It looks like you people are liking this story - yay! I'm so glad! So here's the next chapter. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!
Egon looked around the airport in North Platte, Nebraska, the next morning as he waited for his companions to finish picking up their luggage from the baggage claim. Their equipment was supposed be delivered to the loading zone in front of the doors nearest their gate, where they were also supposed to be meeting their client from what Winston had mentioned the night before. The physicist sighed as he adjusted the shoulder strap of his carry-on bag, his sharp blue eyes trying to determine which of the dozen or so waiting people was the elderly lady they had agreed to help. His gaze finally rested on a small, silver-haired woman with deep brown eyes and a tentative smile who had just walked inside.
Upon making eye contact, the woman made her way over to where Egon stood next to the seating area. "You're one of the Ghostbusters, right?" she asked in a lower soprano, having to look up to the top of Egon's 6'3" frame once she had arrived. Her smile grew. "I apologize for not knowing your name. I've heard of you, of course, but I haven't paid close attention to the news coverage."
"Quite understandable, ma'am," the blond man replied politely. "I'm Doctor Egon Spengler. My colleagues should be joining us shortly."
"That's fine, Doctor Spengler. I only just arrived myself, so it's not like I've been waiting forever." There was a twinkle in her eye that Egon found familiar, but he couldn't quite place from where.
"Okay, Egon, that should just about do it for me," Winston said as he walked up, his suitcase in tow. "Ray's still waiting for one of his bags and Pete said he'd wait with him."
"That's fine. Winston, this is Ms. Felicia Atkinson. Ms. Atkinson, my colleague, Winston Zeddemore."
"How do you do, ma'am? It's nice to finally meet in person," Winston said, offering his hand.
Felicia shook it. "Better, now that you boys are here. I'm hoping this won't take too long to fix. My son is in danger."
Winston shared a look with Egon at the remark, neither man missing the slight tremor that went through the woman as she said it. "Don't worry, Ms. Atkinson. We'll take care of this for you."
"Man, oh man, this is not Ray's day," Peter said as he pulled his suitcase up to the trio by its handle and sat down on top of it, letting his carry-on flop to the floor. He adjusted his sunglasses. "They must have unloaded his bags from the plane last. And then, when he opened the one to check on his books, a security guard came up and decided to do an impromptu random bag check. He told me to go on ahead so I could explain to you guys what was taking so long."
"Are his books all right?" Egon asked.
Peter shrugged. "Looked like it to me, but I didn't have my head stuck inside like Ray did either. He didn't say anything, if that means something." He finally noticed the little lady standing in front of his friends watching their interplay with a look of amusement. "Hello," he said, rising to his feet. "You must be Ms. Felicia Atkinson. I'm Doctor Peter Venkman." He took her offered hand and kissed the back of it, missing the widening of her eyes at his introduction.
She stifled her reaction and laughed. "You're quite the ladies' man, aren't you, Doctor Venkman?" she asked knowingly.
"He likes to think so," Egon said before the psychologist could respond.
"Hmpf!" Peter straightened to his full height and stuck his nose in the air slightly. "I know the stirrings of jealousy when I see it. It's not my fault you won't do anything about your love life. Janine's just raring and waiting whenever you're ready, big guy."
"That is not the issue, Peter. And I have a quite active social life. Just because I'm not dating someone new every other week like some people I could mention does not mean that it is lacking in any regard." A pale blond eyebrow rose as the slight flush Peter's comment had produced faded.
"Taking Professor Sotelo's younger sister to Columbia's Physics Department Banquet doesn't count as an active social life, Egon. The woman's how much older than you?" He turned to Felicia, pulled down his glasses briefly, and gave her a wink. "No offense."
"None taken." The older lady was having a hard time controlling her smile.
"And that's not even considering her looks. She'd kill your molds just by being in the same room. And that's on a good day."
"I was doing the professor a favor, and since I did not have a companion to attend the function with, I could see no harm in attending to the lady."
"You do know how to stretch the language, Spengs, I'll give you that. That's not the word I would have used to describe her."
"We know, Pete," Winston said, smiling at the banter. "We heard about it for a week."
"Yes," Egon agreed. "Repetition is a technique often used by the young and the mentally deficient." His small smile was sly.
"That hurts, Spengs. Really, it does. Or at least it would if I didn't know a certain blond physicist who uses the same technique on a daily basis. Well, certainly at staff meetings if nothing else." Peter's green eyes twinkled.
"It is also a technique to be used to teach the young and the mentally deficient."
