Unholy Ghosts

by Stacia Kane

That was when she realized no one was fighting. They’d stopped. They’d stopped, and they were staring at the sky as planes droned and swooped overhead, so many it seemed the sky was made of them. They were looking up.

  It had worked. The ghosts had come.

  Ducking her head, she weaved through the men and dumped the last of the melidia out of the Baggie when she reached the edge of the crowd. It lit with a hiss. She squeezed the wound on her pinky, dripping blood on the pile, and dropped the amulet into it.

  Flesh smacked against flesh behind her. Her head turned instinctively and she saw Terrible again, his teeth bared in pain and rage, his hands closed around the thief’s lone solid hand hovering above her head.

  The thief disappeared.

  White lights turned the runway into an alien landscape, colorless and bizarre, as the first plane dove in for a landing. Men scattered, resuming their fighting in twos and threes.

  “Ereshdiran, I command you to return. Return to your place of silence, return to your place of hiding, return to the place where you hold no power. I command this by fire, I command it by smoke. Return!”

  Another plane, and another. Spectral men emerged, climbing from the open holes as the propellers slowed.

  Ereshdiran reappeared, at her side. He’d lost the knife when he disappeared, but his teeth looked solid enough, as well as both of his hands.

  Chess steeled herself and grabbed them, like dipping her hands into dry ice. She reached for the power in the ground, reached for the dead pilots, and drew them in.

  She screamed. Her stomach twisted and lurched in her belly, her legs went weak. She just had to hold him until the amulet melted, just long enough … she drove power into the fire, heating it, forcing it to burn so bright she had to close her eyes.

  He disappeared again, leaving her gripping nothing, with energy surging through her body like a speeding car.

  The fire. She held her hands over it as close as she could bear, anticipating his next move.

  She was wrong. A Lamaru leapt for it, his face twisted toward her so she could see the thief staring at her from his eyes. Possession; a clever move, but a bad one. He’d forgotten humans could be hurt, that they died.

  Terrible’s knife flashed. Blood spattered over her hair and face. The witch fell, still scrabbling at his throat with clawed hands. The thief emerged from his body like the moon rising over the trees.

  The witch’s blood hit her fire, building it with more of Ereshdiran’s own power. The thief wavered, trying to disappear. His ugly, bulging eyes shifted to the right, watching, as the ghosts advanced on him.

  Another plane landed. Another, practically on top of one another, the precision in their movements as breathtaking as it was terrifying. Still the sky was full, still the amulet burned at her feet. It hissed and popped as the copper melted.

  “I compel you!” Chess squeezed her finger, shook it and her arm. Blood flew from her wounds into the air, ran down her hand to the ground. She lifted it, pointed her dripping finger at Ereshdiran, and shoved as much energy as she could pull from the ground into her next words, so much her throat burned and her eyes watered. “I summoned you and you are compelled! By blood and power you will obey me! Ereshdiran tama longram!”

  For one heart-stopping minute the ghosts didn’t move, and her stomach flew into her throat. If she’d been wrong about Ereshdiran’s origins, or if she’d brought them here but wasn’t able to control them, they were all dead. Had she used enough power?

  Ghosts brushed past her, through her, stalking Ereshdiran. His mouth opened, a smudgy hole in his face as they crowded around him, closing in, closing ranks.

  Terrible’s breath caught. Chess dragged her gaze away just long enough to see him, his head thrown back, for once ignoring everything around him. His fingers closed around hers. “Look,” he said quietly. “Look at them.”

  The planes cut patterns through the air. They shot straight up into the sky then dove back down. And every minute it seemed more of them appeared, more and more, different planes, newer-looking ones, older ones.

  Movements across the field. Bumps’ men, victorious, dragging bodies across the gritty landscape. Where was Bump? She hadn’t seen him since the ritual started. He’d probably gone back to his car, waited and watched, let the others do the work. What else could anyone expect?

