Here comes the next chapter - enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!
"Are you guys any closer to figuring out which of our two suspects is hounding Felicia?" Peter asked grumpily the next morning after breakfast. He was slouched on the overstuffed chair between the couch and the fireplace in the living room, barely having gotten up in time to eat. The others had been up for a couple hours going through the resource material Ray had brought along, and were now sharing their findings with the recalcitrant man.
"As a matter of fact, yes, Peter," Egon replied from his seat on the couch beside the slumped man, faintly amused. It never ceased to amaze him how much of a morning person his best friend wasn't. "We believe the demon we are facing is an entity by the name of Trevaire. There are some very old references to bargains being struck with the demon, almost always ending with the death of the summoner and the loss of his soul. However, history seems to have lost track of Trevaire in the early eighteenth century, which correlates with Felicia's story of when Hans Decker made his bargain with his summoned demon."
"And based on what we saw of him last night, and what he was able to do, it all adds up to him," Ray added, bouncing slightly in his chair across from Peter on the other side of the fireplace.
"Okay, so now we know who. What do we do next?" the psychologist grumbled, more awake than he had been before.
"We don't have to do anything stupid like summon him, do we?" Winston asked warily, standing next to Ray's chair.
"No, nothing so drastic," the seated occultist responded confidently, his eyes shifting to Peter. "I have something in mind, but I need to look through a few of my books. There should be a ritual to break the bond Trevaire created with the Decker line. I just have to find it. And I will, as soon as possible."
Peter blinked at the fierceness of the vow. "Um, Tex, is there something else I should know about? Why do I get the feeling that was a promise to me?"
Ray's light brown eyes widened slightly as the other two Ghostbusters silently waited for the redhead's answer to the questions they obviously would have asked themselves had Peter not beaten them to it. "I just don't want to see anyone get hurt by Trevaire. I mean, Felicia is so worried about her son, and I know you've taken a real fancy to her, Peter. I just want to get this taken care of as soon as I can." He paused to take a breath and eyed his brown-haired friend tentatively. "You do like her, don't you, Peter?"
The psychologist's eyebrows headed for his hairline. "Well, yeah. She's a great lady. Brave and feisty. But why is that so important?"
"I just wanted to make sure I was right," Ray said quickly, jumping to his feet and grabbing a few of his books from the pile next to him as well as the translated diary. "I'm going to go work on this. It shouldn't take too long, not if I study the ritual Hans described carefully. Felicia should be able to point me to somewhere I can work undisturbed." He rushed into the kitchen where their employer was washing the breakfast dishes and putting everything away before anyone could stop him.
Peter sat up as he stared after the younger man. "Something's up with him," he said suspiciously. "Do either of you have a clue what it could be?"
"Got me, Pete," Winston said with a shrug, staring after Ray himself. "But something has him shaken up."
"I would agree with your assessment, Peter," Egon said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "There's definitely something he's not telling us. But I don't believe this is the time to press the issue. We should do some more research and try to find weaknesses we can exploit in our next encounter with the entity. And I believe I will analyze the readings from our equipment from last night and see if they will be of any assistance. We must be ready when Ray locates the ritual he is looking for."
Peter frowned. "All right, Egon. We'll do it your way for now. But I'm going to find out what's bugging that guy by the end of the day, see if I don't."
Winston gave him a grin. "I'm with you, man. But for now, start reading. We've got research to do." He tossed the brown-haired man one of the books Ray had left behind. Peter merely caught the tome and stuck his tongue out at the culprit who threw it.
Hours passed. Egon returned quickly with all the data he needed and spent the time figuring and refiguring the numbers in any number of different ways, hoping one of them would lead him to the solution he sought. Peter and Winston poured over book after book, looking for references to Trevaire and the way he operated. They were after specifics, as they already had a general idea, and Ray had the diary.
Not much had turned up by the time Felicia called them into the dining room for a late lunch, and Ray wouldn't be called away even for food. When Peter would have marched off to find him, to give him a sandwich or two at least, the older woman got in his path and wouldn't be budged. "He's too focused, Peter. Leave him be. I'll make sure he's got something available after you three are finished."
Frustration flew across Peter's expression. "I don't want him to be worrying about hunger pains when we're facing this thing down. And the last thing we need if we're trying to be all sneaky-like is his stomach calling out a homing beacon."
Felicia couldn't help but smile slightly. "I'll make sure tummy rumblings don't give you away. I promise. Now sit down and eat. Or is all my hard work going to go to waste?"
"Come on, Pete," Winston said through a mouthful of chicken salad, having already started to eat. "If you don't, I can't guarantee there'll be anything left for you."
"Winston is correct, Peter," Egon agreed, having swallowed his first bite. "Considering the delicacy of this repast, the odds of remains lingering long enough for you to complete an entire eruptive cycle of your infamous temper are slim indeed." The sparkle in the physicist's eyes was bright as he took another bite of the salad.
"Sadists, the both of you," Peter said with a scowl. "And gluttons. You better leave something for me or you will not like the consequences." He moved to an empty chair and sat down, pulling the last heaping plate to his place. "Now you're sure about Ray?" he asked Felicia over his shoulder, pausing in the act of picking up his fork.
"I said I promised, Peter."
"Good." He grinned and turned back to his meal. "Then I can concentrate on eating these guys under the table."
Felicia chuckled a bit and shook her head. "I'll just go get the lemonade."
An hour after the dishes had been cleared and put away, Egon, Winston, and Peter were again digging through books while Felicia straightened up the downstairs. They all jumped when Ray finally made an appearance. He came from the direction of the kitchen, having been outside in one of the barns to study in peace, and gazed around the room once he entered.
The other three men were shocked. In the place of the Ray Stantz they were all used to, another man stood in his place. This man's face was serious, foreboding, with shadows in his darkened brown eyes. There was no bounce in his step, no sense of bubbling excitement, no joy in the world around him. In the quiet that followed his entrance, the redhead solemnly placed his books and the diary on the table between the matching chairs farthest from the fireplace and regarded each of the others in turn, his guarded gaze lingering longest on Peter.
It was that gaze that halted any questions about the youngest man's earlier comments Peter might have asked. His emerald green eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his friend, wondering what in the world could have made Ray change his demeanor so dramatically. He quickly placed an elbow in Egon's ribs when the blond would have asked what he wouldn't. Not now. The very air Ray brought with him told the psychologist this was not the time.
"So, Ray, what did you find?" Peter asked, his tone matching the serious mood of the room.
