Poltergeist

CHAPTER 29

The swirling, agitated thing in the flask drew my eye and I found it difficult not to stare at it as I drove to the Danzigers'. I wanted to get rid of the whole package—container and contents—but even this was a temporary measure. I wasn't quite sure how to be shut of it in a more permanent fashion. I hoped Ben and Mara would have some ideas.

I hadn't looked as bad as I expected after a shower. Quite a lot of my battered appearance turned out to be filth. I had to throw most of the clothes in the garbage—what was crusted on them smelled like sun-rotten salmon and didn't bear closer scrutiny—and I hoped my boots and jacket would be salvageable. I was amazed to note I hadn't cut myself beyond a few scrapes through my jeans. At least I didn't have to find out if I could develop some freaky infection from the ghosts of germs. It would have been my kind of luck to resurrect the 1918 flu or some extinct form of native-killing smallpox. Small mercies and all that platitude jazz. I'd popped a couple of anti-inflammatories, wound a light pressure bandage around my knee, and decided the shoulder would be fine on its own. I felt a bit stiff and sore, but figured I'd do.

When I started up the steps, Albert appeared beside me so fast he fizzed. He stared at the ghost-vessel, which reflected weirdly in his tiny glasses. I wondered how the bottle could have an image in the memory of a lens, but I supposed ghost-things might reflect other ghost-things just fine and maybe it was only what was inside the container that I saw in his specs. Mara opened the door and he rushed into the house, hovering behind her as if he expected me to pass him the jar like a basketball. I gave him a dirty look.

"Albert is acting very weird," I said.

"Well, then, I imagine it's that thing, isn't it," Mara answered, pointing to the bottle. "Bit intriguing, that.”

"I almost lost it to a police detective," I continued, coming inside. "He thought it was evidence in this murder case.”

Some kind of random thumping came from overhead. Mara didn't seem to notice.

"And isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, but the first thing he'd do is turn it over to forensics and they'd pull the cork and let the nasty thing out again. And I didn't enjoy getting it in there in the first place.”

"The poltergeist's in there? Then it worked. Glad to see we're not entirely barking at the moon. Come in to the living room. Ben's got Brian upstairs for a few minutes. We can put that up where little fingers can't get at it.”

Mara put the alembic on top of a low bookshelf and wedged it in place with a pair of small, sand-filled geckos she pulled from a basket of toys nearby.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire it. "Looks rather dramatically alchemical, doesn't it?" Albert drifted up to look into the flask some more.

"It looks like a bottle full of trouble," I replied.

"So it is. How did you manage to keep the policeman's paws off it?”

We could hear Ben coming down the stairs with a heavy tread.

"I told him that if he wanted it, he'd need a warrant," I explained.

"He didn't like it, but by the time he's got the paperwork in order, it may be moot.”

"We can only hope.”

Ben entered, carrying a giggling Brian upside down by the legs. "Are you ready to turn over?" Ben asked.

"Nooooo!" Brian laughed. Then he stuck his tongue out and flapped it up and down, yammering, "Lalalalalalala…" and waving his hands.

"What have you caught now?" Mara asked.

"This is the rare ebon-headed rhino-bat of the Pacific Northwest. Or we hope they're rare, because this one weighs about forty pounds and eats cheese sandwiches—which are now extinct in the wild.”

Mara went to tickle her son on his exposed belly. "Shall we domesticate it, then?”

Brian shrieked with laughter.

"Fat chance," I muttered.

Mara shot me a sly look. "Quite right. It may be past hope. We'll be havin' to tickle it—”

Brian yowled, laughed, wiggled, and squirmed mightily, then shouted, "Down, down!”

"All right," Ben said, setting him gently on his head on the rug. Brian did a slow somersault and scrambled away from his mother's waving fingers to hide behind a Morris chair.

Free of the rhino-bat for a moment, Ben walked over and perused the container full of ghost.

"Wow. It worked. I can almost see something in there…”

"Just so long as it stays in there," I said.

"What are you going to do with it now?”

"I'm not sure. But it has to be kept away from—from the person who controls it." I didn't want to use his name. I was convinced of his guilt, but he was still, technically, only a suspect to the police. "We need to keep it safe until it falls apart. I thought of Carlos—”

"Oh, no!" Mara interjected. "I don't like to imagine what he might do with it.”

I nodded. "Exactly why I'm here and not at his place. But I have no idea how long this thing may last.”

Brian growled behind the chair. Albert flitted away from studying the thing in the jar to conspire with his playmate. Giggles bubbled up from behind the chair over a scrabbling sound.

My knee throbbed a little. I sat down on the sofa farthest from the child-infested chair. I didn't have the energy to withstand even a hug if it came at leg level.

Ben, still looking at Celia's temporary prison, said, "It should fall apart on its own, eventually. But as you say, we don't know when. The sooner the group stops giving it any energy or thought, the sooner that will happen.”

"I've already put pressure on Tuckman to break the group's interest in it," I said. "I think two or three may have already cut themselves off from it, for their own reasons. It seemed smaller than the last time I saw it—though it was big enough to hurt.”

"Hmm. The sooner they all do the same, the better.”

"Perhaps we can speed it on the way," Mara suggested. "You might help the situation by removing that loop it's got on you.”

I shook my head. "I'd rather do that last—even if it's a risk. If it does get loose, I'll have a way to find it again. Its master will snatch it back and use it if he can and I can't let that happen. He's threatened to kill two more people and he's serious.”

