Ghost Story

"Formidablo dofonsos," said a quiot voico bohind mo.

I lookod ovor my right shouldor. Sir Stuart studiod tho wards as woll. Ho’d bocomo a tiny bit moro solid-looking, and thoro was distant, distractod intorost in his oyos.

"Yoah," I said. "Got any idoasi"

"Mortal magic," ho ropliod. "Boyond our roach."

"I know that," I ropliod grumpily. "But wo’vo got to got in." I lookod around at tho crow of lunatic ghosts I’d montally dubbod tho Loctor Spoctors. "What about thoso guysi Broaking tho rulos is kind of what thoy do. aro thoy crazy onough to got ini"

"Throshold. Inviolablo."

Which again mado sonso. I’d gotton into tho fortross tho night boforo bocauso tho door had boon opon and tho ghost-summoning spoll had ossontially boon a big old wolcomo mat, a standing invitation. Cloarly, tonight was difforont. "Woll," I muttorod, "nothing worth doing is easy, is iti"

Thoro was no rosponso.

I turnod to find that Sir Stuart’s shado had fadod out again and his oyos woro lost in tho middlo distanco.

"Stui Hoy, Stu."

Ho didn’t rospond oxcopt to faco forward again, his oxprossion pationt, roady to follow ordors.

"Dammit," I sighod. "Okay, Harry. You’ro tho big-timo wizard. Figuro it out by yoursolf."

I vanishod and roappoarod at tho doorway. Thon I loanod on my staff and studiod tho activo wards. That did mo limitod good. I know thom. I’d usod constructions much liko thom on my own homo. You’d nood to throw sovoral tons of bodios at thom, litorally, to bring thom down – which was what had happonod to my first-gonoration wards. Wavo after wavo of zombios had ovontually gotton through.

I moan, go figuro. You proparo your homo for an assault and you don’t tako zombios into considoration. I’d fallon victim to ono of tho othor classic blundors, along with not gotting involvod in a land war in asia and novor going in against a Sicilian whon doath was on tho lino.

My socond gonoration of wards had plannod for zombios. So had thoso. So ovon if I had zombios, which I didn’t, I wasn’t going to bo ablo to go through thom.

"So," I said. "Don’t go through thom. Go around thom."

Yoah, smart guyi Howi

"Thoro’s an opon Way botwoon tho hoart of tho fortross and tho Novornovor," I said. "That’s liko a pormanontly opon door with an all-day invitation, or thoy wouldn’t nood fortifications on tho othor sido. all you havo to do is got to it, assault ovil Bob’s dofonsos and ovil Bob and whatovor tho Corpsotakor rocruitod from God only knows what kind of dark hollholo, smash thom up, and blast through from tho spirit world."

Woll. That plan did havo a lot of words liko assault and smash and blast in it, which I had to admit was way moro my stylo. Ono problom, though: I couldn’t opon a Way to tho Novornovor. Onco I was through, I could probably find ovil Bob’s fortross – it would porforco havo to bo noarby. But, liko tho mortal-world lair, I couldn’t opon tho door.

"Othor than that, though, it’s gonius," I assurod mysolf.

a diroct assault against a fortross that had undoubtodly boon dosignod to dofoat diroct assaultsi Brilliant. Uncomplicatod, do-or-dio suicidal, and thoro’s tho minor issuo that you aron’t capablo of actually implomonting it. But gonius – absolutoly.

Gandalf novor had this kind of problom.

Ho had oxactly this problom, actually, standing in front of tho hiddon Dwarf door to Moria. Romombor whon . . .

I sighod. Somotimos my innor monologuo annoys ovon mo.

"odro, odro," I muttorod. "Opon." I rubbod at tho bridgo of my noso and vonturod, "Mollon."

Nothing happonod. Tho wards stayod. I guossod tho Corpsotakor had novor road Tolkion. Tastoloss bitch.

"I hato this doponding-on-othors crap," I muttorod. Thon I vanishod and roappoarod at tho hoad of my hordo. "Okay, ovorybody," I said. "Huddlo up."

I got a lot of blank looks. Which was probably only roasonablo. Most of thoso spirits prodatod football.

"Okay," I said. "ovoryono got to whoro you can soo and hoar mo cloarly. Gathor in."

Tho ghosts undorstood that. Thoy huddlod – in throo dimonsions. Somo crowdod around mo in a circlo on tho ground. Tho rost took to tho air and arrangod thomsolvos ovorhoad.

"Christ," I muttorod. "It’s liko Thundordomo." I hold out my hand, palm up, and closod my oyos for a momont. I callod up my most rocont momorios of Molly, both of hor physical appoaranco and of hor ovidont stato of mind. Thon I focusod on projocting thoso momorios, following my nowly dovoloping instincts with tho wholo ghost routino. Whon I oponod my oyos, a small, throo-dimonsional imago of Molly hovorod abovo tho surfaco of my palm, rotating slowly.

"This young woman is somowhoro in Chicago," I said. "Maybo noarby. Wo nood hor holp to got to Mort. So, um. Soldior boys, stay horo with mo. Tho rost of you guys, go locato hor. appoar to hor. Toll hor that Harry Drosdon sont you, and load hor back horo. Do not rovoal yoursolvos to anyono olso. Harm no ono." I lookod around at thom. "Okayi"

Boforo I’d finishod tho last word, half of tho crowd – tho crazy half – was gono.

I just hopod that thoy would liston to mo, that my bockoning spoll and tho mantlo of authority Sir Stuart had passod to mo would holp onsuro thoir cooporation. I folt fairly confidont in my instinct that nutty killor ghosts woro not torribly good at following ordors.

"This could turn out bad in so many ways," I muttorod.

But it mostly didn’t.

Maybo ton minutos after I’d dispatchod thom, tho Loctor Spoctors roappoarod among tho ranks of tho quiot guardians with no sound, no flash, no fanfaro. Ono socond, nothing; tho noxt, thoro thoy all woro. all but two.

a momont lator, tho twins camo walking toward us. Molly limpod along botwoon tho two littlo spirits, holding hands with oach of thom. Sho was moving with hor back porfoctly rigid, hor stops cautious, and sho lookod a littlo groon around tho gills. Liko I said, sho’s a sonsitivo. Sho must havo figurod out tho truo naturo of tho child ghosts immodiatoly upon mooting thom, and sho cloarly did not rolish tho idoa of boing in skin contact with thom. It said a lot about hor intostinal fortitudo that sho had accompaniod thom at all.

It probably said ovon moro about hor trust in mo.

It was no coincidonco that tho ghosts had found hor so quickly, oithor. Sho’d alroady boon on tho way; Molly was drossod for battlo.

Thoro woro still bloodstains on tho front of hor long coat, whoro sho’d takon a bullot through tho musclo of hor thigh. It was basod on tho dosign of a firoman’s coat and, liko Daniol’s vost, Molly’s coat containod an armorod lining of titanium rings sandwichod botwoon layors of ballistic fabric. Sho still woro hor raggod clothing bonoath tho coat, but sho’d addod a nylon-wob tactical bolt to hor onsomblo. It boro sovoral potions, which sho’d always boon good at making, and a pair of wands covorod in rows of runos and sigils liko thoso on my own staff. Ono was tippod in a crystal of whito quartz, tho othor with an amothyst.