Chapter 279: The World's Most Underestimated Predator: The Teenaged Girl
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"He'll be going to Amity, then," said Danny. "We must have missed him, somehow."
"Perhaps," said Clockwork. "It would have been difficult for him to avoid all the soldiers we encountered."
"He could have gotten ghosts under his control to turn him invisible. I don't think that they have very good detection abilities. I mean, up until recently, the GIW's stuff was kind of crappy, too." Danny started to fidget. "Should we look for him around here, or just go straight back? Maybe we should go straight back, if he's going to Amity Park, if we go there, we'll eventually run into him…"
"Perhaps," said Clockwork, "but it is up to you."
Danny huffed, but started moving forward, phasing through the walls in his hurry to simply leave the building. He'd been hoping for more guidance. "Do you know what he's planning to do with all this stuff? He's not going to, like… He isn't into any human sacrifice stuff, is he?" He hadn't seen any evidence of it, but the thought had jumped into his head, and he knew it would stay there until he had addressed it.
His core twitched.
"Unlikely," said Clockwork. "At least, not directly? You know already that he is not opposed to more general forms of murder, however."
Danny swallowed, nodded. "We… If we're just wandering around without any idea of where he is, we probably won't get anywhere, but…" He growled under his breath. He knew he wouldn't be able to just wait. He didn't work that way, not when his friends and his people were in danger. "Maybe we can fly a search pattern on the way back."
"There are also people looking for him at the borders of Amity Park," Clockwork reminded Danny. "The radio club, for instance."
"Right," said Danny. "Are you sure you can't see what he's doing?"
"Not with any certainty," said Clockwork. His tone was apologetic.
"Sorry," said Danny, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't keep asking you that. It's rude."
"It is understandable, given the circumstances," said Clockwork, evenly.
Very evenly.
Danny winced, the guilt settling more deeply. He really had to do better than this. Clockwork deserved better. His friends deserved better. Amity Park deserved better. The Ghost Zone certainly-
Clockwork tapped Danny on the head with his staff. "Stop that," he said.
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"Where," asked the president, very calmly, "is Prince Phantom?"
Jasmine Fenton frowned at him. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking. He's looking for Freakshow. So, he's most likely either at the holding facility or near Amity Park."
The president, who had just spent a number of hours trying to relocate dozens upon dozens of terrorists, took a deep breath. "It had been my understanding that he would come here first, before beginning his search for Showenhower." He'd expected it. He'd needed it, on some level, for public relations. He needed to show he was in control of the situation, and…
After the last few hours, he was sure everyone could tell he wasn't.
"You didn't actually say that at any point during our discussions. Actually, you mostly wanted to be sure Prince Phantom wouldn't be here for too long, which is most likely why he decided to start as soon as possible." She shrugged. Actually shrugged.
The president was forcefully reminded that, for all her power and her position in the ghosts' delegation, she was a teenager. Barely an adult. One who had implied she had been chosen as second in command mostly for her connection to the prince, however that connection was supposed to work, rather than her experience.
It made it all the more aggravating that she somehow kept beating him.
No, he shouldn't think about it like that. He knew that. She wasn't really beating him. She was just making his job difficult. Honestly, if he thought about it, her current confusion seemed genuine. Considering how little sleep they had been operating on, a communication error seemed likely, at least.
… Not that he wanted to take responsibility for it.
"Do you have any way to contact him?"
"If I had a way to contact him directly, we wouldn't have been relying so heavily on Wulf."
"Yes, but, you're both on Earth, now. Does he have, I don't know, a cell phone? Or maybe you can do something with your magic."
"You're asking me the Prince of Ghosts, who's been living in the Ghost Zone, has a cell phone."
The president fought back a flush. "From the looks of their medical facilities, that isn't a massive jump."
"Cell phones require cell towers," said Jasmine. "A network. Satellites, sometimes."
"Yes, and?"
"The Ghost Zone doesn't exactly have all that infrastructure. Some places are still in the Stone Age. I mean that literally. The Time Locked Lands are exactly what they sound like."
"And the magic?"
Jasmine shrugged again. "I'm not a telepath."
"Perhaps a member of your party could… detect him, somehow?"
"That isn't a common ability, and usually only works at close range."
"So, he could be anywhere?"
"Yes, but most likely somewhere between that holding facility you had our people in and Amity Park."
"That isn't exactly a narrow space," said the president.
"I'm not sure what to say to you, Mr. President. In the future, we should both review our treaties and documents more carefully." She paused, then offered, like an olive branch, "Have you tried calling the troops near Amity?"
The troops near Amity Park already knew to report anything even slightly out of the ordinary, so he hardly thought—
"Sir, we just got a call from Amity Park."
The president did not appreciate the look Jasmine gave him.
