"Shit!" With an oath and a thud, Mido Ban found himself staring up at a dark sky, squinting against the chilly rain that dripped into his eyes.
Ban reached up to his head with a cautious hand, and scowled when the lightest of touches sent waves of pain rippling under his dark hair. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" he repeated, for good measure.
"Ban-chan!"
"You idiot, why the hell'd you let go of the ladder?"
"I'm sorry, Ban-chan, I saw something!"
"You saw something."
"Something was moving out there." Amano Ginji pointed into the woods that lay beyond the old manor. Ban shoved the ladder aside and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his body complained of the bruising that would appear sometime the next day.
"We're not worried about 'out there,'" Ban reminded him sourly. "We were trying to get in there." He thrust a finger at one of the second story windows of the manor, the window that his ill-fated ladder, until recently, had been positioned. "Remember? Our six million yen mirror? Up there?"
Ginji looked down, shame-faced. "Sorry, Ban-chan."
Ban sighed loudly and attempted to straighten his now-mussed spikes. "Whatever. Just help me get the…" his voice trailed off as a peculiar sound caught his ears. Maybe it was the dark, or maybe it was the idea that they were breaking into a three-hundred-year-old house, or maybe it was just the fact that it was All Hallow's Eve, but the shrill, plaintive wail crept up his spine like an insect, purposefully advancing on the hair at the base of his skull. Ginji must have heard it too, because the blonde Get Backer suddenly shivered. "The ladder," Ban finished, shrugging off a shiver of his own. "Help me get the ladder."
"This place scares me, Ban-chan," Ginji admitted unabashedly. "I keep seeing things, and hearing things, that never seem to really be there."
"Dummy. It's all in your imagination." But they both moved a little quicker as he set up the ladder, once again, under the window.
It was supposed to be an easy job, for all it was on another continent, and – stranger still – Paul had procured it for them. In fact, Ban and Ginji had never even met their client before leaving. It hadn't really occurred to him that Paul had contacts outside Japan, but he supposed it made sense, considering the man's history with Ban's father.
All they really had to do was retrieve an heirloom silver mirror set from a dilapidated old house in the German countryside; their client had everything paid in advance: first class tickets to and from Germany, adjoining suites at a five star hotel in Berlin, and had offered a translator. Ban spoke German fluently, however, and had declined it. The man – at least, Ban assumed it was a man – even reserved a rental Subaru 360 for them. Of course, the 360 could not begin to compare to the Ladybug, but their employer had gone to extreme efforts. He had even given them a blueprint of the house and warned them that the lower level was unsafe, because much of the wood was original, and rotten. Most of the upper level had been replaced at some point or other, and so it was that the Get Backers had brought a ladder along.
The house was scheduled to be torn down, and their client wanted a few personal mementos of the place. It smelled fishy from the start – why not go pick them up himself, Ban had wanted to know. But Paul had pointed out, correctly, that the Get Backers weren't in much of a position to pick and choose, and Ban had been forced to agree. Two weeks of living under a cardboard box, with a man who threw off sparks when he dreamed and a very persistent rat had frayed his nerves badly enough that he was willing to accept anything that promised a decent pay check.
Ginji had wanted to spend the night at the hotel and retrieve the heirloom in the morning, after they had slept off some of the jet lag.
Ban had pooh-poohed him and here they were, in the middle of the night, alone but for a weird, intermittent cry that grated on his nerves like sandpaper and terrified his partner.
"Ban-chan, it moved again," Ginji whispered. Ban had left the Subaru's headlights on; they revealed Ginji's face to be pale, with a pinched, frightened look to it that was uncharacteristic in its intensity.
"Idiot, don't pay any attention to that. It's probably the wind." He noticed with a funny little drop in his stomach that there was no wind at all, not the slightest breeze, despite the rain.
"What if this place is haunted? What if that's why the client wanted someone else to come get his stuff?" Ban slid his eyes toward his partner.
"You're letting all that Halloween crap go to your head, Ginji. If I'd known you were going to freak out like this, I wouldn't have told you about All Hallow's Eve." Although Halloween was fairly popular in Japan, as a side-along of American pop culture, Ginji had known nothing of the history behind the holiday. To pass the time on the plane, Ban had told him about some of the Halloween legends, like the origin of the jack-o'-lantern and of costuming oneself as an otherworldly spirit, and evidently Ginji had taken those history lessons to heart.
Ban started up the ladder, but a flash of light from the window startled him, and he nearly fell off again. Ginji managed to steady the ladder in time, and Ban escaped with a banged elbow.
"Dammit, someone's already inside! Let's go, Ginji!" He swarmed up the ladder, gripping a flashlight, closely followed by his partner.
But when they tumbled through the window, they found no one.
"That's a neat trick," Ban mused, looking around.
A very perturbed Ginji offered an absent 'why?' and Ban pointed his light at the floor, which was coated in a thick dust.
"No footprints." He looked at the door, which hung haphazardly open, crooked on its hinges. "Maybe they never actually came in here, just glanced over it with a flashlight."
