The months before September crept along slowly, taking its sweet time in reaching Green Bay. As time passed through the doors of the hospital, it seemed to grow even slower, going from inching its way along to moving in centimetres. By the time it managed to enter Vlad's hospital room, it crawled along at a rate of one millimetre per minute. And unfortunately, the recently increased burdens on Vlad's conscience did nothing to help time pass any faster.
The knowledge that he was now at least part ghost gripped him like the first blizzard of winter grips the whole of the Arctic. It was with him with every breath he took, every step he made, every bite he made to eat, every gulp of liquid that went down his throat. It was with him when he ate, when he worked out, while he slept, when he read, when he talked, in his dreams…it had completely gotten hold of him. No matter what he did or where he let his mind wander, there was no escaping the fact. And this knowledge only served as fuel for the fire inside him against Jack.
His newfound powers were sporadic, unpredictable, and when they manifested themselves, very difficult to control. They came forth mostly when he was tired, unfocused, or angry. Unfortunately, though he was rarely unfocused and was only tired at the end of the day, he was losing his temper more and more easily these days. The increased flame inside him had again heightened his impatience, causing him to explode over little things like biting his tongue or the malfunction of a remote. He would steam up in fury at jokes made by fellow patients or when machines in the gym failed to work. His efforts to restrain himself only seemed to heighten the problem. The full manifestation of his powers – the blue rings encircling him and changing his appearance – happened rarely, and ironically was the easiest thing to control, though that wasn't saying much. Constantly, however, his arms were going intangible, things fell through his grip, his eyes flashed, and always was he phasing through floors and going invisible. His foot was falling through treadmills, weights fell out of his hands and onto his feet, he fell over on walls he was leaning against – there was no end to it. He had to constantly be on his toes, avoiding being seen and thinking up fast excuses to explain problems his powers caused when anyone caught him at an awkward moment. As time went on, this quick demand on his wits added to the exhaustion caused by his physical exercise, increasing the number of times his powers acted up. Things may have been bad for him before, but now he was truly caught in a place where sunshine, joy, and the possibility of things working out your way did not exist.
As with his reasons for committing himself to his treatment, Vlad kept his powers a secret from his doctors. His obsession over getting well was not without its limits. The biggest of those limits was fear – the fear of being turned into a mutant lab experiment. He had spent countless hours trying to build devices that could capture ghosts so he could study and experiment with one himself, but the notion of his own being having to be hooked up to monitoring systems and test tubes and being put through his paces was not a comforting thought. No matter if revealing his powers could speed up the process of recovery – which he doubted – even that wasn't worth the risk.
Still, he could not keep the doctors from noticing anything new to the complex puzzle of his ailments. The week after his powers first manifested themselves, they had picked up on something during Vlad's usual treatments and workouts. His temperature had dropped down another few degrees and had stayed there, never rising and occasionally dipping down even lower. His blood plasma was now pure green, his white blood cells had turned blue, and his red blood cells all held a strange white glow. Their sensitivity to certain wavelengths of energy had increased, and the doctors still couldn't duplicate those wavelengths with their technology. His basic molecular structure, even on an unfocused microscope, held a green tint to it. And they could scarcely fail to notice that Vlad could no longer be trusted to avoid "dropping" anything made of glass or other fragile objects. These new symptoms prompted the return of the CAT scans, radiation scanners, and the administration of special medications. Besides increasing the amount of things on his treatment schedule (and in the case of the medication, give him severe pains in his digestive system overnight), Vlad gained little from these additions.
Calls were put through to London several times to see if the paranormalist hired would consent to come out sooner than expected, but his schedule would not allow it. He had been commissioned to take down several instances of haunting throughout the United Kingdom over the summer, and his time in between jobs was often taken up by establishing new appointments. On top of all that, his finances made foreign travel difficult until near September. The doctors understood, but Vlad was not sympathetic to the man's work schedule or his financial arrangements. He had never met this paranormalist, and he already hated him for not getting out here right away. Damn it, he wanted to get out of here! Anything that delayed his recovery he now loathed with a passion. Now more than ever, he wanted to get out of here to give Jack what he deserved. It had almost eclipsed his desire to win back Maddie. After seeing the full extent of the disease Jack had inflicted on him, Vlad was hell-bound on making him beg for mercy. If, on the day he was cured his powers couldn't fully leave them, he would use them to ruin Jack. He'd use the same curse that Jack had put on him to tear down his life. He had begun planning it all out. How he would reveal himself to Jack again, how he would disclose all that had happened, what he would do…the time and place were never the same, but it was with him everywhere just like the knowledge of his new powers, from his morning meals to his dreams. He kept seeing him bringing Jack to his knees, repaying every damage done to him, every insult to injury. And always at the end of it, there was Maddie…
The days until September turned into weeks. Those weeks then turned into months as time continued to crawl along at it's millimetre-a-minute rate. Vlad kept himself going, his thoughts of Maddie and revenge keeping him at it. He waited as best he could, though it wasn't easy on him or his powers. The summer moved along outside, heat and storms rising and falling as the months went on. Come August, college kids were returning to campus, his old classmates now in their senior year. They hadn't forgotten him entirely over the summer. Letters had been sent to him from their homes and vacation spots – several by Jack, but those were thrown out – and his old teachers had sent him some brainteasers to keep his mind sharp. As before during the past months, these were touching, but they did nothing to quell his troubles. Since he had last seen her, he had had no contact with Maddie. That alone prevented any notice from anyone back at campus from doing him any good.
