Ghost Guard (21 page)

ABBY ADORED THE SYNERGY she felt with her electric guitar whenever she played to a live audience. The mystical merging between girl, instrument, and the masses of sweat-sodden minions soaking it all in like worshippers of some dark art. She also adored the physical demands, and felt it most in the strings when she stretched for chord changes. Low E wreaked simple havoc on her fingertips. She hadn’t played seriously in weeks and it showed. Luckily, most of the crowd, and the band for that matter, were three sheets to the wind.

She loved sitting in with the
groups at the Crystal Ballroom, one of the swankiest, loudest clubs in Portland. Its clientele reminded her of the dead she worked with—gaunt and pale and always floating somewhere between reality and some dream state, only theirs was induced by booze and pills. She loved the atmosphere, the girls in torn fishnet stockings and the boys who leered at them. Most of all she loved that this was one place Rev would never step foot in—just wasn’t his style. A little too Portland hipster chic, and that suited her fine.

A high, sustained
electric screech sent the crowd into a tizzy. And when the stage lights rotated to hit the dancers just right, she saw a face that made her stop in mid-strum, breaking a string so bad it almost ruptured the speakers with feedback.

“What are you doing here!” she screamed into the microphone, making half the dance floor cover their ears. Rev was one of them. She didn’t give him time to answer, and stomped off the stage. Rev wasn’t a ghost anymore. He couldn’t just snap his fingers and be in front of her like he used to.

“Wait!” he shouted, pushing through the perspiring, plaid-wearing Bohemians, finding quite a lot of resistance. Seemed those young, creative-types didn’t like a classically well-dressed man in their midst. Finally, he made it backstage and saw Abby about to slip out the door. “Abby! Please, just wait a minute! I want to call a truce!”

She stopped halfway out, sighing, and turned.

“Fine. Truce. Now goodbye.”

“Come on, Abby! At least let me buy you dinner
. If you don’t remember, I was dead for over eighty years. And to tell you the truth, I’m starving. I’d really like a nice steak, wouldn’t you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m vegan.”

His stomach turned, but he made sure not to show it.

“Of course you are. I remember you saying that once or twice.”

“No you don’t,” she answered skeptically.

“Sure I do,” he smiled. “So how about it?”

“I could eat, I guess.”

THREE HOURS AFTER
the procedure began, Doctor Daniel Hunnicutt placed his last laser suture on Elyxa’s abdomen—a shapely, supple midriff that thrust him into steamy desire. He took a second, regaining his composure, then marveled at his own handiwork.

“
Damn I’m good,” he said, and meant it. “I’ve never seen such a positive reaction to the laser. And given the state of your lacerations, the transformation is nothing short of extraordinary!”

Elyxa
used the multiple mirrors in the doctor’s cozy operating room, admiring herself from several different angles. She had to agree with the mortal, however painful it may have been admitting an inferior being was skilled at anything.

“Gloria was right
. Plastic surgery works. I’ll be damned,” she giggled. “What am I saying, I already was damned!”

She got
Aros to laugh with that one. Their sick humor brought back Hunnitcutt’s anxiety. No matter how good she looked, this woman wasn’t a woman. He wanted to wake from this nightmare. He wished to God these terrible things, these monsters made to look like a man and a woman would just go away.

“Oh we
will
go. We have a score to settle,” Elyxa stood. The surgical gown fell off her chest, exposing two full breasts. She grinned at the doctor. “But before we go, there’s one question I’ve been wanting to ask.”

“W-w-what is it?” he could
n’t stop staring.

“What is a…
boob job
?”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” Rev picked at his plate of stuffed mushrooms. “A restaurant that serves only salad. I never would have imagined such a place existed.”

“Well, you
were
a ghost for eighty-five years. A lot has changed in the culinary world since then,” Abby said, then crunched on a leaf of Romaine.

“Thank God they at least serve giggle water!” he took a
drink of Jack and Coke, tipping the glass too far, spilling some onto his chin, chest, and then the table. He grabbed the napkin off his lap and sopped up the mess, smiling at her sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. It’s been a while.”

Looking at Rev in that moment, all thumbs and sweaty and nervous, he actually made her feel sorry for him. A lost puppy who needed a safe place out of the cold. Most of all, he looked like he needed to be loved.

“Your eyes,” she couldn’t stop staring.

“What?” he blinked three times fast. “What’s wrong with my eyes? Are they falling out? Are they putrefying? What’s happening?”

She sighed.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, because this is all new to me, being back in my body. You never know.”

“Never know what?”

“My body’s been in the grave for
almost a century. And, yeah, Elyxa rejuvenated it, sure. But you never know when her power will wear off. I could start falling apart at any moment like a bad zombie movie.”

Abby shook her head and giggled.

“No,” she said. “You look fine.”

Part, if not most, of her conscience was telling her not
to stare. Don’t lend him any more encouragement than she’d already given him. It was that one tiny minority, that fraction of a percent of her inner voice that screamed so vociferously, though, telling her to do it. Take the risk. Give him a chance. So she leaned closer for a better look.

