Anathema's Abode

Chapter 20

Waiting Game

Dawn broke in the city of Amity Park, bringing with it a new era of change.

Despite the early hour of the morning, the city's streets had been packed with civilians the instant the previous night's curfew was abated, gossip rife without reservations or discretion amongst the braver citizens of Amity regarding what had truly come to pass the previous night. The Empire-wide public message regarding the defection of the traitorous former Lord General Phantom had been on broadcast on every channel for six hours straight now, and the humans were beginning to clamour for answers where there were none, resorting to mass speculation and the birth of several scandalous conspiracy theories that had Sam laughing at the mere notion.

Maddie's apprentice navigated her way through the streets of the city, her legs nearly giving way beneath her in utter exhaustion wrought from too many sleepless nights. Normally, the ghost hunter never had a problem grabbing sleep when she could find it- her body had long since accustomed itself to combat unwanted insomnia on the rare occasion that sleep was an available option, since insomnia was a luxury that those of the Brotherhood could not afford if they wished to stay alive, or even worse, if they rendered themselves completely useless to their brethren in such tumultuous times.

But the previous night had been Sam's last night off for the week, and thanks to Phantom, the ghost hunter had gotten little to no sleep. Neither had anyone else in the Brotherhood, for that matter. It wasn't long after the white haired ghost had removed himself from Sam's presence before Pariah Dark's long arm of influence nearly caught up with him, as Phantom's defection was made public and he was branded a perpetrator of attempted high treason.

The breaking of dawn also marked the a sharp decrease in the powers of the enemy until the next evening, and Maddie had instructed for their brethren to gather at headquarters in their entirety the instant they were assured of safety on the streets in the event that they had to protect rioting civilians. Which was where the lavender eyed girl was currently headed, after six hours of hastily organised patrol on her mentor's orders. The last thing the city needed was to break out in mass hysteria. In these chaotic times, the spectral authorities overseeing Amity Park were bound to be far less lenient if the humans residing in Amity overstepped their bounds. Sam grimaced; the situation was probably identical all over the world, if not worse. If humans in other parts of the world had begun haphazard attempts to question their ghostly occupants, it would spell mass carnage.

All in all, the ghost hunter didn't mind working herself bone weary to the ground. It was her duty. And if anything, forcing herself to complete one harried task after another on their leader's orders helped keep her fear and confusion concerning the recent turn of events at bay. Busying her mind with damage control and how to safeguard the ordinary civilians of Amity Park was proving useful in banishing Phantom from her own mind, and the recollection of what had transpired between her and the former Ghost General along with it. Certainly, cleaning up after the mess that the idiot had left behind for her was distraction enough.

Yet once again, it was too late to stop her mind wandering idly- in dismay, Sam bit down hard on her lower lip to distract herself from the scarlet heat rising in her cheeks as she unwontedly relived the memory of their fleeting intimacy. In retrospect, Sam wished that she and the former Ghost General been granted the luxury of time enough for her to summon the courage to ask him what in hell's name last night was, and what it meant for them.

All things aside, the ghost hunter now knew without a doubt that Phantom cared for her. It had been much easier to deny the fact when he had still been enlisted in Pariah's services, when communication between them had been almost impossible, despite Phantom's repeated efforts to contact her through Ember. Her mentor's former partner, too, had presented a more than convincing case that Phantom was truly concerned for her well being. But such knowledge was significantly more difficult to accept coming from another woman's lips.

Despite herself, Sam couldn't help but wonder. Had she not forgotten the immense importance of the object in the palm of her hand the previous night and so thoughtlessly discarded it from her hand in favour of entangling her fingers in Phantom's hair, she wouldn't have spooked both herself and Phantom into leaving off where they had.

The lavender eyed girl was not blind regarding Phantom's intentions that evening, had they not been interrupted. And neither was she blind to her own. Pursing her lips into a thin, trembling line in an attempt to dispel the flush evident on her pale complexion, Sam every inch of her was aware that if she hadn't unwittingly let go of the Ring of Rage and sent it tumbling down to patter harshly against the marble of her balcony floor, she, a member of the Brotherhood in contention to lead the next generation of their brethren, would have given in to her lust for a ghost.

