Grave Measures (The Grave Report, Book 2)

by R. R. Virdi

  “Thanks for that little add on, Captain Sunshine.”

  “This plan is still dependent on taking out the big dog. We don’t know which shadow that is,” I said.

  “Or how to find it. Plus, we’re not exactly spoiled for ways to take it out,” Ortiz added.

  I blinked as a notion occurred to me. These things were feeding on ghosts. They were stalking deceased patients. If we could find their ghosts, we’d find them. It wasn’t only that; it was how they fed on the ghosts. It was a transference of energy in a way. They absorbed the ghost’s life force, their essence, by essentially opening themselves up and ingesting them—in the metaphorical sense. It’s like how a starfish extends its stomach and envelops its prey. It wasn’t in the lore. It was more speculation than fact, but while they fed, their soft bellies were exposed, so to speak.

  I shared my theory with Ortiz.

  “How sure are you this will work?”

  I waggled my hand in an ambiguous gesture. “Fifty-fifty.”

  “Great odds.” Her voice was pure acid. “So we still have to find a way to kill it. It may be open, but I don’t think bare hands will do it.”

  “Worth a try though, ain’t it?”

  She nodded in agreement. “But doesn’t this rely on us finding the ghosts in the first place?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Ortiz looked at me like I was a madman. That’s when the realization hit me that I was trapped in a mental asylum. So maybe I was a madman. I laughed harder. “Ortiz,” I said, my tone on the edge of something near maniacal, “there’s someone I need to introduce you to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Where are we going?” Ortiz hissed.

  “Shut up.” I held my index finger to my lips.

  Ortiz glared at me, but I directed my gaze straight ahead.

  “We’re not supposed to be wandering around this late, Charles.”

  I ignored her, focusing on the door before us. I peered through the pane of glass and surveyed what I could. Everything seemed okay. Good. If these things were after ghosts, she could’ve been dragged into the mess. I wasn’t about to let that happen. A subtle chill filled my palm as I took hold of the metal doorknob. I gave it a twist. Frowning, I turned the knob again only to have it click in resistance.

  “This needs a woman’s touch. Move.” Ortiz slipped between the door and me. Digging into her hair, she removed several slivers of something that glinted in the night.

  “You hid pins in your hair?”

  Ortiz flashed a quick smile. “Never know when they might come in handy.”

  I enveloped one of her hands in a gentle grip, pulling it away from the door. She shot me a quizzical look.

  “I don’t think we should be breaking into her room. It’s late. She’s asleep and, like you said, some people are on edge. If we wake her up, well, it could get bad. I mean, imagine it. You’re there, conked out in Sleepyville, and two stalkers are standing over your bed watching you. Creepy, right?”

  Ortiz bobbed her head in agreement.

  “Last thing we want is to startle them and make ‘em scream. Might raise attention, might not. I’d rather not chance it.”

  Ortiz withdrew from the door. She slipped the pins back into her hair.

  I flashed her a smile. “But who knows, we might need the pins later. I hear voodoo’s handy.”

  My ribs panged as her elbow glanced off them. Grunting from the blow, I made a fist, rapping it against the door. Gently, I might add. It was night. I didn’t want to wake everybody up, just the person inside.

  We waited about a minute before a sleepy, soft voice answered. “Who’s there?”

  Grinning, I plastered my face against the glass pane. I didn’t know if she could see me. I hoped it would put her at ease. “It’s me,” I whispered back. That might have been one of the most ambiguous answers, but she was an astute person.

  “Oh, s’okay.” The knob clicked. It cracked open an instant later. Lizzie stood there, her eyes pasted shut. Big brown peepers fluttered open seconds later. They were a tad unfocused, but she smiled when she saw me. I stooped to a single knee, putting myself at eye level with her. “Not Charles,” she beamed, shaking off her sleepy state.

  My eyes went saucer-sized and I developed an arrhythmia. I whipped a shushing finger to my lips. “Shhh on the ‘not Charles’ thing. Please.”

  I don’t know how much of that Ortiz had heard, but I could feel her eyes beaming through my skull. She was always curious and aware, it seemed. I didn’t want my identity revealed by the young girl.