Now that everyone was back, they began visiting him in person rather than letters. Harriet was the first to visit, reading through the article she had written over the summer at least fifteen times (Vlad fell asleep after that, so she may have read it a few more times), always stopping after to explain that it had already put her at the head of her senior journalism class and had been published in a Hollywood newspaper (which one, Vlad didn't remember – she seemed to have mentioned at least three during her constant re-tellings). Others brought gifts from their vacations and wild stories of what they had been up to. As with their visits the last day before summer break began, Vlad wished he could tune them out – hearing their stories only added to his misery. As the school year picked up, visits became less frequent – the teachers apparently weren't showing any mercy. Vlad also suspected that it was hard to maintain friendships with one whom had been locked up in a hospital all summer. He also suspected Jack was partly behind it with his versions of what had went on. No matter how ridiculous it seemed, Vlad found himself blaming Jack for many things.
Throughout all these visits, only one piece of news arrived from Maddie. It was in the form of a letter Harriet brought during her first week back:
Dear Vlad,
Hope you're well. Jack and I are fine. Summer was lovely. Hope you were able to have some fun. Jack's still not giving up on your friendship.
Love,
Maddie
Vlad held onto that little note like it was a page from the very first Bible, but the letter's far too quick briefness and it's focus on Jack stung him like a nest of wasps. Just how far was she from him? How close had she and Jack gotten? That little note's hidden plea to make up with Jack made such reconciliation more impossible than ever, and only increased the problems with his powers. Just two days after receiving the note, he was forever banned from handling anything made of glass in the hospital.
The days and weeks dragged on, the time between August and September dragging even slower if that were at all possible. Visits continued to become less frequent, and outside the hospital the first signs of autumn began springing up before the season arrived in full. Then, finally, the news arrived – the paranormalist had left London and would arrive on September the 17th. The doctors were flat-out rejoicing – at last someone who knew what they were doing could look into this! Vlad, while still not forgiving this soon-to-be-revealed scientist for not making it out here in time, was pretty enthusiastic himself, and doubled his efforts in the rest of his treatments. This got his powers acting up a bit more, but at long last he could ignore even that.
The final days were the slowest. Vlad counted every second of every minute, his body trembling in suspense. He had to have walked through at least twenty-seven walls those last days from his powers jumping around in impatient anticipation. The clock slowly ticked by, second by second, hour by hour. Then, finally, the day was at hand. The hour came at one o' clock in the afternoon. Doctors were running out front to the car to welcome him in while Vlad struggled to keep himself calm enough to maintain some control over his powers. The paranormalist had arrived.
His name was William Scar. He was a tall pale man with dark brown hair slicked back on his head and a goatee. He wore a green shirt with brown pants and black shoes. Appropriately enough, his face had a haunted, sickly look to it, with dark circles around his eyes and skin so pale that it looked as though he'd never seen sunlight. He had brought with him only a small black handbag to hold his tools in for the job His voice was like that of a depressed Jeremy Irons, with a deep Shakespearean quality to it. His voice's ability to portray such a sound was rather remarkable, as he rarely used it. He had barely introduced himself when he entered Vlad's room, shut the door, opened up his handbag, and went to work.
His tools were remarkably low-tech, though that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. Paranormal science had never been taken seriously and had never been given proper funding. Spectral energy was also extremely difficult to trace and obtain, so fuel for the few tools available to paranormalists was in short supply. The equipment was simple, cheap, and the results varied. All of the high-tech, outlandish devices Vlad and Jack had dreamed up on blueprint had been meant to solve these problems, but there was no point in bringing that up now. Jack guaranteed that they never worked anyway, and they'd never been able to afford anything other than blueprints for those on the market, so seeing any tools at all was a bit of an experience for Vlad. Scar had a spectral scanner, a strange type of injection gun, an ectoplasmic radiator, two power cells, a strange machine with several wires attached (all of which ended in little clips), a small container of blue ectoplasm, a simple magnifying glass, a pair of white latex gloves, and some things that weren't used for any type of science at all. They were spiritual devices from different cultures. The first tool he employed was one of these, a medallion with a sapphire crystal imbedded in it. He ticked it back and forth at his eye level along the length of Vlad's body, like a hypnotist trying to put someone into a trance with a watch. He did this for a few minutes, then gazed into the crystal intently. He sighed, as though he had seen something of a negative nature, then set the medallion down and reached for his other tools.
