Forces from Beyond (12 page)

Happy produced his silver pill box and looked at it thoughtfully. Like a suicide trying to decide between several bad choices.

“You’re looking very worn-down, Happy,” said Kim. “Don’t die. I like being the only ghost in the Ghost Finders.”

“I don’t know,” said Happy. “I could use the rest . . .”

He opened the lid and stirred the contents with a single fingertip before finally selecting two large green pills emblazoned with yellow lightning bolts. He dry-swallowed them quickly, then sat back in his seat. All the colour dropped out of his face, and his eyes saw many things, few of them good. He looked drawn and grey and sick.

“Got them!” he said loudly. “Spiked the bastards! They won’t be able to think about anything but that rotten advertising jingle for days! Okay, JC, we are now, for all practical purposes, psychically invisible. Unless Allbright brings in some really big guns. I’m good; but there are better.”

“You must be feeling bad if you’re ready to admit that,” said Melody.

“You look like shit, Happy,” said JC.

“Move on,” said Happy.

“Happy . . .” said JC.

“We need to move on,” said Happy. “Allbright knows our current location. I saw it in their heads before I shut them down.”

“All technological surveillance is now blocked,” said Melody. She patted the complicated thing she’d made, as though praising a pet that had learned a clever trick. “We’re covered, JC. But Happy’s right: trouble will be heading our way in the very near future. So whatever it is you’re planning on doing, do it now.”

JC opened up his glove compartment and took out an old baked-beans tin. Someone had washed it out, but it still had the old label.

Melody shook her head slowly. “You have got to be kidding . . . I could have made you a proper comm unit.”

“Not like this,” said JC. “According to Catherine Latimer, this can is connected to hers by a length of spiritual string. One-to-one connection, so no-one can listen in.”

“The world gets weirder every day,” said Happy. “It’s all that keeps me going . . .”

“When did Latimer give you that?” said Melody, staring suspiciously at the can. “Did she know this was going to happen?”

“She suspected,” said JC. “That woman plans for everything.”

He put the tin can to his right ear, cleared his throat, and spoke aloud, just a bit self-consciously.

“Boss, this is JC. We need to get together. Where are you . . . ?”

He paused, listened, and lowered the tin can. He smiled briefly as he put it carefully back in the glove compartment.

“It seems the Boss has made arrangements. We are to meet her, and perhaps a few special friends, at the Wulfshead Club.”

“The most dangerous private club in London,” said Melody. “Favoured watering hole for the more worrying members of the supernatural and superscience community.”

“Oh, this can only go well,” said Happy.

“Why do you always have to look on the miserable side?” Melody asked.

And that was when a dark figure reared up before their car and smashed in its bonnet with one blow of its fist. The whole car shook and shuddered, throwing the occupants about.

“Oh, no reason,” said Happy.

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RETURN OF THE FAUST

He stood there, in front of the car, that terrible thing from out of their past. A tall, swaggering figure, arrogant and assured. Horror and violence on the hoof and loving every minute of it. He was dressed exactly the same as before, in a smart coal grey suit, with a waistcoat of many colours. Heavily built, muscle and bulk rather than fat, a huge, overbearing physical presence. Like he was always going to be the most important thing in whatever setting he chose to appear; and it would be a damned fool who looked at anything else. Because this man was dangerous. Because he might do anything.

He had slicked-back jet-black hair, and dark, unblinking eyes as inhuman as a shark’s and just as hungry. He had the devil’s smile; and he knew it. His face was almost classically handsome, but the effect was spoiled because it held no trace of character. It was just a pleasant mask, worn by something only pretending to be human. When he finally spoke, it was the sound of something that liked to play with its prey.

“Hi, guys! It’s me! I’m back!”

“Oh bloody hell,” said Melody. “It’s the Faust. The Flesh Undying’s personal attack dog. Doesn’t anyone stay dead these days?”

“Well,” said Happy. “Given our line of work, as Ghost Finders . . .”

“Shut up.” She glared at the Faust. “Didn’t we kill you back at the Haybarn Theatre?”

“You wish,” said the Faust. “You can’t kill me; nothing can. That’s part of what I bought with my service. Unlike the original and rather short-sighted Faust, who sold his soul in return for the pleasures of the flesh, I made a better deal. I sold my flesh in return for a better soul. You can destroy my body as often as you like; the Flesh Undying will just give me a better one.”

“Now why would he do that?” said JC. “Given that you failed so miserably to bring us down the last time?”

“Because not even death of the body can free you from service to the Flesh Undying,” said the Faust. “Once you’ve signed on, it’s forever.”

“You don’t sound too pleased about that,” said Happy.

The Faust’s smile widened. “Oh no. Forever is what I wanted. So, my dear old chums, down to business, eh? Tell me . . . where on Earth is Catherine Latimer? Now she’s been dismissed by the new order at the Carnacki Institute, all her old protections have been revoked, and she walks naked and alone in this bad old world.”

“I think you’ll find she can look after herself,” said JC. “Catherine Latimer never needed anyone to protect her. That lady was born dangerous.”

The Faust shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. The Flesh Undying wants her, so I want her. Give her to me.”

