Ghost Guard (3 page)

“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 a
n 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.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rev stayed
put in the Phantom.             

“Impossible,” Morris tapped the machine.
Lightly. Didn’t want to break it. Or was it already broke? Abby dropped her mission bag, hurried to Morris’s side, and looked for herself. It was all she could do to contain her shock.

“I know, I know,” Morris studied Rev, and Rev puzzled at them both. “Rev, how do you feel?”

“A little grumpy, but that’s because of
you know who
here,” he gestured his chin toward Abby. “Other than that I feel like shit. Why? What’s going on?”

“Rev, you’ve got to get into your SME
recovery chamber, right now!”

“What! No!” Rev lifted out of his seat, straight up through the
Phantom’s roof, to the low basement ceiling. “Oh no! I’m not getting in that thing! Not again!”

Morris reached for air.

“Rev! Don’t try going through that! You don’t have enough energy! You’ll drain yourself to expiration!”

“Listen to Morris, Rev!
For once!” Abby commanded. But he didn’t listen. Instead, he pushed up into the ceiling. He felt like he could make it all the way, gliding smoothly, small bolts of crackling blue electricity at the points of resistance. Then something happened. He stopped cold. His legs dangled from the ceiling, kicking and fighting. And, worse, they were fading.

“Oh, no!
Oh, no!” Morris hurried toward the stairs leading to the first floor. Brutus glided up and hovered next to Rev’s feet. “No, Brutus! Don’t try to help him! You’ll get sucked in too. He’s hitting terminal feedback—you must stay away!”

Ruby appeared
out of thin air and joined Brutus, both of them trying franticly to wedge Rev free.

“You guys! This is serious!” Abby added to Morris’s warning. “Get away!”

The two ghosts backed off from their friend. But not too far. Ruby looked at Brutus and shrugged her chubby shoulders. Brutus scowled an angled, blazing scowl. Morris had no time for hurt feelings.

“Abby!” he ordered. “Follow me—quickly!”

She shadowed him wordlessly up the ancient yet solid steps, emerging from the dimly-lit basement to a slightly less dimly-lit first floor. The lobby, at one time a grand hall, complete with a massive fresco of the greater Portland area circa 1903, several stained-glass motif windows, a sparkling granite floor with gold inlay and, in the middle of the dazzling space, a ten-foot tall glass-enclosed grandfather clock. Time had been a merciless enemy to the clock and its fellow occupants of the formerly stunning lobby. The glass, now long-gone, had been replaced by thick, knotted plywood. The mural only showed small signs of its erstwhile glory, most of it having been torn away by vandals or shredded by the ravages of age.

Abby and Morris both hurried around the centrally-located chronometer to where Rev’s upper half
protruded from the floor. He squirmed and struggled, trying to free himself from his sticky predicament.

“Just-just back off,” he muttered weakly. “Don’t try to help me, and keep that-that damn machine away!”

Morris waved his hands as he approached.

“Rev, don’t speak! And stop exerting yourself…lose any more energy and you’re in serious danger!”

Rev didn’t want to listen. He grunted, lifting his left shoulder.

“Did you even hear a word he just said?” Abby skidded to a stop as Morris fell to all-fours and studied Rev’s face with his SME meter. “Your numbers are almost flat. Do you know what that means?
That means no more Rev, forever!”

Ruby circled above their heads, squealing. Her shrill voice bounced much in the way she did—chaotic and seemingly random. Her message came loud and clear
, telling Rev to do what Morris and Abby were saying, and that she didn’t want to lose him.

“Okay,” Rev
slumped his shoulders. “But just for you, Ruby.”

“Brutus!” Abby
yelled. “Go upstairs and get his SME chamber! Bring it down here, quick!”

Brutus acted instantly, streaking like a murky comet straight through the ceiling
to the second floor. Abby knelt next to Rev and tried to hold his hand, but her touch passed right through him. She covered her mouth to keep from letting out an audible gasp. She was supposed to be tough, at least that’s what she wanted to portray to the team. Crying, complaining, and shrieking like a schoolgirl was not allowed. But she let slip a little vulnerability, and Rev noticed.

“I thought you hated me
now,” he managed a murmur, his face flickering like an old TV with a broken antenna.

“Shhh,” she whispered. No time for arguments. She’d get back at him later. Now she had to worry about saving his life, or death, as they put it. “Don’t say anything. Talking takes too much energy. You have to stay calm.”

Morris concurred.

“She’s right. Rev, just be still and stop straining. It’s necessary for you to recover quickly or you’ll never get back to full strength.”

“Do you want that?” Abby added vehemently. “Do you want to be disabled, or worse, reduced to one of those mindless astral impressions that can do nothing but wander around in the same place, doing the same thing over and over, haunting some attic somewhere for all eternity?”

Rev didn’t answer. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.
Didn’t have the strength. Then he saw Brutus, flying down the stairs, carrying a large and unpleasantly familiar contraption redolent of a microwave, and Rev summoned the energy to shout.

“No! I’m not gonna let you nuke me! Not again!”

“Just remain motionless, Rev,” Morris extracted a long, coiled hose from the machine. He reached it to the top of Rev’s increasingly blurry, static-ridden head. A single bolt of cobalt electricity snaked from the end of the tube to meet Rev’s hair, making it stand on end.

Rev protested. “Whoa! Turn it down! Turn it down!
”

“Hush!” Morris punched the appropriate commands into the keypad. “The chamber needs to be set on maximum. You’ve lost a lot of
SME, Rev. You’re fortunate we got to you when we did.”

“I told him,” Abby put her hands on her hips. “I warned him about this. Now are you gonna listen to me, Rev? Sex with the living takes too much out of you. You’re gonna extinguish yourself one of these days if you don’t quit it.”

“I can handle it,” Rev watched the electricity surround his shoulders, his upper arms, his elbows.

“Okay, Rev. This is
going to hurt a little!” Morris looked at Abby and pointed. “Go!”

She hit
a red button on the machine’s face and it lit up with unbridled agitation. Morris struggled to keep the tube in place. Rev winced and howled as a swirling vortex took shape out the end of the opening, and Rev’s head began to contort. With a
POOF!
the tube vacuumed him in. Morris jolted like a chair had been pulled out from under him as the blinding light injected into the tube right behind Rev.

“
That hurt a lot!” Rev sounded way off in the distance.

Morris held his mouth next to the machine.

“Sorry, Rev,” he pressed a series of numeric codes into the keypad, adjusted his wire rim eyeglasses, and studied the screen for results.

“How long is he
gonna have to stay in there this time?” asked Abby.

“Not sure,” Morris wound up the intake hose. “We’ve never had to deal with this much of a
n SME transfusion. A number of hours. Twenty-four just to be safe.”

“Twenty-four hours!” Rev could be heard throughout the entire, rundown building. “I can’t stay in this thing that long!”

Abby barked at him. “Do you realize how close you were that time, Rev? You’ve got to start taking better care of yourself.”

Rev offered no more resistance. He realized what was at stake, even though he failed to show it on a regular basis. He was too smart not to know how close he’d come. However, the
ghost gun mission was important. A high priority for all of them, especially Rev, who’d lost a couple friends to similar devices already. They just kept coming. More ghost hunters with more ingenuous inventions, promising to drive ghosts away, send them to the light. Those were the dangerous ones. The ones who had to be stopped. That’s where Ghost Guard came in.