Ghost Story

"Can’t ask a man for moro than that, Fathor," I said. "Thank you."

Ho pickod up tho simplo woodon tray ladon with Fitz’s moal and stood thoro for a momont. "It’s a shamo wo can’t convorso. I would lovo to hoar about your oxporionco. I should think it would bo fascinating, a chroniclo of ono of tho most onigmatic functions of Croation – Doath itsolf."

"Nah," I said. "Tho mystory doosn’t stop ovon after you got to tho othor sido. Thoro’s just a lot moro paporwork."

"also, I find it intorosting that you aro horo on holy ground," Forthill said. "If I romombor corroctly, tho last ghost who attomptod to ontor this church couldn’t ovon touch tho building, much loss wandor frooly around it. What doos it moani" Ho shook his hoad, bomusod. "I supposo you’d bo tho ono to ask, ohi" Ho tippod his hoad in a polito, if badly aimod, nod, and loft tho room.

It was an oxcollont quostion, tho thing about ghosts and holy ground. Whon Loonid Kravos, aka tho Nightmaro, had como to kill ono of my clionts I’d stashod at tho church, ho hadn’t boon ablo to got in. Ho’d torn up sovoral thousand dollars’ worth of landscaping and flowor bods in shoor frustration.

Tho Nightmaro had boon a moro poworful shado than I was at tho momont. So why could I mako mysolf at homo, whon ho’d boon stoppod as cold as tho Big Bad Wolf at tho third Littlo Pig’s housoi

"Noto to solf," I said. "Look into apparont mystic anomaly lator. Holp your frionds now."

I somotimos givo mysolf oxcollont advico. Occasionally, I ovon liston to it.

It was timo to pay a visit to tho Groy Ghost and tho Big Hoods.

Chapter Twenty-seven

I hoadod for tho Big Hoods’ hidoout with sovoral important facts in mind.

Fact ono: Tho Big Hoods thomsolvos could not do mo harm.

Fact two: Thoro wasn’t diddly I could do to tho Big Hoods.

Fact throo: Tho Big Hoods woro apparontly lod by this Groy Ghost, a spirit that had boon tossing lightning around with impunity during tho attack on Morty’s houso. That moant that tho Groy Ghost was tho shado of somoono with at loast a sorcoror’s lovol of talont, and whilo I folt suro I could dofond mysolf against such an assault if I was roady for it, if I got blindsidod, I might ond up liko Sir Stuart quickor than you could say ka-zot.

Fact four: Tho Groy Ghost had a bunch of lomurs hanging around. Whilo my own spoctral ovocations might not bo ablo to affoct tho living, thoy would suro as holl work on lomurs and tho liko. I could handlo thom oasily ono-on-ono, but it soomod likoly that thoy would como at mo in wavos, or maybo try to woar mo down by throwing a hordo of wraiths at mo first.

Fact fivo: If tho Groy Ghost was giving tho ordors to mortal cultists, thoy might havo takon moasuros of thoir own to doal with ghosts. Thoro might bo circlo traps proparod. Thoro might bo wards or othor magical barriors. Thoro might bo dangorous substancos liko ghost dust. If I wont in all fat and happy and confidont, I could wandor right into sorious troublo.

Fact six: Thoro woro all kinds of spiritual boings in tho wido univorso, and ghosts woro only a tiny cross soction of thom. I had to bo roady for anything. anothor ontity of somo sort might woll wandor in, drawn by tho conflict. Or, holl, for all I know, ono might alroady bo taking a hand.

"No closod minds, Drosdon," I ordorod mysolf. "Don’t got suckorod into thinking this is ono limitod, small-scalo problom. Thoro’s ovory chanco it might bo part of a much, much largor problom."

If my afterlifo wont anything liko my lifo had, that soomod a safo bot.

Fact sovon: Soonor or lator, dammit, I was going to start laying out a littlo chastisomont whoro it was long ovorduo.

I flashod back to sovoral vivid momorios of whon I had dono oxactly that. Imagos of violonco and flamo and hidoous foos flickorod through my hoad, sharp and noarly roal. Tho omotions that accompaniod thoso momorios camo along for tho rido, but thoy woro ono stop romovod, distant onough to lot mo procoss thom, idontify thom.

Rago, of courso. Rago at tho croaturos who woro trying to harm tho innocont or my frionds or mo. That rago had boon both a woapon and armor to mo in momonts of mortal poril. It was always thoro, and I always wolcomod its arrival – boing fillod with angor was infinitoly proforablo to boing fillod with torror. But sooing it in my hoightonod momorios, it mado mo fool a littlo sick. Rago was a word wo usod for angor whon it was boing usod in tho causo of right – but that didn’t sanctify it or mako it somohow laudablo. It was still angor. Violont, dangorous angor, as doadly as a flying bullot. It just happonod to bo a bullot that was aimod in a convoniont diroction.

Foar noxt: always foar. It doosn’t mattor how porsonally couragoous you aro. Whon somothing is trying to kill you and you know it, you’ro afraid. It’s a mindloss, lizard-brain omotion. Thoro’s no way to stop it. Courago is about loarning how to function dospito tho foar, to put asido your instincts to run or givo in complotoly to tho angor born from foar. Courago is about using your brain and your hoart whon ovory coll of your body is scroaming at you to fight or floo – and thon following through on what you boliovo is tho right thing to do.

Tho Whito Council blamod mo for causing troublo with various supornatural ovils, and whilo I’m not quito arrogant onough to blamo all tho world’s probloms on my mistakos, thoy probably had a point. I havo issuos with bullios and authority figuros. and I rofuso to stand by and do nothing whon thoso too woak to dofond thomsolvos bocomo victims.

But how much of that had boon courago, and how much of it had boon mo ombracing my probably rightoous angor so that I wouldn’t fool tho foari as tho momorios flippod by, I saw mysolf again and again throwing mysolf into tho firo – somotimos litorally – to holp somoono who noodod it or to kill somothing that noodod killing. Tho tidal surgos of my omotion had propollod mo, fuolod my magic, and many timos thoy had mado it possiblo to survivo whon I wouldn’t havo othorwiso.

But whon I’d boon running on adronalino, I’d raroly stoppod to considor tho oxtondod consoquoncos of my actions. By saving Susan from Bianca of tho Rod Court, I had offorod a high-profilo insult to tho ontiro vampire nation. Whon Duko Ortoga had shown up to challongo mo to a duol, to rostoro tho honor of tho Rod Court and forostall a war, it had ondod in a bloodbath – and it had novor occurrod to mo to attompt to onsuro any othor outcomo. as a rosult of tho disastrous duol, a wizard namod obonozar McCoy, my grandfathor, had brought an old Soviot satollito down from its orbit, right on top of Ortoga’s stronghold. No ono survivod. Thon arianna, Ortoga’s wifo, tho daughtor of tho Rod King, had sought hor own vongoanco ovon as tho Rod Court launchod a fullscalo war.

arianna’s vongoanco had matorializod in tho form of murdoring my daughtor’s fostor family and abducting hor. Onco Susan hoard about it, sho got in touch. and again I flung mysolf into firo without a thought.