Downside Ghosts: Unholy Ghosts Part 26

She handed Terrible a pair of gloves and together they started sifting through the boxes, working quickly. Chess's heart refused to slow its pounding; she may have rendered the hexes inactive, but they had not disappeared. She could feel them waiting in the air. One wrong move, one wrong word, would be all it would take to set them again, and they could strike before she knew what happened.

She couldn't help the sound that burst from her throat when she unrolled a particularly large scroll, though. Tucked in the corner with the air of something temporary, it gave off no energy at all. A Church scroll, specifically rendered inert.

A map of the City of Eternity. Why would they ... Pieces clicked into place in her mind.

"f.u.c.k." Her hands shook as she looked up, finding Terrible across the small room, letting him see the newly found panic in her eyes. "The Festival. That's what this is about. The Festival. They want to free the ghosts again."

They stared at each other for a beat, perhaps a moment longer. Terrible opened his mouth, started to move, but at that moment Chess's ears exploded with sound, a deep loud ringing like she'd plunged headfirst into an impossibly deep pool of water.

She'd said "Festival." She'd set off the spell.

Tendrils of blackness snaked across her vision, obscuring her view of Terrible's face going from concerned to confused. s.h.i.+t. Her tattoos offered her more protection, she could probably fight her way out of even a spell as powerful as this one. But he couldn't. All he had was what little she'd been able to give him with her chalk, with the smoke she'd smudged him with.

Like swimming, like wading through oil, she moved toward him, her hands outstretched. She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a high-pitched squeal. Her lips refused to form words. She saw him reaching for her, his eyes clouding over.

Gloved hand met gloved hand. She touched him, felt the heat of him through the layers of latex, and grabbed hold.

She couldn't speak but she could think, words of power echoing in her head as she tugged him toward the wide open door. The clear air she saw through it seemed miles away but she fought anyway, dragging his reluctant weight, only daring to glance back once to see him stumble and almost fall under the weight of stinking evil.

Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, rigid as the soles of her boots. When she tried to speak, it fought her, refusing to become pliable enough to form words.

She screamed instead, calling on every bit of power she possessed, turning her panic and horror at the full scope of the Lamaru's plan into energy, letting it sing from her throat.

It worked. Her feet moved faster, yanking Terrible toward that open door, until finally they reached it. She tumbled out into the bright empty road; Terrible practically fell on top of her, and the storage unit door slammed down behind them.

She shoved some french fries into her mouth and waved the box under his nose, hoping their sodium fragrance would cut through the herbal scent inside the car. They'd rinsed their bare skin thoroughly with her tincture and shared swigs from the iron-ring water; she'd sprinkled pinches of the red salt in their shoes. It was the best she could do to cleanse them and keep them safe at the moment. "You have to eat. I'm not hungry either but really, you have to."

Finally he consented to take one, eyeing his own burger with distaste. "No wonder you so tiny, if yon magic s.h.i.+t feel like this all the time. First Tyson, now this ... d.a.m.n, Chess."

"It doesn't though. That was particularly nasty. A trap-it would have held us there, fed off of us, if we hadn't gotten out. You'll get over it, trust me. You just need to get some food in your stomach."

That was apparently good enough. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him eat, gaining enthusiasm about halfway through. Good. Sometimes people suffered long-term problems from spells like that. Apparently he was strong enough to overcome them. She was relieved, but not surprised; he'd gotten over what happened at Tyson's place quickly enough, though that hadn't been the same type of spell.

"So they after the City? Them Lamaru, meaning."

Her food turned into a horrid lump in her throat, hot and solid as rage. She forced it down and nodded. "I don't know why I didn't figure it out before. I guess I was so focused on the Mortons, you know? But Bruce-he's a Liaiser, you know, he travels to the City and talks to the dead-I heard him the other day saying the spirits were all stirred up, like they were scared or upset or something. And the Grand Elder even mentioned how it takes them a while to calm down after the Festival, but I didn't even think someone would be going down there, trying to break in ... ." She had, almost. In the bar, when he'd asked her if the Dreamthief would control the other spirits. If she hadn't been so f.u.c.ked up then she might have caught it.

"That's why they're using the thief. Some of the other Debunkers have dreamed about him already, see? He can get into dreams, almost anyone's. He'd eventually become powerful enough to possibly invade even the Elders' dreams, to draw from them and force them into sleep. Then, once the Lamaru had figured out how to get the City doors open ... I think they were down there, last night. Investigating. That's why there were ghosts on the platform."

"The spooks wander free, aye, and no Church to do nothing because they all sleeping?"

She nodded. Genius, really. Certainly the most ambitious Lamaru plan she'd heard of-and the most deadly. Thousands of people could die if the spirits were set free like that, all of them swarming out of the earth in silent, bloodthirsty waves, while the Church slept.