"I found the ritual I'll need to break the bond Trevaire formed with the shedding of Hans Decker's blood. It took me some time to figure out that this was the only option we had with the supplies and equipment we have available." The normally light baritone had sunk to its deeper tones and continued to reflect the aura the man was exuding.
"What kind of ritual is it?" Winston asked, subdued. "What could make you act like this?"
Peter was about to tell Winston that last question could wait until later when Ray responded, "A blood ritual, Winston. To break a demon's bond forged in blood, blood is required. We're going to need to perform a sacrifice." He turned to face Felicia. "Do you have any chickens on the ranch? We'll need one."
As the older lady struggled to regain her composure, just as thrown by the change in the stocky man as his friends were, something clicked for Peter. He'd only experienced this side of Ray twice before, while they were still at Columbia, the first time as students, the second as teachers' assistants. What they were dealing with was Ray Stantz, Occultist in his full-blown glory. This was the man who knew dark, nasty secrets about horrors that even they as Ghostbusters didn't have to face but once in a blue moon. This was the man that contemplated death pacts with creatures too hideous to conceive, that would devour your soul if you were lucky. This was the man who could talk about sacrificing an animal in an ancient blood ritual without batting an eye. This was the man that scared Peter to the very core of his being.
"Um, well, yes, Ray," Felicia answered finally, her voice a bit shaky. "I keep a few around for the fresh eggs. I... I take it you'll need one for... this ritual." Her dark brown eyes were wide, the emotions in them a complete jumble.
Ray nodded. "Yes, we will. But I do need to ask one simple question." There was a pregnant pause as he looked around the room again. "Is there anyone else here that can do the actual killing? I just... can't." He gave everyone a sheepish half-smile as his stance finally relaxed.
There was an explosive release of breath from the rest of the crowd as everything went back to normal and the tension in the room was reduced to its previous level. Peter was just glad to see their Ray back, the way he was supposed to be. He'd have to talk to the younger man once this was all over, but for now they had a job to do. However, he still needed to ask one question. "Hey, Tex, I take it this is some pretty nasty stuff. What exactly are we dealing with?"
Ray's smile faded, but the cloak of gloom he had been wearing didn't return. "This is one of the darker rituals I have in my collection, Peter. We're truly calling on dark powers to do what we need to do. And I do mean need, Peter. I really believe that we have to cut the tie to the Decker line before we have any chance of defeating Trevaire. That's where he's drawn his power from for the last two hundred and fifty years. It's what feeds him. And he could use any remaining members to shield him from whatever else we can come up with to defeat him." He sighed, his eyes saying that he recognized his friends' concern as they took them all in once again. "We can't take that chance."
Peter shrugged. "Well, that's just a given. Now who gets to deal with the chicken?"
In the end Felicia ended up taking care of the barnyard fowl, following precise directions from Ray, who stood behind her facing away, unable to watch. The other Ghostbusters stood by his side, all four of them wearing their proton packs, silently adding their support for both him and Felicia. Once the deed was done, Ray took the gathered blood and strode purposefully to the center of the yard to a clear area with little to no grass due to the regular traffic. Winston stepped up next to him, holding the dark tome the occultist had found the ritual in, open to the appropriate page. The other three people stood back a few steps, doing what they could to stay out of the way, yet be close enough to help if it became necessary.
Peter watched as Ray looked over the foreign words to the somewhat lengthy ritual, every inch of him ready to burst. Ever since the younger man had declared there was a way to break the bond and end the threat to Felicia and her kin, there was a feeling that built from inside the psychologist, bringing all of his senses to their peak and his anticipation to its boiling point. He was lucky he could manage to stand still at all. And the sense of presence that he had been feeling off and on since he had held the diary grew along with the inner excitement. He only wished he knew why.
Just before Ray was about to begin reciting the spell, a beat-up old car came cruising into the driveway, stopping a few feet before the marked off area. The driver jumped out and looked around quizzically, pausing as he saw Peter and Egon. "Peter, my boy!" he called as he started to step closer. "What's going on? Why are you here?"
"Pop, what in the hell are you doing here? We're kind of in the middle of something, something dangerous. You don't want to be near here." Peter turned an incredulous, frustrated look toward Charlie Venkman as the man finished closing the distance between them.
"I told you I was heading for the Midwest; I just followed that urge here, wherever that is. Are you okay?"
Egon placed a half comforting, half restraining hand on the psychologist's shoulder. "Mr. Venkman, Peter's right. We're about to attempt a very dangerous ritual, and it would be in your best interest to not be near here when it's completed."
Winston looked at Ray carefully, the redheaded man biting his lower lip catching the black man's attention. He knew the younger man could no longer speak anything but the words of the spell now that everything was prepared for the casting - and he had chosen to follow suit so he wouldn't break Ray's concentration - but it was obvious there was something he wanted to say. The oldest of the Ghostbusters could only wonder what it was.
"If Peter's in danger, I'm staying. I won't let him be hurt here. I couldn't leave now if I wanted to. Why are you boys casting this thing anyway? What could be so big and nasty out here that you need to do something so dangerous?" The old con man's words were brave and determined while his eyes were filled with confusion. His face, however, showed a great fatigue, the obvious result of a number of sleepless nights.
"We're trying to break a curse that's been in my family for over two hundred years," Felicia said quietly but firmly, making Charlie jump as she stepped out from behind the taller men that had hidden her presence. "A demon bound itself to an ancestor of mine and tries to manipulate the oldest of the line into giving up his or her soul before they die. It's appeared to me, and I don't want it to go on any longer. I don't want it to come after my family."
"Are you boys sure you can believe her?" Charlie asked, his brown eyes narrowed with quick suspicion, locking on the older woman. "Sounds kind of far-fetched to me."
Peter looked between his father and his employer, noticing the mostly one-sided animosity radiating from the man next to him. "We took readings, Pop. She's legit. Do you really think we'd take these kinds of chances without being sure? Besides, you're the guy who dragged us up to Alaska to look at a block of black ice based on some legends you managed to overhear, not to mention those nightmares you've been having lately. Why are you so skeptical all of a sudden?"
"Just a feeling, son," Charlie answered as he adjusted his loud, plaid, polyester suit jacket. "I don't want you to get hurt. And it's not like she ever told the people she supposedly considers family about this. Wonder why that was?" The sarcasm in his voice ran thick, causing Felicia to flinch slightly.
She quickly recovered. "It's not like you stuck around long enough to find out." Her eyes flashed and her jaw clenched.
"Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute!" Peter called out, raising his hands and waving them to get the two combatants' attention. "What in the hell is going on here? How did you know that, Pop? And what do you mean he didn't stick around to find out, Felicia?" His emerald green eyes flashed as well, and if looks could kill, the only thing that would have saved either Charlie or Felicia was the confusion that was laced through the tense, brown-haired man's expression.
