Chapter Thirteen: Nostalgia
"You split yourself from the middle?" Chrissy asked.
"Yeah," Ellie answered, somewhat exhausted from the evening's battle. "I never thought we'd be getting new ghost powers."
The four teens sat in Jake Fenton's room, each performing a different activity. Ellie was rummaging through the desk drawers for her old essay on ghosts; Jake was reading the newest publication of Modern Psychology that his aunt Jazz had brought him; Chrissy was running a brush through her blonde, shoulder-length hair; Dave was leaning back in a loveseat chair, trying to stretch out.
Jake snorted, closing his magazine. "That's not the issue for me. In my opinion, it's why you got a new power, and I didn't. It's not fair..."
"Well, you didn't have a crazy puppet throwing saws at you!" Ellie replied evenly, not taking her eyes from the drawer.
"I had a dragon flinging fireballs at me!"
"Hold it!" Dave interrupted. "Hold it... I'm sure there's a logical explanation for why Ellie has a new power; but for now, just get over it, alright?"
Jake snorted again. Dave always took Ellie's side.
"Found it!" Ellie held a short stack of papers above her head. "I knew it was in here somewhere! Now let's see..."
She went through the pages, searching through line after line until–to Jake's eyes–she found what she was looking for.
"Here it is..." She began to read aloud:
"The principle properties of ghostkind center around the ectoplasm that they and their dimension are composed of. This material, from the Greek term for 'exteriorized substance', was first discovered in the late 19th century by Charles Richet of France. It was described as a strange, glowing pseudopod emanating from the body of a medium, Madame d'Esperance. While the description cannot be confirmed, this was most likely one of the veridic ectoplasm varieties, which are the most common kind.
"While ectoplasm can be produced by certain prodigal humans, it mostly resides in its home dimension as the spectral equivalent of protoplasm. Studies have revealed it to come in three varieties: cerulic, verdic, and rubic. Each variety created either becomes a part of the Ghost Zone itself, or meets with a compatible consciousness and allows imprinting. Compatibility depends upon the nature of the spirit: cerulic, or blue ectoplasm rarely combines with a spirit, being compatible only with rare emotions not yet found for sure. Verdic, or green ectoplasm is extremely adaptable to either purpose, making up 96 percent of all ghost zone matter and compatible with most emotions of netherworld creatures. Finally, rubic, or red ectoplasm is also rare as a nonliving substance, mostly combining with spirits whose motivations for living cross into the truly malevolent.
"The variety of ectoplasm a spirit is made up of can be confirmed through a sample of subdermal tissue. A simple analysis of color will yield a result; the spectral reflectance pigment of either blue, green, red, violet, or other light will show the variety with ease. Apart from this, observance of a ghost's abilities will produce a relatively conclusive outcome, since spectral dynamics differ upon the variety of ectoplasm imprinted."
After she'd finished reading, Jake inquired, "So...what does that have to do with or powers?"
"It means," Ellie explained, "that we can find out our abilities by what kind of ectoplasm we have. From the color, it seems verdic. We might even be able to find out where they came from. I might look something up on that, but your computer's faster than mine. Could you help?"
Jake sighed. "Fine, I guess so."
He looked at the clock's reflection in the mirror: already 10:32 P.M.
"Alright," he yawned, "we'd better get to sleep. We'll work on this in the morning, agreed?"
Everyone made their own agreeing statement, going to their respective rooms for sleep.
Vlad Masters sat in the lounge chair out on the balcony of Fenton Manor. The full moon hung in the sky, brightly illuminating the surrounding sylvan glade. In view of his eyes, he could see the constellation Orion, its imaginary bowstring plucked beyond Betelgeuse. To his right was Danny Fenton, the boy he knew to a deeper level than anybody else on earth, lounging in a similar apparatus with a blanket across his paralyzed legs.
In Vlad's eyes, Danny had grown into the spitting image of who Vlad always imagined he would become: ponytail coiled around on his chest, stern yet loving face, fine evening suit, blue eyes that could be either vengeful or kind; magnificent.