“It’s just that your eyes are so different now.”

“Different how?”

She paused, studying, searching for the way to put it into words.

“They really look alive now. Before, when you were a ghost, your eyes looked, well, dead.”

“Hey,” he protested. “I got compliments on my eyes.”

“That’s because you got into their minds and they saw what you wanted them to see,” she tapped her temple. “You couldn’t get into
my
mind, Rev. That’s why you never got into my pants.”

He leaned back and put down his
drink.

“What makes you think I was trying to get into your pants?”

She laughed so loud people three tables over stopped talking and gave her a look.

“What’s so funny?” he was straight-faced.

“You can’t be serious,” she dabbed her lips with her napkin. “You’ve been trying to get into my pants ever since you came to the team.”

“I have
not!
”

“Rev,” she said. “Maybe we should just change the subject.”

“Sure, whatever,” he leaned back in his chair. “Listen, there’s something I’ve been wondering. And since I could never read your mind, I guess I have to ask.”

“What?” she said curiously.

“It’s just...why?” he paused. “Why Ghost Guard? Why do you care so much about the spirit world?”

The air exited her lungs as if someone had punched her in the gut. She didn’t want to think about it. And she certainly didn’t want to talk about it. Rev’s
brilliant green eyes drew her in, though, and disarmed her just enough.

“When I was younger, my grandfather didn’t like me using my ability to contact the dead. He said it was nothing but trouble. Well, what could I do? I saw spirits all the time, you know? Still do. He couldn’t stop me.
But he could shame me, and I didn’t like being around him because of it. Pretty soon I stopped visiting my grandfather altogether. I was a teenager. I thought he’d live forever. But he didn’t,” she faltered. The memory was still raw. “He died of an aortic aneurism. No goodbye. No reconciliation. I was devastated. But, you see, I knew I could reach him. With my gift, I could find him. I knew I could. And I tried. Some friends and I used a Ouija board to try.”

“
A Ouija board?” Rev teetered on the edge of his seat, riveted by her unusual personal disclosure. “Did it work?”

“Oh, it worked, all right. We contacted him, and he was pissed. I mean, he actually yelled at me. He didn’t like me contacting the dead when he was alive, and he hated it
even more when he was dead.”

“Oh, my God
!” Rev couldn’t stop laughing. Abby chuckled along with him, but only a little.

“I know,” she said. “
And you know what? He was angry, but he was also frightened. He wouldn’t tell me. I sensed it. I read it in him. That’s when I first learned how vulnerable the spirit world really is. And that’s when I decided to make it my mission to use my gifts and help protect it.”

“And the rest, as they say
,” Rev added dryly. “Is history.”

“Something like that,” she sipped some Sauvignon Blanc. “What about you? You ever have any issues with your family
like that?”

“Nope,” he answered quickly. “I
was racing since I was nine. First motorcycles, then cars. My dad was a driver, so it was just natural. He taught me everything, really. And my grandfather, he paid for the cars. Paid for everything—” he caught her staring. “What?”

“
Your hair,” she frowned.

He ran his fingers through the long locks,
tussling them over his shoulder.

“What? You don’t like a lustrous mane on a man?”

“Not particularly.”

“It’s one of
Elyxa’s fetishes, it seems.”

“Well, we’re going to have to do something about it.
It looks…stupid.”

“Hey!” he feigned anger. Actually, he thought it looked stupid too.

They shared a chuckle, which died away quickly to the ambient restaurant din, leaving the two of them with their eyes locked, their souls bared. And just then they both noticed the music playing in the background, a jazzy ballad sang by the legendary Billie Holiday.

I'll be loving you Always

With a love that's true
Always

Abby felt the sensation of falling, and gave in to it, relishing the gravitational pull. Rev had the same impression, and, for the first time, allowed himself to stop resisting and unveil the real Rev.

Abby leaned. Rev leaned
closer. Slowly, over the table, they came together. Two comets in space on a course destined for collision.

Abby
shuddered violently and got up.

“
What the hell am I doing?” she gawked at her watch while gathering her things, a small handbag and a tasteful sweater. “I can’t do this!”

“Abby!” Rev reached and missed
.

“NO!” she recoiled, and
hurried past the table of ogling diners.

“Abby
, wait!” Rev’s plea only made her walk faster. She heard his footsteps and started to run. “Come on, Abby!” he gave begging another try. “You know I can’t run very fast yet! I’m not used to my legs!” he stopped and explained himself to the disconcerted patrons. “Miracle surgery. I was paralyzed for years—now I can walk! Gotta love those stem cells!”

S
EVENTEEN

A KNOCK AT THE DOOR drove a spike of pain through Abby’s cerebral cortex. It had been a long day—cross-examining spirits, one after the other, looking for that needle in the haystack. And now, after getting nowhere, her ass needed rubbing, and she was just too tired for manners.   