"So you do understand why I do it then!"
Ray rushed up to the group at that point, cutting off what was sure to be yet another witty retort from Egon. "Gosh, guys, I'm sorry I took so long. That security guard went through everything. And the looks he gave me when he saw my books! He really wasn't very nice about it at all." His light brown eyes shifted over to the older woman who was struggling to control a fit of laughter. "Oh! You must be Ms. Atkinson. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."
Felicia managed to shake his hand as she got herself calmed down. "It's no problem. I was kept well entertained." Peter and Winston chuckled at that, the former giving Egon a subtle wink that produced yet another raised eyebrow.
"I'm Doctor Ray Stantz, by the way. If that crate out there is our stuff, I'd say we were ready to go. That is, if you are, Ms. Atkinson."
"Any time you boys are. I brought the truck so we'd have room for everything. Let me pull it around." She moved quickly out the front doors, her relief at their imminent departure obvious to them all.
The Ghostbusters weren't far behind her. "What were you guys talking about when I came up?" Ray asked as they double checked the crate and waited for Felicia to pull around with her truck. "Did you get any more information about the curse?"
"These two were playing," Winston explained, shaking his head.
"What?" Ray turned a surprised expression to his fellow doctors. "I figured you would have been asking her all sorts of questions."
Peter shot a look at Egon, receiving one in return that said the ball was in his court. He sighed. "Look, Tex. When I walked up the lady looked a little upset, and besides, the middle of an airport lobby doesn't seem to me to be the best place to have that kind of conversation. We should have plenty of time to talk about it in private on the ride back to her place if the map I looked at is any indication. That, and Egon just made it too easy." A wicked grin took over his features.
The redhead smiled. "I bet."
"You do have a point there, Pete. If this is any kind of drive, there'll be plenty of time to talk things out. It'll beat looking at the scenery."
"That's true," Egon concurred unexpectedly. "If our last road trip through this state was any indication, it should be mostly grassland and prairie. This is considered part of the Great Plains, after all. That does become tedious after a while."
"And when Egon says it's boring, you know it's true torture," Peter said with a short laugh as a large extended cab truck pulled up in front of them. "Ah, our chariot has arrived. Shall we load up, gentlemen?" The brown-haired man gestured dramatically toward the vehicle Felicia Atkinson was currently exiting.
"Boy, am I glad they left us this pallet jack," Winston said as he and Ray used the item in question once the older lady had opened the gate for them.
"No kidding. This would have been awful without it," Ray agreed.
Soon they were loaded up and on their way to the Atkinson ranch in Cherry County. Egon was in the passenger side bucket seat, while Ray, Winston, and Peter were crammed together in the back. "I'm sorry about the lack of comfortable seating," Felicia apologized nervously as they made their way north. "I just knew we needed enough hauling capacity for all your equipment. This was the best we had at the ranch." Her fingers drummed intermittently on the steering wheel and she couldn't seem to sit still.
"No problem," Peter assured her from his position squashed against the passenger side of the truck. "We understand perfectly."
Ray, sitting next to him, was the only one who saw the grimace on his face. "We really do, Ms. Atkinson. Could you maybe tell us more about the curse, though? The more we know, the more we'll be ready to deal with it."
The woman sighed. "All right, Doctor Stantz. Generations ago, I'm not sure exactly how many, but it was before the family emigrated to America, one of my ancestors, Hans Decker, sought respect and power. He was a moderately wealthy merchant, but this didn't give him quite enough of what he was looking for. You see, he knew that he was descended from the royal line, but things didn't quite work out for that particular branch of the family. So he did research. He eventually came across a book of arcane spells. I don't know the title, I was never told, but it contained a ritual that allowed him to summon a demon so he could make a bargain with it." Her gaze was frozen straight ahead, her expression just as unmoving from the blank rigidness the beginning of her tale inspired.
"Hans spent months getting everything ready so it would be just right. He didn't want to make any mistakes, and he knew how devious demons could be. He figured out the exact wording of his request, and put it all into motion secretly just outside of town. The demon appeared, a creature made entirely of shadows, or so it seemed. Hans said that he wanted power and respect. The demon said it could provide that, supposing Hans was willing to pay the price. Hans agreed, but with a few stipulations of his own.
"Hans said that in the granting of his request he was not to be harmed in any way whatsoever. The demon agreed, saying that when it had done its part of the deal, Hans would freely give up his soul. The bargain was struck. The demon stepped out of the bounds of the circle that summoned it, and moved out to do what it had been brought to our world to do after telling Hans to stay in the circle of protection. This was supposedly to better seal the deal, as far as I understand.