The examination took the entire day. All of the spiritual devices were put into use first. After looking over him with the crystal, Scar opened up three cases of powder – green, blue, and red. He took a handful of all three one by one and sprinkled it over Vlad's body. Other than causing him to go into a somewhat violent sneezing fit, Vlad didn't see what this was meant to do, but Scar apparently did. When the blue powder had rested for a few minutes and he looked over Vlad, he again let out a mournful sigh. After the green powder had sat for a while, his face twisted into an expression of pure horror. After the red powder had settled, he relaxed a bit, though his eyes held a suspicious glare. Vlad considered asking about what the powders were meant for, but he thought it unwise. The faster this went, the faster he'd get an idea on when or if he could be cured.
After the powders, scar employed a long stick with a macharena and mango tied on the end of it. Besides that, it bore a slight resemblance to the stick of an African shaman. He shook it over Vlad's head for a minute, then unceremoniously tossed it over his shoulder, showing no signs that he had gained anything from using the stick. Vlad felt more than slightly annoyed at the action apparently done for no reason, but managed to keep himself under control. Scar now reached for a small, finely woven Indian dream catcher. This little spiritual device held some signs of technology – little stubs with green tops had been inserted into the wooden loop around the weavings.
"Put your hand through this," Scar said in his mournful voice, holding the dream catcher out in front of Vlad. After a moment's hesitation, Vlad complied, fitting his fingers in through the weaving. Immediately, the green tops began glowing as soon as his fingers passed through. Smoothly and quickly, not catching any of his patient's fingers, Scar pulled the dream catcher away, setting it down and shaking his head.
What…" Vlad was cut off by a wave of the paranormalist's hand. Now he was getting a bit tired of all these little tests with answers in the air but not out for him to know, and his expression was showing it. Scar seemed to take no mind to this. He picked up his spectral scanner and ran it over Vlad's body three times. He then lifted it up to his face and hit some buttons on its front. The screen on the scanner lit up, casting an eerie green glow on Scar's face. He sighed again, set the tool down, and continued with the examination. He would run the scanner over Vlad three more times before the day was done, with several hours in between each time. The first time he repeated the exercise, he attached one power cell to it, which changed the glow emitted from the screen from green to blue. The second time, he attached the other power cell, which created a faint red glow to emit from the screen. The final time, at the end, he inserted both cells, which brought forth all three glows, of which green was the most prominent, red the least.
The time in between the three scans took up the rest of the day, Scar performing all sorts of strange tests and rituals that tried Vlad's patience. They weren't very surprising. Besides the spiritual devices and the machine with the wires, Vlad knew about every kind of test Scar was performing. They were paranormalicy basics, and he had read about them countless times. But they were never as effective as they were meant to be and getting anything out of them could take hours on end. Vlad had assumed that Scar was a skilled paranormalist due to his busy schedule throughout the summer (for which he still hadn't forgiven him), but he didn't really know anything about him or his record, and the fact that he added in all his little spiritual rituals that didn't seem to do anything wasn't helping Vlad relax any. He put up with it as best he could, but it was getting harder and harder as they day went on.
After his first spectral scan, Scar pulled out a notebook and pen from his briefcase and spent several minutes jotting down notes. He kept doing that as the day progressed and his tests went on. He repeated several tests, and a few times went out and asked a nurse to bring up an ordinary doctor's tool. He never used these right when he got them, but saved them for later. Sometimes it took him two hours to get to using them. All the doctor's tools he used for checking Vlad's eyes, ears, and temperature.
Some of his tests would have been considered unusual and rather disturbing to patients who didn't know how spectral materials worked. After having Vlad take off his bandages, Scar prepared to try a test on his ecto-acne. He put on his gloves and dipped his fingers into the small container of ectoplasm he had. He then began rubbing the ectoplasm down on Vlad's forehead rather hardly. It felt like something was dissolving on his skin and wasn't very comfortable, but Vlad put up with it. After Scar finished, Vlad felt his forehead. The acne was…gone. The ectoplasm had dissolved it. His hand would have started trembling in excitement if it hadn't gotten slapped away so Scar could examine the area of his forehead. A few moments later, a sickening bubbling sound and a grimy feeling overcame that spot, and the acne was back, so there was nothing to celebrate anyway.