"Oh," Mara said, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Yes. But what else can we be at?" she continued, thinking aloud. "We can't exorcise it, but we might be able to break it down faster, I suppose.”

"Maybe the group could unmake it. .," Ben started.

I shook my head and slumped deeper into the sofa. "They've already broken up and since two of them are on the hit list, getting them all together again is out of the question. Can we do anything to break it ourselves?”

Ben perked up. "It's not a regular ghost, but energy dissipation is energy dissipation no matter why you do it. Let me see what I have…”

He darted out of the room and we heard him rocketing up the attic stairs.

I blew out a long breath. Mara looked me over.

"You look all in.”

"It's been a long day. And I don't think it's over yet.”

"Most likely not.”

Brian emerged from behind the chair, crouched over in a strange, brachiating posture.

"Oh, what are you up to now, little boy?" Mara asked.

"Is a rhino-bat!”

"So I hear. What do rhino-bats do?”

"Fly, fly, fly!" Brian yelled, jumping up and flapping his arms; then he ran off around the room with his «wings» spread wide, unusually quiet as he soared around the furniture without a single "graah.”

As Brian was running in and out of the living room, Ben came back with a thick book.

"OK. I found it. There's kind of a standard for dissipating energy entities—which is what this is. It's not specific and it might not do the job completely so long as anyone's feeding it, but it should break the thing down a lot.”

I sat up straighten "What's the routine?”

Ben flipped the tome open as Albert swooped by him with Brian charging after. Boy and phantom dove back into the bat cave behind the Morris chair as Ben started to paraphrase.

"According to this—and this is the third reference to this process—you can disperse a ghost of this type by scattering its property and destroying its image. It draws strength from those reminders of its existence and once they are no longer there, or moved far apart from one another, the ghost has no center to cling to. It can't hold itself together without a core and it will dissipate.”

"There's a power line feeding this thing," I reminded them.

"True," Mara replied, her face pinched in thought. "But it was pulled from its proper place. It will want to move back to its original alignment. If you break down as much of the 'home' environment as you can, the power line should start to move back.”

"OK, maybe it will work. What's the process, exactly?" I knew things like this were never as simple as they sounded.

Ben looked back into his book. "Oh." He paused. "It doesn't say. Just 'disperse the property and burn the image with proper ceremony' But no word on the ceremony. Mara. .?”

She shook her head. "Not the slightest idea.”

They both looked at me. My stomach dropped. "Not Carlos," I sighed.

"Afraid so. He's the expert," Mara said.

"I think he's running out of charity for me. And he may want to take the entity himself.”

"I'll go with you," Mara offered.

Brian flapped past again.

"Oh, no, you won't. Not this time," I said. "If he's willing it won't be because you came and held my hand and called in favors. And I don't want to hear the argument between you and Ben over it, either.”

I stood up. "I'll leave the ghost-bottle with you while I talk to Carlos. That way he can't get it from me. And I'll see what I can do about dismantling the séance room. That's the closest thing there is to Celia's 'home and possessions. I'll call you when I'm done with Carlos and we can go on from there. OK?”

Mara nodded, a satisfied smile on her face.

Ben closed his book on his finger. "All right. We'll be up.”

I nodded and headed back out, poking my cell phone.

Tuckman was not interested in helping me. He refused flat out to dismantle the séance room or to help me do it, in spite of the best arguments I could muster.

When the boss stonewalls, go for the secretary. I sat in the Rover by the side of the road and dialed.

Denise Francisco sounded like she had a cold when she answered her cell phone.

"What?”

"Hi, Frankie, it's Harper Blaine.”

"Oh. You were at the funeral, weren't you?”

"Yeah.”

"Were you, like, close enough to hear it?”

"Hear what?”

She snuffled before answering. "Mr. Gorgeous—you know, Ian, the looker? — he threatened his girlfriend, the Chinese girl, Ana. She dumped him for the Indian guy.”

I sighed. Some people regress under stress. Frankie had bounced back to fifteen. "I don't know anything about it," I said. "But I do know you're the one to call to get anything important done and that's why I'm calling.”

"Oh?" She made a noise like a goose stuck in a mangle—blowing her nose, I guessed. When she spoke again, her voice was clearer. "What needs doing?”

"We have to break up the séance room.”

She paused. "Does Tuck know this?”

"He knows, but he won't do it. The project's shut down, right?”

"Yup. So. . you want to break up the room so they won't get back together again?”

"That's it.”

"Why?”

"Do you want the truth or a plausible lie?”

"I love it when they lie to me—but tell me the truth, 'cause you're not my type.”

"Celia needs to go away. Tuck agrees, but the way to make Celia go is to break up her things and Tuck doesn't want to do it. So, since Tuck won't do the right thing, I'm asking you to help me do it. Before someone else gets hurt.”

"You mean 'hurt' like that thing with Ice Queen Stahlqvist, or 'hurt' like. . dead?”

"They're both bad.”

I could hear her draw her next breath. "OK. When do you want to do it?”

"Tomorrow. Can you do that? Can you get the key?”

"I'm entirely sweatless. How 'bout ten o'clock? It's a Christian school, so chapel service is from ten to ten forty-five every Sunday and no one will be in the other buildings. Good?”

"Good. I'll meet you at St. John.”

"Done deal. See ya."