"Finally, the demon came back, just before dawn, saying the deed was done. Within a day's time, he'd get everything he wanted from the townspeople. Hans rushed back to share the wonderful news with his wife and child, and found his house burned to the ground and the mutilated bodies of his family in the front yard. As he stood there in complete and utter shock, his neighbors approached him and told him the tale of how a cloaked figure had been seen leaving the house after dragging out his wife and child and starting the fire. Soon enough the entire neighborhood had gathered around. By the end of the day, he had heard comments flying around the crowd describing how they were so impressed with how well he was taking the tragedy, and fellow merchants had approached him with more business than he had ever seen out of pity for what he was going through. As the demon had promised, by the end of the day he'd gotten more respect and money, which he knew would lead to more power - it always does, doesn't it? But he had lost what was most dear to him, and underneath the somewhat composed mourning figure, Hans Decker was furious at the demon.
"The next morning he rushed to the circle and confronted the thing. He told it that it had gone against the terms of the deal and so he had no obligation to it for anything. The demon disagreed, saying it hadn't done the man any harm and it was time to pay up. Hans countered by saying that it had done him harm. It had hurt him by killing the people he loved, his family. And so, because he had been hurt by the way the demon had taken care of its side of the bargain, that same bargain was null and void, and he owed it nothing.
"You can guess how well the demon took that. It ranted and raved, but was still bound by the conditions of the bargain - if it ever wanted to see its payment. Finally, realizing how helpless it was, the demon cursed Hans, saying that it would have his soul, and if not, it would have that of the next oldest of his line. I guess this bound it to the Decker family. Ever since then, the demon has approached the oldest of the line and demanded that person's soul in payment of the deal struck by Hans Decker so long ago. If that person would not give up their soul, it would threaten their blood, sometimes killing children and grandchildren to try to force the bargain. No one's given in yet, and somehow the line's continued, even with these random murders. But I want it stopped. I'm tired of living under this thing's shadow, and this is not the legacy I want to leave to my son. That's why I brought you here." Finally, at the end of her explanation, a burning rage flared up in her dark brown eyes, though they never left the road before her, and her grip on the wheel turned her knuckles white.
The four men blinked as they processed the information they had just been given. "Just as clarification," Egon began, recovering first, "I'm guessing that Hans remarried and had other children, and so continued his line."
Felicia nodded. "He had one son, Gerritt. And it was Gerritt's son Izaac that came across in 1802 with his wife Wilhelmina. Their son was the one that actually joined the American 'melting pot'."
"So when did your family decide to follow the call to go west?" Ray asked, intrigued.
"Oh, they didn't. City boys and girls, each and every one of them. I'm originally from New York, like all the rest of the Decker line. We haven't been Deckers for a while now, not since Jacob only had a daughter, but the line is still intact."
"I take it your mom or dad told you about the curse at some point so you'd know about it before this demon came calling, asking for your soul," Peter guessed, not missing the tremor in the lady's voice now that the story was over.
"My mother, when I was sixteen. She had been ill for a long time, and wasn't sure how much longer she'd last. She wanted to make sure I knew. That's the way the family's always done it. The tale's been passed down that way ever since Hans told Gerritt about the fate of his first family and the curse that came with it."
"Did you ever get a name for the demon?" the occultist squeezed between Winston and Peter asked a bit urgently. "If you have that, it should be pretty easy to find him in our reference books so we'll know what to do to stop him."
"No, that I don't know. I don't think Hans was trying for any one in particular. He was pretty much just ready to do business with whatever creature responded to his call."
"That will make things more difficult," Egon said thoughtfully. "But not impossible. You told Winston it had appeared to you, correct?"
"That's right. Not last night, but two nights before."
"Well, if you can give us a description, we should be able to work with that, right, guys?" Winston chimed in from the back seat. "We've done it before, at any rate."
"That should work fine," Ray agreed.
Felicia shuddered. "Could we wait on that until we get home, gentlemen? I'm still a bit shaken up by everything, and I don't want to get us into an accident while we're in the middle of nowhere."
"No problem," Peter said quickly. "That way we'll have a chance to write it down so you only have to say it once."
"Thank you, Doctor Venkman. I appreciate that."
The rest of the ride went by uneventfully, brief spurts of casual conversation filling the time and keeping their minds off the miles of plains surrounding them. Four and a half hours or so after they left North Platte, the truck finally pulled into a small town, Turner as declared by the sign they passed.
