Authors: P R Mason
Petra nodded. “There’s a bit here about how to kill a ghoul. Apparently they have remarkable healing powers, but they can be destroyed by fire, electrocution, acid or decapitation.”
“Well, now we know what not to do, I guess."
”It also says here ghouls can be disabled by silver.” Petra glanced up at me. “So we know they’re pretty limited when choosing affordable jewelry.”
I turned to Rom. “How about you? Find anything?”
“Nothing of consequence.” Rom's gaze dropped to the book in front of him.
Was he hiding something?
“In all these books, there’s only one reference to ghouls?” I asked, centering my attention on Rom. He didn’t respond. I’d have to read that text myself. I turned to Zen with an irritated huff. “What about the internet?”
“Mostly, the information on the web is what we already know. But last night I located one thing I hadn’t seen before,” Zen said. “An anecdote about a ghoul hanging out with his vampire in a burial ground. But I don’t see how that could be useful.”
“Wait a minute.” I strode to the window. Staring outside, I was actually staring into my memory. What was it Prince Leopold had said? “Burial ground!” I murmured. “That might be something.” I spun around. “The prince said the ghoul was his eyes and ears and hands in this world.”
“We already know that,” Zen said. “The ghoul can channel his master. So what?”
“The prince said 'even your cemeteries are beautiful.'” I crossed to Zen. “Couldn’t that mean the ghoul is hiding out in one of the cemeteries? Maybe that’s where we can find him.”
Rom stood. “You have reason.”
“Yes,” Zen said. “I think you may be right.”
“Now we just have to figure out which cemetery.”
“The most likely cemetery is one of these three.” Zen touched three spots on a map he'd spread across his dining room table.
“Not Bonaventure,” I said, referring to the first one he’d indicated.
“It’s considered the most beautiful,” Zen responded. "The prince said the cemetery was beautiful."
“Yes, but Bonaventure's at least five miles from downtown. I can’t believe the ghoul would travel that far from the vortex portal.”
“Good point,” Zen observed.
As we all stood around the table, Rom seemed distracted.
“Which one do you think it is, Rom?” I asked. He didn’t respond. Instead he lifted his arm and examined the Band-Aid. “Rom?”
He jerked and his head came up.
“I know not.”
“What?” Why was he being so unresponsive?
“I know not which of these burial grounds to target.” Rom walked away and into Zen’s living room library.
“Colonial Park is the closest.” Petra pointed to the map. “It’s right in the Historic District.”
“Yes, but it’s full of tourists for most of the day,” Zen noted. “Wouldn’t he prefer someplace relatively close but not as touristy, like Laurel Grove over here?”
“We’ll have to check them both out.” I glanced over my shoulder to where Rom had gone. “I’m gonna go see about him."
I found Rom sitting on the sofa and staring straight ahead. Taking a place next to him, I grasped his hand and gave it a little shake.
“Hey. Are you okay? Is your arm hurting?”
“The wound will not be permitted to be a problem.” Rom's voice was barely a whisper.
“That’s not what I asked.” Tugging his arm toward me, I reached for the Band-Aid.
“Do not,” he said but didn't pull away.
When I peeled back the covering, I gasped. Not only was the wound a bright red but there were angry streaks emanating outward.
“Rom. This is much worse than last night.” Zen and Petra entered the room. “Look at this.” I motioned them over. “We have to get him to the doctor. Maybe even the emergency room.”
“We don’t want to go on grid with this,” Zen said. “Come with me.”
As Rom and I rose from the sofa, there was a disturbance of stomping on the porch. The front door crashed open, slamming into the inside wall. Senji and Chase barreled in and skidded to a halt in front of us.
“Hey guys,” Zen shouted. “This isn’t your mc² clubhouse you know.”
“Sorry Zen.” Chase put both hands in the air.
“Yeah, we were a little distracted,” Senji said.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Petra leaned up and gave Chase a peck on the cheek. “I thought you two were going to school today.”
“We were.” Senji pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But the principal sent everyone home early.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because the police found Franky’s body,” Chase replied “And there's worse news.”
Long seconds of silence passed.
“What! What's worse?” Petra demanded.
“The police are looking to question you, Kizzy,” Senji answered.
“Omigod, Kizzy,” Petra said. “It just seems like the universe is messing with you lately.”
“Just
one
universe?” I drawled. “At least three. Never mind the police right now. We gotta deal with Rom’s arm.”
“What about it?” Chase asked and glanced down at the limb I held. “Oh, dude. That’s serious bad.”
“Shut up, honey bunny,” Petra cooed. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”
Rolling my eyes I continued on with Rom and Zen toward the kitchen.