  Her legs weakened suddenly, like someone had smacked her in the backs of the knees. Before she could straighten she felt them, felt people waking in their beds all over the city with their hearts pounding, already forgetting the details of their nightmares but glad to be awake and alive.

  The fire went out. Chess looked down and saw only a river of gleaming copper, already cooling into a twisted shape in the grass. She held her hand over it, opened up. Nothing. Clean. The copper was empty … and so was she. No more thief lurking inside. Nothing but her own self, and the overwhelming power of the earth and the ghosts. She closed her eyes, held on to it for a minute. Feeling good. Feeling alive, and actually glad to be so. Then, regretfully, letting it go. That power wasn’t hers. She released it, let it seep down through her body to ripple out from her feet.

  A pale, shriveled hand thrust itself into the air between ghosts, Ereshdiran’s hand, closing into a desperate fist before shrinking back on itself and disappearing. Chess shivered, and suddenly she couldn’t stop shivering. Balancing on her own was impossible; she leaned against Terrible, clutching at his shirt, and realized he was shaking, too. The ground was shaking, rolling beneath their feet like it was trying to give birth.

  Too late, she realized her mistake. She’d taken earth energy and combined it with her own, used it to call and power the ghosts; now she’d returned that ghost-tinged energy to the ground, and it was reacting to the unnatural mix. Violently.

  As the world started to spin around her, as she half-ran, half let Terrible drag her toward the fence and the parking lot, she saw the planes were disappearing one by one from the sky, from the runways. It was like a meteor shower overhead, lights zooming through the darkness and popping off. She hadn’t Banished them, hadn’t had a chance … hadn’t needed to.

  She stumbled. Her ankle screamed but she ignored it, her legs aching and her breath coming in gasps. Bump’s men caught up, passed them.

  The dilapidated wooden building collapsed. Water surged from the well beside it, a geyser of sewage. Chess ran harder. They weren’t far now, the fence was just ahead—

  Cracks formed in the mud, snaking in front of her, to the sides. Blackness oozed around the edges of her vision. She couldn’t keep up this pace. Rocks flew through the air, chunks of concrete, sharp bits of gravel that stung everywhere they hit.

  The fence ripped, poles falling apart. The rusted links bounced and dissolved under her feet as they ran across it and got in the car. Terrible started the engine and threw it into reverse, slamming the gas, sending a shower of gravel out from under the big, broad tires. The last thing Chess saw as they drove away was an enormous slab of concrete from the runway, standing vertical, sinking like a wrecked ship back into the earth.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  “So the sun rose on the eighth morning, and the people saw the spirits had gone. They might have thanked God, but they knew the Truth. So instead they thanked the Church.”

  —The Book of Truth, Origins, Article 1000

  Terrible lit two cigarettes and handed her one, keeping his eyes on the road. She didn’t think she’d ever had one that tasted better.

  It was over, the whole thing was over. No more Ereshdiran, no more Mortons, no more danger. She could go home, once she’d bought a new mattress. She could go back to working on her own job and not Bump’s.

  “So,” she said, grabbing the baby wipes out of her bag and scrubbing her exposed skin with it. “So that was fun.”

  “Ain’t a usual kind of night, leastaways.”

  “What’s going to happen to them? The ones Bump caught, I mean.”

  He glanced at her. Right. She probably didn’t
want to know the answer to that one. She could probably guess anyway.

  “I guess Bump’s not going to be able to use the airport after all, huh.”

  “Look like not.” He shrugged. “Bump always got other plans. You ain’t need to worry. You did what he asked, aye?”

  There was that damn twinge of guilt again. No, it hadn’t been her fault that the airport collapsed on itself. But she’d called the ghosts. She’d done it to save her life, to defeat Ereshdiran, but she’d called them, and she’d done it without caring what happened to the airport.

  It wasn’t the thought of Bump making her feel guilty. He’d used her, jacked up her debt with some bullshit about interest and used it to force her into an investigation she didn’t want to be part of. Hell, if she hadn’t been out to Chester and found that amulet, chances were none of this would have happened. She could have asked the Elders for help to Banish the Dreamthief from the Mortons’ place. Brain would be alive. Randy might be alive.