The tests, rituals, and notes kept going on in between the three spectral scans. All the while, Scar never touched his wired machine. It seemed like it had just been brought out to appear like he had more equipment. But at seven o' clock that evening, after he had done the final spectral scan and jotted down the results in his notebook, he reached for it and set it down on his lap.
"You'll have to take your shirt off for this," he said dryly. By now, Vlad's mood had turned very sour towards Scar, and his looks and mannerisms had begun showing it. Still, he had a feeling that perhaps they were getting towards the end of this nonsense and that answers would be coming soon. With a slight look of annoyance, he took off his shirt and lay down on the bed. Scar then attached the clips to his body. They pinched his skin and hurt like hell, but the most he did was grunt a little. Scar began turning little knobs on the top of the machine, completely absorbed in it as though he were reading a classic novel. Then he slammed down on the button in the centre. An explosion of cold and energy immediately flooded Vlad's body through the clips, letting loose a yelp from his throat and sending his body into a violent spasm. This cold was chilling, and he could feel goosebumps rolling all along his spine. The energy was cackling throughout his nerves like lightning. It didn't seem like it would stop, and seemed to grow worse and Scar adjusted one of the larger knobs. It grew worse and worse, and soon Vlad could have sworn he saw electric sparks leaping out of his body. Suddenly he felt the cold from his powers rush over him, and the blue-white rings he had watched so carefully shot out around his middle. Scar's eyes seemed to leap out of his skull as he immediately shut down the machine, jumping back and letting the device fall onto his chair. The rings immediately disappeared and the shocks subsided, though with his wind gone and the pain still in his nerves, Vlad felt far from well.
"Oh, my…" Scar's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it held more shock and emotion than he had expressed the entire time he was here. His hand shaking, he stumbled over to his notebook, frantically jotting down observations, realisations, and little bits of notes. Vlad, still gasping for breath, now was past the point of restraint. It was time for answers.
"Would you mind," he spat, yanking the clips off (the sting reminded him a bit too late that they were attached to his skin), "telling me what all of this has been for!?" Scar didn't answer. He also seemed to be catching his breath from what he had just seen or found out. A few minutes of silence save for their breathing passed. Finally, the paranormalist stood up and turned to face his patient.
"I'll be right back," he said, his voice still holding some shock, "I need to check something. I'm afraid this changes everything," shaking his head, he took his notebook and headed out the room, leaving Vlad to wait.
---
Almost fifteen minutes passed before Scar returned. He had regained his composure, though he looked even paler if that were at all possible. He walked back over to his chair slowly, set down his notebook, and turned to face Vlad, who was gripping his bed sheets and grinding his teeth in impatience.
"I'm afraid I have some grave news for you, Mr. Masters," the paranormalist said grimly. Vlad immediately froze up. Some answers were here at last, but that sentence did not seem to suggest anything positive.
"When I was first told of your condition," Scar went on, "I did not entirely believe it. Ecto-acne is not a documented paranormal condition, and no one has ever succeeded in tapping into the spectral foundation of the ghost dimension before. But I have a policy of looking into anything that may yield new knowledge about the paranormal, so I put aside my speculation and decided to look into your case. So as soon as I could, I came, which brings us today. From the very start of your tests when I used my medallion on you, I knew that you had indeed contracted some serious spectral ailment, though I was still sceptical that it came from a portal into the ghost dimension. I'm still sceptical about that. But as this day has gone on, it has become clear to me that you had to have been exposed to a large and powerful source of spectral energy for an infection of this magnitude to occur…"
"Oh!" Vlad couldn't take anymore suspense, "What is it, already!?" Scar's eyes flashed something that might have been annoyance – it was too vague to say for sure, and it passed as quickly as it came. After a moment's pause that was a bit longer than it needed to be, he continued.
"…Whatever the trigger was, it set off a large wave of spectral energy that left your face in disrepair. However, it did far worse than that. The angle at which it hit you and the amount of energy set off allowed the ectoplasm to enter your nose and mouth and get into your skin and bloodstream through your pores. The contamination was so severe that it got into your basic molecular structure. Once in there, it began rearranging your DNA and infused itself into your biological material. Your natural human immune system tried to fight off the foreign invasion, of course, but you had received too much energy for it to be forced out of your body entirely. I honestly don't know how you survived. Such a contamination of one's molecular structure from the material of the departed should have killed you. Somehow, though, your human structure and the spectral energy compromised one another, and every molecule in your body was divided between the spectral and the living. Your face, being the recipient of the initial blast, was left in its current condition, but the rest of your body was split in two. In a sense, you've become…" he stopped for a moment, as if seeing if Vlad wanted to hear the rest of it. His expression showed that he did.