Suddenly a deep-throated, musical chuckle interrupted him, and he swung the beam of his flashlight around the room, trying to find the source. It was a woman, he was sure, and the sound would have been a pleasant one, if only the melodic sweetness of the laughter had not sounded as though it echoed across a great cavern. Or if he could find a body for the voice.
"Ban-chan!" Ginji yelped in a terrified tone. He swung his light at his partner, heart pounding with the fear that something had happened to the other Get Backer.
But Ginji was still there and apparently unharmed, only badly frightened.
Irritated, now, seeing Ginji so flustered, Ban aimed his flashlight at the doorway again. "Show yourself," he demanded.
The mirth continued to echo all around him, not coming from any particular direction, flooding the whole manor with the eerie laughter.
Ban swore and stormed out of the room and into a grand, arched hallway, with Ginji on his heels. Casting a glance behind, he repressed a shiver as he realized that the only prints on the floor were his own and his partner's.
He kicked open the first door he came to and ducked inside only long enough to see that no one hid within. Then he dodged into the next room. And the next. And the next. But though he had been through nearly every room on the wing, nowhere could he find the laughing woman.
"Ban-chan, can't we please come back in the morning?" Ginji pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper. "I know it's stupid, but I'm really scared. Please."
"No way," he answered flatly. "If this bitch thinks she can steal our reward, she's got another think coming," Ban said, more for the benefit of the elusive woman than for Ginji.
"Why on earth would I want to steal your reward, my little one?" The laughter ceased, and the woman spoke in a lyrical contralto, which filled the manor as her laughter had.
"You cannot begrudge me this, Mido Ban. Not when I have been waiting for the two of you for such a very, very long time." As she spoke, the omnipresent quality of her voice faded, though it retained its disturbing echo. "Come here, children. I went through a phenomenal amount of effort to bring you to this place, after all. The last thing I wish to do is harm you."
Finally having a definite sound to follow, Ban wheeled into an adjoining hall, into which the light of a single room shone.
"Ha!" Ban shouted, stepping boldly into the room, right hand poised to strike.
Ginji ducked in behind him.
"Yes, dear, very impressive. Any ghost would be frightened." Ginji gasped a little, for though the voice came clear as a bell from the direction of an antique dresser – upon which rested a silver hand mirror, comb, brush, and trinket box – no one appeared.
"G… g… g… ghost?"
Ban suddenly shivered hard. Until this point, he had been willing to believe that the whole thing was a hoax, but it suddenly dawned on him that the woman had spoken in German.
And that Ginji had understood her perfectly.
"I don't like games, lady," Ban said bluntly, looking around. "Get to the point."
Like the frailest tendrils of a dying morning mist, a hint of movement appeared above the dresser, beside their target heirloom. Slowly, slowly, a form appeared, at first no more substantial than smoke, but gaining solidity as it formed.
Ban lit a cigarette, waiting, looking more at ease than he felt. He knew a bit about ghosts, but actual encounters with such spirits were pretty well outside his purview. If you didn't count his dad. And Ban didn't.
Ginji stood shaking beside him, and Ban nudged him a little, flashing a confident, reassuring smile. "She wants something, Ginji. The bad ones don't laugh. And they don't usually talk to you, either."
"No, indeed," the woman agreed. He could see her well, now, a fragile-looking girl who perched casually on the edge of the dresser. "You especially, Ginji, I could never wish harm on."
"You can still see it," she mused, almost to herself, "just a little bit." A faint smile graced her lips as her bright blue eyes traveled the length of Ginji's shivering frame. "How I hoped you would be fair-headed. I knew the chances were poor but, oh, I hoped." She almost glowed with pleasure. "I am so pleased."
Her eyes turned to Ban. "And you, dear one, there is no mistaking that haughty mouth, or those mistrustful eyes. Poor thing. It goes with the job, I fear." Her tone changed, became less dry, became warm and vibrant. "Oh, my friend, I have missed you."
Ban's right hand shuddered like mad, and the spirit of the snake rose within him, though not as Ban had ever experienced it, for nothing of its usual rage or violence beat out of his heart and into his blood. Of its own accord, his hand reached out toward the blue-eyed woman, who in turn stretched out a hand of her own; the snake uncoiled itself enough to brush its mouth against her immaterial fingers in a surreal approximation of a kiss. And then the snake was gone again, resting dormant in his hand.
"Just who the hell are you, anyway?" Ginji's eyes flickered toward him in a silent warning, but the woman's dissembling aggravated him.
"That is no way to address your great-grandmother, young man," she said with a half-smile. "Though I suppose I cannot fault you. I know your life has not been an easy one."
Ginji, surprisingly, was suddenly all smiles. "You're Ban-chan's great-grandmother? You don't look old enough!"
She laughed again. "What a sweet thing you are, Ginji."
"She probably did what Maria does." Ban shrugged. "She was probably eighty when she kicked the bucket."
"No, dear one," the girl said softly. "I did not long survive my little daughter's birth."
Ginji glared at him, and he wondered briefly at his partner's annoying ability to shift his emotional state in the blink of an eye. So damn unpredictable.
Shifting uncomfortably, Ban drew a deep breath of smoke. "You still haven't told us what you want."
