The ghost hovered in the air before the guillotine. A man, his hair slicked back from his forehead, his eyes blank, his face twisted with savage joy. Elder Murray shouted something, she couldnt be sure what; her skin tingled and itched and threatened to crawl away from her body entirely. A powerful ghost, too powerful. What the fuck was he, how the fuck had she
I command you to be still! Elder Griffins voice rang out, echoed off the walls, speared through Chesss body. By my power I command it!
It wouldnt work. She knew without even looking that it wouldnt. But the executioner did he have another skull? Some graveyard dirt?
Dana screamed. Chess glanced over and saw the ghost fighting with Elder Murray, its mouth open in a ghastly smile, its eyes narrow with effort. The ghost held the ritual blade in its hand, the one the executioner had used to summon his psychopomp.
No time to watch. No time to look at them, and it wouldnt do any good anyway. The room was filled with noise and energy and heat, a confusing mishmash of images her brain couldnt process. She focused on the smoking censer, the stang in the corner, the black bag beside it. The executioner dug through it frantically, pulling things out
Someone fell into her, she tumbled to the hard floor with a thud.
More screams, more shouts. Something clattered to the floor. The energy was unbearable. It wasnt a rush anymore, wasnt a high. It was an invasion, shoving her around, distorting her thoughts and her vision and infecting her with everyone elses panic.
She had to calm down. Her hands refused to obey her. Her tattoos prickled and burned, as they were designed to do. The ghosts presence set them off, an early warning system she was usually grateful for but would gladly have done without at that moment. Chaos reigned in the execution room, carrying her along on a wild riptide of blood.
Okay. Deep breath. Pause. She closed her eyes, dug down deep to the emptiness in her soul. The place where things like love and happiness and warmth should be, the place that was an almost empty room for her, the place where only two people lived, and one of them hated her.
But it was enough. It was enough to have that moment of silence, to tune out the terror and noise around her and find her own strength.
She opened her eyes. Her limbs obeyed her. She sprang to her feet, ignoring the painand almost lost her hard-fought calm.
Elder Murray was dead. His body lay stretched across the floor like a corpse ready for cremation. A gaping bloody wound leered at her from his throat.
Behind him the executioner slumped against the wall, his robe soaked with blood. She barely saw him through the ghost, blazing white, bloated with the energy hed stolen. Chess groaned. A ghost with that much power was like an ex-con on Cloud-laced speedunstoppable, without feelings, without logic. A killing machine who wouldnt stop until he was forced to.
And they were locked in with it.
Oh, shitthey were locked in with them. The iron walls kept the spirits of Elder Murray and the executioner locked in just as surely as the rest of them; Chess saw them out of the corner of her eye, faint shapes struggling to come into being.
There was a chance they wouldnt be hungry, that they wouldnt become murderous, but the odds were about as good as the odds that shed be able to fall asleep that night without a handful of her pills. In other words, not fucking good at all. In a minute or so the ghosts would find their shapes, find their powers, and things would go from worse to totally fucking awful.
Blood spattered the walls, dripped off the shiny blade of the guillotine, and ran in thick streams along the cement. It dripped from the ceiling where it had sprayed from Elder Murrays neck; it formed a glistening pool around the body, outlined footprints in a dizzying pattern, and smeared around the broken remains of the dogs skull. Fuck. No psychopomp. Did he have another?
Elder Griffin was covered with blood. Dana too, her eyes wide. But Chess wasnt the only one whod rallied. Danas eyes were dark and fierce with determination; Elder Griffin fairly glowed with power and strength.
Chess caught Danas eye, jerked her head toward the bag. Dana nodded and took a step forward.
By my power I command you to be still, she said, each word loud and clear. I command you to go back to your place of silence.
By my power I command you to be still, she said, each word loud and clear. I command you to go back to your place of silence.
The ghost turned to look at her, and Dana edged back, drawing it away. Chess inched to the left, trying not to catch the ghosts attention. She had to get to that bag. Had to get to the bag or they would all die. Maybe theyd die anyway, but she was damned if she wasnt at least going to try to save them. Life might be a pool of shit but the City was worsefor her anywayand she had no intention of going there. Not that day.
Her feet in their stiff shoes slipped in thick blood; the scent of it filled the air, a coppery tang beneath the herbs. How long would those burn, and was there more?