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Chapter Seven

"Talk to me, Gordy," Peter said as he stood in place.

"Geez, Peter, I am talking, just try to listen."

Peter smiled. "I can hear you now, Gordy."

There was a slight pause before Gordy spoke again. For a moment, Peter thought he might have lost his connection with his old friend, then Gordy's voice filled his thoughts again. "I'm so damned sorry, bud. I tried to stop him from hurting you, but I wasn't strong enough."

"I know you tried, but you did enough, you got someone to help me."

"Yeah, but he got hurt, too. Not exactly my finest hour."

"It wasn't your fault. We've got to stop this guy before he can hurt anyone else."

Gordy's dark emotions swirled in Peter's thoughts. "I'm no help at all! I couldn't stop him from hurting Mike or Ray either! I don't know how to do anything here! Ah, hell, I'm less than useless..."

"We'll find a way."

Gordy's mood became very tense and Peter knew trouble was brewing, then he felt a new chill in the room, a malicious cold that crept across his heart. "What is it?"

"He's here," Gordy answered.

Peter glanced around, not seeing any visible signs of him in the room. "Where?"

"There," Gordy said, and Peter followed the wispy image of an hand pointing to the dining room.

"Can we talk to him?"

Gordy was silent for a moment before he said, "I wouldn't. He's pretty damned pissed. It wouldn't take much to set him off."

"Why?"

"Why is he so mad? Hell, Peter, I don't know. Didn't we do this conversation already? All I can tell you is he's one mad son of a bitch. In fact, that's all he is, just anger looking for fuel. He wants to hurt you." Gordy's frustration resonated in his every word.

"Why me?"

"Don't know."

"Can we stop him?"

"I don't know that, either." There was a moment of silence before Gordy said softly, "Let me talk to him."

Peter straightened. "I thought you just said that wouldn't be a wise thing to do."

"When was I ever known for my wisdom?" Gordy grunted. "Besides, if that thing attacks, I'd rather have it attack me than you."

"Can it hurt you?"

Gordy shrugged. "Again, I don't know. I guess we'll find out, huh?"

"No, Gordy..."

"I'm not arguing about this with you."

Peter bit his lip. "Just be careful."

"Careful is my middle name."

Peter didn't move as Gordy's form left him and moved toward the other. For a long while, nothing happened. Yet, Peter could sense something was in the offing. A moment later, a whirlwind started. It reminded Peter of a devil wind, a type of dust funnel, only this one was made of pure fury.

Peter spread his fingers out before him, trying to get a better understanding of what was happening. There was a smoldering sense of unspent electricity in the air, as if they were caught in the split-second before a bolt of lightning struck, only this bolt felt like it would take out the whole block.

Peter's concentration was shattered when the whirlwind expanded suddenly, whooshing around Peter and the others with frightening force.

"Gordy!" he called out when Gordy's ghostly form vanished from sight.

Peter waited anxiously for a response, but when none came, he cursed under his breath. Danger seemed to be all around him. Then, the other form appeared near the entrance to the dining room, separating Peter from most of the others. He backed further into the dining room, hoping to draw the apparition away from his friends.

The miscellaneous nicknacks on the tabletops and fireplace mantle began to shake, rattling in place for a moment before they flew up to hit the ceiling. Everyone reacted in the span of that insane moment. Some dodged falling objects while others ignored the danger and moved toward Peter. Then, the form started in Peter's direction. He heard Paul shouting, "Peter, watch out!"

Paul stepped forward, once more placing himself between Peter and the ghostly apparition, only this apparition meant to do bodily harm.

"No! You want me!" Peter shouted, trying to draw the ghost's attention back to him.

Before Peter could act, the ghost took hold of Paul and twisted the older man around in the air like a pig on a spit.

"Son of a bitch!" Peter said, stepping closer. "Stop it! This is between you and me!"

Paul was tossed aside. He hit the floor and slid a ways. Peter was relieved to see Paul was only roughed up. Then the ghost disappeared again. Peter's breath came in rapid gasps as two points became unavoidably clear.

One, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles were drawing closer, so help would be arriving any time. Two, he knew precious seconds could mean the difference between life and death.

Peter licked his lips when he saw his father had started moving towards him. His words were rushed as he stretched out one hand in warning, shouting, "Peter, watch out!"

The whirlwind came out of nowhere, full of incredible power again, whipping around Peter and the others on a course none of them could discern. The house was already a mess with broken lamps, picture frames, and shattered nicknacks, but now as the wind howled by, the broken glass, wood, and plastic had the potential to become deadly weapons.

Everyone who was still standing dropped to the floor, covering their heads with their arms except Peter. He knew being on the floor or standing wouldn't mean a thing if the ghost decided to come after him.

Peter only had a moment to brace himself as the dark shape rushed at him. He had no choice but go with it. The blast catapulted him across the dining table, taking the flower arrangement and tablecloth with him. He was still airborne as he flew through the swinging door and into the kitchen. He slid to the center of the room, barely holding on to consciousness.

After a moment, Peter sensed his father's presence beside him and he worried for Caine just as he had worried for Paul moments before. There was no way Peter could help Caine if the spirit decided to attack again.

For a moment, Peter was barely aware of anything else as he managed to take in tiny gasps of air. It was all his aching ribs would allow, and it didn't seem nearly enough. Then the spirit's rage swept over him again, roiling around him like a predator preparing to strike. That damned ghost wasn't done yet.

"Wh-where is it, Pop?" he rasped.

Caine put a hand on Peter's shoulder, looking him over once more before his gaze sizzled with fury. "Stay here," he said quietly as he stood.

One glance revealed the spirit had appeared again, hovering at the entrance to the kitchen. "No, Pop," Peter whispered, reaching for Caine's pants leg, but missed.

Caine lifted one hand out toward the spirit as he stepped closer to it. "Stop this! You are not welcome here! Leave us!"

The air nearly crackled with confrontation, and then something new happened. An unholy laugh full of malice began to fill the air, chilling Peter to the core, and it wasn't because of the room's low temperature. Caine stepped closer to the form.

Peter desperately tried to get up, but fell back to the ground. "No, Pop," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"You cannot stop me, Caine," echoed across the room in a voice so creepy, goose bumps covered Peter's skin.

Caine seemed unaware of his danger or Peter's efforts as he said, "I can stop you and I will."

All of a sudden, Peter felt Gordy's spirit enveloping him again and felt a surge of relief. Maybe Gordy would know something that could help. "Gordy?"

"Sorry, Pete, I got back as soon as I could."

"What happened?"

"Damned thing sent me back to the other side."

"Are you okay?"

"Hell if I know."

Peter glanced at his father again. "We-we've gotta stop him."

"I know," Gordy said, "but we can't do it alone. It's going to take all of us and a heaping dose of luck to do it."

Peter bit his lip. His body trembled mercilessly and his vision wavered. He knew without a doubt he was skating on the precipice of shock. "I don't like living by luck, Gordy. You never know when it's going to shift the other way on you."

Gordy paused. "You might be right, but it's all we have right now. Since you're the only one who can hear me, you have to tell the others what to do."

"You have a plan?"

Gordy grunted. "No, but I figure we can make one up as we go."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"Hey, bud, you know I always think best under pressure."

Peter nodded and started to sit up, only to groan and roll to protect his aching ribs. "Ah, geez," he whispered, rocking in a tight motion.

Gordy's voice was tense as he said, "Work through it, Caine. People are going to start dying unless we can stop it."

Peter nodded, ignoring the tears that fell when he began moving despite the pain. "Pop, wait," he whispered.

Caine glanced back in his direction, but didn't turn to face him. Peter started to get to his knees, but instead fell back as he reeled with pain and dizziness.

"Dammit, Peter, move your ass," he heard Gordy say.

Peter really wanted to do what Gordy said, but his body had other ideas. Everything began to swirl around him, and he dropped back to the floor, but never felt it.

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