Ghost of a Dream g-3

by Simon R. Green

“We’re supposed to wait here,” said Melody. “Because we’re being joined by the two actor-producers responsible for renovating this place.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” said Happy. “Passengers! Why are we going to put up with these civilians, exactly?”

  “Because they know the history of this theatre,” Melody said patiently. “And, they know all about the haunting. If it is a haunting and not a bunch of grown men jumping at shadows. I blame those Most Haunted shows on television.”

  Happy looked innocently at JC. “Do we really have to put up with this? You know they’re going to get in the way and make the job ten times harder.”

  “Yes, we do have to put up with them,” said JC. “The Boss said so. And you don’t say no to the Boss if you like having your organs on the inside. In fact, she was most insistent about making these actors a part of our investigation. Do try and keep them alive.”

  “You try,” Melody said immediately. “I am going to be busy trying to follow electromagnetic fluctuations and orgone spikes with an old barometer and a bent penny.”

  JC looked at Happy, who shrugged briefly. “She’s suffering from equipment withdrawal.”

  “Ah, to hell with this,” said JC. “I am not standing around here waiting for thespians to turn up. The traffic’s deafening, the air’s so polluted you could shake hands with it, and the rain’s coming on. Besides, I don’t wait for anyone. It’s bad for the reputation. I am going in. Tally ho, Ghost Finders!”

  He barged straight through the main doors and disappeared inside. Happy and Melody looked at each other and shrugged pretty much simultaneously. Happy held a door open, and Melody hauled her trolley full of equipment up the raised steps and into the theatre.

  * * *

  JC was already striding round and round the oversized lobby, head held high, looking at everything with keen interest. His ice-cream white suit seemed almost to glow in the gloom. JC lurched abruptly to a halt, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, looking and listening and sniffing the air, getting a feel for the place. The lobby was big enough to be impressive without being imposing, made to hold crowds waiting for the curtain to go up; but it was dim and dusty now, with more than its fair share of shadows. All the windows were boarded up.

  Melody hauled her trolley into the exact centre of the lobby, looked briefly around her, sniffed loudly when nothing immediately dangerous presented itself, and began assembling her various bits and pieces. Happy stood alone, some distance away from the others, looking cautiously about him. The lobby floor was bare, and so were the walls. Though there were a few large empty wooden frames, here and there, that had presumably once held bright and gaudy posters, advertising past triumphs and tragedies. The lobby looked…depersonalised, anonymous. As though all the glamour and character and history had been deliberately removed, long ago. Several doors led off from the lobby, going who knew where because all the signs and directions were gone. All the doors were very firmly closed.

  Everything seemed peaceful enough; but Happy wasn’t fooled. There was a definite air of…something. An atmosphere of something not easily named.

  JC moved quickly from one door to another, opening each one in turn and shouting a cheerful Hello! into the gloom beyond. But there was never any response. JC shut each door firmly, in turn, just in case. He finally came back to join Melody and Happy, rubbing his hands briskly together. Happy pointed out the Ticket Office, which had been boarded shut.

  “There’s something very sad about that,” he said. “A real sense that the party is over; everyone get your coats and go home.”

  “Softy,” said Melody, not unkindly, not even looking up from fitting her various bits of tech together and hitting them if they didn’t cooperate fast enough for her liking.

  “Is that really all you’re going to use?” JC said innocently because he liked to live dangerously.

  Melody slammed down a sciencey thing and glared at him. “This is deliberate!” she said fiercely. “It’s all part of downsizing; if they prove I can do the job with a minimum of equipment, then that’s all they’ll let me have.”

  “So what are you going to do?” said Happy. “Deliberately sabotage a mission to prove the accountants wrong?”

  “Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to me,” growled Melody.

  “I think I’ll go and hide somewhere safe until you’re in a better mood,” said Happy.

  “We’re not going to be here that long,” said Melody.

  While the two of them were preoccupied, JC spotted a door on the far wall that he would have sworn hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He moved slowly over to stand before it. He looked the door up and down, and it looked like all the other doors. He reached out very carefully, very cautiously, and tried the door handle. It turned easily under his hand, almost invitingly, and he pushed the door open. It swung weightlessly back before him, revealing a deep, dark gloom.