Was she as good as a blood traitor? Sam blanched; at least the blood traitors she had been taught to revile merely served under ghosts- she had nearly allowed a ghost to bed her. Even if the ghost hunter had miraculously managed to think straight for a smattering of an instance long enough to invite him inside, the pair of them had already been too far incapacitated in their haze of desire to have made it even the short distance to the bedroom. Wistfully, despite the sick sensation of guilt numbly worming its way up her gut at her inexcusable behaviour, Sam had yet to decide if dropping the Ring of Rage was in itself a blessing compensating for her appalling judgement, or an opportunity wasted.

Before she could stop herself she had instinctively raised a hand to clutch at the Ring of Rage hidden beneath her clothes, where it lay suspended on a long cord between her breasts, hidden from prying eyes. Not daring to let the Ring of Rage out of her sight for even an instant, the ghost hunter had decided that she would keep the Ring on her at all times for her own peace of mind. She cast a suspicious glance at those around her, unable to believe that they had yet to sense the paranoia and nervousness radiating from her form, wishing that she could summon the willpower to soothe her own nerves. After all, there was no reason for anyone to suspect that she held the Ring of Rage in her possession, even in these times of change.

It was true that change had come to the streets of Amity Park, but whether the changes were for the worse remained to be seen. Word of the Fright Knight's reinstatement as Lord General of the Ghost King's troops spread had been thus far met with surprised speculation. Within twenty four hours of Phantom's stand of defiance against the Pariah Dark, wouldn't be a soul, living or otherwise, in the far reaching corners of the Empire who wouldn't be aware that Pariah's new monster on a leash had been cast out and replaced by his old favourite.

Caricatures of Phantom littered the streets, the paper soggy and the ink running from the abrupt downpour that had afflicted Amity Park earlier that morning, distorting the former Ghost General's features in some cases beyond recognition, blacklisting him a traitorous coward urgently wanted for crimes against the Empire. Despite herself, the ghost hunter stooped to pick up a copy, once again noting the extravagant bounty on the white haired ghost's head, which went on to specify that he was to be captured and brought to Pariah Dark in fit state to be questioned.

Sam quirked an elegant black eyebrow in dark amusement, drawn to the fact that the wanted notice did not deign to specify Phantom's exact crimes against the Empire, let alone the reason that Pariah so desperately required him captured instead of slain. It was to be expected, really. Pariah Dark was not about to embarrass himself by admitting that a fellow Midian had managed to get close enough to successfully land a blow on him, let alone that the King had failed to slay said Midian, who had escaped with the dreaded Ring of Rage, the sigil of his rule and power. The Ghost King could not to afford to allow anything to tarnish his fearsome image, no matter how powerful his adversary.

The Ghost King had always been seen as invincible, infallible, a notion that the ghost hunter herself had also believed until the previous night. While Phantom himself was a supernatural being of unimaginable strength, it brought Sam some measure of comfort from the fact that she could finally dispel the bleak myth of Pariah Dark's indestructibility from her mind. Her logic was bloodcurdlingly simple- if the Empire's ruler could be wounded, then the Empire's ruler could be slain. Phantom's act of defiance would reduce the King's standings in the eyes of the Empire if it was discovered that the great Pariah Dark was nigh untouchable- almost invincible, but not quite. A dubious vulnerability really, but still, the knowledge was more than Sam could ever have hoped for.

Pariah's downplaying of the event that had occurred the previous night drew a second emotion from deep within the ghost hunter's exhausted form, a tiny flutter of timid relief beginning to swell and rise in her chest. While it was more than clear that the Empire's search for Phantom would be cruel and uncompromising, Phantom had yet to anger the Ghost King sufficiently to prompt Pariah Dark to leave the Ghost Zone and hunt him down. Either that, or despite the Ghost King's immense rage, he still did not deem the white haired ghost a large enough threat to merit sacrificing the illusion surrounding his own invincibility when he was certain that the situation would still end on his terms. Lastly, it was also possible that Pariah's delegation of the task of tracking down Phantom to his subordinates could be seen as his blunt refusal to regard Phantom as an equal.