  Randy had slit his own throat, that was true. Getting involved with the Lamaru, calling or allowing them to call such an entity … She shook her head. Foolishness, but foolishness she could almost understand. That need to belong was so strong in people, it seemed. So strong she fought against it every day. So strong that even when she thought she’d beaten it for good it popped back up.

  Randy had never been strong like that, and he’d been taken. Even then it might have been okay if it weren’t for her blood, for Ereshdiran hooking into her soul like a poisonous barb and using her power combined with Slipknot’s to overcome his captors. So she had been a contributing cause in that one … at Bump’s order.

  Just like Bump’s orders had led Brain to her, had allowed Randy to hear from blabbermouth Doyle about Brain showing up at her place, so Randy and the Lamaru could make that connection and know they’d been seen. At least she assumed that was how it happened; it wasn’t like anyone was around she could ask except Doyle, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t be too eager to talk to her.

  No, she didn’t feel guilty about Bump not being able to use Chester Airport. She felt guilty because she’d lied. To Terrible. He trusted her, and she’d betrayed that trust. Several times.

  It wasn’t anything she could apologize for or explain. It just was.

  “Hey, how’d you make that happen, anyroad? You bring them ghosts? How’d you make em go after him like that?”

  Her spirits lifted a bit. At least somebody cared about what she’d done. “He was part of them. Made from them, after they went crazy and burned down the airport—sleep deprivation, remember? They splintered, or something. So I set them free to take him back, and they did, and since I used his energy and earth energy to call them, once he was gone and I gave the energy back they had to go.”

  He nodded. “Awful smart, aye.”

  For a second irritation pricked the back of her neck. Wasn’t he going to express some sort of amazement? Was “awful smart” really all she was going to get?

  But then she realized, with an odd, blushing sort of warmth, that it had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be able to solve the problem. That while she’d been flailing around in the dirt, scared shitless that she was about to kill them all, he’d had complete faith in her ability to save them. Just as she’d never really doubted he could protect her from the Lamaru.

  Wasn’t that an uncomfortable thought.

  “What you gonna tell them up the Church? About what’s-his-name back there, the one got himself dead?”

  She thought about it for a second, glad to have something to distract her, even for a moment. “The truth, or as much of it as I can. The Mortons were my case. He was involved in it. I’ll have to say I only found out about the connection tonight, and that’s why I didn’t call them, but … they don’t really need to know about the rest of it.”

  “So you all roses with them, aye? Done a good job and all.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” It didn’t feel much like it, though. It felt like she’d done something wrong, like there was a brand-new stain on her soul. She turned toward the window and caught her own reflection, her eyes wide and dark under her bangs.

  “You cool? Ain’t talking much.”

  “Yeah, I’m just … I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to using the airport again.”

  He tilted his head, glancing at her with an amused look. “You joke, aye? Saw something way better than some single-engine puddlejumper in that sky this night, Chess. Ain’t trade that for nothing. Worth it all the way up. Like I said, there’s other places. Bump always got some plans. Like you, aye? Got some plans for now? I mean, now?”

  “N—yeah, actually. I do. I’m supposed to meet someone. I mean, I said I would, after I was done. He—they’re waiting for me.”

  Pause. Barely a pause, but she noticed it. “See? Already on to the next move. Chess. Where I drop you?”

  The tunnel where Lex waited wasn’t far, down the street from a convenience store. She told Terrible to leave her there, and they pulled up outside much more quickly than she’d thought.

  What was she supposed to say? She looked over at him, his face filthy, swollen and bruised from the fighting and stained with neon red from the lights outside. It had been … good, to work with him. To spend time with him. Like having a real friend for the first time in her life. But how was she supposed to say something like that without sounding like an idiot? What did you say to people, when you actually wanted them around?

