Chasing Demons
Chapter Seven: Co-operation
When Franziska awoke this time, she could move again and the blindfold had been removed from her eyes. It did not take her long to recognise the woman kneeling in front of her. It was the very same woman she had met in the park, still wearing the very same clothes. Franziska wondered how long she had been here for, and how long it would be before Papa found her.
The woman regarded her curiously, head cocked to the side almost like a curious kitten. "You're Franziska von Karma, correct?"
Franziska held her chin up high. She wouldn't let this woman know how bizarre it was that she knew her name, considering Franziska had never been to America before. Now, if this had happened at home, back in Frankfurt—everyone knew who she was back there. "I am Franziska von Karma, the Prodigy. Who are you?"
The woman paused for so long that Franziska was suspicious. 'Name' was a routine question that most people knew how to immediately answer. 'Occupation' was also another routine question, but Franziska already knew that this woman was a piece-of-scum defense attorney.
"My name's not important." The woman smiled, as if Franziska should have known that she wasn't going to divulge her identity. "But you can call me…Misty."
The pause before the name confirmed her suspicions that the woman—Misty, for lack of a better name—had not told her the truth. Then again, it really wasn't important right now. Papa could get Misty's real name later—when she was convicted.
"Do you know why you're here?" Misty continued, unwrapping the scarf that she wore around her neck and removing a glowing green jewel that had been hanging off it.
Franziska crossed her arms across her chest. "No, I don't recall you informing me about your motive before rendering my unconscious state." Misty didn't reply immediately and Franziska took the chance to observe her surroundings. She seemed to be in a large room, but it was very dark; the only light was supplied by hundreds of candles scattered around the boundaries of the room and she saw the shadows of three people flickering against the wall.
…Three?
"I'm here to help you, Franziska—"
"Because abducting me was very helpful; I thank you," she interjected, without taking her eyes off the wall. Did she want to know what she would see if she looked towards the source of the shadow?
"I didn't mean to…"
"That must take a great deal of skill, an accidental kidnapping." Honestly, this woman had to be the most foolishly foolish fool of all the foolishly foolish fools Franziska had met in her entire life.
"Look," Misty commanded, but Franziska still didn't turn around. "I'm here to teach you how to control when you see spirits."
Spirits. First her name, now this woman knew one of her greatest secrets as well. Miles was the only person Franziska had ever told about the troubles she had getting to sleep. Now this woman was claiming that she could help? It was ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous, even though there was no way Misty should have known.
She turned around and the bleeding man with the gunshot wound was smiling at her kindly, candle light reflecting off his glasses. "Does that mean you see him too?" she asked Misty, pointing to the man.
Misty shook her head. "We see our own ghosts, Franziska."
"You see them too?" Curiousity killed the cat, and it was possible that it would kill the young German girl who had been kidnapped in America, but she didn't care anymore. She had to know that her mind hadn't been playing tricks on her all along, had to know that she wasn't on the descent into the depths of madness.
"That's where training comes in," Misty responded, holding up the glowing jewel. "This is a Magatama, charged with spiritual energy. It allows you to focus your spiritual powers and also helps you ward off unwelcome apparitions." She slipped the Magatama into Franziska's outstretched hand; she had expected it to feel smooth and cold underneath her skin, but it was so hot. So hot that she had to pass it back and forth between her hands to prevent it from burning her skin. "This will make it easier when you try to channel your first spirit—it will be best to try one you already have a close connection to, the one you see the most often, as it will probably come more willingly, unless, of course there is a good reason to not channel the spirit of that person—"
Misty stopped in the middle of her sentence because Franziska had thrown the Magatama with all her might and it had hit Misty on the side of her face. "Why are you throwing my family heirlooms around?" Misty demanded to know as she bent down to pick it up.
"Take your family heirlooms; take your foolish spirits; I just want to go back home!"
Misty took in a shallow breath. "I'm afraid that we have no chance but to cooperate."
"I would never co-operate with a criminal like you!" Franziska spat. "Just let me out. Now!" she demanded, her hands on her hips. She was behaving like a child, but she didn't care. As long as she still felt angry and indignant, it left her very little time to feel the emotion she was afraid of most: fear.