"We don't have time for this, any of you," Egon said with finality. "The spell on the blood will only last so long, and we must be finished before dark. Mister Venkman, you can stay, but you must not interfere. We'll answer everyone's questions when this is all over." His stern pale blue eyes locked on all three of the people standing with him, letting them know he was deadly serious.
Peter let out an explosive breath. "I hate to say it, but you're right, Spengs. Let's do this. If we could have quiet on the set, you're a go, Ray." He waved an arm dramatically in the occultist's direction.
Winston rolled his eyes at the flamboyant gesture as he shifted the thick book one last time. A nervous smile flitted across Ray's features, then he began to say the words that would break the blood bond between Trevaire and the Decker line.
He was halfway through the long, wordy ceremony, periodically tracing symbols on the ground with the ensorcelled blood in a circular pattern, when the sky above them darkened menacingly. "Stop! You must stop! I will not let you finish!" The words echoed from the surrounding buildings.
"No! No, not now! It can't be!" Felicia cried in frustrated denial.
The form all but Charlie had seen the night before stepped out of the shadows behind the four people witnessing the rite Ray was continuing as well as he could. The glowing violet eyes seemed to narrow as they took in everyone before them. "The blood is so near, so near. Felicia, I warned you, I warned you I would take your blood if you would not surrender your soul. Now they are mine!" A sudden wind picked up in the farmyard, nearly taking them all from their feet, and Trevaire stepped closer, its evil menace radiating from it in waves.
"No!" Felicia screamed above the wind. "You will not take them! I won't let you! This ends here and now, and you will receive nothing more from this family!"
"When I have so much within my grasp? I think not." Although the voice wasn't raised, everyone heard it clearly. "Now which to choose? Older, younger... I'm not sure where to begin." If they would have been able to see the demon's face, they were sure they would have seen a wicked grin spread across its dark expression.
"Be careful, everybody," Peter warned, never taking his eyes from the shadowy creature. "I think he's getting ready to pounce."
Charlie chuckled nervously. "I guess he does kind of remind me of a panther."
"I don't think you'll like my purr," Trevaire snarled, boring its gaze into Peter's as it sprung at his father.
"Damn it, no!" the psychologist cried, instinctually unshipping his thrower as Egon did the same and the elder Venkman barely dodged out of the way. The two Ghostbusters fired together, causing the demon to shy away as it rolled to its feet.
"You can't stop me with your pathetic weapons," the thing said derisively, its eyes once again flickering from one member of the quartet to another. "Weapons have never been able to stop me."
"Well, you haven't exactly run into a Ghostbuster before, have you?" Peter shot back.
Egon threw him a sharp look. "Peter, don't antagonize the entity."
"He started it."
Trevaire drew itself to its full height, the wind never abating in its fury as it swirled around the yard. The glowing violet eyes settled on the shaking older woman, the tremors coming from both fear and anger. "As amusing as I find this, I believe we agreed on something when we first met. This will end, Felicia. And if you won't give me your soul, I will have them both. You shall watch as the life drains from each of them, knowing that with one simple surrender, you could have saved them both. And it begins... now!" The wind picked up a notch and stirred up even more dust and pebbles.
"Scatter, people!" Peter called out, pushing his father away from him as he took a few steps in another direction. "Don't let it touch you, but whatever you do, keep it away from Ray!"
The four of them followed the command, leaving the demon standing there frustrated. It raised its head to the sky and howled, a sound nearly enough to crack all the glass in a two-mile radius. "You will not escape me! None of your line has in too many years to count. This will be no different. And you will suffer mightily for your actions here today, I promise you that!"
"Oh, promises, promises. Like I'd trust the word of a demon," Peter scoffed as he continued to move in as random a pattern as he could manage, the visibility cut down drastically by the dust and dirt kicked up by the wind.
"Peter, why can't we let this thing touch us?" Charlie called out, following his son's lead, what little hair he had left whipping around in the unnatural gale. "What will it do?"
"From what we've read, it can drain the energy of both a person's body and soul," Egon replied through the demon's laughter, also darting around the yard. "And that's apart from the sustenance it can obtain from a person's blood."
Ray's voice was beginning to rise dramatically, his cue that he was nearly finished with the blood ritual. An ear-shattering cry from Trevaire rose as well, the demon obviously starting to feel the effect of the enchantment. Suddenly, with a wicked snarl, wings tore out of the creature's back and it began to climb into the sky, adding to the current already in effect. "You will stop, humans, or there will be great suffering!" the evil voice thundered, the echo this time not completely natural.
"Wow, a guy who can do his own special effects," Peter quipped, shielding his eyes from the debris as he tried to watch where the thing was headed. "He'd save George Lucas millions."
Winston struggled to keep Ray's page as well as the book intact through the windstorm surrounding them all. "Tell me you're almost finished, Ray," he muttered, the words barely reaching the other man's ears. Ray smiled and nodded, his voice rising even more as he reached the last section and the final two symbols.
Just as the occultist was drawing the next to last character on the ground, the demon reached the pinnacle of its climb and suddenly began a neck-breaking swooping dive - straight for Charlie, who had tripped and fallen some feet away from the others. "No!" Peter cried, drowning out his father's whoosh of air as it was forced out of his lungs. The psychologist shot off toward the downed man, hoping beyond hope he could reach the older man in time.
Felicia gasped from behind Charlie's car where she had taken refuge to catch her breath. "Oh, God, no!" she exclaimed, taking off herself toward her son. "No, leave him alone!"
"I may not be able to kill you, Felicia, but I can have him!" Trevaire snarled as it came within a hairsbreadth of its target. Its claw-tipped hands ground into flesh, and the demon swooped up with only a fraction of an inch to spare before it would have crashed into the ground.
Egon, who had been rushing after Peter as fast as he could, stopped in his tracks and watched with stricken eyes as the creature traveled vertically with its victim. "Peter, no!" he exclaimed, instinctively grabbing for his thrower, but knowing he couldn't use it without taking the chance of hitting his best friend.
Felicia blinked at the shout from the physicist, realizing at that moment that she was still firmly on the ground. She had felt something slam into her, but had assumed it was the demon. The wind that continued to whip at her hair was the same wind Trevaire had been using to try to interrupt the spell casting. Her dark brown eyes opened, and she gazed up at the sky, horror-stricken. Somehow, Peter had gotten between her and Charlie, and had been taken in both of their places. "Damn it, Peter," she snapped through a sob. "It would have been safer for him to take me!"
