P. Stormcrow

This is insane.

No. Deal with the job. Grapple with the consequences later. Finn knew she had to compartmentalize if she wanted to see this through. “Explain the plan to me one more time?” she asked as they picked their way across the field.

Jackson didn’t begrudge her, but there were no smiles, no twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. “We have only a single shot with this gun, but ghosts are damn fast. Unlike a human target, you not only have to worry about them dodging but also them blinking in and out . That’s why we have to stun it first.”

“With this.” Finn studied the box in her hands, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah. The closer we can deploy it to the apparition, the better chance it has to hold the thing and to keep it still longer.” He paused and considered her as she kept her gaze on it. “You know how an EMP generator works?” he asked as he shifted the gun slung over his shoulder. At Finn’s nod, he continued. “Kind of the same, except it’s not electromagnetic.”

Then what is it? Finn wanted to ask, but they were already at the exit.

“Got it wound?” Jackson reminded her as he leaned against the building. There was no point in being stealthy. Judging from the constant rattling of the door and muffled howling behind it, Phillip was well aware of their presence.

“Yeah.”

“Remember. One last crank. Set it on the floor and run like your life depends on it.”

Because it would. Finn gave him a firm nod. But inside, blood roared in her ears. As much as she trained, she had never been part of a field mission before. And no amount of training prepared her for this.

“On three.” He mouthed the numbers without a sound. “One.”

Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze. It became her mantra as she gripped the box tighter, wishing it was a gun she held instead and knowing full well it would do her no good.

“Two.”

She stared up at him. Life or death, they could only count on each other now. Shit, I don’t even know his first name! The sudden stray thought brought home just how much of a stranger they were to each other still. And if they lived through this, she vowed to change that.

“Three.” Jackson kicked the door open hard as they both yelled it out loud together. Finn forced her feet to move and, keeping low, she rushed in.

She wasn’t sure if it was the inhuman screeching or the blasted storm she had to fight harder against, but it was the first arc of blue lightning that she had to dodge. The bracelet around her wrist grew hot in warning as the protection wards activated. She lifted her arm up to shield herself as the wind tore at her clothes and hair.

Closer. 

She glimpsed the contorted face with its elongated jaws and the ruby eyes glowing with malevolence. This was no longer Phillip, but a creature of pure wrath. This was why Jackson referred to him as an apparition, though it was no ghost she had ever imagined. And it focused its full power fueled by that rage at her.

Not yet. Closer. She needed to give her partner his best chance of success, since they had one shot and one shot only.

“Drop it, Reed!” Jackson yelled from where he had already moved to position.

She glimpsed the two teenage ghosts trailing after the creature, so translucent now that she almost didn’t notice them, if not for the glimmering chains. Guilt at not having been able to save them made her push further. Another bolt of energy landed inches from her left, making all her hairs stand and she could not help but let out a high-pitched scream.

“Hey, Dweeb! That’s what they called you, right? Phillip Weeds the Dweeb?” Even Finn could hear the sneer in Jackson’s voice.

He must have hit a nerve, for the ghost turned toward him and howled with renewed fury, the screeching increasing so many decibels that she was certain it had injured their hearing. 

How did Jackson know? No! Why the hell was he distracting their target? He had no warding bracelet… thingy… on him! Phillip lifted one almost solid arm and pointed, energy crackling at his fingertip. 

“No!” She dove the last few meters toward the thing, even as she turned the crank.

The creature released the bolt straight at Jackson.

The box popped open with a pleasant chime, so at odds with the situation. Finn half expected a jester to pop out.

Instead, a pulse of something radiated out and spread through the gym. Finn’s heart skipped a beat. A mere five feet ahead, Phillip froze in mid-pose. Its eyes widened in surprise and its long jaws opened to show the fangs inside. In slow motion, she turned toward her partner, in time to see him try to leap away. But it was too late, as the blue light caught and surrounded him. Jackson shoved the oversized weapon in her direction before his body buckled upward and a strangled cry tore from his throat.

Thought fled Finn. She scrambled to her feet and ran. Her chest burned. But she pushed herself harder, only to slide into position and grab the gun. One shot. One shot. Countless hours of training, thousands of scenarios led to this moment. She adjusted her stance and found her target.

Breathed out and pulled the trigger.

The recoil was more than she expected, and her entire body jolted back as a large bullet burst from the barrel, hitting the still monster square in the chest.