"I shall. But first," she gestured toward the mirror set. "I want you to have these. They were mine, ninety-four years ago, given to me by my dearest friend, Giselle, on the occasion of my twentieth birthday."
Ginji sighed, smiling ruefully. "So, no fee, huh."
Ban cursed.
"That hardly seems fair," the girl disagreed, a knowing smile playing about her mouth. "This manor and all its property are yours, Ban, come December. The house itself is worth little anymore, save perhaps as some fanatic preservationist's money-sink. But the land is valuable, and there are a number of objects of worth within the manor. I would like you to keep the mirror; it has certain enchantments upon it which ought not to fall into unworthy hands. There beside you," she pointed at a small table at Ban's side, "is a dagger, and I also wish for you to keep it, for it has memories that are precious to me and which directly concern you."
Ban's jaw dropped. The estate was a mere twenty-five miles outside Frankfurt – its real estate value would be huge. He was certain his pupils had turned to dollar signs.
"Can I know your name, ma'am?" Ginji asked respectfully, picking up the silver dagger.
"My name is Belinda, Ginji." Her mouth twisted a little wryly, and Ban laughed aloud.
"'Beautiful serpent?' We both got named after the damn curse, did we? That's priceless."
"I rather like 'Ban,'" Belinda replied with a shrug of her misty shoulders. "And I rather like our mutual friend. You have yet to fully understand him, but he likes you. You are fortunate. He could not abide your grandmother, and made her life terribly difficult."
"Ma'am?"
"Belinda."
"You brought us here, didn't you?"
"Clever boy. Yes, as a matter of fact. I had a number of plans laid for the pair of you, decades before your births. Seeing the future is a difficult thing, and I spent a full six months before my death devising a stratagem which could bring you to me."
"How so, great-grandmother?" Ban wanted to know. The promise of money had left him a little off-balanced, but now he was feeling very convivial and genial toward his otherworldly hostess and benefactress.
"I was simply too far removed in time to make any real arrangements for your journey here, so I made them for your grandmother, and when we met, asked that she make plans for her child to meet me someday. Your father did the same for you, entrusting your journey here to his beloved friend." She slipped off the dresser, a smooth, gliding movement that carried into steps that never quite touched the floor. "You look very like your father, Ban."
"Miss Belinda?" Ginji asked uncertainly. "Did you really just bring us here to see Ban? Because you wouldn't need me here for that."
An insubstantial hand slipped between the Get Backers to brush Ginji's cheek. "So very clever," she whispered. "No, Ginji. I brought you here for another purpose altogether." She smiled, a faint gesture, and her eyes became distant, fixed on old memories.
"Ban, will you take my mirror?" The question was sudden, and her eyes never lost their unfocused stare.
Suspicious, but unwilling to put off a request from someone who had just promised him a fortune in real estate, Ban did as he was asked, and brought the heavy silver mirror back to where Ginji and the ghost stood in the doorway.
"Look," she commanded.
Ban held the mirror out for Ginji to see, and both Get Backers searched their reflections, confused. Ban glanced up at the figure that hovered beside them; she shook her head and silently directed his gaze back to the mirror. Gliding behind them, she slipped between the pair, and looked into the mirror herself. Ban barely had time to realize that she was reflected in the mirror more solidly than she appeared in reality, before her Evil Eye carried him and Ginji away.
"Miss Giselle, come down at once! You'll ruin that dress, you will, and your father will take its cost out of your hide."
A stiff-looking woman in a long dress clucked disapprovingly, staring up into the branches of a tree, where a little blonde girl sat perched on one of the lower boughs. It was a beautiful summer day, and Ban felt a warm breeze ruffle his spikes. The breeze passed on into the tree, which spanned nearly the breadth of the knoll on which they stood, and stirred the sun-kissed curls of the child.
"It's so nice up here, Hannah," the girl said gleefully. "So pretty!" She looked like a porcelain doll, with her perfect blonde ringlets and glassy blue eyes. A frothy pink dress and a white pinafore completed the look.
"It's that witch-girl, what made you want to climb trees, Miss. You oughtn't to be seen with people like that."
"Belinda isn't 'that witch-girl,' Hannah," the doll said, her tone hurt. "She's my friend."
"You had best watch your tongue, lady. If you upset me, I may just turn you into a toad." A voice that would have been melodic, were it not for the sarcasm in its tone, came from behind Ban and Ginji. Ban whirled, to find a pretty, dark-headed child behind them. If the ghost had ever been with them, she had disappeared.
"You'll be staying away from me, you will, you little devil-spawn!" The woman glared at the girl, who, raising an eyebrow, strode boldly up to her. As she backed away uncertainly, the woman's sneer faltered. The dark-haired girl grinned, a horrible, false, terrible smile. The woman made the sign of the cross and beat a hasty retreat down the hill.
"Belinda." The doll sighed. "You could try, you know."
"Casting a spell on her? Why bother? She looks like a toad as it is." The evil grin was swept away by a dry, sarcastic smile.
"Belinda. One can hardly blame people for not liking you, when you make no effort yourself." The frothy pink doll grasped the bough of the tree with a surprising agility and dropped lightly to her feet.
