Ghost Guard (5 page)

THE MOMENT SHE WALKED IN, a guy at the bar noticed her. She felt nervous immediately. Not from shyness. She thought possibly the SPI’s artificial ghost effect hadn’t worn off yet. A glance at the mirrored wall told her she looked normal. Better than normal. She wasn’t used to going out in public with her top so low and her skirt so high. It didn’t leave much to the imagination. Though she always thought she was a tad on the skinny side, she had the body, so why not show it off?

The man at the bar must have appreciated
it. His face dropped when he got a good look at her.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he’d already gotten to within shouting distance. Coming toward her, he held his head low like a predator. She liked his enthusiasm, but not too much. She never wanted to
seem easy.

“Maybe later,” she glimpsed the band and the people twisting,
twerking, grinding to the powerful rhythm. “Right now all I want to do is dance.”

His eyes twinkled by the light of the twirling disco globe, which seemed out of place to her for such a grungy bar.

“Let’s go!”

He led the way to the middle of the sweaty throng, front-and-center by the stage. The band was someone she’d never seen, playing a number she’d never heard. Not the best piece in the world, and the lead guitarist sounded like his axe was out of tune
. However, they played with enthusiasm and confidence, probably ninety percent of making it as a rock band.

Everyone enjoyed the sound. Smiles and whoops and whistles.
Partygoers working themselves into slimy froths. She smelled the desires, sensed the animal magnetism. She felt it too, as she looked into her partner’s eyes. He stared at her with a hunger. He looked young, handsome, successful. Dark hair with brown eyes. Round face, but not chubby, just some baby fat that never went away. It made him endearing, like a large infant.

He held her close despite the song’s up-tempo beat. She shifted her weight and then stepped back. She wasn’t
into it. Not with someone she didn’t know. She didn’t want to lead anyone on, and definitely didn’t want to go home with anyone. A night on the town. Harmless dancing and drinking. That’s all she needed. Forget about work for just a few hours before she had to go back and face that-that damn ghost.

“My name’s—” he started
speaking, but she pressed her finger over his lips.

“Shhh
,” she mouthed.

Suddenly h
er pulse went up. She felt her palms moisten—as well as other places. Intimate places. For a few seconds, she believed it was the alcohol. All those Grey Goose shots in a row. But she shook off that notion. She’d had more in one sitting before and never felt like this. In fact, the only time she’d ever felt so nauseated was when she was around…Rev!

She pushed away from her partner, stumbling against two other girls.

“Hey!” a redhead protested. “Watch where you’re going!”

The second girl shot a glare at Abby, but she didn’t care. Only one thing took precedence at that moment. Rev was bombarding her with psychic energy, the same
tactic he used to seduce his women.

“What’s wrong?” the young man held her elbow.

“Just need a little air,” she waved her hand in front of her face. “It’s really stuffy in here.”

She stepped to the edge of the dance area and peered into the crowd, scanning the faces.
Where is he? Where is he?
She inspected the bar, then realized that was stupid. Ghosts didn’t drink. They didn’t have to. Rev seemed to be in a perpetual state of intoxication without the stuff. Besides, the bar was too crowded. No. He’d be in a more intimate place. Dark corners. Dimly lit booths.

Where is he?
She searched the tables scattered throughout the lower section, then let her gaze drift along the far wall. Hunting for something strange or ghostly. Seeking anything that stood out from the ordinary.

“Can I get you anything?” her anonymous suitor was helpful by nature, though she didn’t have the time. If she was correct, and if Rev lurked somewhere in that nightclub, she’d hit the roof. He was supposed to be in his recovery chamber. But if it wasn’t Rev—well, maybe that would’ve been even worse. That meant they had a psychic predator on the loose in Portland, and it would be Ghost Guard’s responsibility to take care of the matter. Still, she knew Rev’s spicy sweet scent anywhere.

Without responding to the guy’s question, she pushed toward the dark upper level, climbing a curved staircase, letting her sights cover the area thoroughly. She didn’t want to make it too obvious, so she pretended to head for the second-floor bar.

Then she saw Rev. Actually, she saw his eyes. Big green orbs glowing bright
from one of the booths, ensconced in a deep recess in the curvature of the room. His eyes reflected the light from the sole candle flickering above a red velvet tablecloth. Tacky, but somehow it worked. He stared at her, pushing his will toward her with the force only a ghost of his stature could. She both hated and loved the incredible abilities Rev possessed. He was an asset to the team. Who was she kidding? He
was
the team. Without Rev, there was no Ghost Guard. She hated thinking that, but it was true. The worst part? Rev knew. He knew he was the glue holding the team together. The star player. The golden boy. And he acted like it. She
really
hated that.