Whatever the Ghost King's real reason, for the first time in her life, Sam found herself desperately thankful for Pariah Dark's crass arrogance. She was just as aware as Phantom was that the instant that the King set foot into the Human Realm instead of assigning the task to his various subordinates, it would all be over. Sam was confident that Phantom would be capable of dealing with other warlords, owing to the fact that the white haired ghost had previously been heralded as the strongest of Pariah's elite by the Ghost King himself. Regardless if such was truly the case or propaganda of Pariah's own design – Sam smirked in satisfaction at how that particular machination had backfired on the Ghost King – Phantom could still buy himself time, perhaps time enough for him to see her again before the situation escalated. Perhaps, then, they could figure out how to destroy the Ring of Rage before Phantom's inevitable destruction.

Despite the despondency of the situation, the ghost hunter could not help but long for the impossible- that Phantom would somehow find it in himself to defeat Pariah Dark and abolish the Empire. She knew that she was allowing her infatuation with Phantom to cloud her judgement, for they were high hopes, impossibly high hopes that she was well aware would never be realised. Furthermore, Phantom had entrusted the Ring of Rage into her safekeeping, putting himself at a severe disadvantage if the white haired ghost was ever to engage the Ghost King in combat.

With a start, Sam was disturbed to realise that her contact with Phantom had decayed her principles to such an extent that for the first time since she had been enlisted into the Brotherhood, she was the one hoping for rescue, and from a ghost no less. As a member of a rebel army fighting to overthrow Amity Park's occupation by the Empire, the very notion was unacceptable.

The ghost hunter had never been the type of girl who harboured foolish fantasies of rescue by a knight in shining armour, and this was not the time to start, just as the Ghost King's patience had been tested to its very verge. Sam suppressed a bitter laugh, recalling the night that Phantom had debuted his standing as Lord General in Amity Park, atop a destrier as dark as sin in all his terrible glory, and the undulated fear he had stricken deep within her at the ominous regality he commanded. No, she decided, Phantom was certainly no white knight.

But as matters currently stood, the ghost hunter knew that she was possibly the only human in the world that had any idea of what had truly transpired the night before, that the former Lord General of the Ghost King's armies had strength enough to best the King, however momentarily, and seize the Ring of Rage. And for the first time since the Empire was wrought, Pariah Dark was incapable of using both artefacts concurrently to severely augment his powers, leaving him with a realistic vulnerability to exploit.

So however unacceptable her desperate faith in Phantom, Sam refused to be sorry for harbouring the precious knowledge deep within her heart that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for them all.

-

London was a lot wetter than Phantom had imagined it to be.

Grunting, the outlawed hybrid crushed the paper cup that had formerly contained some of the worst brewed coffee he had tasted in his lifetime, offhandedly pitching the offensive object into the river several hundred feet below him as he tried to shake the feeling of incompleteness assaulting his senses. More than ever, he hated the severe restrictions imposed on his abilities when he turned human, almost as much as he hated his near defencelessness. But for now, it was a necessary precaution that he would have to endure. His pre-emptive endeavour to buy himself time enough to recover would be for nothing if his ectoplasmic signature was identified by agents of the Empire.

Invisible and roosted on the arching blue and white supports of London's Tower Bridge, the dark haired man's height above the ground gave him ample opportunity to survey the city beneath his feet. Despite the fact that the teeming metropolis beneath him was perhaps ten times the size of Amity, with a far greater population density to match, the Empire's influence on the city of London was still everywhere to be seen. The time differences dictated that he had arrived in Europe just before daybreak, to a bleak and empty city still lifeless from the night curfew instilled upon them by Pariah's ruling.

Just like in Amity Park, the scent of fear permeated the streets, stronger and more persistently than Phantom had ever sensed, with his own actions purely to blame. Now with the Fright Knight back in power, the blue eyed man was unsure as to the fate of the human lands occupied by the Empire's rule. Whether he could bear to admit it to himself or not, Phantom knew that he had approached his enlistment into the Ghost King's services as Lord General of the Empire with ruthless savagery that could challenge even the most malevolent of his predecessor's dark deeds. Whether he had done so out of his own choice or not was at this point, irrelevant. He was too far gone down the path of destruction to hope to ever find succour in redemption. Even if one day he no longer found himself despicable, the outlawed ghost wondered if his conscience would ever be free from the taint of blood.

The humans would want answers, yet Phantom could hardly bring himself to understand why it mattered to them. The political struggles between the power hungry warlords of Pariah's court hardly concerned ordinary civilians- in his experience the results were the same, whatever the name of the monster bringing death and suffering under his rule. He supposed that it was nothing more than simple human foolishness, as though knowing the name of the one responsible for their deaths brought them a small sense of solace, of sorts. Not that he had any right to judge, after all that he had done.