"People are fools, for the most part," the dark-haired girl, Belinda, said with an indifferent shrug, "and I care not one whit what they think." She frowned. "Will you be alright? He certainly would not beat you for dirtying that dress, would he?"
The doll laughed. "Silly, no, of course not. My governess was over-reacting, as usual." She turned to face away from the sun and settled herself on the grass. "Come and sit with me."
For several moments, the two girls sat quietly, side by side, watching the wind ripple through the leaves of the trees beyond. Ban motioned to Ginji, and they moved closer to the children.
Ban, for his part, studied the dark-headed child named Belinda. She was pretty, in her own way, but next to the bubbly blonde doll she seemed sallow and bland. Straight black hair had been tightly plaited into two braids, which wound about her head like a make-shift crown. Her dress was of an excellent quality, and easily worth the value of the frilly pink thing the other girl wore, but much more sensible, in muted grays and soft blacks. The only real color about her seemed to be her brilliant blue eyes, which, Ban remembered uncomfortably, strongly resembled his own.
"Belinda, you don't ever take what they say to heart, do you?" The little blonde reached for her friend's hand and covered it with her own.
"Idiot. Did you not hear me?" Belinda pulled her hand free.
"I heard. But you don't always tell me the truth, if you think I won't like it." There was no reproach in the girl's voice; her tone was very matter-of-fact and seemed out of sync with her sweet, naïve appearance.
Belinda was silent for a moment. "I absolutely hate your intuition, did you know?" she said finally.
The doll, Giselle, laughed. "Dear Belinda. You're right, of course, you always are – it doesn't matter at all what anyone else thinks. The people who matter don't care that you're a witch. I don't care."
Belinda did not reply.
"Could you really turn someone into a toad?" Suddenly, the little blonde was once more a bubbly, clichéd little doll.
"If I wanted to, I suppose. Why? Do you have a sudden urge to give people warts?"
A high, sweet peal of laughter chimed into the summer afternoon. "Not a toad, Belinda. Maybe a bird."
"You would end up half a brace in someone's stew-pot."
The chiming laughter rang out again. "You're no fun at all, dear Belinda."
The green scenery faded to gray, and suddenly, Ban found himself standing in the foyer of a large house, a manor, perhaps the one his real body rested within outside the Evil Eye's spell. It was dark, and oil lamps lit the room in which he and his partner stood. Lightning flashed through the room brilliantly and often, and thunder shook the house.
Somewhere further within, Ban heard someone sobbing, but he did not have time to investigate. A beautiful girl, perhaps Natsumi's age, flew down the stairs that entered into the foyer, gasping for breath. Because of her long blonde locks, Ban could only assume it was Giselle. Streams of silent tears flowed over her flushed cheeks, and she fled past them, consumed by heartache of some kind or other. A booming thunder sounded as she flung open the front door and threw herself into the midst of a raging storm.
"Giselle? Giselle!"
"This is your fault, witch! Demon! I should never have let you into my house; I've been punished by God for consorting with your kind! Oh, Adelaide! Adelaide!"
Belinda, now a young woman, appeared, dragged between a sobbing old man and a hard, cold-looking man several years' Belinda's senior. She wrenched away, her right arm easily overcoming the old man's feeble grip, but the younger man, whether by design or accident, Ban couldn't tell, released his hold on her, and she stumbled backward, poised precariously over the edge of the staircase. The cold man stared at her appraisingly, then calmly reached out and shoved her backward. She over-balanced and tumbled down the stairs, landing awkwardly on her left arm. A sickening crunch of bone indicated that the arm was broken, and when she managed to raise herself to her knees, Ban could see blood spreading along her white shirtsleeve.
She was lucky – damned lucky – not to have broken her neck.
"Father, we must find Giselle. She ought not to be out in this storm." The young man turned to his father, completely disregarding the injured Belinda.
Meanwhile, Belinda got to her feet, pale, obviously in pain, but wearing an expression of grim determination. She muttered something softly under her breath, and both father and son fell to the ground in a deep slumber.
"Giselle," Belinda whispered. The heavy wooden door banged against the house, left open in Giselle's flight. "Giselle, you idiot!"
The dark-haired girl ran out into the darkness, clutching a bloody left arm closely to her breast.
"Ban-chan," Ginji breathed, as if afraid of waking the old man and his son, "what is going on here? Why did they hurt Miss Belinda?"
Speaking in a normal tone of voice, Ban turned to follow his great-grandmother into the storm. "Because the old man's wife died, Ginji. Giselle's mother. And they blamed Belinda for it."
Ginji fell into a quick trot beside him. "But why? I don't think Miss Belinda wouldn't hurt anybody, not unless she had good reason to."
"People liked to blame witches. It was easier than admitting that no one was at fault. Or taking responsibility for their problems themselves. It's one reason there's so few of us left." Ban grated out the words, surprised at his own vehemence. Hadn't he left all of that behind, back then?
Belinda was easy to trail; she made no attempt to conceal her tracks, and they caught up with her easily. Running alongside the girl, who remained completely unaware of their presence, they soon caught sight of Giselle, stumbling up the barren, rocky face of a hill.
