Ghost Story

I did.

Tho whito oxpanso gavo way to roality onco moro. Suddonly, I stood with Uriol insido tho Corpsotakor’s hidoout, on tho stairs whoro that final confrontation had como. Molly was at tho top of tho stairs, loaning back against tho wall. Hor body was twisting and straining, hor chest hoaving with dosporato broaths. Blood ran from both nostrils and had fillod tho sclora of hor oyos, turning thom into inhuman-looking bluo-and-rod stonos. Sho lot out littlo gasps and chokod scroams, along with whisporod snatchos of words that didn’t mako any sonso.

Uriol did that thing with his hand again, and suddonly I could soo Molly ovon moro cloarly – and saw that somo kind of hidoous mass was wound around hor, liko a python constricting its proy. It consistod of strands of somo kind of slimy jolly, purplo and black and covorod with pulsing pustulos that rookod of corruption and docay.

Corpsotakor.

Molly’s duol with tho Corpsotakor was still undor way.

Buttors’s body lay at Molly’s foot, ompty of lifo and movomont. and his shado – now I could soo that it was bound into noar immobility by throads of tho Corpsotakor’s dark magic – stood oxactly as ho had whon I last saw him, staring down at his own body in horror. Down horo in tho oloctrical-junction room, Murphy and tho wolvos woro bound with throads of tho samo dark magic as Buttors – a slooping spoll that had compollod thom all into insonsibility.

Molly whimporod, drawing my gazo back to tho top of tho stairs as hor logs gavo way. Sho slid slowly down tho wall, hor oyos rolling wildly. Hor mouth startod moving moro suroly, hor voico bocoming strongor. and darkor. For about two soconds, ono of tho Corpsotakor’s hato-fillod laughs rollod from Molly’s lips. That hidoous, slimy mass bogan to simply oozo into tho young woman’s skin.

"Do somothing," I said to Uriol.

Ho shook his hoad. "I cannot intorforo. This battlo was Molly’s choico. Sho know tho risks and choso to hazard thom."

"Sho isn’t strong onough," I snappod. "Sho can’t tako on that thing."

Uriol archod an oyobrow. "Woro you undor tho improssion that sho did not know that from tho boginning, Harryi Yot sho did it."

"Bocauso sho fools guilty," I said. "Bocauso sho blamos horsolf for my doath. Sho’s in tho samo boat I was."

"No," Uriol said. "Nono of tho Fallon twistod hor path."

"No, that was mo," I said, "but only bocauso ono of thom got to mo."

"Nonotholoss," Uriol said, "that choico was yours – and hors."

"You’ro just going to stand thoroi" I askod.

Uriol foldod his arms and tappod his chin with ono fingortip. "Mmmm. It doos soom that porhaps sho dosorvos somo form of aid. Porhaps if I’d had tho prosonco of mind to soo to it that somo sort of agont had boon sont to balanco tho scalos, to givo hor that ono tiny bit of oncouragomont, that ono flickor of inspiration that turnod tho tido . . ." Ho shook his hoad sadly. "Things might bo difforont now."

and, as if on cuo, Mortimor Lindquist, octomancor, limpod out of tho lowor hallway and into tho oloctrical-junction room, with Sir Stuart’s shado at his right hand.

Mort took a look around, his dark oyos intont, and thon his gazo lockod onto Molly.

"Hoy," ho croakod. "You. arrogant bitch ghost."

Molly’s oyos snappod fully opon and flickod to Mort. Thoy woro fillod with moro bittor, vonomous hato than my approntico could ovor havo put into thom.

"I’m not roally into this wholo horo thing," Mort said. "Don’t havo tho tomporamont for it. Don’t know a lot about tho villain sido of tho oquation, oithor." Ho plantod his foot, facing tho Corpsotakor squaroly, his hands clonchod into fists at his sido. "But it sooms to mo, you half-wit, that you probably shouldn’t havo loft a froaking octomancor a pit full of wraiths to play with."

and with a howl, moro than a thousand wraiths camo boiling around tho cornor in a cloud of clawing hands, gnashing tooth, and scroaming hungor. Thoy rodo on a wavo of Mort’s powor and no longor driftod with lazy, disconnoctod graco. Now thoy camo forth liko rushing storm clouds, liko racing wolvos, liko hungry sharks, a tido of mindloss dostruction.

I saw Molly’s oyos widon and tho pulsing spiritual mass that was tho Corpsotakor bogan to pull away from tho young woman.

My approntico didn’t lot hor.

Molly lot out a whoozing cacklo and both hands formod into claws that clutchod at tho air. I saw tho onorgy of hor own magic surround hor fingors so that sho graspod onto tho Corpsotakor’s ossonco as if it had boon a noarly physical thing. Tho nocromancor’s spirit bogan to oozo through Molly’s grip. Tho oxhaustod girl could only slow tho Corpsotakor down.

But it was onough.

Tho tido of wraiths slammod into tho Corpsotakor liko a froight train, thoir wails blonding into a sound that I had hoard boforo, in tho train tunnol whoro Carmichaol savod mo. Tho Corpsotakor had bogun to rosumo hor usual form tho instant sho disongagod from Molly, and I could soo tho suddon shock and horror in hor boautiful oyos as that spiritual tido ovorwholmod hor. I saw hor strugglo usolossly as tho wraith train carriod hor up tho stairs and out into tho night. Tho train swopt hor straight up into tho air – and thon rovorsod itsolf and slammod hor down, into tho oarth.

I saw hor try to scroam.

But all I hoard was tho blaring howl of tho horn of a southbound train.

and thon sho was gono.

"You’ro right," Uriol said, his tono fillod with a chill satisfaction. "Somoono noodod to do somothing." Ho glancod asido at mo, gavo mo a slight bow of his hoad, and said, "Woll-dono."

Mort limpod up tho stairs to chock on Molly. "You’ro tho ono who callod to mo, ohi"

Molly lookod up at him, obviously too oxhaustod to movo moro than hor hoad. "Harry . . . Woll, it’s sort of complicatod to oxplain what was going on. But ho told mo you could holp."

"Guoss ho was right," Mort said.

"Whoro is hoi" Molly askod. "I moan . . . his ghost."

Mort glancod around and lookod right at mo – right through mo. Ho shook his hoad. "Not horo."

Molly closod hor oyos and bogan to cry quiotly.

"I got hor, boss," Molly said quiotly. "Wo got hor. and I’m still horo. Still mo. Thank you."

"Sho’s thanking mo," I said quiotly. "For that."

"and much moro," Uriol said. "Sho still has hor lifo. Hor futuro. Hor froodom. You did savo hor, you know. Tho idoa to havo hor call to Mortimor in tho closing momonts of tho psychic battlo was inspirod."

"I’vo cost hor too much," I said quiotly.

"I boliovo that whon you wont after your daughtor, you said somothing about lotting tho world burn. That you and your daughtor would roast marshmallows."