“Do you see her inside this car?” said JC. “What you see is what you get.”

“I know she isn’t here right now,” the Faust said patiently. “Or I wouldn’t be wasting my time talking with you, would I? I would be indulging myself with some happy time by tearing you apart into bite-sized chunks. But you know where your dear old Boss is. Tell me, and I’ll let you walk away.”

“He’s lying,” Happy said immediately. “Don’t need to be a mind-reader to know that.”

The Faust pouted. “Well of course I’m lying! That goes without saying. But we have to play the game by the rules, or where’s the fun in it?”

“A game?” said JC. “When did this become a game?”

“A game is something you play with friends,” said Melody. “And friends don’t tear friends into bite-sized chunks.”

The Faust flashed his devil’s smile again. “You’re not going to tell me, are you? Surprise, surprise . . . Oh well, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

He grabbed hold of the car with both hands and tore the front section apart with brutal enthusiasm. Metal squealed loudly as it tore, as though it was in pain. The Faust threw broken bits aside as he forced his way forward, walking through the body of the car to get to its occupants, just for the fun of it. JC turned to Happy and Melody.

“Time to go.”

“What?” said Melody.

“Get out of the bloody car and leg it!” said JC. “Look at him; do you have a better idea?”

“No she doesn’t,” said Happy. “We should run. Running is good.”

They threw open the car doors and abandoned the vehicle, as it shook and shuddered under the Faust’s assault. They spilled out onto the pavement and backed quickly away, unable to take their eyes off the Faust as he strode hip-deep through mangled metal. He stopped, smiled at them, then ripped the whole car in half. The Faust didn’t show the slightest strain in his face, and his bare hands took no damage from the jagged metal. He let the two halves of the car fall away to either side of him, and they made a terribly loud clattering as they settled.

Melody looked up and down the empty street. “Why hasn’t anyone come out to see what’s happening?”

“Would you?” said Happy.

“He’s a lot stronger than I remember,” said JC.

“Upgrade,” Melody said darkly. “Terminator class.”

“Just when you thought the day couldn’t get any worse . . .” said Happy.

JC looked at Melody. “Do you have anything that might stop him? Hell, I’d settle for something that might just slow him down.”

“If I had my equipment,” said Melody. “Or any of my usual weapons . . .”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” said JC. “Happy, can you . . . ?”

“I can’t reach him,” said Happy. “He’s . . . I was going to say shielded, but I don’t think that’s it. More like he isn’t really here. No-one home.”

“Get behind me,” said Melody. “As soon as he gets close enough, I’m going to kick him in the balls so hard he’ll be able to wear them as ear-rings.”

“No!” Happy said sharply. “He wouldn’t even feel it, Mel. He’s not human. He just looks that way because it’s how he remembers being. He’s made of flesh from somewhere else now, given shape and purpose by the Flesh Undying. You can’t fight him, Mel! I mean it! None of us can.”

“Then what do we do?” said Melody.

“We run,” said JC.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Happy.

They all looked at each other, not even trying to hide the dread in their faces. They had gone up against impossible odds and appalling things in their time as Ghost Finders, but nothing as casually violent and murderous as the Faust. JC turned and sprinted down the narrow street, followed closely by Happy and Melody. And the Faust went after them—not hurrying, just sauntering along. Enjoying the chase and smiling his happy smile at the thought of what he would do once he got his hands on them.

There were no lights anywhere, and doors remained firmly closed. Melody wanted to bang on them all and cry out for help or sanctuary; but she knew there was no point. This wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood where people got involved. And besides: what could anyone do to help, against something like the Faust? She glared at JC’s back.

“Are we running anywhere in particular?”

“Of course,” said JC, not even glancing back. “You don’t think I just happened to park in this particular street, do you? I’ve got an old bolt-hole here, a safe place I set up before I joined the Institute.”

“We can’t hide from the Faust,” said Happy. He was already breathing hard and struggling to keep up.

“No,” said JC. “We can’t. But I left a few things here that might just help to spoil his day.”

Melody looked at Happy. He was stumbling as he ran, gasping for air. He didn’t have much left in the way of resources or any strength that didn’t come in pill form. She slowed down to be with him, and JC quickly pulled ahead. He didn’t notice he was leaving them behind as he counted off doors along the terraced row. He finally stumbled to a halt before a shadowed door with no number on it and fished in his pocket for the keys. He was breathing hard, and not just from the running. Melody had to grab Happy by the arm and half hold him up, the last few yards. She didn’t like the way he looked, or sounded. Behind them, the Faust called out cheerfully.

“Yoo-hoo! I see you!”

JC sorted through his keys with unsteady hands, and swore harshly as he almost dropped them. He finally found the right one, slammed it into the lock, and turned it. The door was jammed in place from long disuse and didn’t want to open. JC didn’t dare look back. He put his shoulder to the door and forced it open, foot by foot. He squeezed through the gap the moment it was big enough, and Happy and Melody quickly followed him into a dark, quiet corridor that smelled strongly of damp and mould. JC forced the door shut again, locked it, hammered home three heavy steel bolts, and only then allowed himself to relax, just a little. He leaned back against the door, drawing strength from its heavy, reassuring presence. He could hear Happy and Melody breathing harshly in the dark with him.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Melody said finally. “How big is it?”