  Lizzie threw herself against my chest and embraced me in the sort of hug only a child can give. “S’okay,” she whispered in my ear. “Sshh.”

  I smiled weakly at Ortiz. “Kids say the darndest things, huh?” Her eyes narrowed. I could see an innumerable amount of thoughts processing behind them. I swallowed, hoping she didn’t hear what Lizzie had said.

  “Oh, hello,” Lizzie said when she noticed Ortiz.

  Ortiz’s narrowed-eyed gaze broke upon seeing Lizzie. The intensity fled her face and was replaced by a smile. “Hello,” Ortiz replied in warm and kind tone. She glanced at me out of the corners of her eyes, asking a silent question.

  Easing myself out of Lizzie’s hug, I made the introductions. “Right. Ortiz, Elizabeth—Elizabeth, Ortiz.” I gestured between the two. “Elizabeth sees ghosts,” I chirped. Lizzie smiled and nodded several times.

  I don’t think Ortiz expected to hear that. Her face lost all expression. Lizzie and I let her work through the not-so-little revelation.

  “She sees…ghosts?” Ortiz blinked several times.

  “Yeah, she does.”

  Lizzie nodded again in silence.

  “And you know this…how?”

  “She told me,” I answered.

  “And you believed her?”

  “Ortiz,” I began, “within the last day, you’ve seen black fog and icky tendrils attack me. You’ve told me about cold spots all over the place and, just now, we were attacked by a shadowy creature out of mythology. I deal with the paranormal all the time. Lizzie says she can see ghosts. I believe her. She has no reason to lie. She’s not getting anything out of it. Heck, she’s stuck in this place because of her gift.”

  Her teeth showed as her lips folded. She chewed on them. “So…Lizzie—Elizabeth—”

  “You can call me Lizzie.” She beamed. “You’re here to help him stop the monsters, right?” Ortiz smiled and bowed her head in agreement.

  “Yeah,” I chimed in, “she’s here to help. But right now, Lizzie, we need your help. We’re trying to stop the shadows. I don’t know if you know, but they’re hurting the ghosts. They’re—”

  Lizzie’s weight crashed into me as she threw herself against my chest. Her hug was tighter this time. Moisture tickled my neck and jaw. Her body shook and I noticed tears. “My sister,” she sobbed.

  Those words hit me hard. “Is she…” I didn’t want to finish my sentence. Lizzie had lost everyone, but her sister had stayed in touch as a ghost. I didn’t like the idea of her losing her sister as well. No kid should have to go through that.

  “No,” she sniffled, “but they took her.”

  I squeezed her for a brief moment. “It’s gonna be okay, huh?” I tried to reassure her. I was never good at that stuff. “Hey.” I took her by the shoulders, gripping them tight. “Look at me.” I tried to balance my tone between soft and strong. “We’re going to get her back, okay? Lizzie, look at me; I promise you.” I cast a glance toward Ortiz. Her jaw was set. “We promise you,” I amended. Ortiz nodded.

  Lizzie sniffed harder, looking up at me with those large, tear-filled eyes. She didn’t say anything. Lips quivering, she just stared at me, asking a silent question. I answered her by flashing a smile. There was no way in hell I was going to leave Lizzie’s sister at the mercy of those things. I may not have had a plan exactly, but Lizzie and Ortiz didn’t need to know that.

  My smile widened. “I’ve got a plan.” Lizzie sni
ffed, more lightly this time. Her trembling lips seemed to still a bit. I may have lied about the plan part, but not about my promise. I was going to get her sister back.

  But first things first. I scrunched the bottom of my shirt into a tight wad. Rising from my crouched position, I brought the wad to Lizzie’s face, dabbing her cheeks and eyes with it. “Better?” I eyed her.

  She sniffed again, but broke into a weak smile. It was still a smile though. I took it, glad to her see her tears gone.

  “So, Lizzie.” I gave her cheeks one last rub with my shirt. “You don’t know where they took your sister, but you can still…sense her?” I was unsure of what that entailed. I was hoping that whatever she felt could be used to help us track her sister down.

  It was a gamble and a bad one at that. This was starting to go beyond my expertise. I know about ghosts, but that’s far from being an expert on them. Heck, I knew people like Lizzie existed, but I had no idea they could be that in tune with a particular ghost.

