected.

  And now I was going to talk to her parents.

  I slid into the small seat and collapsed against it. The car started with a roar, and I made my way onto the streets.

  CHAPTER SIX

  There was one thing I was sure of: Vicky wouldn’t have come out of hiding without reason. The question was, how good of a reason? And how dangerous? The thought of what might be out there hunting her caused my pulse to spike. Was it the vampires? Nudd himself? Something from the Burning Lands that had snuck through the cracks between realms?

  I turned the wheel and the car veered around the entrance ramp to Highway 70, starting the short trip east before I merged onto 141 and headed south.

  I’d almost reached Manchester Road before my nerves really kicked in. As I tried to take my mind off things, I recalled a particularly eventful trip to the old altar. We’d managed to summon a demon, and then kill it at Zola’s cabin. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I might have more nerves about this trip than I’d had then.

  And with that, my thoughts returned to Vicky like a rubber band. I thought about talking to Vicky’s parents, telling them part of what had happened. But how would I do that? How did you tell someone about the hell their child had been through? Would Vicky even want them to know?

  My knuckles whitened as I strangled the steering wheel. It was a conversation I’d tried to have in my head a dozen times, a hundred times. But I never had a good answer. So here we were. Time had passed, and some things had perhaps gotten better, but others had most assuredly gotten worse. Nudd was here, in our world. He spent more time stalking the palaces of Falias than he spent in Faerie. He put on such a benevolent show, like a magnanimous ruler returning from obscurity. I feared he’d hoodwinked half the commoners.

  But benevolent wasn’t a word anyone should use with Gwynn Ap Nudd.

  His treaty, or partnership, or whatever hellish agreement he had with the dark-touched gave him an edge I didn’t care to think about. The Morrigan told us Nudd was a fool for entering into such a bond. The dark-touched could not be controlled like that. They were too elemental, too undisciplined, but I’d seen them fight with the water witches and their harbingers, and I knew we hadn’t seen the last of them.

  I took a deep breath as I turned onto a street lined with old oak trees. Neatly trimmed hedges rose up sporadically, and it didn’t take long for me to find the one that I’d hidden behind the night we’d taken Vicky home.

  My stomach flip-flopped as the old car bounced into the driveway. I wouldn’t be hiding in the shadows anymore. I supposed this was inevitable. The desire to see Vicky again warred with the dread of meeting her parents.

 
The car door thudded closed. A few footsteps carried me up to the porch. I watched my finger ring the doorbell, as if it was someone else’s, cast upon a movie screen in a dark theater.

  Footsteps and muffled voices sounded inside the house before laughter grew louder and the deadbolt clicked open. The hinges whispered, and the face of a man not much older than me appeared in the doorway. I remembered seeing him that night. He’d been broken, with nothing but routine to keep him moving from day to day. But that wasn’t the man who stood before me now. This man stood straight and looked well, though his grip on the doorknob turned his knuckles white, and his smile was strained.

  My brain didn’t fully register what I was hearing as I stared into the dark blue eyes of Vicky’s father.

  “Jasper, no!” a woman’s stern voice shouted.

  I frowned slightly as Vicky’s father stumbled out of the way and a large gray thing exploded through the screen door. I didn’t so much as have time to curse before the wide ball of gray fluff smacked into me and sent me to the ground, flailing into squarely trimmed bushes that were not nearly so soft as they appeared. Jasper chittered and squeaked, his size shrinking then expanding as the round ball snuggled up against my neck and bounced on my chest before shooting back into the house.

  A woman about my age appeared at the hole in her door. She looked down at her husband, who lay sprawled across the foyer. “James, I told you we needed to take that screen out.”

  “I was thinking about it, Lori, but I didn’t think Jasper would get that excited about anyone who would be visiting us. You must be Damian. Please, come in.”

  “It’s the—” I started. “It’s nice to meet you.” I accepted a hand when he offered, and he helped me out of the bushes.

  “Vicky’s in her room,” her mom said. “She’s been waiting for you.”

  I frowned at that. Elizabeth was the name I’d expected to hear. I didn’t want to ask why they weren’t calling her Elizabeth, but I guess my expression wasn’t so subtle.