by Alexie Aaron
“Can other bilocaters see you?” Dash asked.
“Oh yes. There are quite a few OOBers - that’s what Mia calls it; it stands for out of body. Where was I? Oh yes, there are quite a few of them in Chicago.”
“How do you get into the theater?”
“As long as there isn’t iron or ghost deterrents, you simply move through the doors or windows. Brick and stone are harder, but it can be done. Ira can explain the science of it. He’s told me that’s going to be his aim when he goes to school. He is going to explain mathematically how it is possible.”
“Can anyone do it?”
“I don’t know. I think you can be taught, but you may have to have the right genetics. Ask Mia or Ira.”
“I most certainly will,” Dash said.
Burt walked in and over to Ted and whispered in his ear. Ted nodded and positioned the large monitor so all of the people inside the trailer could see it.
“I’d like everyone’s attention please. I have a message we received a few moments ago,” Burt prefaced and nodded to Ted.
The video on the monitor was amateurish, but the message was loud and clear.
“Hello, PEEPs. I’d like to introduce you to Luke Angelo Stavros,” Orion said, holding up a pink and precious baby. “He arrived most expectantly as we were packing to come home to Big Bear Lake. Judy is with Audrey, and she is doing well. We’ll be home as soon as it’s safe for Audrey and Luke to travel,” Orion said. “Oh, and the McCarthy’s are on their way here, thanks to Gerald. Raise a glass to Luke when you can. Bye!”
The room was jubilant. It didn’t matter that Barb, Nietzsche, and Dash didn’t know the Stavros couple; they were caught up in the celebration.
Mia leaned over to Mike and whispered, “I’m sure Audrey was livid. She wanted to come home a month ago.”
“Babies come when they come. Speaking of, how is Brian doing?”
“He seems happy enough. He’s learning how to get along with his older cousins. Brian is a match for Eric mentally, but physically, he’s just a tot.”
“When his body catches up, he’ll be a handful.”
“He’s a handful now. Brian has a good heart and can be reasoned with. As long as you don’t lie to him, he will listen to why he should behave a certain way, which is a relief. Today, he named this little one.”
“Really?”
“Yes, under this layer of fat lies Varden Reginhard Charles Martin.”
“Yikes!”
“He better be a big kid, because he is so going to be bullied with a name like that.”
“You know that you don’t have to let the kid name his brother.”
“Ted said he could. I’ll not go back on it. At least he didn’t name him after his new obsession or the poor babe would be called Lego.”
“Let’s start with Barb’s report, so she and Nietzsche can get back to work,” Burt announced.
Barb smiled. “As you have seen, we’ve unearthed proof that we have a pre Chicago Fire building in that lot. Samples of the paint from the sign have been sent for analysis, but I expect it to confirm our findings. I noticed a big orange circle on the dirt this morning.”
“That was me,” Mia confessed. “I got intel that the chimney of the bar is under there.”
Nietzsche wrote the information down.
“We plan on continuing the excavation on the front of the building. My team is proceeding slowly, to not cause the bar to fall further into what we have determined to be a large empty pocket in the limestone. The surrounding neighborhood seems to be stabilized by two or three granite shelves. Why the break here? We won’t know until the geologists have a better look. I’m holding them back. I don’t want them to accidently drill into my bar. My goal is to raise the building, keeping as much of the structure complete as possible. There is a spot for it near the History Museum if we are successful. You own the lot, Mr. Renee. You’ll get the tax write off and credit for the donation.”
Murphy smirked. His mother must be spinning in her grave to think that McNally’s bar would be on display for all to see. She’d say it was shameful. He watched as Barb finished her presentation. He held the door open for her and Nietzsche as they left with a pizza box for their crew.
“Okay, time to go over your reports, team,” Burt said. “Mia, you go first.”
