Her hair had stopped writhing, too.
For a second or two I stayed there on all fours, panting. I struggled to my feet while traffic hissed past on either side of us, with drivers and passengers oblivious to the battle going on in the shadowed woods in the middle of the road.
Rani was in full Company of the Righteous ghost-hunting superhero mode. She was screened, partly surrounded by trees, but the Rogues had spread. Some were working their way through the trees – really, through the trees – to try to take her from the rear – but Rani was making it hard. She moved like a whirlwind, and her sword was never still, shearing and chopping and slashing like a high-quality kitchen machine. German, probably. Maybe Swiss.
The Rogues weren’t taking a backward step, or a backward drift, either. They lacked her single-minded deadliness though. They tangled with each other in their rabid fury – Stacey Evans’s portable-ghost magic had crammed dozens into that water bottle. A heap of Rogue parts grew in front of Rani’s feet as she methodically dissected them, but they kept coming and coming and coming.
Rogues know no fear except the stuff they generate themselves.
Desperately, I took a few steps, then had to prop myself against a tree for a second to gather my breath again. I turned my stagger into a charge, hoping that the ground was free of anything that could trip me.
So I wasn’t the sort of reinforcement Rani would have preferred. I wasn’t a paladin, or a robot mercenary, or a Jedi Knight, but there was no way I was going to stand around while she fought the good fight and was buried underneath a wave of Rogues. I could do something. If I timed it right I could plunge my hands into the back of the nearest and dissipate it. Maybe two before they realised I was there. Then, while they turned on me, it’d give Rani a breather, maybe.
Sometimes when you don’t know what to do, you just do something.
I ended up charging a Rogue at the rear of the pack. I got a numb shoulder out of it, all icy deadness, but it made the Rogue twist around in time to meet my hands plunging at its chest. It was the quickest easing I’d ever done. Wrench, extract, next.
Dizzy and having trouble staying upright, I was getting ready to have a go at the next Rogue when it was my turn to get shouldered aside. I reeled, bounced off a tree, and grabbed at it, panting.
Stacey Evans stumbled past me and plunged into the mass of Rogues.
In the middle of the roiling translucent mob, Stacey wasn’t wild-eyed anymore. Her hair was flat and still. She was pale and haggard, and huge dark rings were under her eyes.
She saw me and she gave the saddest smile I’ve ever seen, full of loss and pain and longing. She mouthed, ‘I’m so sorry.’ Then, before any of the Rogues could react, she flung her arms wide and opened her mouth.
She inhaled the Rogues.
In one long moment that went on and on, Stacey Evans drew in all the Rogues that were attacking Rani. I couldn’t feel anything, but the Rogues were caught in a hurricane. It tore at their substance, shredding them as they resisted, ripping at their ghostly clothes and their ghostly substance. They howled and gibbered, but their ghastly noise became the terror they tried to create. As a mass they were drawn towards the woman who had lost her family, and one by one they disappeared into her mouth.
The last Rogue struggled and dug in, clawing at the air, but it was finally ripped from its intangible hold and whirled away.
Stacey staggered as if struck, then clamped her mouth shut. She put a hand to the side of her face and swayed a little. Her eyes found mine. This time, she said it aloud: ‘I’m so sorry.’
Then she collapsed.
Rani was there first. Her sword was sheathed when she dropped to her knees. ‘She’s dead.’
CHAPTER 26
Rani and I had just reached the car when the first of a fleet of 4WDs pulled up. They were all black with darkly tinted windows and when Emil Sabry slid out of the lead car I groaned. After that serious ghostly encounter, what I wanted was a doughnut van and a massage chair, not a gang of brain-sucking nasties.
Sabry waited until he was surrounded by his flunkies and then strolled over. They had no weapons visible, but I had no doubt that if things got serious, they’d pull all sorts of mayhem-making machinery from their boxers.
Sabry eyed me, then Rani before he took in Stacey Evans’s body.
‘So, I’m too late for her.’ He shrugged. ‘You two are small consolation but you’ll have to do.’