Even if none of the Church management were asleep, Banis.h.i.+ng the entire City back would be difficult. There was a reason why the Festival was so controlled, why only a set number of ghosts were freed each night. It was too dangerous to have them all out at once. Not to mention how terrifying it would be, how people would lose all faith in the Church if there was a ma.s.s breakout in the City just as they'd lost all faith in the old religions during Haunted Week. People were fickle. "And the Lamaru can take over."

"s.h.i.+t. Ain't figure on that as a good thing. Figure they really can? Ain't people notice, say aught?"

"That's the problem, though. n.o.body would know. It would just look like a ma.s.s breakout in the City that the Church couldn't control. So the Lamaru steps in and handles it, and there you go. No more Church." She s.h.i.+vered. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. The Church was her home, the only one she'd ever had. Those utter and complete s.h.i.+thead b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

"You want me take you back to the Church? Tell them?"

"I can't. I still don't know who's involved in it, you know? If the plot goes as high as Goody Tremmell, it could be anyone."

"So we handle it, aye? Send the thief back where he come from, an it all ends?"

"Yeah. I hope so, anyway."

"Still think we got time to check all out, your place? Like to ask your neighbors there. Oughta not take the chance we miss ought, dig, something snap back at us later. If them Lamaru's the ones break in, could be they nearby watching."

"We can't do the ritual until it's full dark at least, anyway. We might as well."

The evening stretched before her like an obstacle course. So many things still to do, so much to prepare ... And later still the ritual. The ritual that would either kill her or save her, would either defeat the Dreamthief or defeat her.

For a moment she considered Terrible's suggestion again. It would be easy to head back to the Church. It might even be easy to bypa.s.s Goody Tremmell and head straight for the Grand Elder.

But even if she did, and he listened, what would happen? He hadn't taken Bruce's concerns very seriously, and she'd heard his thoughts on the Lamaru before, his utter confidence that they were little more than a band of amateurish thugs.

He might be willing to help, eventually. She might even be able to think of a good reason why she'd been out at Chester Airport to begin with, why she'd found Slipknot's body.

But in the meantime ... while she waited for him to come around, while she waited for help, her soul would still be food. She had enough monkeys on her back, didn't she? Enough memories to suck all the joy out of her life and crush her under their weight.

Her addiction she shouldered willingly, even eagerly. She refused to do the same with the Dreamthief.

Chapter Thirty-one.

"Remember, you're not a Church employee-some spells will simply be beyond your reach. That's okay! There are still lots of fun rituals to do in the privacy of your own home, and the results will amaze you."

-You Can Do This! A Guide for Beginners, by Molly Brooks-Cahill Chess followed Terrible up the rickety stairs of the building across the street from hers. Perhaps it was a wasted trip at this point, but if there was a chance someone had seen something, they might as well get the information.

Lex had called again, twice, but she let the voice mail get it. Hadn't he understood when she said she was with Terrible? Didn't he understand how important all this was?

They reached the dingy landing, lit by one weak naked bulb hanging on a wire. A rat huddled in a corner, its bare skinny tail whipping the air. Chess shuddered as Terrible knocked on the door of number five.

They waited, then he knocked again, and again, until finally the locks clicked and the door opened a crack.

"Ain't got no dealings with b.u.mp," said a husky voice. Chess couldn't see the speaker's face.

"Ain't about b.u.mp," Terrible replied. "About the apartment across the street. The old church, aye? Your windows look in there?"

"That Churchwitch? I see her sometime. She wander around in there like a ghost, all by herself. Ain't right for a woman to be alone like that. She in trouble?"

"You see anything there this morning, before sunup? Last night, maybe?"

"Seen some dude in there t'other night. With her. Looking like he trying to make some moves."

Chess's face felt hot. Must have been Doyle, when he'd come back and taken care of her hand.

"Last night, I'm saying. You see anything last night, this morning?"

Pause. "Could be I do. What's it to you?"

Terrible reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded bill. "You see, or not?"

"Aye. Aye, I see. Two guys, dig? Didn't see no faces, not good. Pale guys. Dark hair. One snuck back into her bedroom, carrying something I don't know. T'other poking around her main room there. Look like he take something, but left something else. From he pocket."

"How long they in there?"

A hand slipped through the crack, palm up, and waited. Terrible slapped the bill into it.

"Half hour, maybe. Could be longer. I ain't watching. I got my own s.h.i.+t, aye? But I see them."

"Where he leave the thing? You see where he put it?"

"She mighty sweet, Terrible. Sometime she hang around in just little underwears."

