Unholy Ghosts - Stacia Kane 10 стр.

When she came back later, or the next night, shed have a more thorough look around.

She let the Mortons lead her through the spare bedroom and the bathroom, into the master bedroom. The signs of desperate upward mobility were strewn all over the house as if an L.L. Bean catalog had exploded; a beautiful dresser in a bedroom with mismatched bedside tables, expensive lotions on a cracked bathroom countertop. The copy of The Book of Truth next to the bed had been arranged so the light shone off the gold lettering and reflected back at her when she stepped through the doorway.

This is where it was. Mrs. Morton waved a nervous hand at a spot on the floor to her left, about a foot from where she was standing. There was something vaguely familiar about the movement, about Mrs. Morton herself. Maybe the family really did attend Church sometimes and Chess had seen her there. I was in bed, there, like I said, and it justhovered here, and stared at me. It looked so angry, I just didnt know what to do

This was ridiculous, a waste of her time. She switched off the Spectrometer and tape recorder, shoved them both back into her bag.

Well, Ive seen enough for now. If we could go back to the living room and you could sign the complaint, well get started processing it.

Butyou didnt see the ghost, does that matter?

Chess pulled the zipper on her purse shut, realizing as she did that her hand was shaking slightly. She glanced at the clock by the bed. Five to nine. This was taking forever, she needed to go.

Were not done yet, she replied, trying to sound cheerful. Itll take at least a week or two to really investigate. This was just to get the papers filled out, and so I could get a feel for what were dealing with. Youll be seeing quite a bit of me, Mrs. Morton, dont you worry.

Mrs. Morton smiled weakly. The cheaters always hated it when she said shed be around a lot. And the Mortons were faking it, she knew it. Not even a beep, not even a blip on the Spectro. Very unusual in an enclosed space with ghosts.

And the Mortons would certainly be learning about enclosed spaces if she was right, and they were faking. The Church didnt take kindly to attempts to steal from it; Mr. Morton would have a hard time examining eyeballs from a little blue cell.

So lets just go sign those papers and I can leave you to your eveni

Something darted through the air behind Mr. Morton, so fast it took Chess a second to realize it wasnt just a hallucination. A black shape, man-size but crouched over. She had the impression of a hood hiding its face, of the light by the bed catching the sharp edge of a blade, before it disappeared into the closet.

It looked almost like a cartoon, like an image projected on the wall instead of moving in front of it, but it had been so long since shed seen an actual cartoon, she could have been wrong about that.

She wasnt wrong about the sense of unease, though, more than simply the unease of her body starting to get serious with her about its needsat least she thought it was. Fuck, she shouldnt have waited to take her pills, it was throwing her off. For the first time a ribbon of doubt slipped through her mind. Withdrawal, or ghost? No way to be sure.

The Mortons stood watching her, faintly perplexed, waiting for her to finish her sentence. They hadnt noticed anythingor perhaps they had, and they were watching her to see if she said anything.

Of course. The image had looked like a cartoon, like something being broadcast, because it was. When she came back later shed look for the projector. It was probably behind the mirror over the dresser. The thought was comforting, but not enough to ease the cool sweat on her forehead and body. She felt sticky with it.

To your evening, she finished. Im sorry Ive kept you so late, my last interview ran long. And Ill be in touch.

To your evening, she finished. Im sorry Ive kept you so late, my last interview ran long. And Ill be in touch.

Sooner than they knew.

Chapter Seven

All buzzed up and no place to go. At least, not until three, when she investigated the Morton house again.

The Market was closed. Bumps place would be openBumps place never closedbut she didnt particularly want to go there either. She had everything she needed.

But the walls of her small apartment were closing in, the faint colors from the stained-glass window sliding over surfaces like they were chasing her.

She could go get cigarettes. The Stop Shop on the corner had special dispensation to be open twenty-four hours. That might be nice. A little walk in the cool night air would clear some of the anxious cobwebs in her head.

What the hell had that thing been? Shed never seen anything like it. Projected image or not, it was menacing. Shed had the feeling that if it had turned and saw her, looked at her, she might have screamed.