Truly magnificent.
"Daniel," he said out of the blue, "how did we come to all this?"
Danny blinked in surprise. "Come to what?"
"You and I used to be the worst of enemies," Vlad said. "Each of us plotted against the other, fought in countless battles, despised each other to the brink of mutual destruction. Heck, my ghost half even brought the world and the Ghost Zone into a war for six years."
"Jazz still hasn't forgotten that, Vlad." Danny seemed very stern at the moment.
"Oh yes," Vlad replied. "Her fiancé. For the record, Skulker did that himself. I had nothing to do with that."
"At least you say."
"I'm serious! Had I but known, I'd have..." He paused. "Well, I don't know what I'd do, but it would avenge Matthew most definitely."
"I doubt that."
"Anyway, the point is I'm different now. I don't have that ghost whispering in my ear anymore, Daniel. I can make my own decisions, let go of old feelings. I'm very happy for your mother and father." In this last sentence, Vlad allowed himself invisible spite.
"Good. So you know how it is?"
"Of course, Daniel. I'm also very happy for you and Samantha. Everyone seemed to know you two would become what you are now."
"Everyone but us, you mean."
"And your children are very much like you, aren't they?"
"More or less. They're a bit different; they don't seem to talk to us anymore. We're worried."
"Really? I thought you didn't do that with your parents very much, either."
"Well, that was different. I was a halfa."
Vlad's smile was unnoticeable in the twilight gloom. "Of course. And I presume you still are?"
"Yeah. Just not a hero. I haven't been one since college."
"Yes..." Vlad leaned forward, putting his legs on the ground to his chair's side. "I'd better be getting to bed, you know. My doctors say I shouldn't be up this late."
"Right. 'Night, Vlad."
"Goodnight, Daniel."
He walked through the open door, becoming invisible in the shadows...
Ellie lay in her scarlet-sheeted bed, wondering if she was going to dream. She hadn't been getting full sleep nights for quite a long time, and she had even considered taking medication for it. But she knew if she slept, there would be a chance she'd dream. A chance she'd see that girl...
Chrissy's rather loud snoring brought her out of these thoughts. Her best friend might have been nice when awake–but asleep, she sounded like a downshifting truck.
The girl in question was laying in a sleeping bag to the left of Ellie's bed. The teens had agreed upon their sleeping pattern when they were twelve: Jake and Dave in Jake's room, Ellie and Chrissy in Ellie's. And every time, the younger Fenton twin had to endure through earplugs her best friend's noisy habit.
Well, Ellie thought, at least I can't dream tonight.
As she stared at the ceiling, Ellie wondered about that comment Mary Onette had made that evening:
Half a ghost, half a human.
Could we be half-ghost?
The idea seemed foolish, of course, at first. Their grandparents had said that there could never be such a thing as a 'half-ghost' on account of spiritual instability. Then again, they said that humans couldn't have ghost powers, and that turned out to be wrong.
That's not the question, though. The question is how we became halfas...
I told you that you already knew.
Ellie's eyes shot wide. She knew that voice. It sounded vaguely like hers.
What...you...you can't–
Oh but I can. You already know what I am, don't you?
My ghost half...
Bingo. Courtesy of your own freakish genetics. You know how I became. Why won't you admit it?
No...
A tear crept down Ellie's eye. She didn't want anyone–not even herself–to talk to her this way.
Why don't you listen to me? Do you remember that you survived Mary's attack because of my power?
Yes, but–
You owe your survival to me. Yet you keep me a secret from everyone. Even your own brother. You must tell someone.
There's nobody I can tell...
As she began to sob into her pillow, she heard a voice.
But it wasn't the voice of her ghost.
Looking up from her pillow, her swimming eyes saw Vlad Masters in the doorway, his ice-white hair haloed by the moonlight shining in through her window.
"Ellen? What's the matter, dear?" he said, concern apparent in his voice...