Ghost guard, p.2
Ghost Guard, page 2
“Ooo, Baby…” Marvin Gaye’s soft, seductive voice crooned over the speakers. “I just get this feelin’…”
The wind tossed Rev’s golden brown hair, along with the lapels of his tailored suit jacket. He took it off, allowing the gale to tug at his shirt and reveal a pair of smooth, chiseled pectorals.
“Oh, my!” no longer did she feel the need to shield herself from this man’s undeniable charm. Richard didn’t care about her. That much became plainly obvious the moment he’d made his career the main focus of his life.
“Somethin’ tells me, baby, Oooo…”
“Oh, Dianne,” he whispered. “Alone. Isolated. You feel like nobody cares about you,” he took her hand in his, stroking it ever so gently. It made her melt even further. “You need love, Dianne,” he leaned in. “Love…”
The music increased in volume as Rev closed the distance between them. Nothing mattered now. She wanted desperately for him to kiss her. He hesitated with the most delicious look on his face, almost as if he was contemplating devouring her whole. She loved the thought of him studying her, following her shape with his ravenous eyes.
Then their lips met.
In a flash of dazzling sparks, all candles became ten times brighter. Marvin Gaye’s bluesy vocals sent her into a daze of sensual fulfillment.
“Whoo, Let’s get it on…ah, babe. Let’s get it on…”
Rev’s cool flesh caused a flush of tingles from head to toe. A river of bubbles tickling her insides. His rapturous touch felt unlike any earthly pleasure she’d ever known. She wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed it, but words wouldn’t do. Staring in his gaze, she broke from his lips and released a tiny whimper.
Then the moment was gone with a CRASH!
The doors flew open. Dianne cringed when she saw Richard, chest heaving, bowtie askew, eyes fixed on his wife and the man on top of her.
“Dianne! What the hell!”
“Richard! Let me explain!” Dianne said as Rev backed away.
“You don’t need to explain a thing,” Richard ran to a large armoire in the corner. He flung open the cabinet and crouched, pressing several buttons on a hidden digital keypad. “I know exactly what’s going on. The séance. The invisible dance partner. You have a ghost in here!”
“A what? A ghost? That’s crazy!” Dianne coiled in bed, shoving herself against the headboard and yanking the comforter to her chin. What she saw made her skin go cold. Rev’s legs disappeared. Then the rest of his body dissolved, leaving the faintest hint of a human outline.
“Yes! A ghost!” Richard opened a shiny black case after the keypad beeped. “And I’m gonna send him to where he belongs!” he stood and turned, brandishing a gaudy silver weapon.
“The ghost gun!” she screamed. “No! Don’t hurt him!”
“I can’t hurt him, Dianne. He’s already dead!” Richard positioned the unwieldy contraption on his shoulder and peered into the view screen. “Ha! Gotcha!” the gun let loose a thick, brilliant ribbon of white light, twisting and turning in midair. The blinding beam, surrounded in a reddish outer glow, searched for a target, and the carpet ruffled as if heavy footsteps were crossing the floor. The shot missed, bouncing harmlessly off the hardwood.
“Forsythe! That gun has to go!” Rev moved with uncanny speed and agility, soaring toward Richard in a blur.
Richard fired again, this time with more accuracy. Rev had to strain to get out of the way. He didn’t make it. The crackling, electric bolt clipped his side and he cried out. As his ethereal body dissolved in and out of view, he held the area above his right hip, glaring at Richard, who stood firm, pointing his space-age weapon.
“I hit you!” Richard roared.
“You just grazed me,” Rev boasted.
“How’s it feel, sucker?”
“Not half as bad as you’re going to feel if you don’t hand that thing over.”
“I don’t think so, ghost! Your time is up on the earthly plane! You don’t belong here! You need to cross over, and my gun will make that happen!”
Aaaaaiiiieeeee!
Both doors crashed open and a small, reddish blob raced in, bouncing off walls, the floor, the ceiling. Then it flew toward Richard and he held his gun with one hand while shooing the pest away with the other. Dianne recognized the entity—Ruby, the spirit Madam Dominika had conjured earlier. The thing had Richard’s full attention, darting about his head and shoulders, looping between his legs, dashing at his arms, and clutching the ghost gun.