  Seeing the ghosts of family members isn’t common, but it happens to those few who have the talent like Lizzie. Being able to sense them even when they’re not in sight...that was something new for me. I didn’t know the extent of Lizzie’s abilities either. If she was that tied to the ghostly world, these shadow freaks could come after her. She was essentially a ghost radar. It didn’t seem like they needed help finding prey, but what did I know? The possibility existed, and that caused a frozen lump to form in my stomach. I wasn’t fond of dragging a kid into this.

  I breathed in sync with a ten-count, planning my next move. “Okay, Lizzie, you’re going to have come with us, hmm?” She nodded. Ortiz grimaced, and I stretched a false smile across my face. “But you’re going to have to listen to everything I say, huh? If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s going to be dangerous. I want to help you get your sister back. Ortiz and I are going to get your sister back. Those shadow freaks aren’t going to stand by and let us do that. So I’m going to need you to stay by her side, okay?” I nodded toward Ortiz. Lizzie bobbed her head in silent understanding.

  “Good.”

  If anything happened, chances were it was going to happen to me. If not, I was going to make damn sure it would happen to me. I resolved not to let this girl get wrapped up any further in this mess.

  I would’ve made the same resolution for Ortiz, but I knew I couldn’t make that—or any other calls—for her. As much as it hurt to admit it, Ortiz was willingly involving herself and I couldn’t protect her if she didn’t want it. My best option was to entrust her with Lizzie’s care. It was dirty and underhanded. I knew Ortiz wouldn’t take any risks if she had to worry about Lizzie. Plus, no one could protect Lizzie better. If there were stupid risks that needed taking, I was the idiot for the job.

  I was about to speak when the frozen lump in my stomach moved through my entire body. My extremities lost functionality. I couldn’t touch my thumb to my pinky. My marrow and blood turned to jelly. My muscles quivered and Ortiz gripped herself tight. I could see Ortiz’s breath as she exhaled. It might’ve been spring in the world around us, but in the room, it was winter. I erupted into a spasmodic dance as something came over my body. It was like having syrup poured over you—thick, gelatinous, liquid nitrogen syrup. It wracked my bones and froze me to my core.

  The hell was that?

  The only person unperturbed by the declining temperature was young Lizzie. The last time I’d felt anything like this was six months ago in Manhattan. I was attacked by a Wraith. I wasn’t keen on reliving the experience, but something was off. If it was a Wraith, everyone would be feeling the side effects, even Lizzie. Not to mention I couldn’t think of a single reason why a Wraith would be here, or after me. Given where we were and what was involved, I realized what was going on.

  “Ghosts.” My breath condensed into white fog, dissipating as fast as it formed.The sole window in the room was adorned with crystalline shapes. Intricate flakes ran across it. It was eerily beautiful. I’ve seen water freeze in the presence of paranormal beings before—heck—even ghosts, but never like that. My previous encounters with ghosts were always with troubled ones—lost, aching, and lashing out. When they entered a room, everything froze over and did so violently. Horrendous cracks formed in glass that then shattered. It’s not pretty.

  “You shouldn’t stand in the way of others,” Lizzie murmured, breaking me away from my thoughts. I gave her a quizzical, lost look. “She had to walk right through you,” Lizzie explained without really explaining.

  I put it together after a second’s thought. A ghost had just walked through me. I shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “Uh, Lizzie? What’s going on?” My lips trembled. Ortiz’s expression mirrored my confusion.

  “They want to help,” Lizzie said as if everything was obvious. It wasn’t.

  “Who? What?”

  “The ghosts. My friends. They’re going to help. They’re going to look after us.” She seemed comforted by the notion. Comforting wasn’t the right feeling or word when you’re surrounded by ghosts.

  “Oh.” There’s not much you can say when you’ve been told ghosts, plural, want to help. At that point I was content to shut up and nod.

  “Charles…” Ortiz said, more like a question than anything. “What’s going on?” Her hands rubbed against her bare arms.

  “Um, I think the asylum’s ghosts are going to help us—well, Lizzie,” I said, uncertain of whether that was wholly true.