"…You've become half-ghost," Vlad stared at Scar with a mixed look of shock and rage. For one thing, he couldn't understand how the hell he had gotten all of that from any of the tests he did (of which none involved taking samples of his tissue), but he already knew everything he had just said. The details on how and why he hadn't pieced together, and he hadn't known just how "ghost" he was before, but he had figured out the basic fact from the first time his powers manifested themselves. He had known everything already!
"So…" Vlad managed to get out through an intake of air, desperately trying to gain control of his anger, "…I'm half-ghost. Now what's the cure?" Scar stared at him with a weary look for a moment. Then, closing his eyes, he sighed and shook his head.
"There is no cure."
Four simple monosyllabic words, but they tore through Vlad's soul like a rapier.
"What?" he hissed out in a horrified whisper. Scar sighed again.
"This case is unprecedented in any field of science, and especially in paranormalicy. Whatever you and your comrades were up to, you may well have set off the largest release of spectral energy ever caused by the living. That's a power that…I don't even know if it should exist at all. What could come through with it from the ghost dimension…" he gasped, as though his thoughts had just painted a picture too horrible to even consider, "In any case, its effect on you makes no sense whatsoever. As I said, it should have killed you, and instead it's infused you with enough spectral energy to grant you the full powers of a ghost. And it was just a blast to your face. Had it been an even greater area of your body that had been exposed, you would have either been disintegrated or you would have gained so much power that, as the years went on, could have manifested itself into something I dare not think about. In any case, you already have more spectral power than any other being I've ever encountered, alive or dead. That also makes no sense – you should be weaker than a pure ghost. There's too many facets of your case and too many unknown factors. It would be impossible for me to even begin to think of an antidote, let alone a full cure," he sighed once again, now looking very tired and world-worn, "I'm sorry, Mr. Masters. I came here expecting to find something that could have ended up being laughable. I was not prepared for this," the apology and the man's only-too-human limits did not quell Vlad's rage. All that time, all the wasted months, all the suspense, all the anticipation – for this!? He couldn't take any more. He was seething with rage. He never wanted to see this man again. Scar's pitiful appearance and humanity meant nothing to him. He was supposed to come out here to cure him, and he had failed. And he never would have been in this mess if it hadn't been for Jack…
"Sorry!?" he finally spat, his rage coming full boil, "That's all you can say!? I spent months cooped up in this hospital, watching summer roll by me as I struggled to keep these powers hidden, counting the seconds until you arrived, and all you can say is sorry!? What do you expect me to do in this condition with no cure? Stay locked up in this prison, stumbling out of adolescence and into adulthood, desperately trying to get control of my powers!? You were brought out here to cure me! Now what do you have to say for yourself now that you've failed!?" Scar looked mournfully into Vlad's burning eyes. He was hurt by what his patient had said, but he tried not to show it. He could understand the younger man's frustration.
"I can't say anything else," he said sadly. He then stood up and began gathering his things together. Vlad just watched him in rage and disbelief. How could this have gone so wrong? He should have had a cure in his hand. He should have been getting ready to sign out of the hospital tomorrow and heading back to school. He should have been preparing for his revenge on Jack. And he should have been seeing Maddie again soon…what had happened?
"You said you were keeping your powers hidden," Vlad barely heard Scar's comment, "I'm guessing you still don't want your doctors to know?" Vlad didn't answer him, but Scar felt that he did, "Then I won't tell them. I again can't say how sorry I am that I couldn't be of more help to you but –" he sighed yet again, this one the heaviest of them all, "I'm sorry. Adieu, Mr. Masters," with that, Scar slowly headed out the door. Vlad didn't reply. He didn't turn to look at him. He wouldn't. Instead, he fell back down onto his bed, feeling very tired and heavy. It had been a long day, and he had a feeling he wouldn't sleep well that night. He was glad to see Scar go. He had a feeling he would never call on anything the paranormalist had said to him ever again. And he felt himself hating Jack even more. These thoughts kept with him as he slowly closed his eyes and settled under the covers, not even bothering to re-wrap his bandages.
Within moments, he was into dreams of revenge and Maddie.
----
With Scar's examination having come and gone, time seemed to regain a normal – and even a bit quick – pace in the hospital. And with that renewed sense of time came a melancholy atmosphere so thick that one could barely see through it.