Maybe she should eat. It wasnt like her to get so paranoid. Take a little of the edge off, fix the sourness in her stomach. The Stop Shop sold snacks, too.

She fished a twenty from her bag, then grabbed her knife and tucked it into her pocket. Walking alone and unarmed in Downside was never a good idea. She locked all three of the bolts on her door as she left.

Her building had once been a Catholic church, before the Church of Truth made every other religion redundant.

Many of the old places of worship had fallen into disrepair, but buildings with some sort of historical value or level of attractiveness were permitted to remain. Chesss was both, and she was glad, even if the extra floors built in ruined the effect a little bit.

It was still one of the prettiest buildings in Downside. And the air outside her apartment did seem clean, despite the odors of garbage and exhaust that never went away.

The heavy double doors at the end of the hall stood wide open, framing the empty street beyond. That was odd. The doors were normally closed and locked. Could be old Mrs. Radcliffe on the second floor left them open. They were difficult for her to move, and she always forgot what kind of neighborhood she lived in.

Or it could have been the four members of Slobags gang from Thirtieth, lying in wait in the protective darkness between the huge slabs of wood and the walls. Chess reached for her knife but she knew it was useless. A hand closed over her mouth before she could open it to scream, and the sharp pinch of a needle was the last thing she felt before the world went black.

The itching woke her up. That, or the intense discomfort of lying on a cold cement floor. But she was pretty sure it was the itching. It burned a path from the palms of her hands and soles of her feet, up her arms and legs, and spread across her chest and throat as if she wore a cheap, terrible necklace she couldnt take off.

She had no idea what time it was, but if she was this bad off it had to be late Sunday morning, at least. Shit. Shed missed the Mortons place. Not that they knew shed missed, but still.

Her head pounded as she pushed herself to a sit. The worst possible thing she could do would be to scratch. Scratching would only make the itching worse. Experience had taught her that. Once she started scratching those invisible itch-bugs wandering beneath the skin she might as well give up. It was like issuing them a challenge. Itch-bugs didnt like to lose.

Of course, her stomach was giving them a run for their money in the torture-and-discomfort department. It felt like shed swallowed a big gulp of acid. The palm of her right hand screamed in pain.

Faint light entered the room through a window high up on the opposite wall. If she leaned her head back she could see a slice of gray sky. So it could be early morning, or simply a cloudy day. She bet on the latter. No way shed be withdrawing like this if only a few hours had passed.

Slobags minions had lain a quilt on the floor, but it hadnt made a difference. Now it did. She wrapped it around her shoulders to try and ease her shivering, and leaned back.

No point even trying the door. The heavy iron lock looked shiny new and very strong. There were no other doors. There wasnt even a convenient ring connected to a secret trapdoor in the floor.

There was a toilet, though. She wasnt about to use it, not when they could be watching, but at least it was there. Nothing like a considerate kidnapper.

Oh shit. What the hell did they want with her? It wasnt as though they could mistake her for someone else, or rather, something else. Not with her tattoos, not unless they were stupid, which Slobags people werent.

She didnt know much about Slobagnot her neighborhood, not her dealer. She didnt need to. Like Bump, Slobag ruled his part of town. Like Bump, he would be utterly ruthless. And unlike Bump, he would bear a grudge against her simply because of who she worked for, which was not good news for her. The Churchs ascendance had been welcomed far more suspiciously in the Asian countries than it had in the West, and Slobag and his men were Cantonese.

She caught herself trying to scratch and folded her arms tightly around her chest under the quilt. Her body thrummed with need. She needed to get out of here. She needed her pills. Just the thought made her groan.

Metal scraped against metal as the lock unbolted and the door opened.

So shes awake.

Chess didnt recognize the man standing in the doorway, his hair standing up in short black spikes. Everything about him was black except his skin, the silver chains he wore, and the chunky silver skull ring on his right hand. The black Chinese character tattooed on the back of his left hand would have identified him as one of Slobags even if his features already hadnt. His people all carried the mark, something like the tattoos that granted her some protection against spirits and gave her additional power to fight them. She suspected there was some power in that ink, as well. Maybe not the kind of power hers carried, but who knew?