She marched to the table where Rev was
seated between two platinum blondes.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve going out in your condition, mister. You know you shouldn’t be here. You should be back at Gasworks recovering.”

Rev looked at his companions. They tilted their heads like collies.

“Take it easy, Abby. Don’t be jealous.
There’s enough of me to go around. Besides, they like to share.”

Both girls studied her up and down, giggling. They nodded at him and Abby felt a wave of revulsion in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed it back, pushing down the offensive visual.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sicko? I can’t believe you’d risk everything like this. You heard what Morris said. Your numbers are low, Rev. Dangerously low. He said you’d have to stay in your SME chamber for the next twenty-four hours. What the hell are you doing?”

“Morris doesn’t always get it right, you know,” Rev circled a finger on the rim of his champagne glass. “He’s like a weatherman. You can’t always count on him to tell you if it’s g
onna rain on your picnic or not, so you might as well just pack the basket and go,” he eyed the girl on his left. Candy was her name. Tall and full-figured with voluptuous red lips. “You know what I mean?” Candy was a deer in headlights.

Abby put a hand on her hip.

“Neither of them has a clue what you are,” she addressed the girls. “You wanna know what he is? Do you? Yeah, he seems handsome, dashing, and debonair. But there’s one tiny detail you’re missing.”

“Just hold it right there,” Rev raised his voice. Something he tried never to do
in front of ladies. “You don’t need to bring that up.”

“Is everything all right?” Abby’s dance partner leaned over her shoulder. He shot a narrow glance at Rev.

“It’s fine,” she waved him off. “I just need to talk to him. Can you give me a sec’?”

He backed off slowly, nodding
yes
and glaring at Rev.

“Who’s that?” Rev looked past her.
“Someone new?”

“He’s nobody,” she smirked at the blondes.
Rev noticed her observing them.

“
So are they, I swear. They don’t mean anything to me.”

“Hey!” the
girls said in unison, confused scowls on their faces.

“Sorry,” he shrugged.

Candy huffed, “You’d better be.”

“Yeah,” added the other girl, who happened to be named Carrie. “Who do you think you are, anyway? And what was she talking about, Rev? Are you a politician?”

“Worse,” Abby tapped her toe on the floor. “He’s a ghost!”

“A WHAT!” they each pushed away from him. He glared at Abby.

“Sorry,” she mimicked him with an exaggerated shrug.

The two girls settled into different reactions. Candy decided it wasn’t a concern. Carrie wanted to run.
Now.

“Is this a joke?” the more confident girl squinted at Abby,
then at Rev. “Are you two serious?”

Abby shook her head.

“Busted. Might as well get it over with, Rev.”

Rev leaned on the table and
pouted into empty space, his green eyes piercing the dark.

“Truth is, girls, she’s right
.”

“What!” Carrie, in a blue leather miniskirt
, reeled back further in the booth. “Come on, Candy! Let’s go!”

“Hold on a minute,” Candy held up her palm. Her red fingernails were ridiculously long. “I wanna hear this.”

“But he’s a…”

“Come on! You don’t believe these two, do you? They’re screwing with our minds,” she looked up at Abby.
“Right?”

Nobody answered. The mind-numbing electric buzz of an out-of-tune lead guitar filled the sound void quite
well, yet it seemed silent at that booth as the girls waited for a response. Finally, without saying a word, Rev placed his champagne glass on the table. Then he allowed his material body to dissipate into millions of dust particles, disappearing from sight, at least from Candy’s and Carrie’s sight. To Abby, Rev still looked normal, only a little less impermeable.

“Oh my God!
Oh my god! Do you see that! Carrie! Come on!”

Candy jumped to her feet. Carrie was already halfway to the stairs. Both girls shrieked, sprinting
for the door.

“You lost your dates,” Abby straightened Rev’s black bowtie.

“And it seems you lost yours,” said Rev. “Don’t be angry with me, Abby.”

“I’m not
angry, Rev. You can do whatever you want on your own time. I’m just concerned about your health.”

“This is good.
Concerned is good. At least it’s better than stark raving pissed off at me. So I guess we’re making progress.”

“No. There’s no progress.”

“Sure there is. This relationship’s going places, I can tell.”

“There
is
no relationship. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m worried about you because I’m worried about the team,” she sighed. “You gotta take better care of yourself. Stop the womanizing. It drains too much energy.”

He squinted at her.

“Are you sure it’s not something else? Are you sure you don’t secretly think I’m a good catch?”