"My god," Peter murmured after he woke from a brief doze. "If you blinked you'd miss this place."
"That's for sure," Winston agreed as they pulled into a tiny gas station.
"Oh, the place is definitely small, I'll give you that," Felicia said with a smile. "It's more like a resupply area for the surrounding farmers. Anything big enough to be found on a map is a decent drive away. We've got a grocery store, this gas station, a restaurant, three churches, and two bars." Her smile transformed into a wicked grin. "We're just overflowing with civilization here, I can tell you."
The four men couldn't help but laugh. "It's great to see you have such a wonderful sense of humor about it all, Ms. Atkinson," Ray said positively.
"Most definitely," Egon agreed. "How ever did you adjust to it after growing up in such a large city as New York?"
"Patience," was the immediate response. "That, and the people around here are wonderful. My late husband always had his ranch out here, run by some of the locals while he focused on his brokerage firm in the Big Apple. When he was ready to retire, we moved out here permanently."
"Seems like a nice enough place to retire to," Winston commented, looking around once he got out of the truck. "Lots of peace and quiet."
Felicia stretched and adjusted her long brown skirt. "There's plenty of that, but it's not like Jerry ever planned on sitting around long enough to enjoy it. He took a very active role in the running of our ranch. I helped too, of course, but it was his baby." She laughed a bit as she remembered her husband. "I don't think he could ever have just sat back and let the world go by, retired or no. He was too addicted to action, doing things. It was one of the things I loved about him." She sighed, and smiled softly.
"When did he die?" Peter asked gently, having also exited the vehicle.
"Five years ago in September. I remember he was so upset that he'd miss the harvest and would be leaving it all for me. We had already hired all the help I'd ever need, but he still worried about me." She met the psychologist's gaze head on. "I miss him."
"I don't doubt you do," the brown-haired man said with understanding in his tone.
"Did your husband know about the curse?" Ray asked quietly.
The older lady shook her head. "No. I always wanted to tell him, but how do you bring something like that up in casual conversation? 'What did you want for dinner, dear? And by the way, I have a demon that's probably going to be coming around some time to ask for my soul thanks to this nasty family curse I've inherited from my mother. Oh, and did you want dessert?'" She gave the four men a rueful smirk.
"You do have a point there," the occultist conceded, smiling.
"Speaking of dinner, though, how much longer until we get to your place?" Peter asked, rubbing his stomach. "We seem to have missed lunch, and I'm starved."
Felicia smiled. "Why don't the four of you head on over across the street and grab something at the Bartow Family Restaurant? I'll fill up the truck and run over to the General Store for some other supplies that I need, then meet you. We'll just have a late supper."
"That should be satisfactory," Egon agreed. "We'll meet you there later then." The four Ghostbusters smiled and headed off toward the restaurant.
The woman hesitated for a moment before calling after them. "Doctor Venkman, may I speak with you for a moment?"
Peter turned around curiously, gesturing for the other to go on without him. Once they had, he gave her a wide grin. "What do you need, Mrs. Atkinson?"
"I... only have a quick question. Your name seems familiar. Where's your family from?"
"The Big Apple," he answered promptly. "Brooklyn, to be precise. Well, from everything my dad's told me at any rate. Mom was from Long Island, though." His brows creased in confusion. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought that was it," Felicia replied, her brown eyes dropping. "I guess that must have been where I heard it then. Something we have in common, huh?"
The psychologist narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "No, really, why do you ask?"
She took a few breaths and met his gaze. "I haven't spent a lot of time in New York for about thirty-five years, Doctor Venkman. Your name brought back memories of someone I knew there that I miss very much. I'm sorry I made you think anything else."
"No, I'm sorry I read too much into that," Peter returned as his expression softened. "It's too bad you couldn't keep in touch with your friend. Maybe she's a relative of mine, a great aunt or something."
"Don't worry about it, Doctor Venkman. It's best left alone. But now you should go get your lunch, and I'll take care of my supplies. I shouldn't be long, and then we can get out to my ranch and we can end this."
The brown-haired man blinked at the ferocity in her tone and gave her a reassuring smile. "That's what we're here for. Don't worry - the Ghostbusters are on the job." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, then turned and headed for the restaurant where the rest of his friends were waiting.
"Okay, moving has been temporarily removed from my vocabulary until further notice," Peter said as he flopped onto the sofa in Felicia's living room after helping the others unload the truck. His bangs were matted with sweat and he could only be glad his light grey polo shirt was loose enough to let the breeze that traveled through the screened windows of the house cool his skin.