"Maybe so," Egon said breathlessly as he completed his interrupted journey to check on Felicia, "but that wouldn't matter to Peter. It never would. Are you all right?"
She scrambled to her feet and dusted herself off as the wind began to slowly settle down. "I'm fine, unfortunately. But Peter isn't. We have to go after him!"
"You're right, we do," Winston agreed, hurrying over to the pair, Ray directly on his heels. "Now that the spell's finished it should be easier to take this Trevaire thing down."
"Um, Winston?" Ray offered a bit hesitantly, raising his hand like he was in elementary school. "I'm not quite done with the spell. The bond is only weakened - the blood element is gone."
"What?" Charlie demanded, storming over as well. "Then what are you doing just standing here? Start spouting more of that whatchamacallit language you were spitting out just now and save my son!"
"Mister Venkman, I can assure you Ray has a reason for this pause in his spell casting." Egon turned an expectant look toward the worried redhead. "Raymond?"
"Of course I do, Egon," the occultist said quickly. "I don't have to stay here to finish the spell - in fact I can cast it as we go after Peter."
Felicia nodded decisively. "Then I'll get my four-by-four. We can follow them that way." She ran off toward the barn where the vehicles were kept.
"Don't you need this book?" Winston asked, gesturing toward the tome he still held.
Ray shook his head. "No, actually. The rest of the bond can be broken by a relatively common counterspell that I've found in at least three of my books. It'll be easy."
The black man looked at the youngest member of the party incredulously. "Three, Ray? And that's common?"
"Sure," Ray agreed. "Most of the time spells are unique. Now I just have to remember the words..."
Charlie still stared after where Felicia had gone, a dark scowl on his face. "Puts on a good show, doesn't she?"
"Look, Mister Venkman, whether you believe it or not, Felicia cares about Peter and doesn't want him to get hurt," Ray said sharply as Egon and Winston looked at their friend's father in confusion as to the source of his attitude. "She's doing what she can right now to help him, and you'd be a lot more help yourself if you would stop saying such nasty things!" The two taller men on either side of him shot Ray an impressed look. The most exuberant of the Ghostbusters didn't often lose his temper, but when he did it was a memorable sight.
The man in the mussed-up, dirty loud clothing took a deep breath and released it. "You're right, Ray. I'll keep it in check until this is all over. But only because Peter needs me. She most certainly doesn't deserve it."
The redhead sighed, his temper leaving him. "Whatever you say, Mister Venkman."
Just then, Felicia pulled up in a much more beat up truck than she had used to pick up the four younger men from the airport. "Get in!" she cried, leaning over to throw open the passenger side door. "This is what we use to check on the outer edges of the property," the woman explained as she tore off in the wake of the demon and Peter after Egon had just barely managed to shut the door behind himself. "It's used to the rough treatment."
The blond physicist pulled out his PKE meter and made the necessary adjustments to read for Peter's biorhythms. "I don't believe we're in range yet," he announced when there was no flicker from the device.
"We will be soon. We have to be," Ray said forcefully from between the other two men in the back seat with him.
"Ray, start doing that other spell. We need it done yesterday," Winston said urgently, his gaze quickly darting to the man squeezed next to him from its intense search of the surrounding countryside.
"Is there anything you need from us?" Egon asked.
"No, I'm fine. I'll just need you to keep it down so I don't forget anything or get it out of order. We don't have time for me to start everything all over again."
"You got that right," Winston muttered under his breath, taking one last glance across the now-murmuring man to Peter's father on the other side of the back seat. Charlie's face had lost all its color, and the eyes that were just a shade lighter than Felicia's were trained on the world flying by the window, hoping beyond hope that he'd see his son out there, alive and unhurt. The dark-skinned man couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man. He may have caused a lot of problems for Peter, but he loved his son wholeheartedly.
A half hour later they found themselves deep within hill country, and gaining on the burdened demon. As they got closer they noticed that Peter had not proved to be a docile hostage. He was still squirming and thrashing, even though the ground beneath them didn't look to be the safest to land on. Egon was sure Peter hadn't even considered that part of the equation. "Is there any way you could increase the acceleration of the vehicle?" he quietly asked Felicia, in deference to the still-chanting Ray in the back.
"Only a little," she returned in a voice just as soft. "With this rocky terrain, I have to be careful, or we're the ones who'll need rescuing. There are unseen drop-offs all over the place here. You'd be surprised how high up we actually are."
Just then the two shapes above them stopped their forward motion and hovered in the air for a few moments. There was a burst of bright light, and the lower of the two fell to the ground, an inarticulate yell reaching the truck's occupants. "Peter!" Charlie and Felicia cried in unison. Ray shut them out by scrunching his eyes more tightly shut and muttering a little louder. No one saw the tear that slipped down his cheek.
"I can't see him on the ground, Egon," Winston said tersely, his muscles tensing as he continued to search with his eyes. Egon was silent, unable to retreat into denial even for reassurance sake.
"Damn it!" Felicia's oath was quickly followed by the sudden stop of the truck. The reason was easily discernible - a large boulder rested directly in their path, with no room to get around in the truck on either side.
The five of them never hesitated. They were out of the vehicle, Ray still saying the words of his spell, and rushing toward the spot they could only guess Peter was lying hurt and unable to move in a matter of moments. They were quickly spotted, however, and summarily dive-bombed by the still-hovering demon, who realized their intent. The group was forced to scatter once they got past the huge rock, the creature's claws nearly raking both Egon's and Charlie's arms.
Felicia, who had managed to dive ahead of everyone else, continued on her way to the edge of one of the sudden drop-offs she had mentioned earlier, her heart in her throat. Peter couldn't have fallen all that way, could he? Not before she had a chance to get to know him, to let him know her...
A gasp and pain-filled grunt somehow made it past the yells and shouts and frantic scrambling going on behind the woman and she darted forward the last few feet to the ledge. The silver-haired lady held her breath as she gazed down, hoping her imagination wasn't playing with her desires.
It wasn't. There, not three feet below her, hung Peter Venkman, a little battered and bruised, but none the worse for wear for all that. He held onto a small outcropping with every ounce of his strength, his feet dangling over a ten foot drop onto hard stone. Instinctually she reached out for him, her hands latching firmly around his left wrist. "I've got you, Peter. I won't let you go."
The brown-haired man's resultant surprise nearly made him lose his hold altogether. "Felicia!" he cried breathlessly. "You can't pull me up, even without my pack that happens to be currently decorating a rock somewhere close to here. You're going to have to go get one of the others." His green eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "The others are with you, right? The demon didn't get them?"