"Ban-chan," Ginji said uneasily, not even winded by the run, "that's really dangerous, getting up so high, with all this lightning around." Ban had been thinking the same thing, but he kept pace with Belinda and waited for the inevitable. He was beginning to get the first inklings of just who Giselle was.
"Giselle! Giselle! Come down, you idiot! Giselle!" Belinda shrieked after her friend, even as she charged up the hillside behind her.
"Ban-chan!" Ginji yelped, coming to a dead stop, eyes fixed on the livid sky. Belinda saw it too and began to scream words in languages that had been dead a thousand years or more. The fingers of her right hand worked madly in the darkness, and just as a flash of light darted out of the raging heavens to Giselle, another sped from Belinda's fingertips to the same destination.
The force of the lightning heaved the beautiful girl into the air, and flung her down on the rock-strewn hill like a rag doll.
"Giselle!" The shrill cry sent shivers throughout Ban's body. He knew every bit of the fear in that voice. He felt it every time he killed off Ginji in his manufactured dreams.
"Stay away." The words were barely whispered.
Belinda hesitated, several steps from where Giselle lay crumpled on the ground. "Giselle…" She reached out to her.
"I said to stay away!"
Belinda flinched. "Giselle, I… I am so sorry." The lightning revealed the fear in her face. "You must know I did everything I could… Giselle?"
The blonde didn't answer, but Ban held his breath as he watched her curl into a fetal ball of soaking green dress and wet, matted curls.
"Giselle, I tried to help her, I tried…" Belinda cried, cradling her broken arm as tears mingled with the rain on her face.
"Shush, dear Belinda." Giselle pushed herself to her knees, staring at the sodden earth beneath her. "I could never blame you. I just feel so very odd. I was afraid you would hurt yourself if," her voice faltered as she glimpsed Belinda's blood-soaked arm. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, Belinda…"
"You fool, this is nothing!" Belinda jerked her head up, angry. "You were struck by lightning! This is no time to worry over a broken arm!"
"I… I'm alright."
"How do you feel?"
Beside Ban, Ginji suddenly shuddered. "Ban-chan, she's…"
"I feel… so… so very," she closed her eyes, "alive." A blue crackle of electricity appeared between Giselle's fingertips, and she stared at it long after the crackling had faded.
Belinda stared at her incredulously. "You mean it worked?"
"I have no idea. What did you do?"
The dark-headed girl looked away. "Do you remember when we were children? When you asked if I could turn someone into an animal?"
"Belinda, you didn't."
"I could think of nothing else to do!" Belinda answered defensively.
"An electric eel, Belinda? Of all things, an eel?"
Ginji sounded as if he was strangling, but Ban was enthralled with what was happening in front of him.
An awkward silence hung over the charred face of the hill. For what seemed like hours, neither girl spoke. Then, like sunlight emerging from behind a cloud, sweet pealing laughter chased away the sadness. If it was tinged slightly with hysteria, it only made the sound all the more truthful and meaningful.
"Dear Belinda," she gasped, tears of grief and humor and panic streaming down her face. "How I wish my mother could have seen this. An eel for a daughter. Great good God."
Hesitantly at first, then growing in boldness as Giselle continued to laugh and cry all together, Belinda also began to laugh. The harmony between her dark, rich, deep-throated chuckle and Giselle's chiming peals of laughter played a curious counterpoint to the wild thunder around them. Giselle wrapped her arms around Belinda, laughing and crying, and the two of them lay down in the rain, watching the flashing sky.
"It feels like a featherbed," Ginji said bizarrely, watching the pair. "Like sinking into something soft and warm that goes on forever and ever."
Ban felt absolutely ridiculous for knowing exactly what his partner meant, and he turned away to hide the foolish grin that refused to be contained. But when Ginji began to laugh as well, that happy, idiotic giggle that so charmed and irritated Ban, Ban couldn't help laughing as well, though he wondered whether or not Ginji had picked up everything he had.
"Well, you can't very well expect me to go home, Belinda." Giselle crossed her arms. It must have been the morning after Belinda's frantic spell-casting and Giselle's becoming a lightning rod, for both girls wore the same dress as that night, though at some point they had bathed and washed the dresses. Belinda's arm, Ban noticed, had been neatly set and bound. They sat outside the manor house that Ban and Ginji would break into nearly a hundred years later.
Giselle was not a large woman, but even so, she towered over the fragile-looking Belinda, and looked down frankly at her. "Dolphus threw you down the stairs."
"Dolphus never liked me," Belinda replied. "But then, I never cared much for him, either. You should not have to pay the price for our distaste for one another."
"Forget it," Giselle answered bluntly. "I won't return to that place." A haunted look flashed briefly in her eyes. "Mother isn't there, anyway."
The two girls glared at one another.
Ban took the opportunity to wonder at Belinda's control of the Evil Eye. Not only was she able to create discrete scenes for them – a difficult thing to do, as Ban knew all too well – she also managed to keep them from interacting with her illusions, which Ban had never even attempted. A thousand ideas raced through his head for the next time he met up with Akabane, or the Miroku Seven, but he was soon brought back to Belinda's memories.