  “JC?” The voice came from deep inside the gloom; and he recognised it immediately.

  “Yes, Kim,” he said. “I’m here.”

  He stepped forward into the dark, and there was Kim, standing right before him. Glowing so brightly, she threw back the gloom. JC stood very still, careful not to do anything that might frighten her away. His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel his heart hammering painfully fast in his chest.

  “Kim?” he said. “Is it really you?”

  She smiled at him, her eyes shining. She was hovering a few inches above the floor, rising and falling slowly. She looked like she wanted to say something; but she didn’t.

  “What are you doing here, Kim?” said JC. “Am I in danger again? Are you? How did you get away…? Or, is someone still holding you?”

  She didn’t respond to any of his questions, but her gaze never wavered, fixed entirely on him.

  “Please…” said JC. “Tell me who’s got you, where you are, and I will come and get you! I will!”

  She smiled sadly at him. JC reached out to her, and she backed away from him, drifting slowly down the endless, dark corridor. JC started forward after her, only to slam face-first into the wall before him. The door was gone, with no trace left behind to show it had ever been there. JC beat at the wall with his fist, once, then tiredly leaned forward to rest his forehead against the cold, implacable surface. He took a deep breath, stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and turned away from the wall to find Melody and Happy both staring at him.

  “I saw Kim again,” he said.

  Happy and Melody looked quickly around the empty lobby, then back at JC, who shrugged briefly.

  “I’m not picking up anything,” Happy said carefully. “If a ghost had manifested here, even popped in for a moment, I’m sure I would have sensed it.”

  “Nothing on my instruments, either,” said Melody. “Are you sure you saw…something?”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” said JC. “It was Kim. I saw her. Spoke to her…”

  He turned away from what he saw in their faces, his back stiff and straight, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Happy moved over to stand with Melody at her instrument panels. Lights came and went on her monitor screens, signifying nothing.

  “She was there, at the railway station,” Happy said tentatively.

  “Was she?” Melody said quietly. “The image we saw looked like her, but it never said a word; and normally you can’t get a word in edge-ways with ghost girl. It’ll take more than a brief look-alike image to convince me. So I have to wonder if someone is playing mind-games. With us in general, and JC in particular. Showing him what he wants to see, to distract him from what’s really important.”

  “Oh great,” said Happy. “Fantastic. That’s all I need, something else to be paranoid about.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re not as paranoid as you used to be, sweetie,” said Melody. “There really are dangerous forces in the universe out to get you.”

  “Life was so much simpler when I was merely mentally ill and chemically deranged,” said Happy, gluml
y. “Now every case we go into feels like a trap.”

  “That’s situation normal where the Ghost Finders are concerned,” said Melody.

  “I want danger money,” said Happy.

  “We are getting danger money.”

  “I want more danger money.”

  “It’s nice to want things,” Molly said briskly. “I saw the sweetest French Maid outfit in an Anne Summer’s, the other day.”

  “I told you,” said Happy. “I’m not wearing it.”

  “You can be very unadventurous sometimes,” said Melody.

  They looked across at JC, on the far side of the lobby. His head was bowed, and he was frowning, lost in thought. He might have been a thousand miles away. Unreachable. Happy shrugged, uneasily.

  “Do we know where the homeless guy died?” he said. “Was it here? Because I’m not picking up anything to suggest a recent death, natural or otherwise. In fact, I’m not picking up anything. Just…dead air.”

  “Ho ho ho,” said Melody, concentrating on her instrument readouts. “Telepath humour. It’s all in the mind.”

  Happy scowled, moved away, and lowered his mental shields, slowly and methodically opening himself up to his surroundings. Nothing happened until he was completely open and defenceless; and then everything hit him at once. The lobby was suddenly packed full of people, men and women, from all times and fashions, milling back and forth, overlapping and passing through each other. Memories, ghosts, of all the people who’d ever been in the theatre lobby. A hundred thousand audiences, all of them talking at once, a terrible clamour of raised voices from out of the Past, filling Happy’s head to bursting. He clapped both hands to his ears, a practiced psychological trick to keep voices outside his head; but it didn’t help. There were too many of them, layer upon layer of people pressed upon people…Voices determined to be heard.