Everyone had been disappointed with the results of Scar's examination. Everyone had been so sure that he could cure Vlad. The mere fact that he was a paranormalist and knew something about ghosts had let everyone get carried away in their predictions of what would come of his tests. No one other than Vlad held ill will against the man for not being up to a case that was new even to the world of paranormalicy, though the head doctor did express his disappointment. The staff tried to go on as they always had, but it was difficult. What Scar had found out, he had not really told them. He gave vague hints and notes as to what might be going on, but they could all sense that he was hiding the full truth. They couldn't figure it out, though, and Vlad was in such a sour mood that they didn't dare ask him if he had been told.
Vlad was a ticking time bomb these days. Whatever his temper was like before, it was nothing compared to this. He snarled at people through his bandages down the hallways, he tossed equipment across the gym when it failed to work, he yelled all the time, and he had become very cold to all of the staff that served him. Apparently, Scar's failure had left him feeling bitter towards any kind of doctor. His temperament was getting to the point where he left many people bitter toward him and the doctors worried. Beyond his antics during the daylight hours, howls of anguish and constant jumping and crashing sounds came from his room at night, and occasionally, maniacal laughter could be heard, as though he were in a dream where he was delighting in torturing an old enemy. His change in mood was very drastic, and he was starting to frighten people.
Any chance the staff could get to help him, they took. A psychologist was brought in, but as Vlad failed to tell him anything, that gave little help. Vlad was moved into a more comfortable room to help him relax from the ordeal with Scar and to try and calm his temper. It did neither. Vlad also seemed to be slacking off in his exercises, treatments, and personal grooming, with a beard starting under his acne and his white hair shooting out. It seemed to the doctors that he fact that he could not be cured seemed to crush his spirit in full.
The doctors guessed right, but that was only part of Vlad's problem, and it was the only part he was willing to let them find out. His powers were acting up worse than ever. It wasn't just a matter of his eyes flashing or his getting caught at an awkward moment in the hallways, though those situations were becoming more frequent and more risky. Even if he had somewhat known about the basic structure and origin of his powers before, it wasn't the same thing as really knowing. Now he knew the full extent of his abilities and how ghost-like he had become. When one devotes almost all of one's time to hunting down and fighting something, and in the end, that thing is what he becomes, it tends to eat away at one's nerves. He was frightened of his powers. He was frightened of what they could turn into. And that fear only seemed to feed his powers. He was now able to fly rather than float (though, he had to admit, this did save him the one time he accidentally walked through a wall at the edge of the building and began falling.) When fully transformed, he was able to convert the lower half of his body into a ghostly tail and stretch his body out after making part of it intangible. And, though it never developed into anything else, smoky orbs of green were forming in or around his hands whenever he was particularly angry and in ghost-mode.
The time rolled by and the clocked ticked away, the last remnants of summer closing into the initial splendour of autumn, but soon falling into the bleak later months of the year. Wind, cold, and the lifeless look of the vegetation set in. Visits from campus were growing fewer with each passing month. Schoolwork was likely the main reason, but it was also partly because Vlad's sour attitude had carried over when they came to call. He had been openly rude and uncaring toward them, and he knew it. They told him what they thought of it. It had gotten to the point where only Harriet was visiting him – usually to get an easy audience for her articles. He always felt bad about what he did afterwards, which only aggravated his powers. The strange thing was, even though he admitted to himself that this was his fault, he always found himself blaming Jack.
Jack…it was that name that prompted the maniacal laughter that so terrified the doctors at night. His dreams were filled with his thoughts of revenge now more than ever. It had become so perfectly planned out by now that the place was even set – Jack's home. Where that home was at what time still remained inconsistent, but everything else was there down to the last detail. He would fly in with his ghost powers on a quiet evening and hide in his invisible state, waiting until Jack was all alone in the living room. He would emerge from the shadows in human form, catching Jack by surprise. He would have some fun with him, acting like all was forgotten, discussing how things had been going over the time since the accident. They would begin laughing, and for a moment it would appear that maybe – just maybe – things had worked out. Then he would turn on Jack and go ghost (that was a laughable phrase, but Vlad didn't know how else to describe his transformations). Jack would stumble in his words, but Vlad would always cut him off, describing in an enraged tone everything he had suffered since the accident. The big oaf would beg for mercy, but Vlad would hear none of it. Justice would be served. Then, always, after he had taken care of Jack, at the end of the dream he and Maddie were together. And always, just before their lips met, fate cruelly woke him up and brought him back to his lonely hospital chamber.
Days, weeks, and months rolled by. Before anyone could realise it, November had come. Vlad had started to cool down somewhat – at the very least, he was working again and was grooming himself a bit better. As was inevitable with a case going as long as his, his doctors began to change. His head doctor was put on another case and, seeing no sign of progress with Vlad's, stepped down. The doctor who replaced him was very kind and a lot more energetic, but he brought no progress with him. He did try one idea that should have been obvious from the beginning, but no one had thought of because of the ghost angle – using acne cream. It didn't do anything. The nurses and assistant doctors began changing around as the months went by. Vlad took it all in without any care whatsoever. He was less bitter towards the newer members of his staff, but he had not calmed down enough to forgive the doctors for blundering along without providing any cure or for hiring a paranormalist who did nothing to help him.