Richard separated his gun from Ruby’s grasp, then retreated two steps. He leaned against the bedpost and hit the trigger. Ruby screeched, threw up the stubs that passed for her arms, and zipped out of sight, straight through a wall. Richard aimed at the spot where she’d disappeared, but something stopped him. A tempest, deep gray and angry, appeared with a tremendous Smash!
The whole house shook. The chandelier clacked and clinked. The armoire next to Richard tumbled over on top of him. He didn’t have time to react other than drop the gun and throw up his hands. Behind the wardrobe, he saw what had brought it down. A large, stormy shadow shot down and scooped up the ghost gun. Dianne made out the features of this new apparition, and realized it was Brutus, another one of Dominika’s spirits. Dark. Mysterious. Enigmatic. He looked human, at least more human than Ruby, but didn’t have many features other than two reddish gashes for eyes.
Then, to Dianne’s and Richard’s amazement, Dominika showed up, sprinting with the surprising agility of an athlete. She stared at Richard as he squirmed under the upturned wardrobe. He groaned and craned his neck to watch her. Then he groaned again and let his head fall to the floor.
“Rev!” Dominika searched the room. “Rev, where are you? Are you all right?”
A faint figure appeared sitting in a chaise lounge. He only managed a rough shape. Then the details began to fill in as Rev spoke.
“I’m fine. Just help Brutus with the gun.”
Dianne’s breath stopped at what Dominika did next. The old woman reached to her forehead and peeled the flesh right off her face. It looked so surreal, so out of place. Then again, after the evening Dianne had, anything was possible.
“Oh, my God!” she screamed as Dominika completed her do-it-yourself face-lift. Rubbery fake skin hung from her chin, shriveled and dried. Empty eye sockets stared in different directions. The transformation revealed a young woman, no older than twenty-five, and quite beautiful. She ripped the silver wig off her head to unveil her own, dark hair, bouncing over her shoulders. After shedding the clever disguise, she took the ghost gun from Brutus.
“Thanks!” she opened a side panel on the stock and started yanking out wires.
“No! Stop!” Richard could do nothing but beg. “Don’t destroy it! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
“Shut up!” the girl kept working. “We know exactly what we’re doing!” she looked up. “Rev!”
“Abby!” Rev materialized to full strength, though he moved with a languid reluctance. Not at all quick and decisive like Ruby and Brutus. He glided to the toppled armoire, bending so he could get a close look at Richard.
“Okay, Forsythe. The backups. We know you have them on your computer. Where is it?”
“I won’t tell you!”
“Oh, Ruby?” Rev sang.
The amorphous being peeked in from the hallway. She squeaked and squealed meekly, unwilling to come in.
“It’s okay, Ruby,” Abby tried to assure her. “Don’t worry. The gun can’t hurt you, look.”
She displayed Richard’s invention, or what was left of it. Bent and broken, a tangle of circuitry erupting from the open access panel. Richard banged his forehead on the floor.
“NO!”
“Ruby,” Rev continued. “There’s a computer somewhere in this room. It’s concealed from sight,” he pointed to the different corners and crevices created by built-in dressers and shelves. “Find it!”
Ruby’s eyes opened wider than should have been possible. She twirled and squealed in delight, and, with a Whish! of her legs, swished about the room twice, inspecting every inch, every nook and cranny, even the dusty, cob-webbed corners where the cleaning lady’s Swiffer couldn’t reach.
Richard sobbed louder, but Ruby’s delighted squeals dominated. She darted to the large cabinets, floating from shelf to shelf, studying the books and statuettes and vases and the TV. Then she selected a novel entitled Spirit War, and the bookcase split down the middle, one half sliding left, the other to the right. Behind that was the vault, as Richard called it, a small work area with a desk and a Power Mac.
Ruby flew into the vault cautiously, Rev and Abby following her. With a delighted whistle, she twirled, holding her short, stubby arms close to her chest, and then vanished into the computer tower. Everything lit up—lights on the face, the sides, the keyboard. The screen flashed and popped. Sparks flew from the electrical connections, sizzling past the backup power unit to the wall outlet.