"Come on, Peter," Ray chided, grinning hugely, his light brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "We still have time to do a preliminary scan of the property before supper, and there's always our reference books to go over."
"Ray is correct, Peter," Egon agreed, only the slightly wicked glint behind the red-rimmed glasses betraying the serious tone. "There is still work to be done, and it will require all four of us. This is no time for you to indulge in your customary slothful habits."
"Says you, Spengs. I say I can take the time to at least reacquaint my lungs with the luxury of oxygen."
"Mrs. Atkinson," Winston asked the white-haired lady watching the interplay with a controlled smile, fighting one of his own, "is there anywhere you think we should focus our scans first? Where did the demon appear to you the other night?"
With a deep breath Felicia got herself under control. "At the base of the porch stairs, just outside the front door."
The brown-haired psychologist sat up, his expression serious. "You said something about it being a creature made entirely of shadows earlier. Is that what it looked like when it appeared to you? And will you be all right talking about it now?"
She smiled at Peter's concern, her gaze intent as she looked at him. "I'll be fine now. I just didn't want to cause an accident in case I became overly emotional while I was driving. And yes, the thing seemed to be made of the darkest shadows. It was a few inches taller than Doctor Spengler, and appeared to be wearing a cloak made of nothingness. The only color came from its glowing violet eyes that seemed to burn right through me as the gaze bore into mine." She shuddered in remembrance. "And it was pure evil. That I could feel pouring over me in waves. It means what it says; it wants my soul. And I can't give it to that... abomination. I just can't. No matter if..." Her voice trailed off and her lips clamped shut, her eyes flickering away from the psychologist.
The four men shared a look, each one realizing that this was not the time they were going to understand what she had been about to say. "Well, Mrs. Atkinson, I'd say that is enough of a description for us to begin a search through the reference guides we brought along. But first, I believe we should set up the rest of our detection equipment in case the demon decides to make another appearance." Egon then proceeded to assign duties, conveniently leaving Peter to calm down the obviously-agitated Felicia Atkinson.
"I can understand that you want to protect your son, Mrs. Atkinson," Peter began once the others left.
"I do, and the only way to do it is to stop this thing. I... haven't spoken to him..." Here she briefly paused, biting her lower lip for a moment before continuing. "I haven't really spoken with him since just after he turned eighteen, when I told him I was going to marry Jerry. I never got a chance to tell him about the curse."
Green eyes were confused as they watched the now-fidgeting woman who couldn't seem to look at him. "So you were married once before Mister Atkinson," he offered hesitantly.
She nodded. "My first husband was my son's father. Wallace died ten years before I married Jerry."
"And your son didn't take that very well."
"Not in the least, Doctor Venkman." She turned away from him completely and stared at the picture-laden mantle.
"Hey, we're all friends here, aren't we? Why don't we drop the 'Doctor Venkman'? Call me Peter like the rest of this bunch." He watched her carefully, hoping to get her mind off what was obviously a very troubling subject. Not that he could blame her. Her son ran out on her at what should have been one of the happiest times in her life. Not many people get a chance to love again after losing it the first time. And though her mention of her first husband was brief, Peter knew Felicia had loved him as much, if not more, than she had loved the man that had left her this ranch.
She turned to face him again, a shaky smile lightening her features. "Then call me Felicia. I'm not really very formal around here." She took a stabilizing breath. "You really care for your teammates, don't you?"
Peter's grin blazed out. "They're like the brothers my mom didn't give birth to. We're really tight. And they're the smartest guys I know. If anyone can figure out how to stop this thing, it's them."
The small smile firmed at that, and there was an inexplicable ounce of pride in it. "I have every confidence in your abilities, Peter. I wouldn't have asked the four of you out here otherwise. How did you all meet?"
The taller man gave a short laugh. "Well, Egon and I met first at Columbia during the second semester of my freshman year. We'd given our history teacher Professor Turner a hard time early on so he figured he'd get revenge on us by pairing us off for a project that was worth almost three quarters of our grade. I was Mister Popularity, frat boy, captain of the football team, and all-around BMOC. Egon was a lab rat extraordinaire, science prodigy, and all-around nerd first class. I was sure he was going to treat me like a typical jock - all muscles and no brain - and he was sure I was going to treat him like a typical book worm - all brains and nothing else. He was also sure I wouldn't even try to pull my own weight and would take half the credit for whatever project he managed to finish.