"I really wish I could," Misty started, as Franziska snorted disbelievingly, "but I'm as trapped in here as you are."
"…What?" Franziska didn't like where this conversation was headed.
"The door that leads to this channelling chamber locks from the outside, and besides, I don't have the key, and we won't be allowed out until you perform your first channelling. She comes in every few hours to check in on you, but you've been out of it for the most part."
"Because you knocked me unconscious." Franziska glowered.
Misty sighed. "If I had any idea…any idea that you were Manfred von Karma's daughter, I would never have done what I did."
"So, if my Papa was just some ordinary man, you wouldn't be afraid of him and think it was perfectly justified to kidnap me, would you? That's even worse!!" she cried, her hands balling into fists. She was so, so, angry now. She wanted to hit, kick, punch and scream, but if what Misty was saying was true…she just wanted to get out of this dark, forbidding room. Maybe then it would be easier to escape.
Misty flinched at Franziska's words; Franziska wondered if she had hit a sore point. Misty had abducted her, basically snatched her off the street, and now the older woman looked as though she were about to cry. After a brief pause, she struggled to plaster the same fake smile onto her face. "I don't think you understand, Franziska. We're not taking you away. We're bringing you back home."
Franziska's heart started thrumming again. Home? Home was Germany, a place with every passing moment she feared that she was never going to see again. She had been born in Germany, raised in Germany, had never even left Germany until a week ago, to come to this country. Papa had been right. She never should have come here. It was meant to be a present, though. Papa knew how much she missed Miles, but Miles was so busy with helping Papa and laying the foundations of his own soon to be started career that it made a long trip to America at that point in time quite impossible. This was meant to be Franziska's present for finally passing the bar; Papa had been so proud.
Then Miles had basically ignored her. If she had known this would happen if she left the house in America alone, she would have gone anywhere with Miles, even if he hadn't talked to her, just standing beside him, thinking of a time when they were both happier would have been good enough.
They could have gone to the beach. Franziska had never been to the beach. Her elder sister, Lisbeth, had been planning to take Franziska down to her holiday house with her husband, Herr Paffenholz, over the summer to 'spend more time as a family', as Franziska had only really spent time with her elder sister on three separate occasions. On this trip, Lisbeth had wanted Franziska to meet her two-year-old daughter, Katja. However, the plans had fallen through because Manfred had decided to take Franziska to visit Miles in America instead.
Franziska wondered if she would ever see the ocean. "What do you mean, 'bringing me home'?" she demanded.
Misty just looked sad. "You mean…you don't know?"
"I don't know what?" Franziska's tone was growing more insistent. This woman was definitely keeping something from her, some sort of detail about her past. But her past was simple and uncomplicated, apart from the fact that she had never met her mother. Her mother. Did Misty know who her mother was?
"I can see why your father would keep it to himself," Misty said, more to herself than to Franziska. "After all, you're just a child."
"I am not a child!" Franziska countered. "After all, I passed the bar last week."
Misty had been passing the Magatama from hand to hand while she had talked to Franziska. But now it clattered to the floor as Misty looked at Franziska with a clear look of disbelief on her face. "You what?" she screeched.
"I start in February."
"You…" Misty panted. "That's insane!"
"No. You know what is insane? Seeing these ghosts, spirits, that is insane."
Misty's face brightened, as if she had just remembered something she had forgotten. "That's right, Franziska. It's easier to control when you see them if you've purposely channelled one before. Here, take this again."
Franziska didn't really want to, however, she wanted the spirits to go away, so she could have a normal life. She didn't have much time for the supernatural. Nonetheless, her fingers curled around the Magatama.
"Close your eyes," Misty commanded. Franziska felt uneasy. She didn't want to close her eyes; she wanted to be able to see what was happening at all times. But it didn't seem as though she would be able to leave the room until she went along with these instructions. "Focus your feelings through the Magatama. Imagine the face of the spirit that you see clearly in your mind." As an afterthought, Misty added, "For your first time, it's probably easier if you're sitting down."
Franziska thought about objecting, not wanting to put herself in a more vulnerable position, but in the end she obediently sat cross-legged on the floor. The dead man's face was still at the forefront of her mind, so focusing on it was not difficult at all.