Rev stepped from the vault brimming with satisfaction. Dianne clung to him. He held her head up.
“Dianne, my sweet,” he said. Abby rolled her eyes. “You’ve done a great thing this evening. The entire spirit community owes you a monumental debt of gratitude. How can I ever repay you?”
“You can take me with you.”
“Hey!” Richard crawled from under the wardrobe and made a move at Rev. Brutus swirled in his way, seizing him in mid-stride and wrapping up his arms with a ghostly straightjacket.
“Okay. If you’re all finished, let’s go,” Abby gathered her things.
“No! Don’t go!” Dianne took Rev’s hand. “Don’t leave. Not yet!”
He looked her in the eyes. The emeralds sparkled, capturing her yet one more time. She loved the feeling of falling, and never wanted it to end.
“I mean it. Take me with you,” she stumbled when Rev’s lower body once again dematerialized. He floated out of her reach. “Take me with you!”
“I’m sorry, Dianne,” Rev lifted up, up—passing through the ceiling. His last act was to blow her a kiss.
Abby just shook her head.
“What a crock,” she hurried past Dianne, making her exit. “Okay, Brutus. You can let him go.”
Brutus didn’t obey immediately. His form shifted and changed, reflecting different lights from different angles, a scribbling charcoal pencil jittering and shaking in dark, uneven lines. Richard, head-on with the supernatural beast, was awe-stricken.
“Make another one of those guns and I’ll be back for you. And next time I won’t be so friendly.”
Brutus let him go, and Richard back-stepped to a chair then sat, holding his neck. After the immense and formidable ghost dissolved into thin air, the last thing Dianne saw of the strange intruders was a sleek, black and silver 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom burning rubber out of the driveway. She got a good look at the license plate: Ghst Grd.
TWO
“YOU THINK YOU’RE PRETTY CUTE, don’t you?” Abby kept her eyes on the road. She didn’t like it when Rev drove. Made her nervous as hell, considering his track record. Literally.
“I don’t know what you mean,” in the driver’s seat, Rev kept his spectral visage cool and emotionless. His semi-transparent hands were relaxed and loose on the wheel. “Just doing my job.”
“Your job? You call that your job? We had one mission and one mission only. That was to find and eliminate the ghost gun, not seduce the hostess.”
“Hey, you do it your way, I’ll do it mine.”
“Your way seems to keep getting us in trouble. If it wasn’t for Brutus and me saving your sorry butt, we never would’ve completed the mission. Once again we have to come to your rescue.”
“Speaking of,” Rev peered in the back. Ruby hung in an ethereal mist over the bench seat, listening intently. But no Brutus. “Where is the big fella, anyway?”
On cue, the hulking apparition formed into existence, seated in his rightful place beside Ruby. He looked like he always did—storm clouds constantly on the move, shifting and rolling in perpetual motion.
“Good to have you with us, Brutus,” Rev said, then returned his attention to his driving. He waved a translucent hand in front of the dash, and the custom sound system came alight, Frank Sinatra’s husky baritone crooning poignantly:
I'll be loving you Always
With a love that's true Always
Rev sang along with the radio:
“When the things you've planned
Need a helping hand
I will understand Always.”
Abby blinked twice, then hit the Off button on the stereo unit.
“Hey!” he protested. “I like that song,” he glanced at her affectionately. “It could be our song, you know?”
“Don’t you change the subject,” she ignored the come-on. “You nearly screwed up the whole operation with your little Romeo routine. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, either. You know how physical contact affects you guys. And don’t get me started on how draining sex is for you. Rev, you should’ve seen yourself. You were exhausted. There for a while, all you were doing was getting in the way!”
“I recovered, didn’t I?” Rev looked straight out the windshield, his image becoming more visible in the dark. “Face it, Abby. The operation was floundering. I got our foot in the door. I uncovered the location of the gun.”
“Yeah, because that asshole was trying to shoot you with it.”