“Murphy and I had the opportunity to speak with the three spirits that had exited McNally’s: Roy, Grady and Fergus. Roy remembers the floor of the bar vibrating earlier in the day before the event. When he returned from collecting rents, the place was full of drinkers. The other two remember drinking and then nothing. Grady was the first to leave. Roy saw him and started to chase him, to collect on a debt Grady owed him. Fergus followed Roy. Fergus later remembered that he exited out of the chimney. That’s how I knew where it was. He showed me. All three ghosts can smell. This is very unusual and worth noting. They say when the Dark Watcher is around, they smell rotten eggs and burnt toast. Could be sulfur. I could be wrong, but I’d bet my last pair of cargos, the Dark Watcher isn’t a demon. But I do have to note, he does carry the scent of death.”
“Any questions on Mia’s report?” Burt asked. “Okay, next, Sabine and Ira were asked to OOB and approach the Dark Watcher. Whose…”
Ira raised his hand and stood up. “Sabine spotted the mass, and we approached it. We asked it questions.” Ira took out his notes to refer to them. “It said, ‘Everyone is gone. One moment everyone was having such a good time, celebrating, and now they are all gone.’ I asked it to clarify. ‘Dead, destroyed, all gone.’ Sabine asked who it was. It answered, ‘I am all, and I am none.’ I asked how we could help it. It answered, ‘Look forward.’”
“Look forward or looking forward?” Ted asked.
“Look forward,” Ira insisted.
“Sounds like it came out of the bar,” Mike said, quoting, “One moment everyone was having such a good time…”
“Perhaps,” Mia said. “Tell me, how did you two feel when you were talking to it?”
“I was sad,” Sabine said.
“Despair rolled off of it. Intense grief,” Ira said.
“I felt the same,” Mia said.
“So it was a patron of McNally’s,” Burt said.
“Maybe,” Sabine answered.
“No,” Mia said. “I think it came from The Eight-eight.”
“But it’s in the pit,” Mike insisted.
“The Dark Watcher is there because it’s a black entity hiding and using the shadows for cover,” Mia answered.
“Ira?” Burt asked.
“It’s not a ghost,” Ira said.
“I agree,” Mia said quickly.
“I also agree,” Sabine said and elaborated, “The three American Irishmen are powerful ghosts initially fueled by McNally’s, but now they seem to be recharging inside The Eighty-eight. This Dark Watcher may have originated in Dash’s bar. It could be an elemental, but it has no characteristics of these kinds of natural entities.”
“Was it ever human?” Cid asked.
“It said, ‘I am all and I am none,’” Mia repeated. “I think it’s a dark emotion that has taken form.”
“How can that happen?” Ted asked.
“When a place experiences horrible trauma, the grief lingers. As a sensitive, I see it as a white mist.”
“I have touched the mist before,” Sabine said. “She’s right. It’s white.”
“But this is black, solid, and I just don’t believe it came from McNally’s,” Mia said firmly.
“So you’re saying that we have two events side by side?” Burt asked.
“Yes. But they didn’t happen at the same time,” Mia maintained.
“But they have arrived at the same time,” Mike said. “I think you’re wrong.”
“Fair enough. I know there is a lot of coincidence. Could it be, one caused the other to happen? Energy attracts energy,” Mia said.
“There could be a lot of energy here in this area,” Sabine said. “I can feel it i
n the middle of the piano bar. Perhaps it’s a busted ley line?”
Mia didn’t disagree, but she didn’t agree either. She felt it was best to stay quiet, and by doing so, maybe one of the others would offer another theory.
Ted spoke up, “I think there are three things happening here.”
“Three?” Mike challenged.
“A living human attacked Burt,” Ted said, holding up one finger. He lifted the next one. “Energy oozing out of The Eighty-eight that seems to attract ghosties. And three, the accidental unearthing of McNally’s.”
“Damn,” Mike started. “It would be easier if we could blame it all on…”
“The Orish,” Mason finished and glared at Mike.
“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” Mike said quickly.
“Gentlemen,” Burt warned. “Okay, I think our immediate focus is The Eighty-eight. Barb has McNally’s in hand. Murphy, I would like you to shadow her crew making sure they aren’t interfered with.”