"They're here, Peter, but they're a bit... busy at the moment. I'm afraid I'm all you've got right now." She grinned ruefully as she strained to pull him up.
Peter tried to put as much weight as he could on the little ledge his right hand still gripped with all its strength. "I don't want to pull you down with me, Felicia. I can't do that." Panic started to make itself known in his voice.
"Calm down, Peter. I can do this. I have to."
Her simple statement was spoken with such calm assurance that the dangling man found himself nodding and trying to figure out just how to help her. "I haven't been able to find any toeholds, but I'll keep trying."
Before Felicia could respond, Charlie's angry voice precluded the elder Venkman's slide to the edge of the crevice. "What in the hell are you doing to my boy?" Peter had never heard his father sound so possessive.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" the woman snapped back. "I'm trying to pull him up!"
"Uh, yeah, Dad, and she could do a lot better job if you'd stop distracting her," Peter added nervously, feeling the lady's grip slip slightly with her shift in attention.
Charlie ignored him. "Damn it, I won't let you cause me to lose my son!"
"Like I'm about to even think about losing my grandson! Now grab his other wrist and we can argue about this when he's safely back up here!" The man scowled and did as commanded.
It was lucky he did. Peter's eyes grew wide with the older woman's exclamation, and his grip loosened in his shock. Felicia was his grandmother? That would mean that she was Charlie's... And he never... And she never... And the curse...
The implications of that last thought smacked the imperiled man upside the head just as the beating of wings caught the threesome's attention, as well as the yells of warning from Winston and Egon. "It's just too bad that neither of you will be successful," the demon's voice purred evilly just before landing on all fours on the mother and son's backs. The sudden impact caused them both to lose their grip on Peter, and he went tumbling down into the ravine, his yells echoing up as he went. Just as suddenly all the noise stopped, except for the tiny trickles of little pebbles that had been dislodged in the fall.
Ray's voice grew louder, filling the shock-induced silence that had overtaken the party of rescuers. He appeared to be close to finishing his spell, and he was doing it with a vengeance. The last of the foreign words resounded off the surrounding rocks, and it all ended in a shout of the demon's name. Ray thrust his arms into the air as he cried it, Peter's proton pack hanging from his right hand, the redhead having found it during his scramble to evade Trevaire while keeping its attention.
There was a visible ripple in the air that washed over everyone and sent the demon into the sky once again over the ravine where Peter had fallen. Trevaire twisted in agony, its moans of pain growing louder as the effects went deeper and deeper. Then everything went stock still, and the shadowy creature plummeted toward the earth with a shriek that cracked glass. The fivesome gasped and rushed to the edge, dreading what they were bound to see, but needing to see it all the same.
When the five pairs of eyes peered over the drop they widened in unison. On the ravine floor below them they saw the twisted form of the demon sprawled out haphazardly amongst the rocks, twitching slightly but still obviously down for the count. But there was no sign of Peter, not even beneath the creature. "Where... where did he go?" Winston asked hesitantly, voicing the question they all wanted to ask.
Egon grabbed for his meter, frowning in frustration at the cracked lenses in his red frames. He turned the appropriate dials... and got nothing in response. The glass display was as cracked as the man's glasses, and it was all the physicist could do not to throw the device to the ground to watch it shatter. "The demon's last cry has rendered the meter useless. I can fix it, but Peter needs us now."
"Hey, is that a branching ravine?" Ray asked, pointing excitedly at a hint of a curve in the crevice wall.
"I think it is, Ray. I really think it is," Felicia agreed.
"Do you think he tumbled that way instead of straight down?" Charlie asked nervously.
"I think that's the only explanation for his not being under or beside Trevaire," Egon answered, looking for himself.
"So that means we track the curve," Winston said decisively. "We're bound to find Pete that way."
"Let's stick together," Ray said as they all rose to their feet. "We might need everybody to get him back up here safely when we find him." The rest all nodded, and they took off along the edge to follow their lead.
Peter Venkman opened his eyes to a world of pain about ten minutes after his fall. He didn't recognize the ravine - not that he was surprised - and he didn't hear anyone on the hill above him. He did feel an excessive number of bruises all over his body, however, more than could be accounted for by the drop he had seen briefly below him as he dangled above it. So what else had happened?
He tried moving each of his limbs to make sure they were intact and found that while most things moved like they were supposed to, his right ankle twinged far too much. "Wonderful," he muttered under his breath. "A sprained ankle is just what I needed." He sighed and turned his head to see exactly where he was.
That was a mistake. The rocks surrounding him began to spin in a wicked dance that made him seriously consider giving up his lunch, and the pounding in his head that he had merely ranked with the rest of his bruises flared up to three times its previous strength. "A concussion, too," he said through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop the world before he flew off. "Isn't that just peachy? Where the hell did I land, anyway?"
Wherever it was, the fall had left him in a semi-reclined position, cradled against an incline of gravel and tufts of prairie grass. When it was safe, Peter opened his eyes again, careful not to move his head until the thunder calmed down to a dull roar. He could just make out a curve in the ravine wall, and somewhere in his foggy consciousness he put it together that he must have bounced down a branching crevice, one whose floor sloped even further down than the one he expected to land in. If only that damn demon hadn't pounced on his dad and Felicia...
The demon! The panic that thought produced had him sitting up in a second, and throwing up to one side in the one after that. Who would have guessed? he thought ruefully as he recovered from the last of his dry heaves and shakily lay himself back down. Demons induce vomiting. Better than ipecac.
His emerald greens blinked as he considered his position. He was pretty much down for the count, at least for now, and the demon was left with his buddies, his father, and... his... grandmother. Wow. Felicia was his grandmother, if what she snapped back at his dad was true. But if so, why didn't she say anything earlier? Why did she just hire them like she would any professional? Could it be she didn't know before they got there? Did something else happen that he didn't know about? She did say that she hadn't talked to her son, who appeared to be Charlie, since he was eighteen. That was a few years before his dad had even met his mother. She wouldn't even have known he was married, much less about Peter.
That left Charlie. He obviously knew about Felicia, but had never said anything about her. Peter had managed to glean over the years that his father's father had been dead for a long time, but was forced to assume that his mother was as well. Charlie's relatives in Iowa were Venkmans, and Peter supposed they must not have approved of Felicia remarrying, especially against Charlie's wishes. They had never mentioned her either, except a few times in the past tense.
And, of course, this all meant that Peter was subject to the curse Trevaire had put on the Decker line. Didn't it just figure? With some time to actually think things over, he suddenly realized what a foolish move he had made by substituting himself for Felicia in Charlie's rescue. Not that he would have done it any differently, but Felicia wouldn't have been in any real danger if the demon had wanted her to fulfill her end of Hans Decker's bargain. And he would have preferred knowing exactly what he was getting into.
