Chapter Seven;

A cry for help accepted

"What kind of help would you like?" I look up sharply at the boy floating in front of me. I swear that he wasn't there just a second ago. He smiles at me, something familiar in the blue-violet of his eyes. He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and jogging pants, so this isn't one of the hundred-year-old ghosts that hang around this place."

His smile is friendly, so I try to smile in response. It comes out, weak and forced, but a smile nonetheless. "At this time, just about any kind of help would be good. Within reason."

"What's reasonable?" He squats down in front of me, rolling onto the balls of his feet in midair. His hair is a short, spiky blue mess. "I think that most of this is beyond that limit already. Would saving Ken from a demon have been reasonable yesterday?" He raises an eyebrow teasingly, and it niggles at something in the corner of my mind.

I shake my head, trying to get it back on straight. Checking this ghost out will not help me save Ken. Of course, talking to him may not help, either, but I have to do something. "Not really. Yesterday, I would have denied that I could have gotten dragged to a haunted house to begin with."

"And yet, here you are." It was a simple statement, said in even tones. I shrug. He looks away from me, and back at the dark tower behind him. I follow his gaze to the windo, fifteen feet above us. "I'm Sam, by the way."

I look back down to meet his gaze, and then it hits me. Sam! Sam Ichijouji, the original prodigy of the family, deceased for several years. "Ken's brother." He nods, smiling back at me as I grin in understanding. "Then you can help me, where as the others are stuck here because of the demon!"

"Very good! He has some form of control over them, because he trapped their souls here. I died away from here, so I'm free to do whatever I want."

"Good." I rise to my feet, and he stands with me. "Now tell me what to do. I'm completely clueless. There's no way into the tower without something to climb, like a rope, or a ladder." He pauses for a moment, then looks from me, to the tower. His sudden grin tells me that he has a plan. "What?"

"See that dark spot, about three feet from the edge of the roof, and the tower wall?" He points at a spot on the left side, diameter approximately four feet. I nod, waiting expectantly. "Run at it, and jump through."

"What?" I can feel the nausea starting again, this time bringing a headache with it. "You expect me to go running at a spot on the wall, with the intent of running myself into it? I could slip, and fall -splat- on the ground, or just get a concussion, and die up here."

He looks at me with impatience. "Or you could go through the part of the wall that's been weakened by water damage, and enter the tower that way." He rolls is eyes, and walks away. "I can't believe that you're the one sent to save my brother."

I glare at his back, but it's as weak as my earlier grin was. He's right. I'm a coward. After all this time, and everything I've been through, I can't charge a wall.

"I am but a shadow, acting like I live." Sam's facing me again, sorrow on his face. "My brother's life rests in your hands. He can't do this alone. It's not his turn to die, Matt. He needs you. And maybe you need him, too. I know that you can do this. I've been watching you for a while, Ishida. You are strong enough, if you believe. I know my brother does."

Pep-talks from ghosts. I must really be slipping. I hadn't realized how weak I had let myself become. I'm still the same person that would have risked my life for TK. Why should I risk less for Ken? I square my shoulders, and push off, running as fast as I can toward that dark spot, and hoping like hell that it is indeed weakened.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"That must have hurt." I crack my eyes open, meeting Sam's gaze in the dim light from the hole I made in the wall. "Even weakened wood can give a good fight. Sorry." He's floating over me, looking at me uncertainly.

I grunt=, then set up, groaning as the pain in my head reachs a crescendo. When I can tamp it down, I look at him warily. "No, you're not. I'm this much closer to saving your brother. I have no doubt that this pleases you immensely." He frowns at me slightly, then gives a small, acknowledging smile. I stand up, using the bannister post that stopped my descent to the floor below to pull myself up.

"I wish that you could have seen it. It looked like something that Davis would have done. I think you took more of it with your head than your shoulders." I don't find it that amusing. If the banister hadn't been sturdy, I would have fallen to the bottom of the tower, and this whole thing would have been pointless.

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm paying for it, too." His smile is sympathetic. "Which way? Down?" He looks at me, then at the well of darkness that swallows the stairs as they wind down. He nods. "Great, thanks."

I don't think that I like Sam. He could end up getting on my nerves very quickly. My hand gripping the railing, I start slowly down, feeling carefully with my feet in case there's a step missing. After a minute, the light from the hole is hidden by a flight of stairs, yet I keep going. Unseeing. I think that Sam is someplace nearby, but he isn't speaking, and obviously, he doesn't make a sound as he walks.

However, I don't speak, for fear that something else might hear my voice, and come to investigate. Cowardice, again, I know. I'm so glad that Tai isn't here. He'd get a kick out of my frightened attitude. "Call to me, sing to me/Whisper my name/Yell to me, scream for me/A mumble the same."

Sam's voice breaks through the black, slightly on my left, which would place him in the dead space at the center of the tower. "Another part of the poem?" I know the rhythm and the cadence. One of the styles of poems they teach grade-schoolers, because the rhymes are easy to come up with.

      "I would love for love

      Hate for love

      Marry and procreate for love."

My voice echoes in the silence, and it takes me a moment to realize that those words actually came out of my mouth. I pause, a little frightened to think that my vocalizations are ten steps ahead of my logical thought. I'm not a very logical person all the time, like Izzy, but I do like clear and precise order.

I go to step down, but my foot stubs against the ground, and I realize that I've reached the bottom level. "Sam?" Silence. I wait for a moment, then start searching along one wall for the door. Ten seconds later, I stumble as my feet hit the stairs, and I trip. I'm sprawled across the floor at the base of a tower, with no door. "Great."

I put my hands against the chilly, wood floor, intent on standing up. And then the floor drops out from beneath me, and I'm falling through cool air, the echo of my yell dying quickly.