"Breath in, then out. Slowly, but surely."
Fighting to control her breathing from speeding up, she started to feel the Magatama growing cooler in her hands. Soon it reached the threshold where it was so unbearably cold that she almost dropped it. She could almost feel her fingers going numb.
Then she felt nothing at all.
…
Gregory Edgeworth was fairly sure that he was dead. Now, however, he found himself in a dark room, wearing what felt like a short dress. This was rather embarrassing, but hopefully there wasn't anyone in the room to see him like this.
However, it looked as though his luck was still out. "Who are you?" A woman's voice asked, and Gregory turned around to face the woman.
"I'm dead," Gregory replied. "I think this is the second time I've come back though." The first time he had awoken in a police questioning room; they had asked Gregory who had murdered him. In truth, Gregory had no idea, but there had only been three people in the elevator: Miles, the court bailiff, Yanni Yogi, and himself. As Miles was already unconscious, and Gregory knew he would remember if he shot himself, the only possible person left was the bailiff. He wondered if he had done the right thing, in fingering something even though he wasn't a hundred percent sure. It was definitely the most logical conclusion.
"The second?" the woman asked. "You mean, someone's channelled you before?"
"Oh, so is that what this is?" Gregory asked, even though he was squinting he still couldn't focus on the woman's face without his glasses. "You can channel the spirits of dead people?"
"Yes, the spiritual powers are passed down by the women in my family."
"Your family, hmm. Does that mean you're related to Misty Fey? Apparently, she is the person who channelled me for the police's interview before the trial."
There was a stifled gasp of recognition. "She's my mother."
Gregory open his mouth to say something, but at that precise moment—
BANG.
His face paled. He would know that sound anywhere. That…was a gunshot. Apparently, Misty's daughter knew this too, as she started yelling, "Aunt Morgan, Maya and Prosecutor von Karma are out there! Oh…Maya!."
"Prosecutor von Karma?" Gregory did a double take. The last time he had been present in the living world, he had heard that von Karma had taken a holiday from prosecuting. Obviously, whatever time and year it was now, he was back.
Misty's daughter shook her head. "His daughter's the one channelling you at the moment. Maya—I have to get out there!"
Daughter? Gregory looked down at the dress he was wearing. It seemed a bit too small to be Lisbeth's, and he had never come across anything in his research into Manfred von Karma to suggest that Lisbeth had any spirit channelling powers. Misty's daughter had said that the spiritual powers were passed down through the female side of the family, and Gregory ought to know better than anyone that Lisbeth's mother had no such powers. "So, how do we get out?"
"We can't," Misty's daughter moaned. "Aunt Morgan locked me in here with Franziska soon after Mr von Karma arrived."
Franziska. Of course, Manfred von Karma's younger daughter, the one Gregory had never fathomed von Karma had the time to father, seeing as he was always in America. During his research of von Karma, he had never found out who the mother of this second daughter was.
"Look," Gregory said, "it's possible that someone out there has just gotten shot. We have to get out of here and help them." He wondered why he cared; considering that he was dead, nothing left in this world should have mattered to him anymore. But as soon as Misty's daughter had mentioned the name von Karma, he was hooked. He had to see Manfred von Karma again. Maybe this was the last chance he would have to receive the answers to the questions he had always asked himself.
"But I don't have the key." The two of them were standing by the door now; Misty's daughter placed a hand flat against it.
"I don't know," Gregory said. "The door doesn't look too strong…maybe if I had a bit of a run-up…" He wasn't as strong as he used to be as a young man, but Misty's daughter looked determined enough to help. There seemed to be people she cared about on the other side of the door.
BANG. This time, the gunshot was followed by a bone-chilling scream. It seemed familiar somehow, as if he had heard it somewhere, a long time ago.
Misty's daughter seemed determined. "All right," she decided. "We'll run at the door together and see if it works." She looked as though she hoped it did, but thought it wouldn't. Gregory listened carefully for her footsteps as they walked backwards together as he didn't trust himself not to walk into any walls. "Now," Misty's daughter directed, and they ran back towards the door.
