Spirits from Beyond (16 page)

“I’m tired,” said Happy. “Really, really tired. It’s hard for me to feel anything, to care about anything. Or anyone. Including me. I do try, but . . . it’s getting more difficult every day, to force a way through the tiredness, to find a reason to go on. At first, I had the job. I liked helping people, helping the living in their troubles, helping the dead to move on. But the job keeps getting harder, and more complicated, taking more and more out of me, and the pressure never ends . . . When the job wasn’t enough any more, I looked for another reason to go on living. Melody tried hard to be that reason, God love her, but . . . She did everything she could to distract me from my problems; but she couldn’t solve any of them. She couldn’t save me from being me. So I went back to the pills because the pills were always there.

“The effort wears me out . . . the everyday effort of fighting to stay sane. Sometimes I wonder whether it might be better to lie down, and go to sleep, and not have to wake up again. And if God is good, I won’t dream . . .”

The young woman shook her head slowly. “Death is worse,” she said. “Trust me.”

She became suddenly, utterly horrible.

* * *

Happy screamed and screamed and screamed. Until Melody kicked his door in and came running into the room, her machine-pistol at the ready in her hand, searching for a target. She was half-expecting another intruder, like the man she’d thrown out of her room, but it only took her a moment to see the room was empty. Apart from Happy, staring at nothing, screaming at the top of his voice. His face was bone-white with shock, his eyes bulging half out of his head.

Melody put her gun away, hurried over to Happy, knelt beside him, and took him in her arms, hugging him to her as tightly as she could. He stopped screaming and buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing like a frightened child. Melody patted his back and murmured comforting words in his ear. She was honestly shocked. She’d seen Happy face down ghosts and gods and everything in between, and never seen his nerve broken this badly. She thought at first he must have taken something, but it only took a glance to see that all the bottles and boxes set out on the writing-table were unopened. And besides, Happy took pills so he wouldn’t have to see the things that frightened him. Melody glared around the empty room, desperate for some enemy to lash out at.

JC arrived a moment later. He stopped abruptly in the open doorway as Melody aimed her machine-pistol at him. She quickly recognised him and lowered the gun. JC took a moment to make sure neither she nor Happy were injured, then he prowled quickly round Happy’s room, checking the place out. He opened the wardrobe and looked inside, looked out the window, checked the tiny bathroom, and even looked under the bed. When he’d satisfied himself that there was no-one else in the room, he went back to Melody and Happy. They were still holding on to each other. Happy had stopped crying, but he was still shuddering uncontrollably. JC raised an eyebrow at Melody, who shook her head. JC did his best to sound calm and reassuring.

“Happy, this is JC. You’re safe now. There’s only Melody and me here. Can you tell us what happened?”

Happy slowly raised his head to look at JC, not letting go of Melody. His eyes were puffy, but his gaze was steady. He tried to explain, talking of a door that came and went, and a blonde woman who wasn’t real, and said things . . . but most of what he said made no sense. JC understood. Often, it’s not what actually happens in a haunting that matters; it’s how it makes you feel. Ghosts are very good at finding your weak spots. Your psychic pressure points.

Happy stopped shaking. He took a deep breath and let go of Melody. She immediately let go of him, stood up, and stepped back. Happy mopped at his face with a handkerchief, blew his nose, and rose unsteadily to his feet. He looked at where the door had been in the rear wall, but, of course, there was nothing left to show where it had been because it was never really there. Or at least, never really a door. JC nodded to Melody, and the two of them moved away to stand in the open doorway, so they could talk quietly together.

“This is no ordinary haunted inn, like we were promised!” JC said angrily. “I’ve never seen Happy like that before . . . There’s something really bad here. And much more powerful than we were led to believe.”

“I need to set up my equipment,” said Melody. “Get some readings. But it’s all back in my room, and I don’t want to leave him . . .”

“It’s all right,” said JC. “I’ll stay with him. I won’t leave him alone for a moment.”

Melody nodded quickly and looked back at Happy. “I’m just popping out,” she said loudly. “Back in a minute.”

Happy barely acknowledged her, his eyes worryingly empty. Melody hurried out the door. JC went back to stand with Happy. He looked at all the pill boxes and bottles set out on the writing-table, and winced. He’d never realised there were so many of them.