Peter sighed. It was a bit late for that, now wasn't it? At least the guys would probably be able to deal with the demon, as long as Ray finished that spell.
"I knew it. I knew you were here," an evil, whispering voice said from the shadows to Peter's left. "That human may have broken the blood bond, but I can still recognize the smell of Decker blood."
The supine Ghostbuster turned his head carefully and slowly raised himself to his elbows just in time to see Trevaire solidify out of the shadows along the far wall and step toward him menacingly. "Color me impressed," Peter said sarcastically, letting his features fall into a familiar smirk. "I'm just surprised you can smell anything beyond yourself. Haven't you ever heard of bathing?"
"Keep talking, human. You just insure that your death will be slow and painful, as long as I can make it linger. And do not doubt I have had much practice at such things."
Peter could feel the sneer amidst all the shadows of the demon's face. Not that he was intending to let that slow him down in the least. The guys had to be tracking this thing, and he had to buy them the time they needed to find him. "Then by this time you just might be ready for Carnegie Hall. But don't hold your breath - I've heard the people in charge there are looking for real talent, not wanna-bes that get themselves caught in a bargain they can't get out of. Or would this be closer to the truth? 'Pride goeth before a fall.'"
Peter pressed on as the demon's rage grew, the glowing violet eyes getting brighter and brighter. "Why couldn't you just walk away, Trevaire? Why couldn't you just say, 'This is more trouble than it's worth. I think I'll go home for a while then try again with someone more gullible'? Why, Trevaire? You know what I think? I think it's because you jumped the gun. You made the blood bond before you knew how strongly Hans Decker would resist you. And when he wouldn't just give in at the loss of his family, or buy your argument that you hadn't violated your agreement, you cursed him, thinking that would be the last straw.
"But it wasn't." Peter's mind was working at a mile a minute, the answers suddenly clear as a bell to his mind's eye. He kept spewing them out, not just to give the guys their time, but to rub salt in the wound that had obviously been festering inside the demon for the last two centuries. No one threatened his family and got away with it, whether he realized these people were his family before now or not. "No, that wasn't all Hans Decker could take. It only strengthened his resolve. And when he found his miracle and loved again, he did something you never expected him to do - he told his family what he had done so many years before. He shared the truth so it would protect his son, and it worked. That must have cheesed your cracker. Here you are, hoping you could play off the next generation's ignorance and get the soul you needed to break free from your too-quick-on-the-draw bondage, and Hans goes against human nature and airs his dirty laundry to the people he cares most about.
"Don't you get it?" the lounging man asked insistently as the demon loomed larger and larger in his vision. "Hans learned his lesson - love is the most valuable thing a man could ever get in a lifetime. But that's a foreign concept to you, isn't it? The ability to sacrifice everything to save a loved one, to hold on no matter what terrors you may have to face so someone else you care about doesn't have to... Those are the things that will bring you down, you just wait and see." A grin brightened Peter's features. "Because I learned that lesson, too, and any second now you're going to see the result of that."
In any good movie, that would have been the cavalry's cue to make their grand entrance, horns blaring and flags flying. In fact, that's sort of what Peter was hoping for. But this was real life, the psychologist noted with an internal sigh, and the guys really needed to work on their timing. He didn't back down from the tight grin and cold stare he was sharing with Trevaire during the pregnant pause that followed his blustery conclusion, however, no matter how much panic was beginning to build behind the darkened green orbs.
The purple eyes flashed. "You and your foolish hopes, human. Or should I say... Peter." The only response was a brief twitch of the brown eyebrows. "Yes, I know all the names of the Decker line. But that's not what we're here to discuss, now is it?" The shadows were now a mere fraction of an inch from its victim's face, and the hands crept forward with dark intent. "We're here to discuss how much I am going to enjoy draining every ounce of life from your body and soul, and how after your corpse lies before me, limp and broken, I will delight in drinking every last drop of blood within it." With that, Trevaire reached out and took hold of Peter's upper arms, gripping tightly.
At the contact, Peter gasped sharply and his eyes flew wide open. On top of the throbbing headache and bruises he already suffered from, whatever the demon was doing to him was increasing the pain a thousandfold. He found he had to clench his jaw shut to keep from screaming, and tears unwillingly spilled down his colorless cheeks. It wasn't long before the strength left his body, having been weakened by his fall and tumble down the ravine. He couldn't cry out now even if he had wanted to. His head grew dizzy, the world spinning around him like he was stuck on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the carnival he had traveled with those few summers long ago. Only the pain kept him awake and his eyes open to any degree.
And then it stopped suddenly. The lids drooped over the dulled emerald greens, and Peter knew Trevaire had fulfilled the first part of his promise. Inwardly he flinched in trepidation at what he knew was coming next - the draining of his soul. Guys, now would be a really great time to improve that timing problem of yours! he thought desperately, almost too weary to do that.
After what felt like an hour later, but in reality was closer to thirty seconds, a more intense pain than Peter had ever felt before coursed through the center of his being. He could feel his very essence trickling away, and he fought tooth and nail to keep it from happening. "No," he breathed, ever the fighter. "No."
The violet of its eyes brightened. "Yes, Peter, yes. You are mine now, and nothing anyone can do will change that. You speak of love, of sacrifices selfless enough to be written in song and story, yet where is that for you now? Where are these people you love so that you would do this for them? Could it be they do not return this emotion you treasure so? That must be true, for, as I see it, you are completely and utterly alone." Evil laughter echoed off the stone walls surrounding them, and Peter barely cringed at the sound, his eyes finally falling shut in his misery.
"No, Peter!" an angel's voice cried from above. "No! We're here! We made it! You're not alone! You have to remember, you're never alone!"
The green eyes popped open again, a near-impossible surge of energy filling him at the sound of Ray's voice. They came, they finally found him! He'd held on long enough. He'd get on their case about that timing issue later.
"Don't worry, Peter," Egon's cool bass said pragmatically, although the brown-haired psychologist could hear the tension-tempered relief behind the calm tone. "We'll find a way down to you as soon as we can."
"I think I've got something! Hang on, Pete! We're coming!" Winston shouted, obviously beginning to lead the others along a downward sloping path.
"Hold on, Peter. You have to hold on, son," Charlie called out shakily as his voice suggested he continued to move. Peter was a bit startled. He'd never heard his father sound quite that scared before.