“Yeah. Just be quiet and look pretty, honey bunny,” Senji said.
“Dude, you are asking for a pound down.” Chase raised a fisted hand.
“Let me know when somebody arrives who can do it.” Senji smirked.
“Seriously guys?” I glared over my shoulder at them. “We’re a little busy here. There’s no time for this.”
The expressions on their faces satisfied me that they were chastened for a few minutes anyway and I continued into the kitchen.
Behind the wall in Zen’s pantry was a better stock of medical supplies and equipment than in most clinics. Zen applied a salve to the wound before handing him two pills and a glass of water. Rom just stared at them.
“Just take the antibiotics.” I moved to stand in front of him and placed my hands on my hips. “Don’t make me get tough.”
Rom swallowed the pills and handed me the glass as Petra, Chase and Senji entered the room.
“I’ve done as you wished but this will be of no effect.”
“How do you know?” Zen asked.
“This is the bite of a ghoul.”
“Yeah, so?” I remembered Rom’s evasiveness when I’d asked about the text earlier. “Did you find something about a ghoul bite in that book?”
Rom hesitated and then nodded.
Petra retrieved the text and opened it to an earmarked page. After scanning the contents, she groaned.
"This isn’t good." She continued scanning. “This is like really not good.”
“What? What?” I demanded, taking the book from her. After reading the text, my body went numb.
“It can’t be that bad.” Zen chuckled. “I mean he’s not going to turn into a ghoul is he?”
“No,” Rom said. “Yet that result might be preferred.”
“What does he mean?” Zen asked me.
“It says here that an untreated bite of a ghoul will render the victim a lunatic.”
“How long do we have to treat it?” Senji asked.
“The book doesn’t say.” I couldn’t look at Rom so I kept my gaze firmly on Senji.
“But we have treated it,” Zen said.
“The only effective treatment, according to this book, is a poultice made from the leaves of plant called Downy Woundwort." I slammed the text closed. “Okay then. Let’s get some of that woundwort stuff and make this poultice thing and no problem. We can find it on the internet I’m sure.”
I tried to keep my attitude upbeat and certain, but Rom wasn’t buying it. He shook his head before I’d finished my peppy little speech.
“There is no such plant.” Rom's gazed off into the distance.
Senji thumbed in a search on his cell phone. After a few seconds, his eyes rose slowly.
“He’s right,” Senji said. “Downy Woundwort has been extinct since 1900.”
* * * * *
Rom insisted on driving me to my father’s hearing as planned.
We left Senji, as our biggest brain, with instructions to find some Downy Woundwort somewhere, somehow or else find another cure. I wouldn’t consider the possibility of failure. We weren’t going to let Rom go crazy. Petra, Chase and Zen went to work on Operation Find Ghoul.
The courthouse elevator pinged announcing we’d arrived at our floor...The floor that would bring me face-to-face with my father. The prospect terrified me. Given the many terrors of the past few days, I was surprised I wasn't numb.
As Rom and I trod down the hall, the impact of our footsteps echoed on the industrial linoleum floor. Too soon, I stood outside the seemingly innocuous double doors of courtroom B.
“Prepared?” Rom asked.
Nodding, I pushed through the double doors and went inside. My fear quickly turned to confusion at the sight of the virtually empty room. Scanning, I took in the scene. The judge rose from his seat at the bench before passing through a door in the panel on the back wall—probably to his chambers. A news cameraman bent over a hard plastic case packing away his video equipment.
The Assistant DA I’d met with to rehearse my testimony, Karen Fowler, was near the jury box talking to a man I recognized as my father’s attorney. What had happened? I glanced at the clock just to confirm the time. We weren't late.
“No, no. Not possible,” Ms. Fowler said to my father’s attorney.
“Ms. Fowler?” I tried drawing her attention to me.
“Miss Taylor,” the ADA who didn’t seem that much older than I walked toward me.
She pushed through the short wood-swinging barrier leading from the business part of the courtroom to the gallery seats, holding out her hand. I offered my own in return. We shook like any two good business people. How civilized it all was.
“Is the hearing over?”
“Yes and no,” she said, darting a glare at my father’s attorney. “Mr. Stimpson made a motion regarding your father’s mental competency to stand trial.”
"He's arguing my father is insane?”
The ADA nodded. "I was expecting it, but since your father's attorney brought the motion at such a late date—” She darted another glare his way. “I didn’t know until today that our hearing would be delayed.”
Stimpson, a bald and morbidly obese man, toddled over to us.
“Kizzy,” he said as if he knew me.
The smarmy ass.