P. Stormcrow

By the time he pulled up to the school, the sun hovered on the edge of the horizon. It made him uneasy despite his years of experience, and as if seeking reassurance, he swung around to the trunk of the station wagon to study what tools he had at his disposal.

It wasn’t a lot and if not for the civilian involved, Damien wouldn’t have risked this. But there had been enough deaths with this case already.

He pulled the canvas bag closer and rummaged until he retrieved a slap bracelet straight out of the nineties. He strapped the thing on his wrist and waited for the comforting warmth to activate before he also took out a FBI standard issued Glock and belt holster, which he buckled around his waist. 

It was time. 

Damien drew a deep breath into his lungs and exhaled before he slammed the door closed. The bag would hinder his agility, so he went without as he crossed the street and stepped into the school.

Magic was thick in the air, this time with a decaying scent that threatened to choke him. He didn’t dawdle, but made his way straight for the gymnasium, only keeping his pace, even out of an abundance of caution.

There she stood in the shadows of the day’s dying light. It could be no one else. She stared up at the bleachers, clutching a bouquet in one hand. Tears streamed down her face and her lips moved, but Damien couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. But she looked alert, her movements natural as she set the flowers down, and that was what prompted him to speak up.

“Ms. Hanley?”

No reaction. That was less than good.

“Virginia Hanley?”

He’d expected her to bolt or attack. Instead, she spoke, weariness seeping into her voice. “My boy died here ten years ago today. They say it was an accident, but I knew they pushed him. Those bullies of his.”

“I know,” he replied, keeping his volume down as he walked closer to her, hands in his pocket. 

She spun around to look at him in full for the first time, surprise widening her eyes.

“Virginia,” she corrected him as if on autopilot. “Are you—”

Damien shook his head to stem off any hope that he was here to reopen a cold case.

She hunched over and her lips turned downward as the wrinkles on her forehead deepened. “But Phillip said…” She stopped herself again, biting her lower lip as if she realized how crazy it sounded.

He held up both hands to show he was harmless and took another careful step forward. “It’s okay. You can tell me.” He flashed her a small smile. “I’ve heard just about everything.”

She continued to narrow her eyes in suspicion, but her shoulders relaxed a little. “He came to me in my dreams last night and told me I would find absolution soon. That… that…” She choked on her words.

For a second, Damien thought emotions had overcome her until she doubled over, gagging still, clawing at her throat.

“Shit.” He closed the distance between them and undid the bracelet around his wrist, only to wrestle with her until he could snap the ward on her. 

She gasped and coughed again, this time for breath. But before he could check on her, a shriek of unrelenting fury and anguish pierced the air. Damien ducked on reflex. Beside him, Virginia clapped her hands over her ears and shuddered. A wind whipped up out of nowhere, tearing at their clothes and hair.

Then he appeared.

Not as some vague wisp of a thing. Not as flashes of an image. No. Phillip Weed materialized in front of them in full, completed with a snapped neck and flashing red eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses, translucent but whole. And trailing close to him in collars and chains that glistened with energy were two much more faded apparitions. Bettany and Joe.

“Give me my mother back. She needs to pay,” the ghost howled.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The ward he slapped on to Virginia didn’t stand a chance. He looked down to see her face, horror mingling with longing, and grabbed her arm before she could take a step forward. 

Damien squeezed her hand and shook her at the same time. “We need to get out of here.”

The confusion fled her features, and she gave him a firm nod. Good. At least she still had her senses.

“On three,” he muttered under her breath as the ghost continued raging on.

She tensed in his grip and he counted, then bolted for the door. Virginia ran beside him as blue lightning struck next to them. But just as Damien reached the bar, the lock slid into place with an audible click.

“Shit.” He pushed down without luck.

“Over here!”

It was a voice he hadn’t expected to hear and one he didn’t realize he was hoping for until now. He spun around to find Agent Reed pointing her Glock and flashlight at Phillip, who hissed in return. She refrained from stepping through, but kept the door wide open with one foot. Smart woman.

“Run. I’ll cover you!”

There was no time to think. A gun did little to an apparition, but perhaps it would provide enough of a distraction. He took hold of Virginia’s hand and fled for the opened exit on the opposite end of the gym, taking a wider arc.

“Shit.” Reed swore as her flashlight blinked once, twice, then died altogether. She didn’t wait, but started firing shots in steady succession.

Even in the dark, she was an excellent shot. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost tried to advance, but to his surprise, Bettany and Joe dug their heels in and yanked on their ghostly chains. Philip snarled at them, and the blue links between them intensified. Realization hit him. Phillip is using the other two ghosts like battery packs.

Together with Reed, they burst outside. He didn’t stop and to his relief, neither did his partner. They both booked it until they were off the school grounds, Virginia in tow.

Reed stood hunched over, hands on knees as she caught her breath. “Okay. You were right.”

In normal circumstances, those words would be music to his ear, but all he did was glance at the building, unease skittering across his skin.

“Not exactly. Emily wasn’t there, correct,?”

“Last I checked, they were home,” she answered.

They must have returned between the time he left and she got there. Damien turned to unlock the car. “So he haunts the place, not the people. It’s not a poltergeist like we had assumed.” What a rookie mistake on his part. He kicked himself in his head.

