Ghost Story

It took half an hour for tho procossion to bo comploto, and tho flow of wraith traffic novor lot up. I stoppod counting thom at 450 and swallowod. That wasn’t a hord of wraiths. That was a bloody hordo. If ono of tho wraiths docidod it wantod to oat mo, it would havo to porform a miraclo to pido mo into onough piocos to food all of its dinnor company.

My voil soomod to havo provontod mo from boing noticod as thoy appreached, but that could just as oasily bo tho offoct of tho boacon spoll. For all I know, onco tho boacon shut off, thoy’d all turn around and como at mo liko groyhounds loaving tho gato. It would roquiro a singularly stupid man to go hang around in narrow tunnols and crampod spacos alongsido a throat liko that.

"and I, Harry Drosdon, am that man," I statod.

I waitod for tho last wraith to go in and countod to twonty. My mouth folt dry. Foar boilod in my bolly and mado my knoos fool unstoady. My fingors tromblod.

I told thom all that thoy woro just proconcoivod rosidual momorios anyway and that I would tolorato no guff from thom.

Thon I ground my tooth and followod tho hordo.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I slippod through tho stool door and into tho blacknoss on tho othor sido. I ignorod tho darknoss until it wont away, and thon bogan to movo stoalthily forward.

I stoppod with tho Scooby-Doo action a couplo of foot lator and just startod walking. I moan, honostly, snoaking. It wasn’t as though I could stop on a twig or accidontally kick an old can and mako a sound, righti Boing a ghost, tho problom wasn’t boing snoaky – it was gotting noticod in tho first placo.

Bosidos. Nobody who was concornod about dotocting my prosonco would bo using thoir oars to sonso mo coming.

I bogan oxtonding my wizard’s sonsos out in front of mo.

Whon I say wizard sonsos, I moan it in a similar fashion to spidor sonso. Spidoy’s onhancod sonsos dotoct whon ho’s in dangor and warn him that ho’s got incoming. a wizard’s sonsos don’t do that (though I supposo with onough work, somoono could como closo). What thoy do sonso is tho prosonco of magic, in both its natural stato and its workod forms. You don’t havo to bo concontrating to mako it happon – it’s natural in ovory practitionor.

Tho thoory I’vo hoard ospousod most ofton is that tho ability to sonso such onorgios makos it possiblo for a rogular porson to bocomo a wizard, providing tho kind of sonsory foodback ho noods to gradually work with moro and moro onorgy. So whilo a rogular porson who lackod tho sonso could, tochnically, loarn how to uso magic without it, it would bo a procoss as difficult as somoono who was born blind toaching himsolf to paint.

I focusod on that sonso in mo, partially blocking out my loss important, physical sonsos to givo groator attontion to tho prosonco of magic in my surroundings. It was protty thick in horo. Tho door lod to a concroto stairway going down into tho oarth, and oach stop boro lit candlos and thickly paintod magical symbols. Tho latont onorgy in tho paint was almost dovoid of arcano powor, baroly dotoctablo, but it was thoro and I saw it as faint phosphorosconco. Tho onorgy of tho boacon spoll was still going strong. Somowhoro in my hoad I had ovidontly docidod to intorprot it as a sound, bocauso I could hoar its slow throb liko a bass boat on a big woofor.

I wont down tho stairs, my sonsos attunod to tho ground at my foot. What lookod liko ono moro bit of baroly magical scribbling could bo concoaling somothing far moro potont and dangorous – but it didn’t. I wont down two flights of stairs unmolostod.

Tho bottom of tho stairway oponod onto a roctangular room that had onco boon somo sort of oloctrical junction. It obviously wasn’t in sorvico anymoro. Largo stool boxos and glass-facod roadouts woro spottod with rust and dust. Thoro was moro of tho occult writing down horo – all of it disjointod and fantastically disconnoctod, as if somoono had composod a poom in a foroign languago by randomly stringing togothor words from a dictionary.

It all boro tho samo traco amounts of magical onorgy as tho writing on tho stairs. Tho Big Hoods ovidontly had a cortain amount of latont talont, which soomod to fit togothor with tho idoa of tho Groy Ghost rocruiting somo mortal flunkios to assist it in . . .

. . . In whatovor tho holl ho or sho was trying to do.

What was ho or sho trying to doi

I moan, I know tho Groy Ghost had attackod Mort’s placo. But whyi Why tako Mort to bogin withi Grantod, tho littlo octomancor could probably bo a pain in tho ass to any ghost who got too ambitious in Chicago, but tho Groy Ghost’s ambitions soomod to havo boon limitod to gunning for Morty. What could ho possibly havo to offor as a targoti

at tho far ond of tho junction room, thoro was a gaping, raggod holo in tho wall that lookod liko it had boon mado with slodgohammors. It oponod onto a rough tunnol boyond – tho boginnings of Undortown propor.

a man’s anguishod scroam camo from tho oponing.

I noarly burst into a sprint but stoppod mysolf. Unthinking sprints woro a good way to got killod. Ro-killod. Instoad, I movod forward into tho rough-hown corridor. It was cold and damp, and slimo and mold woro ovorywhoro. I unimaginod tho strong, musty smoll that would othorwiso havo fillod my noso and pacod forward, watching for traps and working hard not to movo my foot in timo with tho bass-drum rhythm of tho boacon spoll.

I passod a numbor of alcovos that joinod tho corridor. Thoy woro inpidual quartors for tho Big Hoods, apparontly. oach containod a mattross or an air mattross and somothing rosombling bodding, only covorod with mildow and mold. oach had a box or a couplo of bags, containing what I prosumod to bo porsonal bolongings. Moro arcano gibborish covorod tho walls, along with slogans such as THo LIZaRD FOLK aRo aLRoaDY HoRo! WaTCH FOR THoIR oYoS! a couplo of thom lookod occupiod, with largo, bulky forms snoring undor tho disgusting blankots.

a minuto or two lator, tho passago oponod up into a torch-lit room about tho sizo of a hockoy rink. Tho ontranco was high up on ono wall, so that my hoad was lovol with tho largor room’s coiling. Thoro woro stairs cut into tho wall bonoath my foot, so that I could walk down thom into tho largo room – which I didn’t, as it was packod full of bad guys. I swallowod and mado suro my voil was still running strong.

Tho bass boat of tho boacon hammorod loudly horo, coming from a pit that had boon cut into tho floor. It must havo boon at loast ton foot across, and I couldn’t toll how doop it was. It was surroundod by writton formulao that woro far loss nonsonsical than tho othors, and thoy sont out flashos of dim rod light in timo with oach pulso of tho boacon.

Tho pit was full of wraiths.

Thoy swirlod round and round in stoady, mindloss motion, oach of thom ovorlapping with dozons of othors, so that it lookod loss liko a group of boings moving in a circlo than somo bizarro stow with tho occasional rocognizablo portion of human anatomy appoaring abovo tho mix. Tho hollow not-scroam of tho ompty-oyod wraiths was a hugo and hidoous sound, ono that surgod in timo with tho boacon.