"Damn right you do, Peter," Felicia finished, last in line if the way the echoes came to him were any indication. "I owe you a huge apology, and I intend to have you around to hear it." If Peter would have had the strength to do more than blink, he would have chuckled at that.
But there were more pressing issues to be dealt with. Trevaire pressed its face against the man's. "You will not live to see them reach the bottom, Peter. This I swear," it hissed, the suction on Peter's soul starting anew, with the agony that accompanied it. A light moan escaped the dry, parched lips, going unnoticed amidst the more pressing trials his being was experiencing.
Still Peter struggled against the pull the demon was exerting on his very existence. And seemingly as a reward for good behavior, a flash of insight came to him. He wasn't alone. He was never alone. And with that thought came the distinct impression of multitudes of people standing behind him, waiting...
"The entire line of Hans Decker stands behind you." Gerritt's quote from the diary came across Peter's pain-filled mind with crystal clarity, letting him step back from the agony, if only a fraction, though the struggle continued. But that minute distancing was enough. Peter knew what he had to do, and he was determined to do it, to save his friends and family from all the ways Trevaire would hurt them if the thing succeeded in winning here. The curse and the binding were no longer in effect, he could feel it, and that meant that all bets were off.
The grin that formed on the man's face was wicked. "I need you," he whispered, not having the strength to say it any louder. But he knew he didn't need to. "To defeat this thing I need you. Why don't we finally get around to trashing this waste of space like I think we've all wanted to for a very long time? I'm asking as a descendant of Hans Decker, and together we can make this guy toast."
"No, no, no, no, no," Trevaire murmured, drawing back ever so slightly in shock as it recognized the power in the air as the energy coalesced as a bright aura around what should have been its victim, its vengeance. "No! Stay back! No!" The light seemed to burn its hands, and it stumbled away, finally having received a dose of the pain it had inflicted on others over the centuries.
Considering what he had already gone through that day, Peter shouldn't have been able to move much less stand and fight. But as the light that surrounded him filled him as well, he found himself sitting up, rising to his feet, his weight shifted to his left in deference to his ankle. He shouldn't need to do more than stand, however, not if everything worked. "You know, Trevaire, you really picked the wrong family to mess with," the psychologist said with a smirk. He extended his arms out in front of himself, palms out, and a beam of energy shot out and slammed the demon against the far wall of the ravine, a silent exultation ringing through his mind.
Trevaire recovered its balance and shook off the lingering effects. "If that's all you can do, I most certainly did not pick the wrong family." A wave of darkness washed over Peter from the demon's own outstretched hands, breaking around the nimbus of light that surrounded him.
"Well, well, well. Looks like the mighty Trevaire is shooting blanks today," Peter taunted, not letting the feeling of pain and weakness that had washed over him with that wave of dark energy show to his opponent, knowing it would have been worse without the briefly flickering nimbus that surrounded him. He hastily braced himself for the immediate backlash attack that was thrown his way, meeting it with a beam of his own that held it at bay. He didn't even want to think what that would feel like if it hit him.
It didn't take long for Peter to see that he wouldn't be able to keep the standoff going, not and be able to deliver the killing blow, whispers murmuring all around and through him confirming the theory. His eyes shut briefly in resignation, trying to brace himself without giving it away to his enemy, and suddenly shut down his beam. The psychologist prepared himself, shifting slightly so as not to take a direct hit, hoping that would keep the damage down to a minimum, but was still overwhelmed when the tidal wave of dark energy washed over him. For all his preparation, the brown-haired man still slammed into the stone wall behind him, the shock jarring all his aches and pains that the light had managed to keep away until then. In particular, his head and ankle flared back to life, and Peter knew he couldn't get back to his feet.
"Peter!" Ray Stantz's voice was close, and filled with panicked worry. Hurried footsteps rushed toward the supine man.
"No, Ray," Peter tried to call out from his enforced seat against the wall as he turned his head to face the incoming Ghostbuster. "Stay back. Trevaire's fighting dirty." He watched as his redheaded friend dodged a rapid series of short dark blasts, finally hiding behind a large boulder close to his ultimate destination.
"Peter," Ray called out from behind the rock. "Are you okay?"
"Do I look okay?" The psychologist sighed, knowing he wasn't done yet. "No, Tex, I'm not okay, but I have to finish this. Just stay clear so you don't get hurt." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Where are the others?"
The occultist blushed slightly after flinching from a blast that hit his hiding place squarely. "I ran ahead of them when I heard you two exchanging energy blasts. They didn't want to distract you."
"Good call. But what do you think you're going to be able to do here, Ray? I have to be the one to take this turkey down."
The younger man grinned. "Maybe so, Peter, but that doesn't mean I can't help you do it. Take my pack. It's been configured to be compatible with the energy you've picked up. Egon finally got the meter working again, so I based the adjustments off his readings." The light brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "Are you really surrounded by all the spirits of your Decker ancestors, Peter? Is that where you got this aura of energy?"
Peter couldn't help but laugh slightly, grimacing as Trevaire found a new angle to fire at Ray from. The stocky man shifted his position to compensate without losing sight of Peter. "What do you think, Ray? You read that message from Gerritt, too. But I can't take your pack. That would leave you without a weapon, and in case you hadn't noticed, there's a demon out there." He frowned at the thought of Trevaire doing anything to any of his friends.
A calm, confident smile transformed Ray's features. "But, Peter, if you beat him, there won't be a demon to deal with. I won't need a weapon. Besides, I left your pack by the others. I'll get back to them and fix it, and then I won't be defenseless. And I'll have Winston and Egon to protect me while I do it. But I don't think they'll need to, because I know you'll do the job just fine without us."
A returning smile was the involuntary response. "Tex, I don't do anything without you guys, even when you're not there. And you're right. I'm bringing this guy down. Slide me the pack. I think I know what to do."
Motion out of the corner of Peter's eye caught his attention as Ray managed to wiggle out of his pack amidst shifts and maneuvering to avoid the increasingly frustrated blasts from Trevaire. Egon stood at the edge of the wall Peter was now leaning against, obviously being held back by the black man behind him. The dizziness from his head injury kept him from seeing the physicist's expression clearly, but he didn't have to. He knew his best friend was worried beyond compare for both his friends that were in the line of fire, just as Peter would have been if the situation was reversed. He gave the two men who watched him warily a small nod, and the tenseness in their postures lightened slightly.