His entire form still hurt, and his body's sluggish attempt to repair itself was sapping his already scant strength. Phantom was fully aware that he had placed himself in an extremely precarious position. The events of the past night had rendered him horribly drained, leaving the ghost in a state of such primal fatigue that transcended merely being limited to his preferred form. The former Ghost General groaned, resting his forehead against the cool white railings of the suspension bridge. He closed his eyes, fumbling in exhaustion as he attempted to locate the fifteen duplicates that he had sent out to plant false trails of his whereabouts all over the world.

He had run into a measure of trouble in Shanghai some hours prior, a minor quandary not helped by the fact that remaining in his human form limited the intricacies of his control over duplicates to such blunt finesse that he had slew the local Night Police forces assailing him before he could attempt to hold back long enough to discover what the Ghost King intended. Not that it mattered, at any rate. The bounty on his head was indication enough that Pariah wanted him captured without delay.

He probably could have sent more duplicates, Phantom considered. But a clever ploy would eventually be revealed to be just that, and nothing more, no matter how complex he deigned to make it. In his present state expending himself any further would leave him pitifully vulnerable.

In addition, he supposed that it was best that the copies which he sent out maintained at least some measure of sentience. His attempts to fool the Empire as to his true whereabouts would fail if splitting himself into too many fragments left each duplicate so weak that it became apparent to even the lowly local Night Police of the area that they were dealing with no more than an attempt to mislead the Ghost King. It was best not to spread himself too thin, especially when Sam had made it more than evident that she wished for him to survive, and return to her.

Sam... The white haired ghost didn't fight to suppress the goofy grin that overtook his features. Sam didn't hate him. And considering that not even twenty four hours ago she had wanted him slain by her own hand, for now, that was enough. Surely, the ghost hunter could no longer doubt that he cared deeply for her. In retrospect, he was thankful that his actions the previous night had not frightened and repulsed her. Phantom had half expected her to push him away the instant that he had captured her lips with his own. And yet, the ghost hunter had needed no encouragement to reciprocate his attentions.

He had been pleasantly surprised by how warm she had been. Ember had always been deathly cold, even as she climaxed. He enclosed a hand over his left wrist, frowning as he detected a weak pulse of life as his arteries distended and recoiled beneath his skin. Even on the rare occasions that he transformed into his human half, he barely noticed such warmth from his own form, whereas the ghost hunter had been pulsing and teeming with a warmth and life that he would never experience.

The ghost supposed he could understand the source of his kin's bloodlust, and the unbridled cruel joy wrought from spilling the blood of a living being, liberating and spattering the red elixir of life from its disgustingly transient confines within human veins. For all their superiority and disdain for the human race, Phantom was well aware that an undercurrent of envy was always present amongst his kin. After all, had they not walked amongst the living once?

For now, Phantom had no choice but to leave Amity Park in Sam's capable hands. He had already averted Pariah Dark's plans of storming the city and forcing the human rebels out like vermin by his act of treason against the King. There was nothing more that the outlawed ghost could do to aid the citizens of Amity Park – due to his actions, the city where both he and Sam had grown up in was safer now than it had ever been.

Now that Phantom had handed Amity a lifeline, he did not doubt that Sam and her superiors at the Brotherhood would not waver in banding together to defend their town. But whether they would be successful in their endeavours still remained to be seen. Whether Sam liked it or not, humans were still physically the weaker species, regardless if she hated him for thinking it.

He did not doubt the Brotherhood's resourcefulness and ingenuity in managing to elude the Empire for nearly a millennium, but war brought with it violence and bloodshed. No amount of inventiveness would ever be capable of fully rivalling his kin's sheer talent for slaughter. That was why members of the Brotherhood trained all their lives to oppose their occupants, whilst battle came so naturally to those of the Empire.

Things had been so much easier before he had met Sam, Phantom decided, his lips quirking into a fond smile despite himself. Without her, his standing in the war would most likely have remained neutral, as opposed to his current less than favourable circumstances, with both sides wanting him dead. Not that he'd ever wish that things had turned out differently. He was glad that he had saved the Brotherhood girl, even if the act had sealed his own demise.