“No more interviews today,” she said without looking. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Is this Ghost Guard?” a tall man with broad shoulders stepped into the lamplight’s somber glow. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I said I’m n—” Abby stopped in midsentence when she got a better look. She believed this being wasn’t a normal human. His aura was way too dark and heavy
, and his silvery hair fell over his forehead a little too perfectly. A dashing image cut from the shadows, wearing a long overcoat partially concealing what looked like a classic three-piece suit.

“You
!” he shoved her bulky desk aside like a toothpick, brandishing a large, gilded knife. She backed against the wall. “You’re coming with me!”

“Abby, are you okay?” Rev stood at her office door
way, in shock at what he saw. At first he thought it was an interview gone terribly wrong. Then he recognized Aros, and marveled at his suit.

“Nice,” he said by instinct. “I’ve got to meet this guy’s tailor.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Abby complained, more angry than afraid. “Do something!”

Rev
lunged at Aros and threw the strongest right cross he could throw. Direct hit! Squarely on Aros’s chin. Only one problem—it hurt Rev more than Aros. Infinitely more. Aros moved not one muscle. His face didn’t even flinch. Rev, on the other hand, winced and danced and shook his hand like it was on fire. It might as well have been.

“Not like that!” Abby scorned. “What
was
that anyway?”

Rev backed up until he was standing with her.

“I told you, I’m not used to being alive. It’s like I have to learn everything all over again.”

“Well
then,” Abby shot a steely glance at Aros. “Watch and learn!”

With a
whirling, twisting move, Abby swept at Aros’s ankles hard with her foot. Aros fell like a ton of bricks. He let out a menacing moan and got to his feet in a flash.

“You’re a little pain in the ass, aren’t you?”
he glared at Abby, then twirled a finger, and a howling turbulence kicked up the papers on her desk. Both Rev and Abby felt a chill in the air. An unnatural chill. Then they saw something that made the blood in their veins ice over. A spectral vision of pale white. Dusty accumulations snaking and forming two individual shapes. Spirits held against their will somewhere between limbo and the afterlife. Prisoners of the immortals. Ghostly henchmen.

A giant ghost, almost as big as Brutus, but exceptionally skinny and hairless and white,
seized Rev and clutched him tight, exhaling its fungus-ridden funk on his neck. The other ghastly beast, almost the identical size and appearance, waited for his instructions with bated breath.

Aros
shot his stare at Abby and ordered, “Get her!”

The menacing ghost responded with a sudden surge.
Contorted face. Elongated limbs. Commanding a current of air and snaking like a cyclone. Abby saw the approaching specter and turned to flee. Before she made it two steps, she felt a hand on her back. She knew right away she’d been caught.

“Abby!” Morris sprinted into Abby’s office with a
pair of Stat-Mag Emitters. Next to him floated Ruby. Brutus towered behind them both, his dark form blotting out the light, his eyes red as blood.

“Morris!”
Abby struggled against her captor. Aros had his dagger against her throat, and possessed far too much strength for her to even dream of escape. All her hopes vanished when she found herself moving so fast her neck nearly snapped. At virtually the speed of light, Aros had stolen her away. Away from Gasworks. Away from Ghost Guard.

Rev
felt himself suddenly free of the powder-white bag of bones. He appreciated the clean air. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of him. At least it felt like a ton of bricks.

“Stay down!” Brutus ordered. “I’m not about to lose two of you!”

“Two of us?” Rev was confused, and sore. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Brutus didn’t want to admit it, but he had to.

“Abby…she’s gone.”

“What
happened!”

“Aros took her,”
Brutus muttered indignantly.

“What!”
Rev struggled with Brutus’ unnatural girth. “Can you get off!”

Brutus ignored his demand. Despite Morris receiving no readings, and despite Ruby getting no sense of anything around, Brutus felt different.
A trail. Subtle, yet distinct. Out the window, to the balcony, and on into the night. His senses went into high alert. He knew Aros had Abby, and he knew which way they went. So he took it upon himself to chase the immortal devil.

“Brutus! Wait!” Morris cried.
Too late. Brutus flew faster than anything a human could fathom. He knew he could take Aros off guard. He saw the immortal perfectly, in the backseat of a Mercedes. The smug kidnapper was sitting comfortably, relaxing his elbow on the armrest and combing his silver hair with his fingers. Brutus saw Abby, bound and blindfolded, struggling against the arrogant immortal.

All Brutus could think was
he wanted to wipe that smug grin off Aros’s face. He overtook the car with no problems, slipping into the passenger compartment through tiny cracks in the doors, slight openings in the chassis, shafts in the ventilation system. He materialized in the front seat, and when he saw Elyxa driving, knew he’d made a mistake. Abby knew it too. She’d sensed his arrival. It was like second nature to her. She knew Brutus’s entrances anywhere, and, normally, would have been more than elated to have him rescue her. Not this time. She knew what was in store for him.

“Brutus! NO!” she screamed just as
Elyxa pulled Brutus in with her psychic grip. A powerful attraction. And, before he knew it, Brutus was trapped in a cramped place, stripped of his will, his power, his very spiritual existence. Brutus was helpless. More helpless than he’d ever been, even on the day he died.