“I haven’t taken anything,” said Happy, finally, not looking at JC or the writing-desk.

“Maybe you should,” said JC. “If that’s what it takes to get your head back together.”

Happy looked at his pills. “You’ve got to admit, JC, it’s an impressive collection. Uppers and downers and sideways . . . Things to shut my mind down, and others to blast it wide open. Pills to make me brave, or smart; but nothing there to make me strong. How do you do it, JC? How do you stay so confident all the time?”

“Because I’m team leader,” said JC. “And because I’d rather die than let you and Melody down.”

Happy looked at him then and actually managed a small smile. “Word is, you did die, down in the Underground. What was it like?”

“If something like that really did happen,” JC said carefully, “which I am not necessarily ready to accept, I don’t remember.”

“Probably just as well,” said Happy. “Why is it, JC . . . that all the people and things we encounter, come back from the dead, are always so very angry?”

“I don’t know,” said JC. “Perhaps the hereafter disappointed them by not being what they wanted it to be. Or perhaps the hereafter didn’t want them because they were unworthy. And spat them out. Mostly, I tend to think of most of the dead things we encounter as escaped prisoners. Jail breakers; bad things, on the run. And it’s our job to herd them up and send them back where they belong.”

“Except that it’s rarely that simple,” said Happy.

“No,” said JC. “But then, life is complicated. Why should death be any different? It’s important to remember that not all ghosts are bad. Case in point . . . Kim; would you come in here, please?”

Kim appeared immediately, standing demurely in the middle of the room. She’d refined her ectoplasm again and now seemed to be wearing a Salvation Army Girl uniform, complete with tambourine. She smiled sweetly at Happy and dropped him a wink.

“I thought you could use a little cheering up. Hi, Happy!”

He barely smiled. “Thanks for the thought. How long have you been here, at the inn?”

“Ooh, ages and ages. I got here long before you. I’ve been studying the King’s Arms, inside and out. Dreadful place. Not only the inn, mind you, not just the building, but the whole surrounding area. It’s all soaked and saturated with retained information. Layer upon layer of memories, ghosts, weird phenomena. Some of it going back centuries . . .”

Happy was already nodding in agreement. “Yes, called here, like moths to a flame.” He perked up quickly, the colour seeping back into his face as he became intrigued by the problem. “Something must have happened here, long ago, that made such an impact on this site, and this area, that in a sense it’s still happening. A psychic irritant, if you like; like the grain of sand a pearl forms around, inside an oyster. We have to dig down, separate out and identify the original causal agent, and shut it down. Hard. And then everything else should fall apart and disappear. Except, of course . . .”

“Nothing’s ever that simple,” said JC.

“You read my mind,” said Happy. “There are ghosts operating here in the inn. But I think that’s just the surface. There are other things here, far more powerful than I am comfortable thinking about. They like being here, like pigs rolling in shit. Something really nasty tried to scare me off. Possibly because it sees me as a threat. I suppose I should feel flattered . . . Kim, can you detect anything out of the ordinary in this room with your more-than-ordinary ghostly senses?”

The ghost girl drifted slowly round the room, taking her time. “I don’t See anything,” she said, finally. “Which is, frankly, a bit suspicious. I’ve no doubt something was here, but it’s gone to great lengths to cover its tracks.” She stopped suddenly. “Someone’s coming. A live person.”

She turned to look at the door, and the others did, too. The barman Brook peered in through the open doorway and jumped as he found everyone staring at him. He smiled weakly and nodded but decided not to actually enter the room.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said. “I thought I heard . . . something. Thought I’d better . . . pop up and check. Is everything all right here?”

He took in Kim properly for the first time, and his eyes widened. She threw him a dazzling smile and rattled her tambourine at him. Brook looked at JC.

“Another one of yours, is she? Working the case on the quiet?”

“You could say that,” said JC.

“Will she be requiring a room, too?”

“Almost certainly not.”

Melody yelled for Brook to get the hell out of her way, and when he jumped back, she barged in through the open doorway, with her suitcase. She opened it and pulled out assorted scientific equipment. She quickly set it all up, talking quickly as she did, perhaps so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge Happy.