“Dash, could you call the detective in charge of your vandalism case? Maybe ask them if they have any leads…”
“Sure. Should I mention your attack?”
“They are going to want to know why you didn’t report it,” Mason warned.
“Don’t mention it,” Burt said.
“Okay, Mia, before I forget, Ralph and Bernard are going to be here at eight. They request that you take a break and join them,” Dash told Mia.
Mia looked uncomfortable.
“She’ll be there,” Burt said quickly. “Properly attired.”
“Can I leave, or do you have something else you need me to do?” Dash asked.
Burt looked around the table to make sure. “I think we’re good.”
“Tonight is Gershwin night. Martinis are two for one,” Dash said before leaving the trailer.
“That explains Ralph and Bernard,” Mia said.
“It’s hell when your parents show up at work, isn’t it?” Mason teased Mia.
“In my case, it means wearing the green dress again,” Mia grouched.
“You can’t wear the same dress to a place twice in one week.” Sabine offered, “I’ll call Tauni Cerise and have her bring something of mine for you.”
“You’re taller and way slimmer than me,” Mia noted.
“Don’t worry, one of the outfits I have in mind will work,” Sabine said confidently.
“Thank you, I would appreciate it,” Mia said. Inside she was fuming. She was so sick and tired of people dressing her.
Burt waited a moment and spoke, “Team, we have such an unusual situation going on here. We have an unknown, unclassified entity needing our help. Ghosts to wrangle. If that bar has more of these folks in it, we will have quite a problem on our hands. By this Fergus’s account, there could be over a dozen of them. Hard-working, confused men hitting the neighborhood and, most likely, the bar.”
“I have an idea how to draw them away,” Mia said. “Ted, see if Jake can locate a local dealer of Himalayan salt lamps.”
Ted started typing.
“How are these lamps going to help?” Cid asked. “The sellers have fraudulent claims of the lamps emitting negative ions.”
“Maybe so, but if they are truly blocks of salt from the Khewra salt mine, they will, when warmed, attract ghosts. We may be able to keep the ghosts in the pit until we can cross them over,” Mia told the team.
“Where did you get this idea from?” Burt asked.
“Remember Edward Jones?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Go on,” Burt encouraged.
“Seems like he, or an associate of his, may have ghost-napped Edwin Gifford using a block of Himalayan salt in a box. It’s ingenious. I don’t know of anyone else having built one of these before. Not many people know of Pakistan’s Punjab mines where they mine the salt, and, more importantly, that spirits are attracted to them. We will need a few of them. Hopefully, they will lure the ghosts from the attraction of the energy that is in The Eighty-eight.”
“I’ve located a dealer,” Ted informed them. “It’s not too far from here. I’ll go and test the salt before buying the lamps.”
“I’d like to go with you,” Ira said. “That is, if no one needs me?”
Burt looked around and no one objected. “Go. Cid, take the com with Mason. Mia you’re back at Dash’s. Mike, you and Sabine… I’d like to film you on the archaeology site if Barb will let us. Murphy, first of all, I recognize how all this may and has impacted you. I would like to stress how proud we fellow PEEPs are to have you on our team. I think sometimes when we are throwing around terms, like ghosties for example, we don’t think that, unintentionally, we may be disrespecting you. For this I am sorry and will try on a personal level to understand that you are classified as a ghost. I personally forget sometimes that you’re not alive. You are a valuable part of this team and a wonderful friend to everyone here.”
“Here here,” Mike said.
Murphy was taken aback by the attention and pushed his hat back on his head. He saw on each of the living in the room the look of appreciation and respect. “Thank you. It doesn’t bother me when you talk about ghosties or entities. I know what you mean. Now dumb farmer…” he said, shaking his finger at Mia, “is another matter.”
Mia laughed.
“Time I went back into the excavation. Barb is rather clumsy,” he said and disappeared.
“Thank you, Burt,” Mia said, her eyes shining.