  And slowly, one by one, then in small groups, heads turned to look at him. Faces focused on him, becoming aware of his presence. They could see Happy because they weren’t memories, they were dead. Ghosts of people who’d died in the lobby, or the theatre, or returned there because it had special memories for them. They drifted slowly, implacably, towards Happy, passing inexorably through all the other presences in their way. Drawn to him like moths, to the bright light of his living soul. Happy looked about him desperately, but everywhere he looked there were more, coming right at him, their dead faces distorted by an awful, endless hunger.

  Happy slammed down all his shields at once, forcing his mental defences back into place, until every last bit of his telepathy was shut down and he was as blind to the world as everyone else. Until he couldn’t have seen a ghost even if it walked right up to him and glared into his face. Or, at least, he hoped so. He stood very still, breathing hard. He could feel cold sweat on his face. When he finally lowered his hands, they shook violently. Happy looked quickly around the lobby. JC was still wrapped up in himself, but Melody was looking at him steadily. She came out from behind her instruments, walked over to Happy, and put her arms around him. She held him close, while he hung on to her like a drowning man. She patted his back gently, giving him the warmth of her body to drive out the cold of the dead. Giving him her steady presence to anchor him in the world again.

  “Bad one?” she said, her voice carefully calm and neutral.

  “Bad enough,” he said, when he could find his voice. “My own fault. I should have known better than to lower my guard in a place bound to be soaked in people and memories. Still…”

  “Yes?” said Melody.

  Happy took his arms away from her, and she immediately let go of him and stepped back. Beyond a certain point, Happy didn’t like to be fussed over.

  “That…didn’t just happen,” said Happy. “That felt much more like an ambush. Which means we’re not alone here. Someone, or Something, targeted me.”

  Melody studied his face carefully. “You need some of your little chemical helpers, don’t you?”

  “No,” said Happy. “I’m stronger than that, now. I don’t need them. You showed me that.”

  “But you still want them,” said Melody.

  “Oh, God, yes, I want them,” said Happy. “Luckily, I want you more.”

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” said Melody. “I really wish it was true.”

  And then they looked round sharply, as the main doors slammed open and their theatrical guests arrived. A man and a woman, both well into their forties, both clearly fighting for every inch, both of them that little bit too deliberately glamorous. Because they felt it was expected of them. They stopped directly inside the doors, realised they had an audience, and immediately fell into flattering publicity poses without even realising they were doing it. There was a pause, as everyone looked at everyone else, then JC strode briskly forward to stand with Happy and Melody, to present a unified front in the face of civilian outsiders. The two actors looked the Ghost Finders over and gave no impression of being in any way impressed.

  “Are you the…experts?” said the woman, in a rich clear voice.

  JC gave them both his best professional smile. “We are, indeed, the experts. Allow me to introduce your team for tonight. I am JC Chance, ghost finder extraordinaire, exorcist without portfolio, and leader of the pack. Despite everything I can do to get out of it. The short sulky thing on my left is Happy Jack Palmer; team telepath, portable psychic, and general pain in the arse. Feel free to ignore him or throw things. We do. Finally, this sweet and very dangerous young lady is Melody Chambers, geek girl nerd technician and Take That fan. Don’t get too close, she bites. Do not be fooled by the way we look; we are in fact very experienced and very efficient.”

  “So…ghosts don’t scare you?” said the man, in a mellifluous, carrying voice.

  JC grinned. “Hell no…ghosts are scared of us.”

  “I’m not sure whether that makes me feel any safer, or not,” said the woman.

  “Lot of people say that,” said Happy.

  “Only because they know us,” said Melody.

  “I’m Benjamin Darke,” said the man, a bit grandly. “And this is my wife, Elizabeth de Fries.”

