Unholy Ghosts - Stacia Kane 2 стр.

Hesgone? Mrs. Sanfords dark eyes widened. Really gone?

Yep.

We cant thank you enough. Mr. Sanford had a way of speaking, his voice booming out from his barrel chest, that made his voice echo off the stucco walls of the house.

Part of my job. She couldnt even bring herself to be mad at the Sanfords right now. It wasnt their fault they were honest and haunted, instead of faking like ninety-nine percent of Debunking cases.

She finished driving in the nail and stood up. Dont move that, whatever you do. Weve found that homes where a genuine haunting occurred are more vulnerable to another one. The nail should prevent it.

We wont.

Chess put the hammer back in her bag and waited, trying to keep a pleasant smile on her face. Mr. and Mrs. Sanford shuffled their feet and glanced at each other. What were they

Oh.

Why dont we go on inside, and well finish off your paperwork and get you your check, okay?

The Sanfords anxious expressions eased. Chess couldnt really blame them. If she was about to be handed fifty thousand dollars from the Church just because shed had an escaped ghost in her house, shed be pretty relaxed, too. Just like she would have felt if shed gotten her bonus. It would have been ten grand on this job, enough to pay Bump and have something left over until the next one.

Stupid ghosts always ruined everything, like loud babies in a nice restaurant.

They offered her coffee, which she declined, and water, which she accepted, while they signed various forms and affadavits. It was almost nine-thirty by the time she handed over their check, and she still had to stop by the graveyard before she could get to the Market. Damn Mr. Dunlop. She hoped he was being punished justly.

Chapter Two

The market was in full swing when she got there just shy of eleven, with her body calm and her mind collected. A quick shower and blow-dry of her black-dyed Bettie Page haircut, a change into her off-work clothes, and the sweet relief of another Cept working its way into her beaten bloodstream were all shed needed to feel normal again.

Voices colored the air around her as she walked past the crumbling stone plinth that had once been the entryway to a Christian church. The church, of course, had been destroyed. It wasnt necessary anymore. Who wasted their lives believing in a god when the Church had proof of the afterlife on its side? When the Church knew how to harness magic and energy?

But the plinth stayed, a useless remnantlike so many other things. Including, she thought, herself.

Against the far wall, food vendors offered fruit and vegetables, gleaming with wax and water under the orange light of the torches. Carcasses hung from beams, entire cows and chickens and ducks, lambs and pigs, scenting the cramped space with blood. It pooled on the dirt and stained the shoes of those walking through it, past the fire drums where they could cook their purchases.

Then came the clothes, nothing too professional or clean. The salesmen knew their clientele in Downside Market. Tattered black and gray fabric blew in the wind like ghosts. Bright skirts and black vinyl decorated the teetering temporary walls and erupted from dusty boxes on the ground. Jewelry made mostly of razor blades and spikes reflected the flames back at her as she wandered through the narrow aisles, paying little attention to the strangers darting out of her way. Those who knew her lifted their heads in acknowledgment or gave her a quick, distracted smile, but the ones who didntthey saw her tattoos, saw witch, and moved. By strictly enforced law, only Church employees were allowed to have magical symbols and runes tattooed on themselves, and Church employees, no matter what branch, werent exactly welcome everywhere. Especially not in places where people had reason to resent their government.

It used to bother her. Now she didnt care. Who wanted a bunch of people poking their noses into her business? Not her.

Chess liked the Market, especially when her vision started to blur a little, just enough that she didnt have to see the desperate thinness of some of the dealers, the children in their filthy rags darting between the booths, trying to pick up scraps or coins people dropped. She didnt have to watch them huddle by the fire drums even on a night as unseasonably warm as this one, as though they could store up enough heat to see them through the winter ahead. She didnt have to think about the contrast between the middle-class suburban neighborhood shed just left and the heart of Downside. Her home.

Chess liked the Market, especially when her vision started to blur a little, just enough that she didnt have to see the desperate thinness of some of the dealers, the children in their filthy rags darting between the booths, trying to pick up scraps or coins people dropped. She didnt have to watch them huddle by the fire drums even on a night as unseasonably warm as this one, as though they could store up enough heat to see them through the winter ahead. She didnt have to think about the contrast between the middle-class suburban neighborhood shed just left and the heart of Downside. Her home.