“This is all I have with me. Just the basics. A multi-sensor package, linked in to a very discerning computer. It may look to you like a lap-top plugged into a box, with assorted scanners; but it will do the job.”

She piled it all on the bed, then set about firing everything up, still talking to herself. Mostly in terms no-one else there understood. Everyone nodded vaguely, for fear she’d start explaining things. Brook was back peering through the open door again. Still refusing to come in from the landing. Melody studied the readings as they came in and scowled unhappily.

“This inn is old, JC. And I mean really old. We’re talking centuries . . . Damn! I’m getting readings that say this building, this basic structure, goes all the way back to the fifth century.”

“Druid time,” said JC, a bit bitterly. “I should have known . . . I should have known the Boss wouldn’t send us off to cover some everyday haunting!”

“You think there’s a connection?” said Happy. “Between what happened in London Undertowen and what’s going on here?”

“Don’t you?” said JC. “Go on, Melody. What else have you got?”

Melody scowled at her glowing lap-top screen. “This is really very limited tech, JC. But . . . I’m picking up serious dimensions. Weak spots, incursions, doorways opening up to God alone knows where . . . There’s so much supernatural activity going on here, it’s weakened the walls of reality, and all kinds of things are getting in.”

She stopped suddenly, to look suspiciously at the rear wall where Happy had seen a door that wasn’t a door.

“You had a visitor here, all right, Happy. And it wasn’t any ordinary ghost or revenant. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such readings, such raw power . . . Be grateful your training protected you; it would have eaten the soul off anyone else. I’m not picking up any evidence of a cold spot, though, which is unusual. Did you feel one, Happy, at the time?”

“No,” said Happy.

“Then where was it drawing its power from?” muttered Melody, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. “Ah. Yes. I see . . . Okay, this is seriously not good, people. There’s a power source here, maybe inside the building, maybe outside . . . a really old and really unpleasant power source. Been here for ages, maybe all the way back to the fifth century . . . But the really weird thing is, it’s not dissipating. In fact, I’d say it’s still growing, gaining strength all the time . . . It’s what all the other phenomena are tapping into.”

“Excuse me,” Brook said diffidently from the doorway. “But what is she talking about?”

“Beats me,” JC said cheerfully. “I’m usually lucky if I get half of it. Mostly I nod and go along.”

“Right,” said Happy. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she made it all up.”

“I do not!” said Melody. “Wait! Wait! Hold on to your underwear, people, I’ve got something . . . I think, I might be able to bring your blonde woman back!”

“Oh good,” said Happy. “Just what I wanted.”

“It’s all right,” JC said quickly. “You’re not alone now, Happy. Your team is with you.”

“Right!” said Melody. “Anything that wants to get to you has to go through us first!”

“That doesn’t sound as comforting as you think it does,” said Happy. “This really isn’t a good idea, JC . . . I saw . . .”

But he still couldn’t put it into words. JC patted him briefly on the shoulder and moved back to stand beside Melody.

“Is this really such a good idea?” he said quietly. “You saw what whatever it was he saw did to Happy. I don’t ever want to see him that upset again.”

“That bitch even looks at my Happy, I’ll rip her ectoplasm off,” said Melody. “Look at him; see the state of him. Whatever this thing was, it really did a number on his head. We have to show him that we can kick its arse. Or he’ll never be any use to us again.”

“Ah well,” said JC. “As long as we’re doing this for the team, and not just for him . . .”

Melody scowled at JC and punched a new set of instructions into the keyboard. The scanners hummed loudly, the room seemed to lurch briefly under everyone’s feet, and the door reappeared in the far wall. Looking as though it had been there all the time, waiting for them to notice it. Happy made a small, frightened noise, but held his ground. All the colour had dropped out of his face again, but his eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was firm. JC walked slowly forward, to fix the door with a steady gaze.

“Don’t open it!” Happy said urgently.

But the door was already swinging slowly outwards, of its own accord. There was nothing to be seen beyond it save a flat and empty darkness. And out of that darkness emerged the young woman Happy had seen earlier. She smiled at him, and he flinched; but he still held his ground. Melody left her precious equipment to go stand beside Happy, aiming her machine-pistol directly at the blonde. Who stopped in front of the dark doorway and looked unhurriedly about her.