“Two floors, lots of rooms, and a whole bunch of nasty surprises lying in wait,” said JC. “Enough to give any uninvited visitors a really bad day.”

“Is there anyone else here?” said Happy. He sounded really bad, far worse than he should have been after such a short run.

“No,” said JC. “We have the place to ourselves. I own the whole property.”

“Why do you have a secret hiding place, JC?” said Melody.

“Everyone should have a bolt-hole,” said JC. “Their very own safe house. Because you never know when you might need somewhere to disappear to if it all goes suddenly and horribly wrong.”

“How very sensible,” said Happy. His breathing still didn’t sound right. “Can we move on, please? Only it sounds like the Faust is catching up with us.”

JC found the light-switch, and a single bare electric bulb glowed reluctantly to life. Strings of dusty cobweb hung down from it. Dull light revealed a bare corridor with cracked-plaster walls and dusty, wooden floor-boards littered with far too many rat droppings. Shadows lurked to every side, and the air was close and stale. Melody looked at Happy, and her mouth tightened. His face was unhealthily pale, and he was trembling all over. His eyes were wild. He tried to smile for her, but it wasn’t very successful. Melody glared at JC.

“What now?”

“Welcome to my fortress,” he said. “Stout and sturdy, but don’t expect any comforts. It was never intended to serve as a home away from home.”

“Why did you feel the need for a fortress?” said Melody. “Who did you need to hide from so badly? What did you do, before . . . ?”

“Nothing good,” said JC. “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we? All that matters is, I ran into something seriously scary and unnatural, had an epiphany, and joined the Ghost Finders of the Carnacki Institute for the good of my soul. The usual story. Are you sure you don’t have any weapons on you?”

“I learned the hard way not to try to smuggle weapons in when I’m meeting the Boss,” said Melody. “Latimer had absolutely no sense of humour about such things. Even the few bits of tech I had on me, I had to break up so they’d pass as harmless.”

“Why were you carrying bits of tech on you?” said Happy.

“Because I hate to go out in public naked,” said Melody.

“No you don’t,” said Happy. “You get off on it.”

“I mean metaphorically.”

“Oh . . .”

“Don’t you have anything useful on you, JC?” said Melody.

“Like you,” said JC, “I only brought a few things I thought would get past the Boss. The old Boss. I don’t have anything on me powerful enough to stop the Faust.”

“We’re more used to fighting spiritual, than physical, enemies,” said Happy. “Things that need exorcising rather than blowing up. And I never expected to see the Faust again. I can’t even attack him telepathically; I can see him . . . but his mind, his soul, just isn’t there. I think he’s running that body by remote control from some other location.”

“Extraordinarily lucid, Happy,” said JC. “Well done.”

“Panic does tend to bring out the best in me.”

“Where’s Kim?” Melody said suddenly. “I haven’t seen her since we left the car.”

“She’s around,” said JC.

“Well, can’t she do anything to help?” said Melody.

“Against the Faust?”

“Come on, JC! There must be someone we can contact,” said Melody. “We need backup! Preferably from someone who owns a tank!”

“Who is there we can turn to?” said JC. “Allbright won’t intervene. She already thinks we’re expendable. I’ve been with the Ghost Finders so long, I don’t know anyone outside the Institute. Do you? No, didn’t think so. And we daren’t contact Catherine Latimer. The Flesh Undying might listen in and work out where she is. Hell, we can’t even leave here until we’re sure we can throw the Faust off our trail.”

“We can’t fight him,” said Happy. “He’s just . . . too much for us. Maybe Kim could . . .”

“No she couldn’t,” said JC. “Kim! If you’re listening, you stay away from the Faust! I don’t want you going anywhere near him. There’s no telling what capabilities the Flesh Undying has built into this new body. For all we know, he eats ghosts—like Natasha Chang.”

“Yes! Her!” said Melody. “Why can’t we call her? She’s supposed to be on our side now!”

“You think we should call in the Crowley Project?” said Happy. “Are things really that bad?”

“Yes!” said Melody.

“Have you got her number?” said JC. “Or anyone’s in the Project?”

“Ah . . .” said Melody.

“Could we go somewhere, please?” said Happy. “I really don’t feel safe, just standing here with the Faust getting closer. I felt better when we were running. It felt like we were achieving something.”

“We’re safe in here,” said JC.

They all looked around sharply as something hammered on the other side of the locked door. The heavy wood jumped and rattled in its frame. JC and Happy and Melody backed slowly away from the door, not taking their eyes off it for a moment. The hammering grew louder and heavier as something with inhuman strength fought to get in. To get at them. The bare light bulb swung back and forth, disturbed by the vibrations, sending shadows dancing all around them.

“That door is solid oak, around a steel-centre plate,” said JC.

“You think he cares?” said Happy.

The Faust punched a hole right through the door. The sound of rending wood and metal was horribly brief. The undamaged fist opened slowly, like a dreadful flower, fingers flexing eagerly. The Faust withdrew his hand, leaned forward, and looked through the jagged hole he’d made.