"I guess what insulted me the most, since I couldn't really blame him for the assumption considering that was exactly the kind of image I was trying so hard to project, was that he gave me the most useless tasks even after we agreed on a topic after an hour's worth of a pretty in-depth talk." Peter shook his head ruefully. "I don't know what it is about that man, but no one else quite stirs up my natural curiosity faster than Egon Spengler. And that same curiosity tends to make me ask intelligent questions even when that's the last thing I want to do. But he still handed me jobs that a trained monkey could do without working up a sweat. I reamed him out and stormed off. He eventually came after me, we did the project, and thus a friendship began."
"Sounds like it only got better from there, though. Doctor Spengler seems to respect your intelligence quite a bit, quips and slams aside." Felicia gave him a knowing look.
Peter grinned. "We found out pretty fast that we have equally wicked senses of humor. That bridged a lot of our differences in personality. And then Ray came and did the rest. Ray joined our little club two years later, during my junior year and Egon's senior one. He was in the honors physics class that Professor Sotelo taught, the same professor that Egon was a teacher's assistant for. In fact, Egon was helping him with an extra credit experiment that was heads and shoulders above where he should have been for a freshman," the brown-haired man explained.
"Anyway, that might not have been quite enough to make a lasting impression on Super Brain Spengler, at least not enough of one to want to start hanging around with him, if they hadn't run into each other in the occult section of an out-of-the-way used book store just a few blocks from campus. They started talking about the subject, found a mutual love, and that was that. Egon introduced him to me, and then we were three."
"So the three of you have always been interested in the supernatural?"
Peter laughed. "Not me, that's for sure. Egon and Ray, yeah, but I was a full-blown skeptic. Ghosts and demons? Yeah, right. I was studying parapsychology because of the psychic stuff, ESP and all that. The powers of the mind have always fascinated me. Even after I got my doctorate I didn't really believe in this stuff. Right before we started the business - and got kicked out of Columbia - Ray dragged me along to the New York Public Library where he and Egon were checking out a sighting, and that's when I saw my first ghost. Boy, did that nasty-looking librarian convince me! Mind you, we ran like a bunch of school girls - no offense - but our two resident geniuses got enough data to confirm their theories that are behind all our equipment. I decided we could make money off of it. Thus, Ghostbusters was born.
"That's how Winston came into the picture. We'd been in business for about a month, busy running our tails off for all but a week of it. We needed more help in the worst way, so we put an ad in the paper. Winston replied. Janine had just finished up the survey part of the process we'd come up with to screen our applicants when Ray and I got back from yet another bust, complete with full traps. Janine introduced him, Ray looked at him and said 'Beautiful. You're hired,' and handed him the full traps. I thought he might bolt at that, but he stuck it out. And I'm really glad he did. So there you go - the four Musketeers."
"All for one and one for all, hmm?" Felicia asked knowingly with a smile. Peter grinned back. "You four are very close. It's a beautiful thing to see."
"It's a beautiful thing to be a part of," Peter agreed.
"I can imagine," she murmured as the rest of the Ghostbusters came back in.
"So, the high-tech supernatural protection grid up and running? You haven't drained the county power plant or anything, have you?" Peter asked, turning his attention to the redhead leading the way into the room.
"No, Peter," Ray responded with fond exasperation. "Besides, everything has its own power source. There's no need to plug anything in."
"We'll be collecting readings all night," Egon told Felicia, ignoring the byplay. "We should be able to make correlations with whatever we can find in our resources in the meantime."
"And if the thing shows up again, we'll know it," Winston concluded, leaning up against the archway separating the living room and the central hall that ran the length of the house from the front door.
"Hey, advance warning is a good thing. I'm all for advance warnings," Peter said with a grin. "So I take it this means we all have to bury our noses in musty old books for the rest of the night, huh?"
"They aren't musty, Peter," Ray protested. "I take good care of my books. But you're right. We need to narrow down what demon this could be so we can take care of it. And there's a few documents on demon bargains I want to check as well. This one is obviously bound to the deal it struck with Hans Decker, to the extent that it couldn't negate it by just killing him and returning to the Netherworld or wherever else it might have come from. That could be something we can work with later."
"I believe I may have something that could help you, Doctor Stantz," Felicia said thoughtfully, one finger lightly tapping her slightly pursed lips. "It's in the attic. I have a translated copy of Hans Decker's diary, the one he left to his son Gerritt. A few generations back, someone decided to translate it since the children weren't taking much interest in learning the mother tongue anymore. I certainly don't speak Dutch. I think there's some things in there that might clear up a few things."