‘I’m no one’s consolation,’ I growled. ‘I’ll be a shortfall, a make-up, a supplement, but a consolation? Never.’
Sabry looked at me as if I was a rotting fish. ‘Has anyone told you how tiresome you are, boy?’
‘Maybe,’ I allowed. ‘Has anyone told you that attaching diminutives like “boy” to other people is a sign of having a small penis?’
He flapped a weary hand at his flunkies. ‘Take them.’
Rani’s sword appeared as we backed away. For what it’s worth, my fists were up too, but then Rani peered at the highway. ‘No traffic,’ she muttered to me. ‘Get ready to run.’
‘What? Put on shorts and singlet?’
She didn’t get a chance to answer. A trio of helicopters swooped in from the east, up and over the slight rise on the far side of the highway, skimming the trees in the median, then banking enough to allow the foremost to blow up one of the Malefactors’ black 4WDs.
Orange and red lit up the night. Smoke erupted. The second 4WD blew up and then, one after the other, the rest followed. Rani and I ran for the trees. Sabry and his gang did too, but we had a head start – and we knew the territory a little better than they did thanks to our previous scoping out of the terrain.
We ducked and dived through the bush and whenever I came across a handy stone I pelted it at Sabry and his bully boys, which made them angry enough to pull out pistols, so it wasn’t one of my brighter ideas.
They’d only fired a couple of shots when one of the helicopters roared in and hovered above us, spotlighting the area. A loudhailer bellowed. ‘Sabry! Call off your troops!’
I crawled out from the rock we were hiding behind.
‘Hi, Commander Gatehouse,’ I called as I waved. ‘Timing!’
Commander Gatehouse climbed down from her helicopter, which had landed next to the line of burned-out Malefactor 4WDs. She was wearing a duster, Firefly style, and a khakicoloured scarf. Her boots looked so tough she could have stood in lava while humming a tune.
Sabry strode forward with his flunkies. ‘This is our business. You need to leave, Gatehouse.’
We circled around the Malefactors and drew close to Commander Gatehouse. She inspected us, but addressed Sabry. ‘That’s a brave statement from someone who is in as bad a position as you lot are.’
‘Oh, Gatehouse, don’t be like that. You won’t do anything to us, not with what I know.’
Gatehouse snarled. It was good; a real bared-teeth, deep-seated growl. ‘Don’t tempt me. What you know dies with you.’
‘Hardly. I’ve made arrangements.’ Sabry gazed at the empty highway. ‘I should have noticed that you blocked off traffic.’
‘Not for long. The civilians will be getting impatient.’
‘Then we’d better sort this out quickly.’
Gatehouse jerked a thumb at us. ‘You’re not taking them, anyway, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Not at all. In fact, we were just passing when we saw these fine young people and wondered if they were stranded.’
‘You were going to offer them a lift.’
‘Of sorts, yes. Sadly, our transport is in no condition for that now.’
I couldn’t stand it. ‘Enough. Please, before I lose the will to live.’
Sabry sniffed. Commander Gatehouse wrinkled her brow. ‘Anton?’
‘Don’t banter, you two,’ I said. ‘Just don’t. You’ve both got tin ears for it.’
‘Tin what?’ Sabry said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Rani put in. ‘How did you get here?’
/> ‘The same way he did, I expect,’ Gatehouse said, glancing at Sabry. ‘We were monitoring Stacey Evans’s Facebook page.’
Sabry sniffed again. ‘I have people to do that sort of thing for me.’
‘I warned you,’ I said to him. ‘One more and I’ll report you to the Banter Police.’
He gave me the rotting-fish look again, then glanced at his wrist. ‘Oh, is that the time? We must be off. It’s a long walk back to town.’
‘You’re not wearing a watch,’ I pointed out. ‘Hey, aren’t you two worried about this sort of confrontation in public? What will the punters think?’
‘Standard cover exists for these eventualities,’ Rani said.
‘Film crew,’ Gatehouse said. ‘Location scouting.’
‘Mining company,’ Sabry said. ‘Geologic survey.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘You’ve done this sort of thing before.’