November became a blur along with the rest of autumn, and soon the Christmas season was upon them. The hospital was lovingly decorated, with a wonderful tree set up downstairs and tinsel, holly, and mistletoe draping the halls and stairwells. Snow had fallen outside over most of the state from a storm blown down from Canada, letting Mother Nature add her own personal touch to the decorations. With the coming of the season, the gloom leftover from Scar's failure finally started to lift. The doctors and staff finally got back some optimism, and other patients who were worse off than Vlad were smiling and singing. His friends at campus decided to let bygones be bygones and came to visit him once again, dropping off presents and sharing plans for the holiday break before they left for their two weeks' vacation. Vlad himself, hard as he tried to stay bitter and vengeful, actually found himself liking the company and enjoying the season. In fact, for the first time since the accident, he was enjoying his life altogether. The one present he hoped for was a visit from Maddie. He didn't get one, but before she left, Harriet brought him a card that came from Maddie. With great restraint, he managed to keep himself from opening it right away, deciding he would save if for Christmas.
On Christmas morning, everything seemed to be tailor-made to fit the most holy day of the year. The lights had all been plugged in, the halls were free of roaming doctors or transportation of heavy and noisy medical equipment, a light snow had started up outside, and a recording of traditional holiday carols had been set to play quietly over the intercom system. Vlad set his alarm to wake him up at six o' clock in the morning. The earlier he started Christmas, the earlier he could open Maddie's card. With an amount of emotional restraint that surprised even him, he saved Maddie's card for last. The anticipation of getting to that one card was such that he barely noticed that an advanced list of Packers games and a magazine holding an interview with Bart Starr were among his gifts.
After rushing through the majority of his gifts without really looking at them, he made a grab for the card more greedily than a starving man who just found a smoked salmon on a grill. He tore away the envelope over the card and pulled it open so fast it almost snapped down the bend in the middle:
Dear Vlad,
A very merry Christmas to you! Hope you can get well soon. I'm sorry I can't send along more of a gift, but all of our money is being put into something really special and very secret. You'll know about it soon!
Happy Holidays!
Love,
Maddie
Vlad read through the letter five times. He then set it down, and immediately picked it back up and read it five more times. After the tenth time, he managed to calm down enough to set the card over by where he kept Maddie's last letter, a strange, dazed smile coming over his face.
"No Jack…" he said in a quiet, pleasantly surprised voice, "A 'very merry Christmas,' and no mention of Jack. A surprise in the future, and no Jack! An explanation for no gift, and no…" he stopped in mid-sentence, his smile fading from his face. What did she mean, "our money?"
Reaching down to the floor, he picked up the remnants of the envelope and shook them over his sheets. A small note fell out from the folds, the front of it reading, "From Jack."
Vlad didn't fully grasp what was going on in his mind. He didn't shout. He didn't grind his teeth. His eyes didn't even flash. He just felt his brief joy giving in to the doom and gloom that had filled him up the rest of the year. And, without really seeing it, he tore the note in one quick move.
----
Christmas and the New Year passed on by, and Vlad had turned bitter once more. While his staff made resolutions to try and get to the bottom of this problem, set Scar's failure behind them, and get back to serious work, he resolved to find out just how close Jack and Maddie had gotten and to get his revenge for it.
The winter months rolled on by, the snow rising and melting as the storms and Arctic winds went by. Putting the past behind them didn't help the doctors to speed up Vlad's recovery, and nothing seemed to be able to stop his powers now. In addition to the glass ban, he now couldn't use any of the more fragile exercise equipment, as more than one mishap with intangibility had led to some rather unpleasant accidents. His nighttime transformations were getting more numerous. And his sour attitude toward everyone was back in full after its little Christmas vacation.
Vlad's desire to find out where Jack and Maddie's relationship was heading proved to be harder than he'd thought – and he hadn't expected it to be very easy in the first place. Visits had now almost completely ceased. Vlad was lucky if he got one visit a month from a single person. Even Harriet hadn't been showing up. Vlad's ill temper and the awkward situation of keeping up with someone who was locked up in a room had taken its toll. Vlad, however, did not accept that as the reason. For him, any problems he had back there boiled down to one answer…Jack.