Chess made a mental note never to open her curtains again. She'd thought with the smudgy filth covering every window in Downside she wouldn't have to worry during the day. She also never attempted to look in her neighbors' windows. Obviously they had none of the same disinterest.

"Just answer. Where he put it?"

"On the shelf somewheres. Near the top."

Terrible nodded. "Aye."

"Cool, then." The door started to close. Terrible put one hand out and stopped it.

"What? You need more? Ain't know more, that's all I see."

"You see too much, dig? Keep them eyes away from her windows. I find out you peeping in her windows, I come back."

"s.h.i.+t. Stealing all a man's fun." The door closed.

Chess bit her lip as she followed Terrible back down the stairs and across the street. Something left in her apartment. A charm, maybe? Some sort of curse? Or something worse than that, a camera or recording device to keep tabs on her.

It was both.

Precious minutes disappeared while they hunted for it, flipping through books and dropping them on the floor. Chess was starting to wonder if she shouldn't just leave them there. The top shelf yielded nothing, not even when she slid her fingers over the bottom of it and probed the s.p.a.ce between it and the wall. She was thinking of giving up when Terrible picked up the small silver wolf she'd bought a few years back.

"No, that's mine," she said.

"Aye? What's the little mouth hole for?"

She took it from his hand. "s.h.i.+t. This one isn't mine."

The drill hole was so minute she couldn't imagine how anyone had even managed to find a bit that small. Further inspection revealed they hadn't. The wolf was molded around the camera. Masterful. Masterful, and almost certainly created by a Church supplier. Several companies did special contract work creating just this sort of thing, useful in especially difficult cases.

"These things can take weeks to make," she said. "Unless someone pays extra to put a rush, or has some real juice."

"Figure that-" He grabbed the wolf from her and strode into the kitchen with it, then tossed it into the fridge, closing the door on it with a thud. "That Goody you mention got some right, ain't she?"

"Yeah, but they would have made this in, like, two days. I don't think any of our contractors can work that fast."

"Why two days?"

"The first break-in was only two days ago."

Terrible shrugged. "Who said that was the first?"

Suddenly she was very tired. Terrible watched as she slumped down onto the couch and dug a battered pack of cigarettes from between the cus.h.i.+ons. Empty. He lit one of his and handed it to her.

"b.u.mp only asked me to investigate the airport on, what, Friday? Yeah, Friday. And I got the Morton case the next day. That's not even a week."

"But your friend across the street there says something planted here this morning. So they left the camera first, aye, then come back today, drop off Brain and leave something else."

"I don't see anything on the shelves, though, and he said they put something on the shelf."

"Maybe he only checking the camera. Don't mean nothing else got left, today or before. What's the last time you gave the place a lookover?"

She would have felt it, wouldn't she have, if something magical had been left in here? Like she'd felt the power sneak up her legs when she walked over that spot by the runways.

She hadn't felt anything different here, or rather, she hadn't felt anything she didn't attribute simply to the general creepiness of having strangers in her home. But if it had only been planted in the last couple of days, and she'd spent hardly any time here at all ...

Terrible's dark gaze followed her as she stood up and started pacing the room, keeping her eyes half-closed. It wouldn't be by the bookcases. She'd stood there and felt nothing. But the rest of the room, the rest of the apartment, she'd barely touched.

They wouldn't have put it under the bed, which was the most obvious place to put a curse bag or anything of that nature. They wouldn't put it there because it would be too easily discovered when she changed the mattress. It wasn't under the couch, because she would have felt it when she sat down. So where else did she go all the time, where else would she be in close proximity but not close enough to immediately sense it?

She got her answer when she stepped close to the old armchair. The minute her foot brushed the heavy brown corduroy valance, her stomach did a flip.

"Terrible. Grab me my bag, okay?"

She heard him moving but didn't turn her head. The warped lines of the chair merged and spread as she stared at it, an optical illusion she couldn't seem to look away from. Whatever they'd hid, it was powerful. Powerful enough that her heart rate sped up and she had to force herself to stay still or she would run away.

Terrible placed the bag in her hand and she fumbled in it, finding by feel her gloves and slipping the left one on. Her knees creaked as she crouched beside the chair and lifted the cus.h.i.+on with her right hand so she could poke around beneath it with her left. That was a mistake.

The ache in her palm, a constant low presence since the day she'd cut herself on the amulet, turned into a screaming, searing burn. With a cry she dropped the cus.h.i.+on, and rocked back so hard she almost fell over. Her hand throbbed, the stinging pain shooting up her arm to her shoulder and down her side.

"Chess? Maybe you ought not-"

"I'm fine." She grabbed her other glove and forced her hand into it, trying not to touch her palm but failing. Sweat beaded on her brow.

"Whyn't you let me-"