“That’s beside the point. The point is, my methods work. No matter how much you hate them, they work. That’s why I do it. You think I like seducing women all the time?”
“Actually, yes.”
He looked at her, but only for a moment. Then he refocused on the street ahead.
“Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong. It’s just a tactic. A tool in my toolbox. And it happens to work quite well.”
“Oh, does it?” she raised her eyebrow.
“Are you trying to embarrass me?” he said. “One of these days you’re gonna learn that you can’t embarrass a ghost.”
“And one of these days you’re gonna learn to appreciate me a little more,” she glared out the windshield, alarmed at the reckless way Rev changed lanes. “Slow down!” she clicked on the seatbelt. “Why are you driving, anyway? Who signed off on this?”
“Relax. You’re in good hands. If you don’t recall, I was a Grand Prix driver in my time. A damn swell one too.”
“Oh, yeah?” she snickered. Ruby giggled along with her. “And just how did you die, Rev?”
He gritted his teeth. He hated when she went there.
“Rev? How did you die again?”
“Okay, I was in a wreck. But it wasn’t my fault!”
“Uh huh,” Abby shook her head and held on tight.
“I’m serious. My damn Fiat had a weak back-axle shaft. I knew I should’ve driven an Aston Martin!”
“Whatever allows you to live with yourself,” she eyed him sideways. “Or die with yourself.”
They sped north on Interstate Five in the Phantom, a marvel of modern technology fused with old-world charm designed by their master engineer, Morris Crafton. Rev loved that car. Had one just like it during his living years. But he had to admit, this one was better. The old flathead straight six had been replaced by an all-electric power plant, the suspension had been upgraded, and the dash was a tech geeks dream.
He took I-405 to Linton, a riverside berg ruled by giant oil containers and a massive grid of railroad tracks. In the moon shadow of St. Johns Bridge, they veered for a lonely, moss-grown, and boarded three-story brick building—the old Gasworks. Gothic style, and, though showing years of neglect, it still presented hints of grandeur from its once vaunted past. As the Phantom approached, it stopped inches from the fence. With a clang and a clatter, the shiny metal came to life, two sections sliding apart. They drove through as the sections came back together. When the Phantom got close to the crumbling brownstone, a boarded region slid open and they descended into a concealed parking area.
“I THOUGHT YOU GUYS weren’t going to make it,” once the Phantom came to a stop, Morris pulled open the suicide door and pointed his static magnetic energy field indicator—a device that measures the vital signs of ghosts—inside the car. “Ruby? How are you feeling? Are your—” he noticed she was hiding something behind her back. “Ruby, what do you have?”
“What?” Abby shot out her hand. “Ruby, give it to me.”
Ruby flashed a sheepish grin, then shook her head, refusing to cough up her prize.
“Have you been taking things again, Ruby?”
Ruby pretended not to hear them.
“Ruby!” Abby shouted, and Ruby flinched, offering up the mysterious item.
“What is it?” Rev said.
“It’s a flash drive,” answered Abby. “From Forsythe!”
“Ruby, I thought we had a talk about this,” Morris chastised the playful prankster. “You were supposed to stop taking things from people, remember?”
Ruby tried to snatch the tiny item, but Abby tossed it to Morris. Dejected, Ruby circled the basement, a place that looked more like a dungeon than a one-time storeroom. The building predated the time when Portland was even a city, serving as a central hub for the gas company in the northern neighborhoods. Ruby loved the basement, with its dark recesses, its cracking, moldering plaster and exposed brick seeping with repellant grime. Rats and other vermin, even snakes and salamanders, dwelled in the cool, moist environment. Not good for the living. Perfect for a ghost. She skimmed mere inches above the dirt floor, kicking up pockets of dust, and slid through some cracks in the far wall.
“What a little klepto!” Abby got out of the Phantom and slammed the passenger door. She glared at Rev as Morris checked him with the static magnetic energy, or SME, indicator. He watched the levels with keen interest.
“How about you, Rev? How are you feeling?”
“He’s fine, Morris,” Abby oozed with sarcasm. “Didn’t you see? He’s a one-man team now. He doesn’t even need us.”