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Sam wiped blood away from her nose. Her eyes hurt and itched, and she suspected that they were bloodshot. The rest of her wasn't in any better condition, but those injuries were ones that made sense, ones caused by physical trauma.
Despite telling herself she wouldn't, she rubbed her eyes, and was dismayed to find that her fingers came away with blood.
"Don't do that," said Pamela, her voice shaking. "They'll get infected."
Sam rather thought they all had bigger problems than that, but whatever. Her mother could worry about whatever she wanted.
Her hand drifted to where she'd hidden the maybe-knife in her shirt. Between Freakshow's attempts to mind control her and all the ghosts he had acting as his bodyguards, Sam hadn't been able to get a good opening to stab him, but not for lack of trying.
She was getting closer, though. She just needed a distraction. That shouldn't be too much to hope for. Lake Eerie State Park wasn't quite haunted in the same way Amity Park was, but it had a good number of natural portals anyway. Not to mention the lake monster and the camp curse. Sooner or later, something weird would jump out at them, and all Sam had to do was get close enough.
(And draw the knife, which she hadn't done yet, hence her continuing uncertainty as to whether or not it was really a knife, but that was a problem for later.)
(Honestly, what else could it be, anyway? It had a sheath. It was broad for a knife, though…)
Freakshow held a needle on a string in front of him, following it when the wind winding through the trees pushed it one way or another. Dowsing. Not the most reliable method of finding something, but with what Freakshow was able to do with other things, Sam didn't really doubt that he would find it. Whatever it was.
They stepped out from between trees onto an actual trail. Sam hesitated for a moment before the mind-controlled ghosts pushed her forward, making her stumble. Her mother caught her arm and steadied her. Freakshow didn't seem to notice.
This trail was familiar. Considering how infrequently Sam came here, and the general direction they were heading in, there was only one place they could be going.
What did Freakshow want with Camp Skull and Crossbones?
(In retrospect, that was quite possibly one of the worst names for a campsite. Was it supposed to be pirate themed? Archaeology themed? Poison themed? The oatmeal, at least, bore that last theory out, but Sam would have paid money to hear the thought process that went into, well, everything involved with the camp.)
Natural portals sometimes formed in the area. Could he be aiming for one of those? Freakshow having access to more potential victims would be bad, to use some really incredible understatement.
The dilapidated, poorly cared for buildings of the camp soon came into view. Weeds were overtaking the driveway and sidewalks, and what little landscaping there had been was now brown and dead despite the proximity of the lake.
Had the camp been abandoned since March? Maybe. Even so, this state of decay seemed… extreme. It couldn't just be because of the portals. Not with how vibrant Amity Park could be. Freakshow led them into mess hall.
"Come here," he ordered one of the ghosts, who floated forward, Freakshow, without any explanation or further orders, took out a knife and cut open the ghost's arm. Sam jolted forward. "Ah, ah," said Freakshow. "You'll get your turn soon enough, dearie."
"If you touch my daughter I will kill you," said Pamela.
"You haven't been able to stop me so far," said Freakshow, snidely. He started to draw shapes on the walls with the ectoplasm.
The expression on Pamela's face had entirely too much rage in it to be considered a smile. Not for the first time, Sam wondered what her mother would be like as a ghost.
Terrifying, probably.
Freakshow began to frown at his symbols, his frown becoming progressively more pronounced as they failed to do anything.
"Not working out?" taunted Sam, even though she knew she shouldn't.
Freakshow's shoulders tensed, but he seemed to throw off whatever disappointment he was dealing with. Sadly.
"No matter! We still have a few more errands here. A few more happy campers to pick up, hm?"
He strode out, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Which he might not. There was certainly something wrong with him.
The ghosts chivvied them along to the shore of the lake. One of them handed Freakshow one of the bowls he'd stolen from the Arkwright House.
Freakshow bent down to the water, scooped some up in the bowl, then stood. He put one hand, still wet with ectoplasm, in it, and swirled swished it around, washing it off. Then, he took the bowl in both hands and swirled it counterclockwise, then clockwise. That done, he brought the bowl to his lips.
Sam thought, for a moment, that he was going to drink it, which would have been disgusting. Lake Eerie didn't have a reputation for being particularly clean, not to mention the fresh ectoplasm and whatever else had been on Freakshow's hand.
Instead, Freakshow blew lightly on the surface of the water, and then poured it out, back into the lake.
Nothing happened.
"Another dud?"
"Patience, patience," said Freakshow. "Some things take time, girl."
Sam rolled her eyes. Freakshow just had to be weirdly misogynistic on top of everything else. Why not?
The surface of the lake trembled. Something breached the surface of the water.
"There we are!" crowed Freakshow. "Come up, come out, my lovelies! It's time to play!"
With that proclamation, monsters began to crawl up from the lake.