"They will find you, sooner or later, Giselle."
"Then we must leave. London, perhaps. Or Paris; I have always wished to see Paris in the spring."
Belinda shook her head adamantly. "The problem with Paris," she explained, "is that it is full of French people."
Giselle laughed. "Alright, then, not Paris. What about the Orient, Belinda? We could go east!"
Belinda tapped a thoughtful finger against her cheek. "I always thought riding into a sunset was terribly depressing. Perhaps the east would be better."
"China!" Giselle said, in a shrill, excited voice more appropriate to a three-year-old than a teenager.
"I was thinking about Japan," Belinda admitted. "Germany's influence is almost non-existent there, so there would be less likelihood of anyone reporting us."
Giselle grinned. "Perhaps we shall meet some of these samurai I keep hearing about."
"The samurai are a dying race, I fear. The modern world seems to quiver in terror at the thought of tradition. We are to break all the hard-won rules of mankind in the quest for progression."
"And the cherry trees will be blooming." Giselle's grin became even broader, and Belinda shook her head, smiling herself.
"Japan it is, then."
Several years passed between the morning after the storm and the next scene, because the latest Giselle was dressed in an emerald green yukata with pale pink flowers spangled all over it and a very, very pregnant belly protruded from it. Belinda also wore a yukata, though, as usual, in less brilliant colors. The two were arguing, and half-packed luggage littered the small room with its paper walls.
"I told you what I saw, Giselle. I have no choice, I absolutely must return to Germany."
"Then let me come with you," Giselle pleaded. "You cannot ask me to stay behind."
"I cannot ask you to risk your infant in this hell, Giselle, anymore than I could ask your husband to risk you!"
"But you will leave Markus a widower and your baby motherless?"
Belinda did not reply immediately, and both women were pale and breathless as they stared at one another.
"This war will embroil the entire world, Giselle." Belinda's breathing slowed, her voice became quiet and deadly earnest. "There are vessels of magic that, in the wrong hands, could level cities – or worse. Can you imagine what would happen if someone with even a touch of the gift acquired a Divine Design deck? Or found the resting place of a vampire? My family and I are honor-bound to prevent such things from happening."
"There are others to do it."
"But none as talented as I."
"It isn't fair!" Giselle cried, tears in her eyes. "You, it's always you, made to suffer for others' mistakes!"
"My heritage demands my service, Giselle. I must return to Europe."
"Your innocence won't protect you, Belinda-san." A male voice entered the conversation in strongly accented German. "The fact that you are of German blood is enough for you to be suspect. And when you begin skulking about Ireland, or Russia, who will believe that you are searching for magical artifacts?"
A tall, muscular Japanese man stood at the doorway, black eyebrows arched questioningly over warm brown eyes.
Belinda raised her right fist. "I am hardly defenseless, Katsumoto-san."
"Will that snake defend you from grenades?" Giselle demanded. "Can you fool the eyes quickly enough to stay the fire of a Maxim gun?"
"I must do this, Giselle."
"Dear Belinda, then let me come with you," Giselle pleaded. "Together we have always been unstoppable. We shall find your hateful talismans and hide them away, where none may find them. Only let me come with you."
Belinda and the man called Katsumoto shared a long, level look.
"She will follow you, Belinda-san."
"She must not."
Katsumoto closed his eyes, looking suddenly much older than he had seemed. "This much I know. I love her, Belinda-san."
"Katsumoto," Giselle said earnestly, laying a hand on his arm, "I can't let her do this by herself."
"This also, I know. You would not be the person I loved if you could." He straightened, with a grim look. "Please be gentle, Belinda-san. And be careful, when you go. You carry my prayers with you always, dear friend."
"Look after my family, Katsumoto-san," Belinda said, with an awful note of finality. Katsumoto bowed slightly, and left the way he had entered.
"Belinda," Giselle began uncertainly.
"Now, in thy right hand…" Belinda closed her eyes, silent tears seeping from beneath the thick black lashes.
"Belinda, what are you doing?"
"Thou wilt host Ophiucus, who comes from the cosmos…"
"Belinda, what... why?"
"Until thy cursed fate ends."
Giselle backed away, electricity crackling through her body, raising a halo of short, golden yellow curls around her head. Lightning flashed around her, even as tears streamed down her face.
"Now, be devoured by the poison fangs of the serpent!" Belinda's right hand struck at Giselle's throat. Sparks flew between the women, and Ban winced, knowing just how painful the shock would be. Beside him, Ginji unconsciously rubbed his throat, and Ban looked away guiltily.
"B… Belinda… dear Belinda…" Giselle gasped brokenly. "Not alone… I won't… not alone."
"Giselle, forgive me," Belinda whispered, sobbing openly now.
"No…"
Belinda's left hand reached for the luggage and withdrew a silver dagger from it. Giselle's fingers were wrapped around her right wrist; she slipped the knife underneath Giselle's left hand and forced it back against the wall with the flat side of the blade. She had drawn a little blood; she turned the blade very slightly to cut a thin line into Giselle's palm. The lightning surged as Giselle's breathing became even more ragged.