  Lizzie nodded agreement and smiled. “Us.”

  That settled it. We now had a group of ghosts on our side. There’s no right way to feel about that. On the one hand, I had a group of ghosts at my back. On the other, I had a group of ghosts at my back. Double-edged sword if I’ve ever seen one. I’ve never gotten along with ghosts. If they were there for Lizzie—fine. I couldn’t guarantee what would happen when we were done. That bit worried me.

  I think the same train of thought crossed Ortiz’s mind. She muttered, “Ghosts,” like a curse.

  It may well have been a curse, but it was one I planned to use to our advantage. Regardless of their temperaments, situations, and stability, or lack thereof, these ghosts knew the asylum. That knowledge was invaluable. My mind may have been focused on rescuing Lizzie’s sister and dealing with the shadowy beings, but there was still another nasty hiding in the asylum. Maybe—and it was a big maybe—the ghosts would have some information about it.

  “I don’t suppose”—Ortiz’s teeth chattered—“that the ghosts could help us without the icebox treatment?”

  “I feel fine,” Lizzie stated, not quite understanding our discomfort. But then she wouldn’t.

  I couldn’t figure out the reason, but whatever it was, Lizzie seemed immune to the chilling effects the ghosts were having on us. A notion occurred to me. She was either immune to their effects, or they were sheltering her from the adverse parts of their presence.

  That was interesting. I’d never seen behavior like that from ghosts. Lizzie was becoming all the more intriguing. The manner in which she interacted with the ghosts and they her—I couldn’t believe it.

  Ortiz sneezed, jarring me from my thoughts.

  “Sorry,” mumbled Lizzie, her tone apologetic and ethereal all at once. “Sharon says they can’t do anything about the cold.”

  “Sharon?” It clicked a second later. Right. Ghosts. Ortiz came to the same conclusion.

  “How does, uh, Sharon know we’d like her to turn it up a little?” Ortiz aimed the question at Lizzie and me.

  I piped up. “Even though we can’t see them or hear them, Ortiz, they can hear us.” Lizzie motioned in agreement. “They’re occupying the same space as us in a way. That’s why we’re feeling the side effects of them being here.”

  Ortiz frowned. “Speaking of occupying the same space... How many are there, Charles, Lizzie?”

  I shrugged and left it to Lizzie. “Six.”
r />   The temperature hadn’t dropped but it felt colder. Six ghosts. I’ve had bad times dealing with one really pissed-off ghost. I was praying they liked Lizzie enough to hold back any angst that might have built up since their deaths.

  “How come only you can see them, Lizzie?” Ortiz eyed her as she rubbed her arms.

  Lizzie shrugged, leaving it to me. “There are many ways a person can see a ghost or ghosts. More often than not, it’s because you’re related to them or close. In her case, it seems she was born with the gift. She could probably see each and every ghost in the asylum. Before you ask, the reason we can’t see them is that they don’t want us to. That’s it. If you don’t have Lizzie’s talent, the only way you can see a ghost is if they want you to. Trust me when I say that it’s no good thing if they want you to. That happens when they’re epically ticked off at you.”

  Ortiz breathed out. A plume of fog left her mouth. “So, it’s a good thing they’re not showing themselves right now? They’re not mad?”

  “As good as a group of invisible ghosts surrounding you can be, I guess. Sure.” I gave her a halfhearted shrug.

  “They’re mad,” Lizzie chimed. Not a reassuring thing to hear. “But not at you two. They’re mad at the shadow monsters for taking the other ghosts.” A hint of a growl edged its way into her voice.

  That rocked me. The entire time I had known her, short as it may have been, Lizzie didn’t seem to get angry. She spoke much like Church—slow, soft. Seeing the little girl growl was all I needed to know that this was serious for everyone involved, corporeal or otherwise.

  A sound like dry twigs breaking filled the room as I cracked my neck from side to side. My joints protested the cold. “’Kay, Lizzie, I know you said you can feel your sister, but do the asylum ghosts know anything that might help?”

  She paused for a minute. Her features stilled and she listened with intent to a voice only she could hear. Lizzie’s lips folded. A second later, her eyes. “Yup, they know where they took her! They know where all of them are.”