Somewhere in the center she found Edsel lurking behind his booth like a corpse on display. The stillness of his body and his heavy-lidded eyes fooled people all the time; they thought he was sleeping, until they reached out to touch somethinga ceremonial blade, a set of polished bones, a rats-skull rattleand his hand clamped around their wrist before they could even finish their motion.

Edsel was the closest thing she had to a friend.

Chess, he drawled, his black-smoke voice caressing her bare arms. Oughta get gone, baby. Word is Bump has the hammer down for you.

He here tonight? She glanced around as casually as she could.

Aint seen him. Seen Terrible, though. Hes watching. Could be hes watching me, knowing youll come here and say hiya. You need something?

We all have our needs, she replied, running her fingers over a set of shiny tigers claws, marked with runes. Power slid from them up her arm, and she smiled. That was a rush, too; a Church-sanctioned one, even. Actually, I could use a new Hand. You got any?

He nodded, bending down so his golden hair slid off his silk-covered shoulders and hid his features. Workin another case?

Hopefully will be soon.

Edsel held the Hand out to her. Its pale, wrinkled skin and gnarled fingers looked like a dead albino spider. She reached for it, stroking one of its fingertips with her own, and it twitched.

Thatll do. How much?

You probly dont wanna pay me now. Terrible sees you got money, it wont make him too happy.

Does anything make Terrible happy?

Edsel shrugged. Hurting people.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but the crowds around her didnt feel as safe as they had when she arrived. All those people, and most of them had two eyes.

Not that it mattered. She had to see him before she left, she didnt have a choice. He could hunt her down or she could walk through that black door herself. She much preferred the second.

She put the Hand in her bagits fingers tried to grasp hers as she didthanked Edsel, and walked on. No point in doing any more shopping if Terrible was watching. Edsel was right. The sight of her spending what little money she had would only piss him off. So she headed straight for the lower office, figuring the element of surprise might swing things in her favor a little bit.

Too bad it was impossible to surprise someone lying in wait. Terrible grabbed her as she rounded the corner, his lips curved in what would have been a grin on a normal person, which he wasnt. On his scarred, shadowed face, the smile made him look like he was getting ready to bite.

Bump looking for you, Chess, he said. His fingers dug into her upper arm. He been looking awhile.

I saw him two days ago.

But he want you tonight. Like now. Come on, you gonna see him.

I was already on my way to see him.

Aye? Thats good luck then.

She didnt bother trying to wiggle her arm from his iron grip as he led her, not to the black door, but around the corner to Bumps pad. A finger of fear slipped under her skin, penetrating the pleasant little fog in her brain. Shed never been to his place before.

Terrible knocked, a syncopated pattern that sounded like a Ramones song. She looked around them; a few people caught her gaze then turned away quickly, as if she could transmit her bad fortune through her hazel eyes. If only. There was an awful lot shed like to get rid of.

Howre those big sideburns working for you, Terrible? You managed to find yourself a steady ladyfriend yet? Hell, why not stick her hand in the cage? He wouldnt hurt her without Bumps say-so, and if Bump had already said so she wouldnt be standing here. Shed be in the filthy, urine-smelling alley behind the Market being beaten and puking up her guts. Sometimes her job had its advantages; roughing up a Church employee could lead to trouble.

Never you mind.

So you have! Is she human?

To her surprise, Terribles cheeks began to color a dull red. It almost made her feel sorry for him. Not quite, but almost. She hadnt known he had feelings.

The door opened before she could say anything else. One of Bumps ladies, she guessed, a petite blonde in a see-through gray top and a shiny, red mini skirt. The black makeup ringing her eyes made her look terrified, at least until she yawned as she inspected Chess and Terrible both from top to bottom.

Without looking away, she stepped back enough for them to slide past her and enter Bumps house.

If Chess hadnt known he was a drug dealer and pimpamong other thingsthis place would have told her in an instant. Everything was gilded or covered in fur, as though Bump had visited the Liberace Museum and decided to go it one better. Stylized paintings of guns and vaginas hung on the walls, turning the room from simply tacky to creepily Freudian in an instant.

Not that Bump would have heard of Freud. The Church kept a pretty tight grip on such things. But Chess had been allowed to study in the Archives, had spent months reading late into the night, every night. Gazing at Bumps ode to the id she wondered if Freud was as full of shit as shed always thought.