Belinda plunged the dagger into the wall beside Giselle and slid her hand along the edge. She locked her now-bloody fingers with Giselle's, and pressed the back of Giselle's hand into the wall. Their mingled blood flowed down their forearms to stain their yukatas.
"I swear, Giselle, on everything holy, our blood will meet again."
"B… be… belin…da…"
"Our souls will not be separated forever, dear one, I promise, I promise…"
"Dear… dearest…"
Belinda's sobbing racked her body as Giselle's eyes fell shut and the lightning died. Immediately releasing her grip, Belinda gathered her friend into her arms, weeping brokenly into the lank, sweat-damped blonde tresses. "Forgive me," she wept. "Forgive me."
After several long minutes had passed, and the Get Backers had carefully avoided looking at one another, Belinda drew a shuddering breath and positioned her friend carefully on the floor. "Farewell, Giselle. Be happy, in whatever you do."
She pressed a kiss to the unconscious girl's forehead, got to her feet, and, disregarding the unpacked articles, picked up her luggage, and walked away.
"That was the last time I saw her," the ghost said sadly, perched on the edge of the dresser once again. Ban gasped for air, feeling as though he hadn't drawn a breath for the whole minute of the illusion.
"How sad," Ginji murmured, staring at his feet and looking absolutely miserable.
"Your great-grandmother was a remarkable person, Ginji." Belinda smiled faintly at him.
He looked up, startled. "Great-grandmother?" he demanded.
Ban smacked a hand into his own forehead before popping his partner across the back of the skull. "Dummy, you couldn't have missed that!"
"Be nice, Ban," Belinda admonished from the dresser. "Yes, your great-grandmother, Ginji. One of the greatest mistakes of my life – or afterlife, as the case may be – was letting Ban's grandmother know about Giselle's power; because she knew, Brain Trust found out, and discovered you. Science nurtured the seed my magic had left in you, and there you were. For the pain that has cost you, you have my sincerest apologies."
Ginji flushed. "You don't have to apologize to me. Because of what you did, I'm part of the Get Backers now."
The ghost smiled, ignoring Ban's uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot. "Yes, and thus my promise is fulfilled." Her bright eyes locked on Ginji's spikes. "We cut her hair short, once. It looked just like that when Katsumoto fell in love with her."
"What happened to your family, Belinda-san?"
"Markus, my husband, followed me, entrusting my daughter to Giselle. He was killed while attempting to cross the Austrian border into Switzerland, a bare two months after I had arrived in Germany. And my daughter returned to Germany when the war was over, to learn about her heritage from my cousin.
"She grew up without either parent, Ban. If she seemed harsh, life made her so. In the end, it was my fault your childhood was so bleak. And I apologize for that, too."
Ban waved the apology away, not really wanting to call up any more old memories tonight. "What about Giselle?"
The ghost's hand strayed to the silver brush beside her on the dresser. "Giselle died in childbirth. I was set upon by British defectors in Belgium while reading the letter that told me of Giselle's passing, and in my distraction, failed to protect myself." She sighed.
"Now you are all that is left of us, Ban. And you care precious little for what we once were."
"Magic doesn't have much place in the real world anymore, granny," Ban said bluntly, earning himself a glare from his partner. "Just as well that this curse dies with me."
To his surprise, a mischievous smile replaced the gloomy cast on Belinda's face. "Oh, but it shall not, Ban. The evil eye and the curse of the serpent were the heritage of my blood, but my true gift was foresight. And I saw wonderful things for you, Ban. Great sorrows, oh yes; that is part of the curse. But great joy as well. Few men are fortunate enough to be so well-loved in their life, Ban."
He fought back the red that crept up his throat. "What are you talking about, granny?"
"Great power, which is not tempered by great humanity, is easily corrupted. Your suffering makes you human, permits you to use the power of Asclepius without being overcome by it. By breaking your heart repeatedly, the curse keeps your soul off-balanced and tender, unable to maintain the barriers others would naturally erect after a devastating loss. You are unable to be uncaring, no matter how you try to disguise the deficiency. And that softness of heart, once revealed, draws people like Ginji to you, who are also unable to shut themselves away from the suffering of others.
"That is what makes unconditional love possible, Ban, and why there are such beautiful things waiting for you. There are no walls between your heart and those you choose to care for. When they have no walls either, real love and true friendship can exist."
Ban could feel Ginji's warm smile somewhere off to his left, but he didn't dare look. "Did you really want to hire us for something, granny, or did you just want to spout that sentimental crap at us?"
She smiled wryly. "I do have a task for you, dear one. I wish for you to retrieve my remains, Ban, and take them home to Japan. My beloved husband and my dear friend sleep there, and I rest uneasily among the ghosts of Belgium's slaughtered soldiers. I want to go home."
"Of course we will, Belinda-san," Ginji said immediately. "Just tell us where to find your bones, and we'll take them back with us."
"You are so very like her, Ginji. Such a beautiful soul."
Ban snorted as Ginji blushed.
"And you, dear one, you unfortunately inherited my temperament. Poor darling." She turned her head to the window, staring into the night beyond.
