It was quiet, and had been for some time. There was a heavy feeling in the misty air, as though the entire world was looking down to see what would happen. Danny crept through the small building, alert for anything that might decide to jump out at him. Somehow, the lack of attacks had not steadied his nerves any.
It had to be a clothing store, didn't it? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to use the various businesses as cover. The actual practice, however, had only succeeded in proving that mannequins are scary. Everywhere he looked, vaguely humanoid shadows stood in poses that seemed unnatural in the darkness. The ones that lacked limbs or heads were the worst.
If he ever got out of this alive, he decided, he was going to write a movie script about it. He'd make millions.
Did that mannequin just move?
He was almost relieved to see a mainliner crawl out from behind it, providing a semi-rational explanation. The creature yanked a glowing, pale blue syringe out of its back and threw it, but Danny had already dodged and returned fire. Even without his ghost powers, they were little more than an annoyance. He idly wondered what they represented here, then remembered that they could only come out if there was a sufficiently-sized pool of liquid on the ground. Not much wanting to see another ravaged corpse, he angled away from the area.
That poor homeless man…that sight would haunt the boy for years. It hadn't been quite as bad as the headless colonel from Carnate, but he had seen this one happen…watched the man beg for mercy as one of those catmen had skinned him alive. He'd been too scared to get any closer.
What was that whispering? Oh, it was just the sound of his own ragged breathing.
Wasn't it?
No. No it wasn't. He quietly ran as another soul from the Malice drifted into view. It didn't seem to have noticed him yet, and he didn't want to give it the chance. There was a door ahead; before he could run through, the "Exit" sign above exploded into sparks. He had just enough time to see Adrianna shuffle past and notice him, and then he was running back the way he came without a care that he was making too much noise.
"Don't run away," whispered the headless boy as he appeared in Danny's path. He shouted and about-faced to run the other way, and nearly crashed into the one that started all this, a creature with half its head missing.
He slid beneath it, dodged around Adrianna, shot another mainliner, and finally made it through the "Exit" door. A fight broke out somewhere behind him; it sounded as though the mainliners weren't fond of the Malice. With a relieved sigh, he slowed to a walk.
He was out in the open again, but as long as he hugged the wall, he thought he would be okay. He couldn't actually see the clock tower from there, which meant that the invisible sniper couldn't see him.
You're not yourself, amante.
He flashed his searchlight on a slayer that dropped into his path and didn't answer. He was trying not to think of his family since that brought up remnants and memories of them, but he was getting lonely. Right then, Skulker would have been welcome company. In fact, even Vlad would have been an improvement.
Why don't you talk to me anymore? Silver all but whined. I'm lonely! Don't leave me alone!
An image flashed across his mind of Silver chained to the wall in the basement of Killjoy's asylum while Diego walked away. She was trying to convince him to pity her, and he wasn't going to oblige. What he wanted to know was why she was doing this? He didn't understand at all. She called him amante, lover; she had said in Baltimore that she had fallen in love with him. At least, he thought she had. She had said it in Spanish, so he wasn't sure exactly. Still, it just didn't make sense. He was fourteen, for one. And torturing people was not how a person showed love.
He needed to talk to an expert on the human mind. Sadly, with Jazz kidnapped, there was only one person he could talk to. And Killjoy was as insane as Silver. Did he really need to know Silver's motive to beat her?
On the other hand, simply giving her a sound thrashing like he did to his other enemies didn't seem to work. She just kept coming back. Maybe if he knew what motivated her, he could reason with her. Or at least figure out how to stop her for good.
The fear started to come back; she must have left. She was almost becoming desperate for his attention, or so it seemed. He hadn't noticed it at first, but ever since he tried to use the Fenton Thermos on her a while back, she had grown increasingly…
Panicked? That was the only word he could think to use. She was freaking out, or something. Whatever his ghost half was telling her, it must have been pretty bad to do that to her. He wasn't sure he liked that thought.
A soul from the Malice appeared; it disappeared with a shrill screech when he turned the light on it. That was easy; that was so easy, it made him nervous. The Malice never went down that quickly. He looked around fearfully.
Flickering streetlamp, rising fog, slayer, slayer…Those were easily dealt with, at least. He briefly wondered why they were so populous, then he found the soul.
She reminded him of Julia, the broken-necked water spirit that had once tried to possess Jazz. Her face was smashed beyond all recognition; her head hung at an odd angle. All this, he would notice later however, as he was then too busy struggling against the encroaching darkness and the hands that held him.
She looked wildly at the surrounding blaze and tried to convince herself that those burning children she saw weren't really there. It didn't help that Meryll was trying to shoot them with those horrid guns of her. "Meryll!" she called. "We have to go!"
"Go, then," the woman laughed. "I'm having fun."
"You're out here in your nightgown shooting things that aren't even there. We're going to get caught in the fire!"
"You're no fun."
She clenched her teeth and fists, then walked up to slap her brother's wife across the face. "I don't know what Diego sees in you, but you're evil."
Meryll holstered one weapon to hold her hand over the reddened cheek and smiled. "So you do like to play my game," she muttered. She holstered the other weapon and raised her arm into the air. In response, a burning log levitated up to eye level.
She gasped and staggered back. She couldn't possibly be seeing what she thought. Then the log flew straight at her; she was too amazed to duck.
Danny sank to his knees, to weary to fight anymore. Sister-in-law continued to grasp his shoulders, as though she could drain his very life. In fact, that's exactly what it felt like. He needed to run; he wanted to run. He just couldn't seem to muster the energy.
Something screamed, but he didn't care until a glowing blue blade impaled the Malice and yanked it off of him. He didn't immediately feel better, but he did mange to stand. He just hoped the malefactors and the Malice kept each other busy enough; he didn't think he could run.
"Psst!"
He yelled and spun around to see someone peeking out of the doorway of a small mission. The person motioned him inside; he was only too happy to oblige. "What are you doing out there?" the priest gently demanded. He pressed a mug of hot chocolate into the boy's hands. "Here. Now, come and sit down. You look half dead."
That was almost funny, and Danny realized that he was close to hysteria. He wondered how long he'd been at that point. It was with numb gratefulness that he dropped into a folding chair and let a kindly woman drape a blanket around him. He didn't pay much attention as the two quietly chattered at him. They seemed to realize that since they didn't say anything more than quiet nothings designed to be comforting.
A cheery fire burned nearby, surrounded by a motley crew of beggars and vagrants. They were terrified, every last one of them. It must have taken some courage to let him in. He sighed happily and answered a few questions, although most of his attention was elsewhere.
The lights still worked here. That was good to see. It would keep most of the malefactors away. He stared blankly into the fire, safe at last. He thought he would just stay there. He could stay forever…
"I have to go," he muttered.
"Oh, no!" the woman exclaimed. "You're not going back out there. You'll get your little self killed."
He shook his head slowly and stood. "I'm halfway there already," he sighed, ignoring the looks of worried bewilderment. "Those things are coming after me. If I stay, you'll all be killed."
The priest looked like he was object, but he was interrupted by frightened gasps as the fluorescent lighting flickered alarmingly. "Get him out of here!" cried someone who had been close enough to hear.
Danny handed him the blanket and now-empty mug and smiled. "Thank you. You really did help. But I have to go."
He might have continued to protest; the boy didn't pay any attention. He wanted to stay, but he had to leave. He knew he had to leave. He was the only one who could end this.