Gatehouse stood aside and let Sabry go. She stared at his back. ‘For longer than I like to remember.’
CHAPTER 27
There’s this Indian restaurant in Fairfield, near the railway line and the giant-sized wooden dog. Even though it’s out of the way, Dad and I have been going there for ages, ever since it opened as a tiny little takeaway. Now it’s all settled and established, and going back there is like visiting an old friend. Not too many surprises, but guaranteed good times. Chicken Tikka Jalfrezy, mmm.
It has a private room.
Since Rani had called this meeting, she was there first. When Dad, Bec and I arrived we all made a pact: no discussion about the topic of the night until after we’d eaten. So we chatted. Dad was pretty bouncy as he’d just had a letter (a letter!) from Judith saying she’d be home in a couple of weeks. Rani and Bec tried to organise Dad into a board games night by promising that they’d teach him Codenames. I asked Bec if she knew what the tip on the end of a shoelace was, and when she admitted she didn’t I informed her that it was an aglet, which she agreed was pretty cool. And then we had to explain to Rani about the offbeat knowledge challenge.
I put my hand on my heart. ‘“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance”. Oscar Wilde.’
‘No it wasn’t,’ Rani and Bec said together.
‘Might have been Confucius,’ I admitted.
‘Pulp Fiction tomorrow,’ Rani reminded me. ‘With Bec. We’ll enlighten you.’
‘And show you how to dance like Travolta,’ Bec said. ‘It’ll be cool.’
Commander Gatehouse rolled up. She was looking reasonably civilian. I think it was the Doc Martens instead of knee-high boots. ‘And who is this?’ she asked, pointing at Bec.
I stood. ‘Ahem. Commander Gatehouse, this is Rebecca Kellar, a vital member of our team. Bec, this is Commander Diane Gatehouse of the Company of the Righteous. She forgets her manners sometimes.’
‘Your flippancy will catch up with you one day, Anton,’ Gatehouse said to me.
‘Not if I catch up with it first,’ I said. No, it didn’t make sense, but it was quick.
She rewarded me with a puzzled but gruff look. I think the gruff was a default, so I counted the puzzlement as a win.
‘There’s a place for you at the head of the table,’ I said, stating the obvious. It was the only vacant seat.
‘Rani, Leon,’ she said after she sat. ‘I’m sorry, Ms Kellar, for my rudeness. I was taken aback, that’s all.’
‘Bec is my friend,’ Rani said. ‘And she’s here because she can bring something to this discussion.’
Gatehouse smiled a little. ‘I had a feeling your invitation was to more than a dinner.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Commander Gatehouse,’ Bec said. Best-behaviour Bec. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Gatehouse glanced at Dad, who hadn’t said anything. He was sitting there in his best jacket – a nice brown houndstooth that I would borrow sometimes if it wasn’t too small for me – with his arms crossed. His expression was meant to be neutral, I think, but mostly he looked mildly seasick.
‘And I’ve read a lot about you too, Commander Gatehouse,’ Bec said.
‘The Marin family archives,’ Dad explained. ‘You feature in some of the more recent records.’
‘Nothing intimate, I hope,’ Gatehouse said.
Dad smiled a little. ‘That’s in my personal journal.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ I said to Rani and Bec. ‘I didn’t even know Dad kept a personal journal, let alone read it.’
Gatehouse grunted. ‘But this meeting isn’t about me. Tell me, Rani, what is it about?’
‘It’s about me and my future.’ Rani waved to one of the hovering waiters. ‘But the first item on the agenda is eating. Let’s order.’
After sorting out preferences, Dad and I did most of the ordering because we knew what was best in this place. Bec chimed in since she’d been here with us plenty of times before. While we waited for the food, the conversation moved to the cosplay event coming up.
Gatehouse had never heard of cosplay. Rani and Bec were happy to remedy this information deficit.
While they were battering Gatehouse with their enthusiasm, I thought about Rani.