  “Here.” She tugged out a fresh baby wipe. “You’re all covered in yuck.”

  He didn’t move a muscle while she ran the damp cloth over his face. She had to use her left hand to do it, while her right braced his chin. His skin warmed her fingers.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did. She used a new wipe for them, sliding it over his skin until she realized she’d been doing it for too long and stopped.

  The wipe crumpled in her fist. “Okay, well, I’ll see you, right?”

  “Aye, you know, I’m always around.”

  “No, I mean …” Shit! What did people say? “I mean, you could call me, if you want. Just to hang out or something, you know?”

  His gaze flicked over her face, searching for something. Whether or not he found it she didn’t know, but he nodded. “Aye. Sure, Chess. I give you a ring up.”

  There had to be more to say, but whatever it was she couldn’t think of it. And Lex was waiting. So she held out her hand. He shook it, careful not to touch her burned palm.

  She got out of the car, and watched him drive away until the throaty rumble of the Chevelle blended into the sounds of the city.

  “So you lived after all, tulip. Getting worried, me. Heard all hell broke loose up there.”

  “You didn’t stay to watch?”

  The smile spread across his face, slow and smooth as he took her hand, lifted her bag off her shoulder, and slung it over his own. Damn. She did like him, didn’t she. How did that happen? “I watched some.”

  “Good show?”

  “Not bad, not bad at all. You looking like a straight warrior with all them markings and shit on you.”

  “You watched for a while, if you saw that.”

  “Some watch TV, aye. Some go for live entertainment.”

  “So you like to watch, Lex. I never would have guessed.”

  He laughed. “Just keeping an eye on my investments, me. No more airport, aye?”

  “No. But … that wasn’t why I did it.”

  He shrugged. “Ain’t the intent, it’s the outcome that matters. And I’m thinking this outcome ain’t a bad one, aye? Even if you looking banged up?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Aw, nay. All done, tulip. Let’s not us bother with it anymore. Let’s us get back to my place, you show me where it hurts. Sound good?”

  Her grin was genuine in spite of herself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds pretty good.”

  She let him take her hand and lead her through the tunnel.

 
Elder Griffin placed his hand on her arm, watching the other Debunkers file out of the room. To call that morning’s meeting “subdued” would be like calling Downside “dirty.”

  “Cesaria,” he said, his blue eyes dark. “I needs must speak to you for a moment.”

  Shit. Her heart sank. They’d caught her out, she didn’t know how, maybe Doyle had said something or—had she slipped up somewhere? She’d studied her notes so hard, she thought she’d kept her story straight, but maybe …

  “Sit down.” He pulled a chair out for her. She sank into it, half expecting steel clasps to come out from beneath the arms and lock her in.

  He sat beside her. “Are you certain you feel all right? Watching your friend die like that, even though ’twas his doing …” He shook his head. “I am here if you would like to talk about it, my dear.”

  “Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” Relief flooded through her, almost as sweet as the cozy warmth of her pills. She was safe. They hadn’t caught her, she was safe.

  “I’m very proud of you. You know, the Grand Elder never considered the Lamaru to be much of a threat. The idea that they actually managed to turn one of our own, to infiltrate us, is quite disturbing.”

  She didn’t really know what to say. Should she agree? Disagree? What? So she simply nodded.

  “We have of course sent the Enforcers out to look for them. Searching through some of Randy’s effects …” He shook his head, touched her arm again lightly.

  “I apologize. I know ’tisn’t a pleasant subject. But we believe we may have found some things that will help lead us to the Lamaru, perhaps even eradicate them—we’ve already found their agent at the Bankhead Spa, and she is being questioned. And we’d like you to do a report specifically giving us everything you learned about their organization. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be on your guard until we’ve eliminated them. Far more dangerous than we imagined, Cesaria. I would hate to see you endangered.”

  She shook her head. As if she ever let her guard down.

  “Perhaps you would be interested in moving back? There are several available cottages on grounds. You would be safer.”