“I mean it,” she ignored the question. “Get back to Gasworks and get some rest. We’ve got a job to do, and we need you back to one hundred percent.”

That’s when Rev’s psychic intrusion hit her again. She knew the second it started. To some other woman, a woman who wasn’t familiar with such supernatural invasions, it would have been tolerable, even pleasurable. The soft breath on her neck. The strong yet sensitive hand on her knee. The refreshing scent of 4711. The moistness between her thighs at the sudden and sensuous utterance of her name.

Abby…
Abby… Abby…

It would have been rapturous
, if Rev wasn’t so repugnant.

Drawing on experience, she forced a solid wall inside her mind. The technique she’d learned was to conjure an auditory signal using her thoughts, something that drove straight to the core of the psychic attacker.
Something unrelenting. She chose one of the most intimidating songs she could think of—
The Immigrant Song
by Led Zeppelin.

In her head, Jimmy Page’s Les Paul overwhelmed the live band playing only a few meters away, their worn-out Peaveys no match for her own imaginary
amplifiers. The grinding opening riff pounded relentlessly, disrupting Rev’s assault on her consciousness. The live music he could stand, barely. But this mental mugging became too much too fast.

“Damn!” Rev withdrew his
psychic tentacles, so to speak, pulling back from Abby’s formidable inner defense before it crushed him like an avalanche of solid rock. “You’ve gotten good at that.”

“Yeah,” her head began to clear. “Now go!”

The unwanted feeling stopped with Rev’s abrupt departure, Abby winced at the thought of someone seeing him, but it seemed nobody did.

SEEING HER NAMELESS suitor had gone, Abby made it downstairs and angled toward the shadowy, narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. She sensed danger when, at the end of the hall, the back door opened. Raindrops shimmered against a black velvet backdrop. From the darkness, a silhouette stepped forward, a hooded figure nearly as tall as the doorframe.

She shuddered
, but not from fear. A cold wind caught her skirt just right, sending a chill up her leg. Not a good time for a Marilyn Monroe impersonation. The large, mysterious man stood silent, light rain pelting his hoodie. He didn’t make a move for her, but she still didn’t like the feeling she got. Nervous was an understatement. She looked at the door marked
‘Bitches’
. How quaint. She glanced at the next door.
‘Bastards’
. Perfect. She considered going in, but then thought better of it. That guy in the doorway. Just standing there, staring. It didn’t feel right.

She turned and decided to go back in the club and, after three steps, stopped. Another figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking her progress. Cut off on two sides, she retreated to the restrooms. She threw her
elbow in the middle of the word
‘Bitches’
and the door banged against the wall.

Before she could take a step inside, one of the men, she didn’t know which, grabbed her by the hair. Instinctively, she reached her right hand, found Morris’s Spectral Phase Inducer, and yanked it from her purse, ready to scare the living daylights out of whoever could be so stupid
as to attack her. She had the SPI turned on, but the other man subdued her, forcing the device from her grip.

“Not this time,” he said.

Struggling to free herself, she studied the faces. It was the guys from earlier. All piercings and tats, shaved heads and bad attitudes. She’d had a feeling they’d be back for more.

“You’re not gonna
fuck with our heads with this thing again,” he dangled the inducer in front of her face while the other one pinned her against the wall. “I don’t know what the hell this is, but it’s toast!” he threw it against the floor and it smashed into a dozen pieces.

Abby let her
vision drift to where the SPI lay in ruin.

“You boys shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, why?” he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Because that was my less-than-lethal option.
Now you’ve forced me to resort to my not-so-less-than-lethal one.”

The guys laughed.

“Right! What’re you gonna do?”

“Keep it up and find out,” she shot them each a glare.

“We’ll take our chances. Come on, Booze. Let’s get her in the alley.”

They forced her down the hall and out back. The
third one, acting as lookout, ran to catch up, slamming the door behind them, giving them privacy for their sick plot. She remained calm as they dragged her down a small flight of rickety wooden steps. That’s when she formulated her plan. The biggest one first. In situations against multiple enemies, it was always the biggest first. Sometimes that’s all it took. Sometimes, when the followers see their leader go down, it takes the wind out of their sails. So she made sure to position herself closest to the big guy, surreptitiously, without making it too obvious. Didn’t want them to notice.

They noticed.

“Hey, I think she likes you, Chad.”

“You know what?” Chad flashed a toothless smile at her. “I think you might be right.”

He reached below her waist, keeping his eyes locked on hers. His friends laughed out loud when she grimaced. Little did they know it was only a trap. She had them like a spider with three flies in her web. The only thing left was to deliver a venomous sting and wrap them in her silk.