We’d spent a lot of time together. We’d had ups and downs. She’d saved my life, effectively, a couple of times and I’d done what I could to help her quest of investigating ghost-hunting alternatives. I liked her but it was muddled because I didn’t know what she thought about me.
Sad, isn’t it, to be reduced to such a tired old cliché? I had an inkling, though, that sometimes clichés are clichés because they reflect a common experience, which is pretty profound, if I say so myself.
But it left me no wiser.
Best shot I had was to aim at being a better Anton. To listen more than I talk. To be honest. To treat other people as people, not just sounding boards for my own cleverness. If I did that, and things worked out well between us, that’d be solid.
Or something.
In the week since our showdown with Stacey Evans and the Malefactors, Rani, Bec, Dad and I had been trying to document everything that had happened. It opened up all sorts of avenues for further research, which made Bec, in particular, excited.
They spent hours examining Dad’s cache of arms, too, and much delight came out of that, I can tell you. Rani even started giving Bec swording lessons, at which I thought my oldest friend was going to explode with happiness.
In between, I cornered Bec and asked her to look up some extra info for me. When she came back with the answers, I spent an afternoon crossing town to find Grender’s mum.
She hadn’t heard, and I had to break it to her. She was stony-faced, at first, and swore a lot, saying she hadn’t seen him for two years and he never contacted her anyway. And then she cried. A lot.
I made her tea and I talked to her. By that, I mean I listened. She talked about when Grender was little, and the more she spoke the less like a greasy weasel he seemed. In her stories, he was just a kid and did kid stuff. Then he grew up. She thought she’d lost him, years ago, and now she had.
After a couple of hours, she pushed me to the door and said she never wanted to see my face again. Then, just before she closed it, she wanted to know if I’d visit her sometime.
I said I would.
After the samosas, the pakhoras, the kebabs and the chicken tikka entrées, Gatehouse’s eyes were going a little glassy at the intricacies of the anime and manga characters Bec and Rani were describing for her. After our mains – curries and dahls of all sorts with lots of naan (of course) – Gatehouse was ready to surrender under a barrage of details about the strengths and weaknesses of various conventions, and warm thoughts about the inclusive and sharing nature of the cosplay crowd.
Gatehouse was made of tough stuff, though. She hunkered down over her gulab jamun and asked questions about gender representation and commercial interests.
Dad and I stayed out of it and ate delicious Indian desserts, until Gatehouse waved a sticky spoon at Dad. ‘And do you approve of this, Leon
?’
‘What’s not to approve? Cosplay is good-natured, harmless fun.’
‘That implies you’ve been to one of these events.’
‘I’ve been to a few.’
I stared. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘There’s a great deal you don’t know, Anton. Probably more than you do know.’
I knuckled my forehead. ‘Why am I thinking that the last few weeks have been purposely designed to teach me this?’
‘The universe, Anton,’ Gatehouse said, ‘isn’t here to teach you things. It is available for you to learn from, though.’
‘Bec, can I get that on a T-shirt, please?’
‘Not a problem.’
Gatehouse dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. It was a dainty gesture for such a blunt person, but who’s to say that military leaders involved in a centuries-long war against spectral entities can’t have high standards of dinner etiquette?
Rani was watching her mentor carefully. She pinged a spoon against her glass of water. ‘I think it’s time to move to the main item on tonight’s agenda: my future.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want to stay here and continue ghost hunting.’
I wanted to cheer, but instead I settled for a special, inner hurrah.
Gatehouse gave a little flicking gesture with her finger. ‘You’re looking for resistance from me?’
‘You did order me to undergo re-training.’
‘Hrmph. The events of the last few weeks have demonstrated that you belong to this world.’ She scratched her ear. ‘The paper you presented on this new Rogue behaviour has been well received, too.’
‘Ma’am?’ Rani said cautiously.
‘All things considered, though, the Company is important to the safety of the world, but it is a hidebound organisation, mostly looking backward to the past rather than forward.’
‘I’m more than aware of that,’ Rani said. ‘I hope to change it.’
‘That’s my hope too,’ Gatehouse said.
‘You want to change the Company?’
Gap Year in Ghost Town Page 24