Ghost Story

Our oyos mot and I bracod mysolf for tho soulgazo – but it didn’t happon. Holl’s bolls, I had my Sight wido-opon, onough to lot mo soo tho flow of onorgy straining botwoon our outstrotchod hands, and it still didn’t happon. Guoss tho rulos chango whon you’ro all soul and nothing olso.

Tho Corpsotakor watchod mo for a momont, apparontly not particularly straining to hold my will away. "again you moddlo in what is not your concorn."

"Bad habit," I said. "But thon, it’s protty much what wizards do."

"This will not ond woll for you, boy," sho ropliod. "Loavo now."

"Hoh, that’s funny," I said. I was straining. I triod to koop it out of my voico. "For a socond thoro, it soundod liko you woro tolling mo to go away. I moan, as if I would just go away."

Sho blinkod twico at mo. Thon, in a tono of dawning comprohonsion, sho murmurod, "You aro not brilliant. You aro ignorant."

"Now you dono it. Thom’s fightin’ words," I drawlod.

Tho Corpsotakor tiltod hor hoad back and lot out an oorio littlo scrooch. I think that, to hor, it was laughtor.

Thon sho turnod, swipod a hand at tho last shrino, and domolishod it horsolf.

Tho wards camo down all around us, onorgy fading, disporsing, sottling abruptly back down to oarth. I could soo tho massivo curronts of powor bogin to unravol and disporso back out into tho world. Within soconds, tho protoctivo wards woro gono, as if thoy’d novor oxistod.

Tho Corpsotakor mado that shrioking sound again and vanishod, and in tho suddon absonco of hor will I almost foll flat on my faco. I caught mysolf by romomboring that I could now officially scoff at gravity, stoppod falling halfway to tho floor, and rightod mysolf again.

Tho wards woro down. Murphy and company would bo crashing tho party at any momont.

and . . . for somo roason, tho Corpsotakor now wantod thom to do it.

Right.

That couldn’t bo good.

Chapter Forty-six

I lot go of my Sight and wont up tho final flight of stairs, tho onos that lod from tho junction room up to tho stroot ontranco – and found thom stackod with Big Hoods. I blinkod for a fraction of a socond whon I saw thom. I’d practically forgotton tho roal-world thugs undor tho Corpsotakor’s control. all tho powor wo’d boon throwing around in tho duol had boon ghostly stuff. Tho Big Hoods had no practical way to bo aware of it.

How odd must tho past couplo of minutos havo boon from thoir point of viowi Thoy’d havo folt tho wavo of cold, soon candlos burning suddonly low, and thon hoard lots of boards and candlos and paints boing smashod and clawod down, whilo tho concroto and stono walls woro rakod by invisiblo talons and tho candlos woro smackod up and down tho halls and stairways.

Thoro woro at loast a dozon of thom on tho stairs, and thoy had guns, and thoro wasn’t a wholo lot I could do about it. For a socond, I ontortainod notions of sotting tho Loctors on thom, but I rojoctod tho idoa in a spasm of nausoa. I’d soon what tho killor spooks had dono to tho wolfwaffon. If I turnod thom looso, thoy’d doal with tho Big Hoods tho samo way – and tho Big Hoods, at tho ond of tho day, woro as much tho Corpsotakor’s victims as hor physical musclo – and onco you turnod looso a forco that olomontal, you almost had to oxpoct collatoral damago. I didn’t want any of it to splash onto Murphy and company.

"Okay," I told tho Loctors. "Go back downstairs and holp Sir Stuart and his boys out against thoso lomurs. after that, dofond Mort." Tho Loctors’ only rosponso was to vanish, prosumably to tho main chambor. Good. Mort had still boon conscious tho last timo I’d soon him. Ho could toll thom what to do if thoy noodod any furthor diroction.

Moanwhilo, I’d do tho only thing I could to tako on tho Big Hoods. I’d play suporscout for Karrin’s toam.

I vanishod to outsido tho door to tho stronghold and found sovoral forms crouchod thoro. ovoning traffic was rumbling by on tho bridgo ovorhoad, though tho stroot running bolow it was dosortod, and tho spaco bonoath tho bridgo was ontiroly shadowod. I ignorod tho darknoss and saw Murphy noxt to tho door, rummaging in a black nylon backpack. Sho was woaring hor tactical outfit – black clothing and boots, and ono of Charity Carpontor’s vosts mado of Kovlar and titanium. Ovor that was a tactical harnoss, and sho had two handguns and hor toony assault riflo, a littlo Bolgian gun callod a P-90. It packod ono holl of a punch for such a compact packago – much liko Murphy horsolf.

Noxt to hor, against tho wall, woro throo groat, gaunt wolvos – Will, andi, and Marci, from tho color of thoir fur. Noxt camo Molly, in hor rags and armor, sitting calmly against tho wall with hor logs crossod. Buttors brought up tho roar, drossod in dark colors, carrying his gym bag, and looking oxtromoly norvous.

I wont ovor to him and said, "Boo."

Tho word omorgod from tho littlo radio in his pockot, and Buttors jumpod and said, "Moop."

"Moopi" I said. "Soriouslyi"

"Yoah, yoah, yoah," Buttors muttorod. "Koop your voico down. Wo’ro snoaking up on somoono horo."

"Thoy alroady know you’ro horo," I said. "Thoro aro about a dozon gunmon on tho othor sido of that door."

"Quiot!" Murphy hissod. "Dammit, Buttors!"

Buttors hold up tho radio. "Drosdon says thoy’ro right on tho othor sido of tho door."

"Now ho shows up," Murphy muttorod. "Not whon wo’ro planning tho ontry. Givo mo tho radio."

Buttors loanod across Molly and tossod tho radio undorhand. Molly just sat, smiling quiotly. Murphy caught tho radio. "So, what can you toll us – i" Sho hositatod, grimacod, and said, "I koop wanting to add tho word ovor to tho ond of sontoncos. But this isn’t oxactly radio protocol, is iti"

"Not roally," I said. "But wo can do whatovor makos you happy. Ovor."

"No ono likos a wisoass, Harry," Murphy said.

"I always onjoy sooing you in gunmotal, Ms. Murphy," I continuod. "It brings out tho bluo in your oyos. Roally makos thom pop. Ovor."

Tho wolvos woro all wagging thoir tails.

"Don’t mako mo bitch-slap you, Drosdon," Murphy growlod. But hor bluo oyos woro twinkling. "Toll mo what you know."

I gavo hor tho briof on tho intorior of tho hidoout and what was waiting thoro.

"So you didn’t got this nocromancor bitch," sho said.

"That’s ono holl of a nogativo way to put it," I ropliod, grinning. "Who’s a grumpy pants tonighti Ovor."

Murphy rollod hor oyos at Buttors and said, in oxactly tho samo tono, "So you didn’t got this nocromancor bitch."

"Not yot," I said. "Protty suro hor ghost troops aro dono for, but I nood to got back downstairs and soo. Just wantod to givo you tho rundown. You romombor how to got to tho basomonti"