  They both stood a little taller, clearly expecting to be recognised. When it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, Benjamin announced their names again, a little louder and more distinctly, as though that might make a difference.

  “Oh come on!” said Elizabeth. “You must have heard of us! We’ve been jobbing actors for twenty years now! We’ve been in everything, both stage and screen!”

  “Exactly!” said Benjamin. “We’ve done everything, from soaps to period dramas, police procedurals to sitcoms! I was in a Doctor Who and she was in a Sherlock Holmes! Recently!”

  “Sorry,” said JC. “We’re usually out working, of an evening. Our business is with the dead, not the living.”

  Benjamin and Elizabeth looked at each other. Their shoulders slumped, and they stood more closely together, as though they could only depend on each other.

  Benjamin Darke was tall and stocky, with a certain physical presence. He dressed well, if not actually expensively, with a smart sweater and slacks under a navy blue blazer, and a white silk cravat at his throat. He carried himself with a certain youthful vigour, through sheer force of will, and long stage training showed in his every disciplined movement. He was still handsome, in a severe sort of way, though middle age had clearly got a grip on him. His receding hair was suspiciously jet-black. He smiled a lot, a bright, professional smile that probably fooled most people.

  Elizabeth de Fries was short and well-made, showing off her perfectly preserved figure in a carefully cut pale blue dress and very high heels. Up close she was clearly into her forties, but with the right makeup and camera lens, she could still knock ten years off that. She had a pleasantly pretty face under a mop of tight blonde curls, and sparkling blue eyes. She still had charm, as opposed to Benjamin’s practiced presence.

  And then Happy had to go and spoil it all by wa
lking right up to them and prodding them both hard in the chest with his forefinger. Benjamin’s eyes widened, and Elizabeth let out a brief squeak of surprise. Happy looked them both over carefully, nodded quickly, and went back to JC and Melody. The two actors looked at each other, then at JC and Melody for an explanation. They didn’t get one. JC tried hard to look solemn. Melody didn’t even try.

  “Just making sure,” said Happy. “After what happened with Roland Laurie…Still can’t believe I didn’t spot him…Don’t get fooled again, that’s my motto.”

  “He prodded me in the bosom!” Elizabeth said loudly. “And…he didn’t even say please!”

  “I did notice, darling,” said Benjamin.

  “Then don’t just stand there, darling, do something!”

  “Like what? Go over there and prod him back? I wouldn’t lower myself.”

  “You never did have any spine, darling,” said Elizabeth.

  And then they all jumped a little and looked around, as the main doors crashed open again as a bright-eyed girl in her late teens came striding in. She stopped, accepted everyone staring at her as her right, and smiled happily about her.

  “Hi!” she said cheerfully. “I’m Lissa Parr! It’s Melissa, actually, but everyone calls me Lissa. Sorry I’m a bit late.”

  Lissa was a tall, slender brunette, with flat, shoulder-length hair and a heavy dark fringe falling right down to her penciled-on eyebrows. She wore tight blue jeans, and an even tighter white T-shirt, the better to show off her marvellous figure. Happy took a step forward, then stopped when Melody glared at him.

  “Are you sure?” he said. “You might thank me, later.”

  “You go anywhere near her bosom, and I’ll tie your finger in a knot,” said Melody.

  The three actors took it in turns to kiss the air somewhere near each other’s cheeks, then stepped back to look each other over in a professional kind of way. None of them offered to kiss any of the Ghost Finders, which was probably just as well.

  Lissa was very pretty, perhaps despite rather than because of all the character in her face. Her lips were very red and very thin, but her constant smile looked real enough. Her eyes were dark and full of humour, with a hell of a lot of blue eye make-up. She still had as if by right what Elizabeth was fighting to hang on to. Which was probably why Elizabeth was the only one not mesmerised by her. The young actress stood happily in her favourite loose-limbed pose, basking in the attention she was still young enough to take for granted. It was clear she’d been taught to stand that way in public if there was even a chance of a photographer…drilled into her until it was second nature; but she still managed it unconsciously and unselfconsciously. She threw in the charm at no extra cost, without even realising she was doing it.