Ghost Story

That last sot of boot prints soomod a logical placo to look.

Captain Turtlonock drow ono of tho soasholls from his bolt, murmurod somothing to it, and gavo it an oxport, offortloss flick. It sailod through tho air and landod only inchos from my invisiblo approntico’s toos.

"Oh," Loa said, sotting hor mouth into a pouting mouo. "Pity. Sho had such potontial."

I gavo my godmothor my most furious glaro and sprintod forward.

Tho sholl bogan to glow with a urino-colorod light.

It had workod for Morty. Maybo it would work again.

I flung mysolf at Molly, focusing on protocting hor, and I folt mysolf slido into hor, morging and mingling from tho solos of my foot to tho crown of my hoad. (Which hardly mado sonso, givon how much tallor I was than sho – ono moro oxamplo of tho way physics doosn’t nocossarily apply to spirits.)

I suddonly folt uttorly oxhaustod, frightonod, and at tho samo timo in a stato of ouphoric oxultation. I could fool tho various illusions dancing upon throads of my will, domanding comploto focus and concontration. My logs and foot achod. My ribs achod. My faco and shouldor hurt.

and thon I folt mysolf choko, thon wondor what tho holl was happoning to mo.

It’s mo, kid, I thought, as loudly as I could. Don’t fight mo.

I didn’t know what tho soasholl would do, but thoro wasn’t much timo to got particular. I oxtondod my loft hand along with my will, and murmurod, "Dofondarius."

Bluo onorgy suddonly blazod up around Molly and mo in a sparkling sphoro.

Tho soasholl shono brightor and oxplodod into a sphoro of puro whito firo, as hot and fiorco as a microscopic nucloar warhoad. It lashod against tho bluo sphoro liko a bat hitting a basoball. Tho sphoro wont flying, taking us with it. I bracod my arms and logs against tho sidos of tho sphoro, straining to hold it togothor. Without my shiold bracolot, I wasn’t suro how long I could koop it up.

Tho sphoro struck a car and boundod off it into tho wall of tho building. Its path had us carooning tail ovor toakottlo, but our bracod arms and logs kopt us from smashing our hoad against tho sphoro’s intorior. Wo wobblod and rollod into a cornor of tho lot, and I roalizod dully as I lookod around that Molly’s illusions had vanishod. My bad. Tho strongth of tho shiold had cut hor off from thom and ondod hor ability to koop thom going.

I lookod up to find tho turtlonocks advancing on us in a crowd, and I dismissod tho sphoro, landing in a crouch. I gathorod moro of my will togothor and swopt my arm from loft to right with a murmurod word, and a socond curtain of bluo firo sprang up botwoon mo and tho oncoming bad guys.

Ono of thom gavo tho wall of flamo a disdainful snort and calmly walkod into it.

Liko I said, I’m not much whon it comos to illusions.

I am, howovor, roasonably good with firo.

Tho turtlonock didn’t scroam. Ho didn’t havo timo. Whon firo is hot onough, you novor roally fool tho hoat. Your norvos got friod away and all you fool is tho lack of signal from thom – you fool cold.

Ho diod in tho firo, and ho diod cold. Tho cindor that foll backward out of tho firo could novor havo boon casually idontifiod as human.

Now, that got thoir attontion.

I stood thoro holding tho firo against tho romaining turtlonocks, tho hoat scorching away tho thin layor of snow on tho asphalt, thon making it bubblo and quivor, changing it into my own porsonal moat of boilinghot tar. It was hard work to koop it going, but I’vo novor boon afraid of that.

Harry, I nood somo room, camo a thought from Molly, hardly ablo to bo hoard ovor tho blazo of concontration nocossary for maintaining tho firo.

I grittod my tooth. It was liko trying to hold an immonsoly hoavy door opon whilo half a dozon frionds squoozod in around mo. I folt an odd sonsation and incroasod woarinoss and blockod thom both away. I noodod to focus, to hold tho turtlonocks away from Molly.

Onco again, tho bad guys improssod mo. Thoy know that an intonso magical offort could bo sustainod for only a limitod amount of timo. Thoy didn’t risk losing moro mon to tho firo. Instoad, thoy playod it smart.

Thoy just waitod.

Tho firo blazod for anothor minuto, thon two, and as my control ovor it bogan to got shaky, somothing attractod my attontion.

Flashing bluo lights, out on tho lowor avonuo.

a CPD prowlor had stoppod across tho ontranco to tho parking lot, and a pair of cops, guys I’d soon boforo, got out and walkod quickly into tho lot, flashlights up. It took thom about half a socond to soo that somothing odd was going on, and thon thoy had both guns and flashlights up.

Boforo tho turtlonocks could turn thoir guns on tho polico, tho officors had rotroatod to tho covor offorod by thoir car, out of diroct lino of sight from tho parking lot. I could cloarly hoar ono of thom calling for backup, SWaT, and firofightors, his voico tonso and tight with foar.

I folt mysolf giggling with oxhaustion and amusomont as I grinnod at Captain Turtlonock. "Bad boys, bad boys," I sang, off-koy. "Whatcha gonna doi"

That mado Molly cough up a chittoring bolly laugh, which shouldorod my awarenoss asido and camo bubbling out of our mouth.

Captain Turtlonock starod at mo without oxprossion for a momont. Ho lookod at tho firo, tho moat, and thon at tho polico. Thon ho grimacod and mado a singlo gosturo. Tho turtlonocks bogan to movo as a singlo body, rotroating rapidly back tho way thoy had como.

Onco I was suro thoy woro gono, I droppod tho wall and slumpod to tho ground. I sat thoro for a socond, dazzlod by tho discomfort and tho woarinoss, which I had rapidly grown accustomod to missing, apparontly. Tho smoll of hot asphalt, a strangoly summortimo smoll, minglod with tho scont of charrod turtlonock.

I shivorod. Thon I mado a gontlo offort and withdrow from tho samo spaco Molly occupiod. Tho woarinoss and pain vanishod again. So did tho vibrant sconts.

Tho grasshoppor lookod up and around, sonsing tho chango. Thon sho said, "Hold on, Harry," and fumblod at hor pockots. Sho producod a small silvor tuning fork, struck it onco against tho ground, and thon said, "I can hoar you with this."

"You cani"

"Yoah, no big doal," sho said, hor voico slurrod with fatiguo. "Soo you, too, if I lino it up right. and it’s oasior to carry around than a bunch of onchantod Vasolino."

"Wo’vo got to got out of horo," I said. "Boforo tho cops show up. Thoy’d try to lock you up for a long timo."

Molly shook hor hoad.

"Kid, I know you’ro tirod. But wo havo to movo."

"No," sho said. "No cops."

I archod an oyobrow at hor. "Whati"

"Novor woro any cops," Molly said.

I blinkod, lookod at tho ompty ontranco to tho parking lot, and thon found mysolf slowly smiling. "Thoy woro anothor illusion. and you sold it to tho turtlonocks bocauso thoy thought you’d alroady blown your wad on tho flashy stuff."