“No! You do not know what you’ve done!” For the first time since she laid sight on it, Phillip uttered human words. He shook and gaped at his himself where a hole had appeared, growing larger and larger until it sucked him, the bits of it collapsing into itself until there was nothing left.

The winds died. Quiet resettled.

Her partner slumped to the ground.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” 

Finn scrambled on all fours to Jackson’s smoking body. She shrugged off her jacket and used it to put out remaining flames still licking his clothes. “Talk to me Jackson.” She checked for breathing and found none. No pulse either. She didn’t have her phone. How the hell did they expect agents to call for help in this situation?

“Fuck.” She rolled him to his back and tilted his head to lift his chin. Chest compressions first. “One. Two,” she counted, panting a little in between as she pressed down hard with both hands. Thirty. She inhaled and switched to rescue breaths, cover his mouth with hers. The compressions again. Again. Repeat. She would not give up on him, no matter what.

“Emily, go beyond the school and call the number I gave you. Make sure you’re actually off the grounds first. Tell them they have one agent down.”

“Mom?”

“Now.”

Finn snapped her head up at the familiar voice. Mrs Dawson? No. Focus on Jackson. But wariness made her try to keep the woman in her field of vision, even as she continued to administer CPR.

“You work on him. I need to deal with these two. Help should be on its way soon.”

It took a while for Finn to register her meaning until she caught sight of Joe’s and Bettany’s spirits hanging in the air with dejected expressions. Satisfied that she meant them no harm, she drew her attention back solely to her partner. She lost track of time until someone pulled her away gently by the shoulders.

“It’s okay. We got this now.” Olivia’s voice was gentle as she led her aside.

Finn recognized the doctor from the other day and another one both in EMT gear, kneeling next to Jackson. Only then did she notice her body’s trembling until Olivia wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her close.

Am I in shock?

There was no sign of Mrs Dawson, Emily, or the other two ghosts.

Olivia pressed a cup of something and guided her to a lawn chair someone had set up. The other agent had to help her guide the drink to her lips. Oversweetness coated her tongue, and she looked up at last, the fog clearing in her head.

“Agent Reed.”

Ms. Callaghan. The director had come to the scene. Finn’s gaze strayed to the clock hanging on one wall over her shoulder. It had been only twenty minutes since they entered the gym. Twenty fucking whole minutes. 

“Virginia?” Finn croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Safe. We have her.”

Finn nodded once and drank a little more of the hot honeyed tea. Chamomile? “How did you all get here so fast?”

“We were already on our way.”

Bitterness welled up in her, and something must have shown on her face as Ms. Callaghan crouched down and placed a hand on her knee. “Jackson understood the risks, but he also knew that every second counted. And he trusted you to have his back.”

Have his back? Finn let out a broken sob. “I think I fucked up pretty badly.”

Ms. Callaghan frowned, as if disproving her words, but she squeezed her lightly instead of scolding her. “You finished the job.”

It didn’t make her feel any better as she watched them place Jackson on the stretcher.

One doctor, a woman with long blond hair tied in a pony tail drew near.  Jackson had mentioned her before, but she couldn’t recall her name at the moment. Before her, Ms Callaghan rose and straightened her suit. 

“He is alive and breathing on his own.” She pivoted and gave her a brief smile. “Thanks to his partner.”

Finn slumped in the chair as a breath whooshed out of her. 

“Good. Keep me updated.”

“Yes Ma’am.” She nodded to them all before rushing off.

The director returned her attention to Finn, gazing down at her with a more professional expression, so much that she thought maybe she had imagined the words of compassion before. “Agent Reed, I expect a full report tomorrow morning on my desk. Best you return to the office.”

“But—” Olivia protested beside her, but Ms. Callaghan shot both of them a glare before walking off.

Finn opened her mouth, then closed it again. 

“Why don’t I take you? We can get someone to bring your car.”

Still numb, Finn nodded. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered at the number of people scurrying about. Did the entire force show up?

She continued with useless musings during the ride, as if trying to avoid speculating on Jackson’s recovery. Olivia kept quiet, giving her space. But it wasn’t until she was sitting in front of her table with her brand new stand issued typewriter that she realized Ms Callaghan’s mercy.

Exhaustion seeped into her bones, but she was still wheeling from the last twenty-four hours especially, and sleep would elude her for a long time. As she considered how to start her report, she found her memory sharpening to recall the facts.

This. This was her life now. 

And for some odd reason, she was okay with it.