Big one first.

She waited until he didn’t see her coming. A quick knee to the groin. Always a great appetizer. He doubled over, eyes bulging, expelling a breathy groan. She expected Booze to react, and he did. She ducked and punched hard—directly in
his
groin—then, as she stood, she brought her elbow up and connected with his nose. Blood spattered into his mouth. He covered his face and cried, “You broke my nose!”

Chad threw his fist at her. She
stooped, spiked her three-inch heel into his boot, then pushed him against the bricks.

“Hey!” their lookout hurried down the stairs. She was calculating her next move when a familiar haze swirled nearby, whipping and twisting until it grew from a couple feet tall to over six. Tiny particles of fog and dust cluster
ed together, forming physical shapes. Body parts, but not complete ones. Clothes, partially consumed by worms and insects, fell in tattered strips, exposing a decayed ribcage. Grey, mottled bones protruded from the chest. Weathered and sallow skin drooped from a skull with missing teeth and sunken cheeks.

If she hadn’t have seen it a thousand times, it would have scared the living daylights out of her. She could tell it was Rev by the shape of his shoulders, by the way he held himself. But, more than anything, she knew it was him just because. It had to be him. Who else?

Chad’s jaw dropped. He only managed a pathetic whimper. His friend Booze picked himself up and sprinted out of sight. No questions asked. No words said. The lookout decided that was a good idea and retreated into the building.

“H-h-h-hey!
G-g-g-guys!” Chad mustered the courage to get the words out. “D-d-d-don’t leave me!”

Chad’s lips trembled. He stared at Rev, who pushed his tongue against his front teeth and a mouthful of beetles and maggots oozed out. With a
fungus-congested voice, he spoke.

“Go away…leave this place and never come back!”

Chad stumbled up the steps, screaming incoherently. He threw himself inside, disappearing down the darkened corridor.

Rev faced Abby and flashed a wormy grin. She frowned.

“Gross! Do you even realize what you look like?”

“Oh, sorry,” he turned, covering his head with his hands.

“What do you think you’re doing, anyway? I thought I ordered you into the SME chamber for the rest of the night.”

“What?” he snapped his face toward
her. Still rotted and decayed. His gray, blotchy skin made her stomach turn.

“Can you…do something about that
?” she gestured toward his jaw, riddled with bugs.

“Oh, yeah,” he turned his back to her once more, hunching over like a mad scientist at his workbench. There was crackling and crunching, then he stood, straightened his blazer, and twirled to greet her. This time he
looked pristine and perfect. Slicked-back hair. A flawless complexion draped over high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. He was rugged. He was handsome. And the worst part? He knew it.

“Where were we?” he cast his eyes skyward, then shot them back to hers. “That’s right. You were telling me you thought I was some kind of subordinate of yours, is that right? Tell me if I’m wrong. Sometimes these old, dead ears don’t work so well. Is that what you said? You said you ordered me to go and get into that damn machine?”

She sighed. “You know it’s not good to be exerting yourself. Yet here you are.”

“I wouldn’t have to exert myself if I didn’t have to cover for my teammates.”

“Are you referring to me?”

“You know damn well who I’m referring to. You almost got yourself into some serious trouble, Abby. Those guys weren’t playing around. You could have gotten hurt.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. I had it all taken care of until you came around with your zombie routine.”

“Sure you did, Abby. Sure you did.”

“You don’t think I could’ve defended myself against those guys, do you?” she straightened up. “I guess that’s obvious. You swoop in to save the day like some stupid knight of the living dead in shining armor. Well I got news for you, buster. I’m not some pretty little damsel in distress who needs saving!”

“Abby. It’s not like that. I just—”

“Just what? I know. You just wanted to spy on me. That’s why you didn’t stay in the SME chamber. You wanted to keep tabs on me. Do you watch me, Rev?”

“No.”

“You come into my apartment, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Peek in my shower? Is that the kind of sick, perverted ghost you are?”

“NO!
Of course not, Abby. I swear.”

“And why the hell should I believe you, Rev? What have you
ever done that would make me believe a word coming out of that spectral mouth of yours?”

“I was just trying to help, that’s all,” the outline of his body began to reverberate, ringing like a bell
, glistening with its own luminance. Starting with his feet, his physical form crumbled into ash and swirled about her head.

She tapped her toe. “Isn’t it just like a man to run in the middle of a fight?
Just when you were losing too. Typical. I guess nothing changes, even when you guys die, huh? Go ahead. Run away. Do your little vanishing act. See if I care.”