Chapter Thirteen:

Joey watched his lover turn and race down the stairs, that nut chasing right after him with her sword. Joey wanted to run after him, but his own nut was still waving that spike-ball on chain. He turned and raced down the hallway towards the third floor stairs. Mr. Johnston pounded right after him, a crash telling him he'd swung the spike-ball and missed.

Joey made it to the third floor, looking around desperately. Where to go? The only way back downstairs was the way he had come. As Mr. Johnston came up after him, Joey turned and ducked into Oscar's study-room bedroom. Inside was three walls of books, a leather armchair with matching footstool, side table with ancient-looking lamp, great mahogany desk empty of everything but a single, leatherbound book, the desk's matching wood chair, and nothing else. Nothing to help him.

Mr. Johnston lunged into the room, still wild-eyed. Joey held up his hands, backing away, keenly aware he was trapped. "Come on, man. Get ahold of yourself! I got taken over, too. Fight it! Don't let some--"

Mr. Johnston swung the spike-ball. Joey ducked by dropping to the ground like he had in the hallway. The ball swung over his head, and continued on around. Joey winced as a blast of frigid air rocked through the room, seeming to catch the ball, shoving it forward past where it should have stopped when Mr. Johnston braced the handle, pushing the ball up so that it slammed into Mr. Johnston's shoulder and neck. Blood sprayed out, splattering over Joey, who cried out in horror.

Mr. Johnston staggered back, then fell over onto his back, kicking his legs and flailing one arm like he was having a seizure. The ball had crushed his collarbone, ripped open his neck. He was dying even as Joey watched, still belly-down, frozen in dismay. The ghosts had just killed someone while he watched.

The man finally stopped thrashing. A pool of blood was widening around the body and Joey scrambled to his feet as it crept towards his hand. Shuddering, Joey stared down at the corpse, but couldn't bring himself to touch him. There was no helping him anyway. He'd bled out in mere seconds.

Joey felt horrible. Mr. Johnston had just been murdered while he watched. Nevermind he'd been inches from death himself, and nevermind he couldn't have possibly helped him against what had happened to him, he felt guilty for still being alive.

Which might not be for much longer. Joey saw the movement just before the bookcase nearest to him started to fall over. He lunged forward, leaping over Mr. Johston's body and scrambling for the doorway. The bookcase crashed into the floor and Joey shuddered in revulsion as he heard the sickening crunch as Mr. Johnston's body was crushed. The bookcases were eight-foot structures of heavy, solid oak, laden with dozens of volumes. Joey wouldn't surprised if the whole had weighed several hundred pounds.

He raced through the doorway, pelting for the stairs that would lead down to the lower floors. Forget seeing what was in the attic, forget everything about this place. He would help Yami and Seto smash down the whole house if they needed to to get Yugi, then they were out of here, the next available flight to Japan.

The second floor hallway was deserted. Distraught, Joey looked around, almost as if he expected himself to find Yami or Kaiba standing in the shadows, where they couldn't possibly be. The hallway had no one in it.

Oh, gods, what had happened? Joey flew down the hallway, to the door where Yugi had disappeared through. It was still closed, still unlocked but refusing to open. Joey pounded on it for a second, but when he got no response, he headed for the stairs to lead to the ground floor. Yami must still be down there, and maybe with Kaiba.

Joey's heart nearly stopped as the thought crossed his mind that Kaiba had been possessed and maybe had even hurt Yami. He plunged down so fast he nearly fell. He made it to the ground floor, then looked around wildly. Did he dare call out? If he did, what would happen? Yami might be attempting to hide, and if he reacted to Joey's call, might lead Kaiba or a ghost right to himself.

Joey stifled his urge to yell at the top of his lungs and headed for the dining room. Nothing. He tried the conversancy next, and took his time, peering behind the furniture, now calling very softly for Yami. There was no answer and no one in the room. He hadn't been in here before now, and saw that it was furnished like a new ager's haven. Potted plants of various types, crystals hanging from several surfaces, two ornate mirrors, a fountain that was turned off, and furniture whose upholstery was patterned in reds, golds, and violets.

He spotted a phone sitting on a side table, alongside a soft-ball-sized paperweight that looked like a crystal ball on a stand and a lamp. He reached out and grabbed the receiver. Calling 911 would be a good thing right now. The dial tone buzzed in his ear and he reached for the buttons. Just as his finger touched the '9', another blast of cold air filled the room. Joey stopped moving, looking around, his eyes resting on the mirror above him.