The engineer smiled brightly. "That would be great, Mrs. Atkinson. Just tell me where I can find it and I can go up for it."
"Call me Felicia. And you should find it in the old trunk in the far corner to the right of the center window across from the door."
"And you can call me Ray. I'll be right back, guys."
The older woman watched him take a few steps before saying hesitantly, "Um, Ray? Why don't you take Peter with you? I'd feel better if no one was left alone until this is over, especially while you're dealing with the family things." Her brown eyes were shuttered, just a trace of her worry coming through.
The youngest man turned and looked at her a bit surprised. "Sure, Felicia, if that'll make you feel better. Come on, Peter."
The psychologist sighed and dragged himself off the couch. "No problem, Tex. I think I'd feel better if you weren't alone, too." He gave Winston a serious look as he passed the black man on his way to join Ray. "Watch 'em close, Zed."
"Wouldn't think of doin' anything else, Pete."
Peter nodded and left with the eager occultist.
"I understand about your concern for your son," Egon said after his partners' footsteps had faded away, "but what about these other children?" He gestured to the photographs he had been examining on the mantle.
Felicia smiled. "Those are Jerry's children from his first wife. She died thirteen years before we were married, leaving him to raise his daughter and two sons. Fortunately, we always got along."
"What about your son?" Winston asked. The older woman repeated the explanation of her previous husband and relationship with her son, her entire body tense as she did so. "He doesn't know," the black man whispered, his eyes widening in realization. She nodded in confirmation.
"Hmm," Egon murmured, crossing his arms and cupping his chin thoughtfully in his fist. "That particular fact could work either way for us, depending on how attached the demon is to you specifically, Mrs. Atkinson. I theorize, however, that it isn't able to hunt down anyone but the eldest of your family. But I cannot confirm or deny that, since we don't know where your son is currently, thus suggesting we don't know if the demon has done anything to him."
Felicia swallowed nervously and took in a shaky breath. "I... I don't think it's done anything to him yet," she said quietly. "It seemed smug about being able to threaten me with hurting him. I suppose it could be lying, of course, but..." Her voice trailed off as she shrugged and closed her eyes.
"Hey, we'll hope for the best," Winston said, stepping forward and placing a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. "Until we have evidence to believe anything else, we'll go on the fact that it hasn't hurt your son yet. There's no reason to do anything else."
"Winston's right," Egon agreed. He paused as she took a few deep breaths to settle herself before continuing. "Now I know we were upstairs briefly putting our bags away, but would it be possible for you to give us a formal tour of the house? We'll need to know what we're dealing with."
"That and it's a beautiful building," Winston added with a smile. "My dad's in construction back at home, and I know he'd love to look it over. Did Mister Atkinson build it himself?"
The petite woman grinned shakily as she opened her eyes. "Yes, he did. A friend of his was an architect and drew up the plans as a gift and Jerry took advantage of it. I'll show you around, boys. I suppose I'll have to do it again once Ray and Peter get back, but that's okay," she said, pulling herself together with a wink. "I love showing off my home."
Egon and Winston laughed and the three of them began the tour.
"Oh, wow," Ray breathed as he and Peter entered the large attic and looked around. "I bet there are tons of neat things we'd find if we started going through all these boxes, not to mention the trunks. A real piece of history, right here in the attic."
Peter eyed the different trunks interspaced with the piles of boxes warily. "That's great, Ray. At least we know Felicia didn't do the summoning. I'd hate to face another attic like Mrs. Faversham's. And this isn't nearly as cluttered. Where's that diary supposed to be?"
The redhead pointed in the right direction. "That far corner, to the right of the window across the way." He led them over to the correct flat-topped trunk, opening it without any problems. "I'm surprised it wasn't locked."
"Oh, come on, Tex, we're in the middle of nowhere. Who'd come all this way to rob a house? Well, without knowing what the score was, at any rate. You find anything yet?" the psychologist asked as his partner knelt before the trunk and rooted around through the miscellaneous books, pictures, and papers that had been stored inside, being as careful as he could to preserve their well-kept condition.
"Lots of great stuff, but not what we're looking for yet. Oh, wait, here it is." Ray pulled a medium-sized, leather bound book out of the box and shut the lid, turning around to sit on the floor with his back against the chest. "Someone went through a lot of expense to have this done," the occultist commented. "Leather bound and gold-embossed lettering. Impressive."