“What’s going on? That… that was my boy but… not,” Virginia stammered. She had paled and her wrinkles had deepened as if she aged ten years just now. Her hair stuck out every which way and Damien was sure his did too.

“I know everything seems very confusing,” Reed soothed as she walked to the trunk and returned with a blanket to wrap around their would-be victim, who clutched it right away like it was her lifeline.

“That’s not an explanation,” Virginia stated, devoid of emotion.

Reed looked up at him, waiting for his cue, and the responsibility weighed his shoulders down. He remembered when he would do the same with Gerard. But he steeled himself and turned to Virginia, sparing a second to admire the strength in the woman. She was not at all like the vapid creature her neighbor and her ex both painted her out to be.

She deserved the truth, but he didn’t have time to get into it, so he nodded to Reed and left her to explain while he got in the car and on to the CB Radio.

“Calling in code red. I repeat, calling in code red. Over.”

“Response line connected. Code red acknowledged. Over.” Olivia’s voice came over the speaker.

“Request package one three four nine, delivery through the tube system.”

“What is going on?” Ms. Callaghan took over, shouting so loud that Damien winced.

“I have a class five apparition and it’s growing powerful enough to influence beyond its anchor territory.”

There was only a briefest of pause before Ms. Callaghan replied. “Authorized. Remember, Agent Jackson, you have one shot. And I don’t have to remind you of the consequences of missing.”

Damien swallowed hard. “Yes Ma’am. Oh and requesting package three three three for one. Over.”

“You got it.” Olivia had taken back over. “Package one three four nine confirmed delivery in five. Prepare for transmission. Over.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

He turned and almost jumped out of his skin at Reed’s face, peering with curiosity, lifting her brows. Damn it. He was on edge, but he couldn’t let his new partner know that. There was also something about her long lashes and warm pools of brown in her eyes that distracted him for a different reason.

“What was that?”

Right. Instead of replying, Damien reached into the glove box and fished out two aluminum foil baggies. “Do you have a phone on you?”

Reed tilted her head to one side, but retrieved the device from her pocket nonetheless.

“Put that, your watch and any other electronics you have in here.” He held the bag open for her. “You didn’t get a full orientation yet but tech doesn’t mix with magic. It backfires spectacularly so we need to keep the devices sealed. They lined the glove box with pure iron.”

He could see her eyes were glossing over and had to remind himself that she had just been confronted with irrefutable proof that paranormal entities existed. On the other hand, he refused to treat her with kid gloves. She was made of stronger stuff than that, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Here. Take this and do the same with Virginia.”

Having a task seemed to snap her out of it, and she snatched the bag to return to the other woman without a word.

Damien got out again and returned to the trunk, opening it. This time, he made sure there was the space to the right of what looked like a big metal hole and waited.

“Everything’s in,” Reed reported back as she approached him.

“Thanks.” He glanced over at Virginia, who sat on the sidewalk, huddling in the blanket. “How is she doing?”

“In shock. As well as expected.”

She didn’t ask, just stood by with so much patience for him to find the right words.

“Thank you, for what you did in there. But this has now turned into a class five, an apparition who not only has consciousness but wields considerable influence over the physical world and is developing powers.” He stared at Reed in the eye. “This is serious and way beyond a one-on-one. You should sit this one out.”

“And what’s the chance of success if you don’t have another person backing you up?”

He didn’t want to answer. But he won’t lie to his partner. His shoulders dropped. “Pretty bleak.”

“Then I’m going. Explain the code to me.”

At that moment, a whirring interrupted their conversation. The sound of mechanical gears clicking into place grew louder, giving way to a rumble until a large leather suitcase slid from the opening and landed in the trunk with a heavy thud.

Damien undid the clasps and opened it. “Two things.” He took care lifting a box just a little larger than a hand with a crank on the side. “A psychic pulse generator. We will use it to stun the apparition.” And that was what it was. Not Phillip anymore, but morphed into some angry monster field by vergence.

“And that?” Reed pointed at the oversized gun that looked like some sort of steampunk prop with its green vials and brass color. But there was only one chamber and a single bullet in it, designed to explode on impact. Impact with something not of the physical world.

“That is the interdimensional rift projectile launcher, or I call it the veil puncher. One shot and if we miss… well, we just can’t afford to.” He handed the box to her and slung the gun over his shoulder by its strap. “Find your slap bracelet in the bag Olivia brought you the other day and put it on. It’s as close of a personal ward as we have.”

She stared at his wrist. “What about you?”

He shrugged, but gave her a confident grin he didn’t feel. “Go get yours. I’ll be fine.” 

She rolled her eyes, but hurried off. Damien followed, keeping his pace casual despite everything in him screamed to return to the school right away. Because every second, the ghost would grow stronger.

“Virginia. I need you to stay here. My backup will be here soon and someone needs to tell them what happened.” He crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her arm. “Agent Reed and I have to go back in and end this. He’s not Phillip anymore. He’s some angry thing that has killed.”

The woman nodded, and Damien was certain he could never forget the way the haunted look on her face morphed into pure determination. “Give my son his peace.”

He did not know if that’s what they were truly doing, not with the drastic method he was using, but he wouldn’t take that away from her. “I will.”