Even so, his current predicament was not entirely Sam's fault. Due to his longstanding rivalry with the Fright Knight, with his predecessor intent on shedding his blood, Phantom had always predicted that this day would come. A clash with the Empire had always been inevitable, right from the start. Even if the dark haired man had never met the ghost hunter, he would never have been able to live with himself if he had chosen to remain in Pariah Dark's services.

For the first time in years, Phantom wondered if there was truly something wrong with him. A being with his levels of strength would typically be ruthless in his own endeavours to advance his power and influence in the Empire under the Ghost King's rule. Was it truly only due to his upbringing under Ember's care that he had developed a conscience, or was his mortally hindering desire to do good an innate part of who he was?

While it was true that his unusual condition would pose a severe handicap against the warlords of the Empire sent to subdue him and bring him back to the King, Phantom now saw that his unusual ability to alternate between the two forms on the rare occasion that he chose to become human was not completely without benefits. The only leverage he could hope to gain against the Empire was their ignorance of his condition.

Doubtlessly the warlords to whom Pariah had assigned the task of capturing him would endeavour to engage him in combat just before the new moon. Now that the Empire falsely believed that he held the Ring of Rage in his possession, and moreover, since he had proven himself capable of holding his own against the Ghost King himself, Phantom doubted that the Pariah would send a single Midian to handle him alone. When his pursuers finally located him, there was no uncertainty in the dark haired man's mind that they would hold the advantage of numbers.

Perhaps it had been for the best that he and Ember had gone their separate ways after all. Phantom's eyebrows furrowed. Each time he thought upon her, the outlawed ghost found himself filled with the most acute, agonising worry. Wherever his best friend currently resided, Phantom could only hope that Ember was faring better than he was, that she and Arion had escaped successfully and were keeping each other safe, that the head start he had given her before confronting the Ghost King had garnered her enough time to escape unscathed.

While refusing to divulge answers, the azure haired ghost had attempted to convince him that her intended location of flight would provide her with far greater protection than Phantom himself would ever be able to manage. Moreover, Ember had refused to handicap him by tagging along and ruining his own chances of escape. They would see each other again shortly, she had promised. It was all only a matter of time.

It seemed like every time Phantom finally thought that he knew everything about his best friend, Ember would turn around and surprise him. The ghost had always thought that the pair of them were isolated from the rest of the world, with no allies on either sides, let alone allies powerful enough to ensure the blue haired pyrokine's safety in such treacherous times. But Phantom had never been one to pry. Similarly, Ember had never been one to give complete answers. Whatever her reasons, all the outlawed ghost could do was trust Ember's judgement in that what she was doing was in their best interests.

Whoever her allies were, Phantom could only hope that Ember would manage to convince them to aid their cause, to help him and his best friend stave off destruction by the far reaching arms of the Empire. Abruptly, it was brought to the former Ghost General's attention that the value he had attached to his own life had drastically increased. Two days ago, before he had abandoned his post as the Ghost King's right hand man and fled the Ghost Zone bearing Pariah's Ring, Phantom wouldn't have cared if he had lived or died, no matter how brutally he was slain.

But now that Sam had made it plain that she wished for him to not only remain alive and well, but to return to her, the fatigued former General finally felt as though he had something to live for, that he wanted survive, for reasons other than the fact that he owed it to Ember to protect his best friend, whom he was eternally indebted to, at all costs. His resolve strengthened as he took to the air, leaving London's Tower Bridge behind him as he landed invisibly on a civilian filled street, silently merging with the crowd.

Digging his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans, Phantom decided that he'd might as well continue his search for a better cup of coffee than settle for that atrocious roadside brew that he had previously managed to find. After all, for now, all he could do was wait for the Ghost King to make the first move.

Author's Notes: Whew. Sorry, I actually meant to have this chapter posted by yesterday, but my brain simply refused to work for me. Thanks to the lovelies who stopped by my DA journal to comment on the snippet that I posted yesterday, and sorry again that I didn't meet the deadline that I said I would!

Un/fortunately for you guys, Anathema's Abode has somehow managed to spring a prequel, mostly made up of additional details and backstories that I never managed to find an appropriate moment to include. The prequel will be updated depending on how much of the original plot I've covered, since quite obviously a lot of its content will lead to you being spoiled rotten if I posted it before Anathema's Abode itself!

As usual, concrit would be lovely! :)

Hugs and kisses,

Twisted