“It needed to be said. We are a label-driven society. Sometimes, because of science, we need to assign a particular name. But when we are dealing with emotional entities, we need to watch ourselves. Or we could end up making enemies of those who would normally be our allies.”
Sabine nodded. “I’m learning so much from PEEPs. Thank you for having me.”
“So, I’m confused,” Mason started. “Can I call Stephen a ghostie or not?”
“I think he would prefer to be called Murphy,” Mia said. “He’s not just a ghost. He’s evolved into a natural entity.”
“An elemental?” Sabine asked.
“No. Ted, can you help me out?” Mia asked.
Ted scratched his head. “Cid?”
“I think if we need to slap a label on him, ‘spirit’ would be the best. Because there are spirits in all living things. Murphy is an independent spirit of the forest, blessed by Mother Nature and fueled by her domain.” Cid finished and looked around. “How’s that?”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of cool for a dumb farmer,” Mia said.
Mason laughed. Everyone else considered the source and tried not to smile.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Sabine left the trailer and was starting down the steps when her heel got caught by a nail head. She pitched forward and braced herself for the impact of the ground.
It never came. She opened her eyes to find herself in the strong arms of a man with a familiar face and twinkling eyes.
“Thank you,” Sabine said as the man set her booted, high-heeled feet on the ground.
“Listen, Stilts, I’m used to women falling for me, but you could get yourself hurt,” Patrick Callen said.
Mason and Mia walked out of the door.
Mason groaned.
“It’s hell when your parent shows up at work, isn’t it,” Mia said, elbowing him.
“What are you doing here?” Mason asked.
“You left me a message. The answer is best not blabbed over the phone lines if you get my drift, boyo.”
Mason nodded.
Mia looked at Sabine who seemed star-struck by Patrick. “Sabine Norwood, this is Mason’s elder brother and protector, Patrick Callen. Patrick, Sabine is my cousin and mother of three little girls.”
“That’s a lot of information, girly-girl. But I hear your warning,” Patrick said before taking Sabine’s hand in his and gently shaking it.
“He caught me. I fell off the steps,” Sabine clumsily explained.
“She caught her heel.” Patrick reached up and point
ed out the raised nail. “Here. Get me a hammer, Mason. Can’t have Bun in the Oven falling next.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Mason, wait.” Mia took off her boot and hit the nail with her heel and drove it into the wood. She put her boot back on and walked down the steps past the Callens. “Bun in the Oven can take care of herself,” Mia said over her shoulder.
Patrick whistled. “God love her, she’s really something.” He turned to Sabine, “So the two of you are cousins.”
“Not genetically, although we’re both sensitives.”
“Sabine is filling in for Mia who can’t be working full time,” Mason said, feeling like the third wheel. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted I’ll be in the PEEPs truck when you’re ready to speak to me,” Mason said before trotting over to get to the truck to help Mia up.
“Your brother is a gentleman,and a very capable technician,” Sabine said.
“But not much in the manners department. You see, our parents died, and the eejit only had me, and I’m a rough gemstone.”
“He was fortunate to have you there for him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Tell me, is there a Mister Norwood?”
“He died. He was sick for most of his life, and not even magic could keep him alive any longer.”
“That’s sad for you and your little ones,” Patrick said.
“I have a nurse/nanny who helps me 24/7,” Sabine told him.
Patrick filed all this information away. “Are you dating anyone?”
“Oh no.”
“Would you consider having a meal with me?”
Sabine who would normally say no, didn’t. “I’d like that, Patrick. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Stephen Murphy?”
“It’s because we’re related. His father’s mother was a Callen, or so says my brother. We Callens have chiseled chins, twinkling eyes, and grit.”
“And are charming,” Sabine giggled.
“Most ladies are put off by me, Sabine. Mia would call me a scoundrel.”
“No, she called you a hooligan,” Sabine said.
“She did?” Patrick probed. “What else did she say?”
“That you sacrificed your young-adulthood to raise your brother the best you could.”