Peter nodded as he sat on the trunk and looked over Ray's shoulder. "You can say that again. 'The Diary of Hans Decker.' Simple, but effective. Do we take this downstairs now?" He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the book.
"I'm going to look through it first and make sure it has what we're looking for. It'll be nice to have a first-hand account of the summoning - it should help a lot in figuring out how to break the curse." The stocky man began leafing through the pages, as carefully as he had been before with the rest of the papers.
Soon the both of them were caught up in their client's ancestor's tale of his desire to be more than he was, and his horror and self-loathing when he discovered what the price was that he would have to pay. "His blood, his blood, Johann's blood. I think I will see his blood staining my hands until the day I meet my end and face judgment for what I have wrought upon the true wealth I had always had, but was too blind to see. Catherine and Johann cared not for ostentatious wealth and positioning in society. Why could I not see the truth before I lost it all? My heart, the heart that was embodied by my beloved wife and child, was all that mattered, and it is gone, rendered lifeless by arcane devices condemned rightfully by the church as pure, Satanic evil. And I made the bargain. I am only fortunate that it negated that same bargain by its actions. Let it suffer. It has done the same for me. Perhaps I will rebuild a family in the future, perhaps its curse will come into effect, but they will have warning. I will not accept anyone's love until they know the whole, horrid truth. If they can accept me with this festering stain upon my soul, then they are truly heaven-sent, and I would be an even greater fool to turn them away. But only a miracle will bring that about, I know this. Are there any miracles left in this world?"
The two men blinked at the powerful passage, each able to feel the jumble of emotions the author had been feeling when he had penned the lines. They shared a look that reaffirmed their friendship, assuring each other that they were not alone. "Can we finish this downstairs?" Peter whispered, afraid to speak louder as if to do so would be disrespectful to the memory of the source of so much misery. Hans Decker had loved his family and had meant them no harm, but it had come anyway. And he faced it alone. Peter's own inner demons flared up at the thought of that, and he found himself shifting closer to Ray to compensate.
Ray swallowed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peter. I need to be sure."
Peter sighed. "Then let's do it, Tex. I hate to say it, but I get the feeling that this needs to be read for this to be able to end." They both went silently back to their task.
"I am surprised by the demon's lack of appearance of late," one of the last entries began. "It used to be that it would appear every month or so and demand its payment to relieve the curse, to protect my son. Then it only came once a year, and now has not made a visit for five. I have dreamed of it, however, and expect it any day. I am old, and it most likely does not have many chances left to obtain what it seeks from me. I have been fortunate enough to survive long enough to have seen my second grandson's birth. Small Izaac has his mother's deep blue eyes and his father's long features. He is a true bundle of joy. Both he and his brother Hans have made my old age a pleasant one, even after losing their grandmother to influenza three years ago. Has it truly been that long? It feels like only yesterday. My age catches up with me at last. I will escape this curse at last, and I willingly face my judgment for enabling it to come into force in the first place. Gerritt understands, and has forgiven me. How he is able to do so is beyond my comprehension. He will be strong enough to face the demon when I am gone. And if his sons inherit only half his strength, they will be more than a match as well. I look forward to the end. Catherine, Johann, and Isabelle wait for me."
Ray and Peter finished the last two entries, and a final word from Gerritt as a message to any of his line that would read the book after him. "Be wary and watch your words. Promise nothing to the creature, for it seeks a way to twist the truth around to its liking. Hold firm, no matter what grief you may have to endure. One of you, someday, will find a way to break this curse, and I wish you all the best in doing so. I only wish I could have done the deed myself, but it was beyond my power. The entire line of Hans Decker stands behind you. Remember that and make us proud."
Ray slowly closed the book and looked over his shoulder at Peter who sat staring at nothing in particular and blinking away a suspicious moisture from his eyes. "Considering that last message, I guess no one who has to face this thing will ever do it alone," the brown-haired man said quietly once he had recovered his composure. A curious expression touched his features. "I get the feeling we have a solution here if we can just figure out what it is. What do you think?"
The redheaded occultist blinked in shock. "You think so, too? That's great, Peter! I think we should take this down and let the others read it. Maybe Egon and Winston can get that something we're missing." He got to his feet as Peter did, pausing before continuing on. "Did you feel that, Peter? Almost like we were reliving it with him. I hope I never have to worry about losing someone I love to a demon like that. That would be awful."
Peter put his arm around his younger friend's shoulders as they made their way out of the attic. "That it would, Tex, and that's why we're gonna stop this thing. So no one has to go through that again." Ray smiled and nodded before they continued on to join the others.