Chapter Fourteen: Uncle Vlad

Ellie didn't remember getting out of bed. She didn't recall carefully stepping over Chrissy or taking Vlad's hand, nor going to the family room, taking a seat in one of the comfortable plush chairs, and waiting for Vlad to come back.

All she remembered was the voice. Her voice.

No. Not her voice.

The voice of her ghost.

She sounded nothing like this...thing that tore her apart inside. She'd heard it before she even had ghost powers, back when she'd been diagnosed with clinical depression at age twelve. She'd had dreams about the voice long before now.

But now the voice had a face.

Her face.

Looking into the moonlight column of light that shone in through the ceiling-window, Ellie saw Vlad Masters returning, a glass of water in his hand.

"Here, my dear," he said. "Drink this. You'll feel much better."

She took the glass in her hand, sipping from the rim. The water felt good on her harsh throat.

"Now then," Vlad said, "let's talk. What's been troubling you?"

Ellie sighed, putting the glass down. "I don't know if I can say..." she said, only above a whisper.

"It's alright," Vlad replied. He walked over to a nearby chair, out of reach of the moonlight. Ellie couldn't tell if he'd sat down or not: the reverse mitosis of Vlad's dark suit and the shadows was almost complete. The only thing she could see were the twin blue gleams of the man's eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"I might have gone through the same thing at your age," came Vlad's voice from the shadows.

"I really doubt that," Ellie said.

"Ellen," Vlad said, "your father has told me so much about you and Jacob. You two children are quite the remarkable ones. Just like your father when he was your age. But, of course, we're not always like our parents, now are we?"

You don't know the half of it, Ellie thought.

"The point is," Vlad continued, "that if you can't talk to your father about these problems, maybe you can talk to me. I'm a family friend. There's no need to keep secrets from me. I trust you. Can't you trust me?"

Ellie gulped. She'd never even met this man before, and he was talking about secrets! This wasn't a first-time conversation topic!

And yet Vlad seemed utterly harmless. As though he were some guardian angel in human form sent to help her. He might be right.

She might just be able to trust him.

"I..." she began. "I keep having...these dreams..."

"What dreams are those?" Vlad asked.

"I keep running into this girl...who looks just like me..." she said. "She tells me horrible things..."

"Hmm...I understand." Vlad said.

"You do?"

"Yes. I had the same dreams when I was in the hospital all those years."

"The psychiatric hospital?"

"No. After college, your grandfather accidentally hospitalized me with some kind of acne."

"Acne?" Ellie giggled. "That's what you were put in a hospital for?"

"It was...a special kind of acne."

"In what way?"

"Your grandfather's machine blasted me with ectoplasm, and that caused it. It never went away for years."

"Oh... How'd you get well again?"

"The doctors never found out."

"But the ectoplasm gave you dreams?"

"I never exactly said that. I said that I had dreams like yours. Besides, what does ectoplasm have to do with anything?"

"Um...nothing! Nothing at all."

"Very well. I believe this little talk made things much better, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"Alright. Goodnight. Sleep well, Ellie."

"Night, sir."

"Please; call me Uncle Vlad."

She heard Vlad walk away, but she could not see him walk away in the shadows. Her own eyelids heavy, Ellie nodded off on the chair, falling into a merciful, dreamless sleep.

The palace rivaled the Taj Mahal in size. Its dimensions were perfected, the walls and doors spaced evenly apart as stated by Cicero. On the dark ruby walls were amber-lined portraits of events in the life of Vlad Masters, including the accident which gave him ghost powers, the years in the hospital, the founding of Dalv Corp, and the beginning and end of the Ghost Wars.

The men to whom the palace belonged sat in scarlet chairs, draped with fine green linens. A picture of Maddie Fenton hung on the wall beside the first man, who bore white hair, a fine suit, and ice-blue eyes. A new portrait–just made a few minutes ago, actually–of Ellen Fenton hung beside the second man, who had devilhorned hair, a white tunic and cape, and blazing red eyes.

"She's the one we'll chose, isn't she?" the first man said.

"Yes," the second replied cordially. "She obviously suffers from what you used to go through. The perfect springboard for the perfect protégée."

Two glasses appeared out of thin air, filled with a glowing pink liquid. Each man took a glass, sipping lightly out of the rim.

"What about the other?" the first asked.

"We'll leave him to fate, for now. If he gets suspicious, he'll go to Nicolai. Then, we'll fry us a ghost-flambee."

They chuckled, clinking their glasses together in the dim red light of the palace.

Jake yawned as he opened his eyes to the eve of Christmas Eve. The sunlight shone directly in his eyes from the bay window, spreading through the room in golden brilliance. He looked around, from Dave–still in his sleeping bag, to his computer, to the bookcase, to the drawers, to, finally, the door.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jake stepped over his sleeping friend towards the door, not caring that he was only in his underwear. He opened the door, revealing his bathroom, and stepping into the shower, as was the morning routine. It was so ordinary that he thought he could walk the route in his sleep, which he often did.

As he let the water run across his skin, Jake started to wake up. His vision was no longer blurry with sleep, and adjusted to the light fixtures of the bathroom. He then started to bathe, wondering about what his sister had presented last night. Could they actually find out what powers they had by their ectoplasm? Could they find out the origins of these powers?

If so, Jake thought, that'll make our job a lot easier.

He shut the water off, stepping out to towel off. Afterwards, he put on a blue robe, walking back into his room and sitting down at his computer. He then proceeded to type out various searches on the Fenton Mainframe, knowing that the computer situated in the lab was far more efficient than any internet search engine. A few key pieces of info turned up, regarding verdic ectoplasm and its properties.

VERDIC ECTOPLASM:

Verdic (aka. Green Ectoplasm) is one of the more common varieties of spectral matter. First discovered in the late 1600s, it has been found to be the main component of 96 of all nonacting ghost matter and 62 of all ghosts, sentient or brutish.

This variety of ectoplasm has proven to be most valuable as a strategic substance, albeit the least expensive form. Its mid-level power output and stability make it suitable for many forms of machinery and weaponry, and it forms the main power component of most spectral devices.

Ghosts imprinted upon verdic ectoplasm can be assumed to have a wide variety of ties to the real world. Many emotions, ranging from loving to depressed to sadistic, have been attributed to verdic ghosts and their kin. However, ghosts with incredibly malevolent reasons for unsettlement are more likely to be imprinted upon the slightly rarer rubic varieties.

The ghostly abilities of verdic ectoplasm range widely, telekinesis, energy projection, and metamorphic powers being the most common traits. They are not limited to these, however, as many verdic ghosts have specialized abilities, an example being the 'Ghostly Wail' of the famous Danny Phantom...

Suddenly, a young woman's voice emanated from behind Jake:

"Whatcha looking at?"

Jumping a bit from his chair, Jake turned his head to see who had interrupted him:

It was Gina Gray.