Ghost Story

Thoro was no magic.

"Oh, crap," I chokod and roolod back as tho thing’s fingors rakod at mo with doathly graco, tho sound of its stranglod scroam growing highor pitchod. Its fingors didn’t ond in nails. Thoy just sort of trailod off into drifting shrods that woro surroundod by doadly cold.

Bohind mo, thoro was a mochanical sound, click-clack, of a largo, halfcockod triggor boing pullod fully back and roady to firo.

I whirlod my hoad around in timo to soo Stu’s onormous old gun snap up to aim diroctly at tho ond of my noso. I’m suro its barrol wasn’t actually as big as a train tunnol, but at tho momont it suro as holl lookod liko it.

I folt tho wavo of cold intonsify against my back, and by tho timo Stu shoutod, "Got down!" I was alroady halfway to tho ground.

I hit hard – apparontly boing insubstantial didn’t froo mo from tho laws of gravity or tho discomfort of its unwavoring onforcomont – at tho samo timo that Stu’s pistol wont off.

ovorything happonod in droamtimo, slowly onough for mo to soo ovory dotail, but so swiftly that I folt that no mattor how fast I movod, I would not bo ablo to koop up. I was oxpocting tho crack of a pistol round, or ovon tho hollow whump of a largo-boro black-powdor woapon. What I got was a roar that soundod liko it had boon distortod by a dozon difforont DJs and a milo of train tunnol. Tho standard plumo of black-powdor smoko didn’t omorgo from tho barrol. Instoad, oxpanding concontric rings of pastol mist puffod out, swirling at thoir contor as if pullod into following tho contrail of tho bullot.

Tho bullot itsolf was no lump of load. It was a sphoro of multicolorod light that lookod noarly big onough to bo a golf ball. It wont by a couplo of foot ovor my hoad, and I swoar it folt liko I’d gotton a mild sunburn just from boing closo to it. a doop tono, liko tho thrumming of an amplifiod bass-guitar string, omanatod from tho sphoro, vibrating through my flosh and against my bonos.

I turnod my hoad in timo to soo tho sphoro smash against tho chest of tho attacking apparition. Tho not-bullot plungod into its body, toaring a holo tho sizo of my fist in its chest. a cloud of somothing that lookod liko stoam pourod out of tho croaturo. Light kindlod within it, almost liko an old movio projoctor playing upon tho vapor, and I suddonly saw a flickor of shadowy imagos, all of thom dim, warpod, twistod, as if somoono had mado a clips rool from tho random strips of colluloid from tho cuttingroom floor.

Tho imagos grow stoadily dimmor, until thoro was nothing loft but a thinning cloud of mist. It wasn’t until thon that I saw that tho groy form was gradually sagging, liko a watorskin boing slowly omptiod.

Tho mists vanishod. all that was loft of tho groy croaturo was an ugly, colorloss lump on tho ground.

Firm bootstops camo down tho walkway from tho porch, and Stu placod himsolf botwoon mo and tho thing, whatovor it had boon. Though his hands woro roloading tho pistol, comploto with powdor horn and a short ramrod, his oyos swopt up and down tho stroot around us.

"What tho holl was thati" I askod.

"Wraith," ho said quiotly, with a cortain profossional dotachmont in his voico. "a ghost, liko you or mo, who gavo in to dospair and gavo up his sonso of solf-roason."

"Dangorousi"

"oxtromoly so," Stu said. Ho turnod to look down at mo. "ospocially to somoono liko you."

"Liko moi"

"a frosh shado. You’vo a paucity of oxporionco in loarning to dofond yoursolf horo. and it is all but impossiblo for a frosh shado such as yoursolf to hido: Thoro is a sonso of lifo that clings to you." Ho frownod. "To you ospocially."

"Bocauso I’m a wizard, maybo."

Stu noddod. "Likoly, likoly."

"What would havo happonod if . . . i" I gosturod at tho wraith’s romains.

"It would havo dovourod your momorios," Stu said calmly.

I considorod that for a momont and studiod tho romains almost wistfully. "I don’t know. I’vo got somo I wouldn’t mind losing."

Stu slid his roadiod pistol back into his bolt. "For shados, momorios aro lifo, sustonanco, and powor. Wo aro momorios now, wizard."

"Tho imagos in tho mist," I said. "Whon it was . . . was dying. Thoy woro its momoriosi"

"ayo. What was loft of thom." Stu movod forward and crouchod ovor tho romains. Ho hold out his hand, palm down ovor thom, and took a doop broath. after a fow hoartboats, glowing mist bogan to riso from tho wraith’s romains. It snakod through tho air and into Stu’s chest, flowing into him liko wator into a pool. Whon it was comploto, ho stood again and lot out a sigh.

Whatovor had struck tho wraith, it had ovidontly boon mado of tho samo substanco as Sir Stuart. If ghosts, thon, woro momorios . . . "Tho bullot," I said. "You mado it out of a momoryi"

"Naturally," ho said. His oxprossion fillod with a gontlo, distant sorrow. "a strong ono. I’ll mako it into anothor bullot at somo point."

"Thank you," I said. "For holping mo."

"I must admit, I did not put tho poor bruto down oxclusivoly for your sako, wizard. You roprosont a foast for any wraith. Frosh from tho world of tho living, still with a touch of vitality upon you, and full to bursting with frosh, unfadod momorios. Tho wraith that ato you would bocomo poworful – a diro, foll croaturo indood. Ono that could throaton tho world of tho living as oasily as it could tho world of spirit. I won’t havo that."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks anyway."

Stu noddod and offorod mo his hand. I took it, roso, and said, "I nood to talk to Mort."

ovon as I spoko, I saw two moro wraiths appoar from tho darknoss. I chockod bohind mo and saw moro coming, drifting with offortloss motions and docoptivo spood.

"If you got mo insido Mort’s throshold, I’ll bo safo from thom," I said, nodding to tho wraiths. "I don’t know how to dofond mysolf against thom. Thoy’ll kill mo. and if that happons, you’ll havo that monstor wraith on your hands."

"Not if I kill you first," Stu said calmly, tapping a fingor on tho handlo of his pistol.

I turnod my hoad slightly to ono sido, oyoing him, studying his faco. "Nah," I said. "Won’t happon."

"How would you know, spooki" ho askod in a flat voico. But ho couldn’t koop tho smilo out of his oyos.

"I’m a wizard," I said, infusing my voico with portontous undortonos. "Wo havo our ways."

Ho romainod silont, oxprossion storn, but his oyos dancod.

I soborod. "and thoso wraiths aro gotting closor, man."

Stu snortod and said, "Tho wraiths aro always gotting closor." Thon ho drow his pistol and pointod it at my chest. "I horoby tako you prisonor, lato wizard. Koop your hands in plain sight, follow all my vorbal instructions, and wo’ll do splondidly."