"All Hallow's Eve draws to an end, and I must return to the place where the dead slumber. Remember me, children. And remember this, also. Your friendship is the consummation of a promise given generations before your births, and is a thing to be forever cherished, but there are others who love you as well. Some sit beside you, day by day, and worry silently over you when you leave. Others watch less obviously, and send their thoughts with you wherever you go. And still there are those whose love reaches from the halls of eternal slumber to touch you. Remember always, dear ones, that you are loved."
With those parting words, the soul of Ban's great-grandmother vanished into the darkness.
"Ban-chan," Ginji said uncertainly, "how are we going to find Belinda-san's remains? I don't even know where Belga-thingie is."
"I wish I'd gotten to ask her about the mirror's magic," Ban groused, turning the thing over in his hands. Now that Belinda had gone, where there had been a mirror set into the silver, only a glassy black surface remained.
"Ban-chan," Ginji chided.
"We'll find them somehow, Ginji," Ban said confidently, striding over to the dresser and gathering the brush, comb, and trinket box. As he picked up the little silver box with its hinged lid, something rustled inside. Setting aside the mirror, and the brush and comb, he opened it. He pulled out what lay hidden within, and laughed.
"Old lady thought of everything."
A yellowed sheet of paper bore a map of Brussels on one side, with a circled dot about twenty miles outside the city limits – or what would have been the city limits in the early nineteen hundreds. On the other, Belinda had left a message for Ban.
The mirror shows the future to those willing to see.
"Ban-chan," Ginji said gleefully, thrusting the mirror under his nose, "look!"
The glass remained black. "Idiot, there's nothing there."
Ginji frowned. "Yes, there is, Ban-chan, can't you see?" His blue eyes flickered at the paper in Ban's hand. "Oh," he laughed, "I guess you aren't ready for this yet, Ban-chan."
"What?"
Shaking his head, Ginji handed him the mirror. "I think you'll need to figure that out yourself."
"Damn eel, you better tell me."
"Not a chance, Ban-chan."
"Ginji!" Ban yelled, as his partner suddenly snatched the dagger by the door and darted out. "Ginji, what was in the mirror?"
"No way!"
"Ginji!"
As Ban chased Ginji through the manor – the downstairs really was very dangerous, they discovered – the eerie cry from before stopped them in their tracks just as they opened the door.
"That's so sad," Ginji said with a sigh, looking into the rainy woods beyond.
"Sad? Earlier you were scared shitless."
"Poor Dolphus. We should probably wait a little longer before we go outside. I don't think he can come in here."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Didn't you see it Ban-chan? When Gis… when my great-grandmother's mom died? Dolphus was the brother, remember?"
"I remember who Dolphus was, dummy. Get to the point."
Ginji looked at him strangely. "You didn't get that he was in love with Belinda?"
"In love?" Ban stared. "He threw her down the stairs!"
"He didn't want to be in love with her, because she was a witch," Ginji explained patiently, as if to a child. "He was so obsessed with her that he never really got over her. Gee, Ban-chan, didn't you pay attention at all?"
The cry sounded again, and this time Ban shivered. "I absolutely hate your intuition, you damn eel.You couldn't figure out that Giselle was your ancestor, but you knew her brother had a thing for mine. God, you're weird, Ginji."
Ginji smiled. "Sorry, Ban-chan. I thought it was obvious."
"Only to a lunatic."
They bickered amiably back and forth, sitting on the floor of the ruined estate, until finally Ginji fell silent. Ban leaned over and saw that the blonde Get Backer had fallen asleep, succumbing to the jet lag he had complained of earlier. The mournful howling had ceased, and Ban realized with a start that dawn had broken outside, and the rain had stopped. Hours had passed during the comfortable wrangling, and he hadn't even noticed.
Beside him, Ginji snored softly, chin drooping onto his green vest.
Ban bit his tongue and looked around carefully before deciding that he was really alone. Moving cautiously to avoid waking his partner, he planted a firm kiss to Ginji's forehead, just as Belinda had done to Giselle almost a hundred years earlier. It was a little silly, but the symmetry of it appealed to his analytical mind, and, after all, it had been a very strange night. He couldn't be blamed for feeling a little muddled.
Pulling back, he looked at his sleeping partner a little guiltily. Ginji had wanted to get a hotel to begin with, exhausted before the whole ordeal had even begun. Though their venture into the old manor had given them a rather remarkable experience, it remained that Ban hadn't taken very good care of his friend.
He flushed a little, wondering what Belinda would have said.
Then he blinked.
Belinda… Ban.
Giselle… Ginji.
Laughing quietly to himself, he stopped feeling guilty and figured that Belinda had probably screwed up more than once. Whether the similarity in their names was sheer coincidence or more of Belinda's design, he didn't know, and he supposed it didn't really matter. The point she had wanted him to understand was that, like their great-grandmothers, the Get Backers should cherish the time they had together, including the screw-ups, because the future was uncertain and dangerous territory.
Ban picked up the mirror, which had been resting at Ginji's side. The glass remained dark to him, but Ginji had been pleased with whatever it was he had seen. Belinda's great-grandson decided not to ask him about it anymore.
The future, as long as it was with Ginji, could only be bright.