The winter cycle ran its course, and before anyone knew it, spring had settled in. The snow melted away, the trees and flowers began to grow, and the rain and sun took turns in getting everything ready for full bloom. The old saying "April showers bring May flowers" certainly held true that year, as the outdoors of Wisconsin seemed absolutely lovely that season. Before anyone could realise it, a full year had passed since the accident, with no progress made in curing the ecto-acne and Vlad's still-secret powers still on the expanse. Time whirled by from there, and soon it was the end of senior year for Vlad's old class in college. Three days before school got out, Harriet finally came back to visit him one more time. She subjected him to her reading of ten articles she had written (all of which were read around seven times), and described in excruciating detail a job interview she had had with the Milwaukee Journal, where she was to start her news career covering local stories. Vlad had been planning on asking her what the status was on Jack and Maddie, but she wasn't allowing much room for a new topic of conversation to come in. Somehow he managed to stay awake through her lecture, bobbing his head up and down when it seemed he needed to give her a response.
"…Well, those are my summer plans," she said as she finally began to wind down, "I guess I should be going now. Oh, before I forget. Maddie told me to give you this note," she pulled out a little envelope and threw it onto Vlad's bed. At the sound of his object of affection's name, Vlad immediately leapt out of his trance of boredom and back into reality. He stared at the note like it was a letter dropped by angels. He barely heard Harriet's farewell as she walked out, continuing to fix his gaze on the letter. A few moments after Harriet left, he tore it open:
Dear Vlad,
Here's that surprise I mentioned to you at Christmas. Even with the ban on spectral science since the accident, Jack and I have been saving our money to put together another Proto-Portal. This time I handled the calculations. We've been keeping it secret in the special compartment in the lab, and we're going to try it out the night before we graduate.
I wish you could be here, and so does Jack. He's still not giving up on your friendship.
Love,
Maddie
Vlad set the note down, feeling his face grow hot under his bandages. He'd spent little time thinking about the Proto-Portal's hand in the accident, focusing instead on Jack's, but the mention of the device that had ruined his life wasn't a very pleasant experience. And yet again, Jack was part of her letter.
"Jack…" he hissed, "When I get out of here, I swear I'll…" lightning seemed to leap out of nowhere and strike his brain. A Proto-Portal had caused his disfiguration and powers…what would happen if he were to be exposed to such an event once again? Vlad knew the compartment they were talking about – he and Jack had built it. And with his ability to fly and turn invisible, he could be there and back before anyone knew he was gone. But he didn't really know what would happen, and if he got caught…
Vlad leaned back against the frame of his bed, thinking it over in his mind. He had two options; risk even greater spectral exposure – and possibly his life – on an uncertain chance of a cure, or let a risky prospect go on by and stumble through adulthood with ghost powers.
All he had to do was decide.
----
The University of Wisconsin at Green Bay was dead silent that night. There was no breeze outside, the lights had been shut off, and the students were all asleep. The staff had all gone home for the night. Other than one janitor on the far side of one part of campus, not a single living thing was about making a sound. The science lab was no exception. Everything in the white-tiled room lay perfectly still.
At 10:00, an invisible figure flew through the roof, landed on the ground, and looked about.
Vlad had removed his bandages for this endeavour and had left himself in ghost-form. His powers acted a bit faster in this mode in case someone came by, and the bandages made it hard to see. The lab looked just as it had one year ago other than the absence of a circular frame resting on a table. Vlad walked over and through that table, bending down to the white-tiled floor on the other side and reaching two intangible hands through it. Those hands pulled out the second Proto-Portal, its controls, and its engine.
Without a word, Vlad set everything up.
He had gone over this in his mind all evening, going over all that was at stake here and the consequences of either choice. He had finally decided that anything that could get him cured and out of the hospital had to be taken up, no matter what the risk. He felt plenty of fear in his heart right now, for his life and for what his powers could become if this didn't work out, but his mind was set. He was willing to do this, for himself, for Maddie, and for revenge against Jack.
"Well," he sighed as he stepped back, eyeing the simple-looking device that would decide his fate, "Here goes nothing," with a last gulp, he flipped the switch.
The machine, as it had last time, seemed to explode with life, but this time, no steady beam fired out from the frame. It let off its eerie glow and hum, the green spectral mess spiralling around inside. Soon, Vlad felt something. Not a blast in his face, but a pulling force around his waist. It was not painful, and it was not familiar. It was like nothing he had felt before. The Proto-Portal seemed to be sucking him in by some invisible force.
Vlad planted his feet firmly on the ground. He clawed at the year. He kicked and grunted as he tried to resist. But soon, his body was intangible, it had re-configured itself into a floating blue mist, and that missed flew right into the portal, reforming into a screaming, terrified Vlad as he hurtled through a mess of green, the last traces of the lab on the other side, falling away behind him.