The sound of a proton pack sliding along gravel brought Peter's attention back to the here and now, and he looked down to find Ray's pack within arm's reach, the man who had delivered it giving him a grin and a thumbs up. Peter grinned in return and reached for the accelerator, gasping with the effort it took to bring it close enough to even consider putting it to use. A piercing howl filled the air, the repeating echoes from the surrounding ravine amplifying the sound to an almost painful degree. It was painful for Peter, who managed to ignore it and pull the thrower and power the pack up. "Now we'll see who's been backing the wrong horse," he muttered through gritted teeth, waiting for Trevaire to come back into range from the height it had ascended to during its exclamation of ultimate frustration.
Ray saw Peter prepare himself and took the murmured comment as his cue to get back to the others. He'd done what he could; he'd only be a distraction now. And a target. The occultist gave his friend one more grin of encouragement and took off for the base of the tiny path he and the others had managed to find that had led them to the ravine floor. He saw Egon and Winston watching him, hurrying him with their eyes as he found himself dodging even more projectiles from the infuriated demon.
He had almost made it when one last blast came a little too close for comfort. It was the largest explosion yet, and the concussive blast sent him flying into the two waiting Ghostbusters. The three of them sprawled out on the ground, Ray unmoving.
"Ray, no!" Peter cried, horror-stricken. Then his voice turned cold and nasty. "Okay, eat proton, bunky, delivered in the unique Venkman style - straight up your..."
"Peter!" Egon exclaimed reproachfully, leaving Ray to Winston and Felicia's ministrations.
The psychologist grinned as he fired, hitting Trevaire square in the center of his chest. "Just seeing if you were paying attention, Spengs," he called back over the resulting roar of pain. "How's Ray?"
"He's gonna be fine, Pete," Winston answered. "I think he just got shaken up by the blast. He should be coming around any time now."
"Wonderful," Peter replied, letting his grin turn as cold and nasty as his voice had been before. "So let's put this puppy to bed."
Egon watched, fascinated, as Peter showed his usual skill in capturing troublesome entities, every blast of the pack eliciting a bellow of ever-increasing agony. The stream was brighter than it normally was, suggesting Peter had managed to combine both the beam and the energy he had been using before, but the blond man couldn't see any evidence of how. The thrower wasn't glowing as he'd expected it to, and even Peter was no longer surrounded by the white aura he had been sporting prior to now. And then everything clicked, and Egon gasped.
"What? What is it?" Charlie asked, having been able to stay back no longer while the other two continued to work on Ray. "Is something wrong with Peter?"
Egon mutely shook his head. "No, it's not that," he said finally. "Peter needed the boost of power from a proton pack, which is why Raymond modified his and rushed it out to him. But both energy sources still needed to be combined to be effective. I expected him to join them at the tip of the thrower, where the stream leaves the proton pack. It seems the most obvious place to do so. But he hasn't. Right now he's at least doubled the output of the pack by integrating the external energy source directly with the nuclear accelerator powering it. And it's working." The pale blue eyes were wide behind the red-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was beginning to twitch in a proud smile.
The older man looked confused. "What are you talking about? What do you mean? What did Peter do?"
"He's channeling the PK energy the Decker ghosts are lending him into the power source of the pack," Ray translated weakly, his eyes finally fluttering open. "Actually, that's the most effective way Peter could have done it." He grinned, his injury draining enough of his energy to keep it from being its usual blinding self. "I knew he could do it."
With Ray up and running - and sitting up thanks to Winston's help - the five witnesses watched as Peter held Trevaire in the air with his stream, his lips forming inaudible words. The enhanced beam seemed to be extremely damaging to the snared demon, smoke starting to rise from its suddenly solid and blackening hide, augmenting the terrible screams that echoed through the canyon with an almost unbearable stench of burning flesh. It appeared it was almost over.
But not yet. Trevaire certainly wasn't going down without a fight. In the space of a heartbeat, the creature fought against the force of the beam that kept it imprisoned, slowly moving inch by painful inch toward the accursed man who wielded the weapon of its destruction. Peter, for his part, merely continued doing what he was doing, his expression like stone and the words continuing to fall from his lips. Finally, finally, Trevaire had nearly reached his target, and Peter the end of whatever he was reciting. As the claws reached out for his face, the brown-haired man's oddly-choral voice rose to an echoing shout. "Demon Trevaire, be gone! I banish you in the name of the line of Hans Decker! Be gone, and never trouble this realm again!" There was a flash of light as the banishment was completed, and the demon seemingly exploded.
The wave of energy from the blast took down the five-person audience as they covered their eyes to protect them from the blinding light. As soon as it had cleared they all scrambled back up to witness the aftereffects of the battle. But there was nothing to see, not yet. Apparently the explosion kicked up a huge dirt cloud, and the fivesome would have to wait to visually check on their friend and family member.
"Peter!" Ray called desperately. "Peter, can you hear me? Are you all right?"
"Come on, answer us, Pete!" Winston coughed as he breathed in a bit too much dust.
Felicia stared out into the settling silt, her brown eyes wide and her fists clenched. "Egon, he was so close to that thing. Will he be all right?"
The blond physicist looked down at the trembling woman beside him, struggling to keep himself under control. "I can't be certain, Felicia. But he had better be if he knows what's good for him." He was rewarded with a tiny smile.
Charlie found he couldn't say a word. He merely stood there blindly watching the air clear and the kicked-up earth coat the ground with a thin layer of soil. Had he lost his son? He couldn't, he just couldn't...
Finally, the dust cleared enough for the anxious people to see the crumpled form of Peter Venkman lying unconscious against the ravine wall, his body slumping over the proton pack to his left. There was a collective gasp, and they all rushed over to him. "The readings say he's alive, right, Egon?" Ray asked as they reached their fallen friend.
"Yes, although there's still an abnormal overlay. It's identical to the aura that surrounded him during his battle with Trevaire, so I theorize that his ancestors haven't left yet."
"I don't care about that," Charlie snapped, throwing himself to his knees beside his son. "I want Peter taken care of. I don't want to lose him. I can't..."
Felicia took a deep breath and turned to the three standing men. "Is there any way we can get him into the truck? I can get us to the nearest hospital pretty quickly once we get out of these hills."
Winston nodded as he swiftly examined the unconscious man. "We saw Pete moving after he slammed into the rock, so I don't think we're looking at a spinal injury. That, and I don't think we can afford to wait to go get help. Ray, help me with him, will you? We should get moving."
The group of them couldn't have moved any faster if they'd tried, succeeding in getting Peter to Felicia's truck in short order. Fortunately, there was a supply of thick horse blankets in the bed of the vehicle able to be used to make a temporary bed for the injured Peter and keep him warm in the process. Winston and Egon insisted on riding with him on their way to the hospital, and they did what they could to keep the journey as steady as possible, while Ray and Charlie watched with worried expressions through the rear window of the cab.