The glass was slowly frosting. Joey now realized he could see his breath as puffs of air. His body broke out in goosebumps and he shivered, eyes still on the mirror.

It suddenly exploded, shards flying everywhere. Joey screamed, but only one shard struck him. The others flew all around him, but the only cut he got was across the back of the hand he was using to hold the receiver to his ear. He dropped it automatically as the pain lanced up his arm. It hit the floor without shattering, but before he could pick it up and try again, the paperweight's stand suddenly tipped over and the crystal ball rolled across the table. It hit the phone with eerie accuracy, and the phone was out.

Joey clutched his bleeding hand to himself. The mirror had not exploded to kill, it had made him drop the phone so that it could be destroyed. Though he was immensely happy, why didn't the ghost just kill him? It had had no problem with killing Mr. Johnston, or the Narendras.

'Wait a minute,' Joey thought to himself. He couldn't believe he was standing in one place thinking rather than running around doing something, but he focused on it, the thought suddenly in his head. 'That bookcase sure tried to fall on me.'

That had to be right. There was no reason for the case to have fallen on Johnston, he was already dead. The mirror had not cut him to ribbons, but he'd been possessed and forced to try to murder Yami. Yugi was trapped upstairs, and though Kaiba had so far escaped any injury, where was he now?

Was it just possible...there was more than one ghost affecting things? Was one trying to kill them and another trying to save them? If that was so, then why had the mirror busted without hurting him only to take out the phone, keeping them here without help coming?

"Kaiba, you'd be impressed if you could see me now," Joey muttered to himself, turning his head without really looking for anything, trying to sort through his new thoughts.

Could there possibly be more than two ghosts? There could be dozens here, but what, one was trying to save them, one was trying to kill them, and another was just breaking things for the hell of it? There was something else going on here, not just the ghosts. How did all of this begin in the first place, with the first death--

"The children," Joey whispered. "This has to have started with them."

It was hard to believe that children, even those who had died sad, brutal deaths, could return only to slaughter innocent people to work out their frustrations, but that was what horror movies were made of.

He had to move. He had to find Yami right now.

*Joey....Joey....*

Joey nearly jumped a foot as a voice whispered his name. He looked around wildly, searching for the source. It seemed to be coming from the French doors leading out to the backyard. He hesitated, then sneaked across the floor as he heard it again, even softer this time. Nerves jangling, he crept towards the door, hoping that the doors were suddenly going to explode inward and stab him the way the mirror had failed to do.

Nothing happened, except that the door opened by itself very slowly. Joey stopped right there. What, was he supposed to follow meekly after a ghost? That was what how the dumb one in the movie got killed.

But he wasn't Joey Wheeler if he didn't have balls. Sighing, he slid through the doors, wincing in anticipation of something happening. It didn't, and he found himself outside in the backyard. The back of the house, minus the two back doors, was lined with thick hedges and crawling with ivy. A small flower garden sat off to the side and on the other side of the house was a small vegetable garden. There were plenty of places to hide and Joey wondered why he'd been drawn out here? If there was a helping ghost, was it telling him the murderer was out here?

The door behind him shut with the softest of clicks. Joey whirled around, just in time to see a light coming into the room. On instinct, he ducked into the hedges at the side of the house, though he wondered why he'd thought of that first. Maybe it was one of his friends.

It wasn't. Joey stared through lowest-set pane of glass in the doors, watching the person enter the room, staring to make sure he knew he was seeing what he was seeing. The person glanced around a couple of times, a kerosene lamp held in hand rather than a flashlight, then turned and left.

Joey stayed crouching there for a second. He suddenly shivered uncontrollably as a soft brush of icy wind slid through his hair, like a caress. He turned his head, searching for the source, and stared at the ghost standing beside where he squatted, her hand stroking his hair, a gentle smile on her face. She was not a person he'd ever seen before, but he was sure he knew who she was.

"Angelien...Did you lure me out here to keep me from being caught?"

Her smile widened and she nodded. Joey glanced into the room again, then slowly stood. From this angle, only someone directly at the door would be able to see him. Anglien now looked up at him; she was several inches shorter than he, with brown hair tied back into a ponytail that reached to her waist, dressed in a lacy white nightgown with a high collar. Most likely the gown she'd worn when she'd been raped and strangled.

And yet she had just saved his ass. She, for all the horror she'd suffered in her final moments, was not a vengeful poltergeist. They'd had it all wrong.

"I have to find my friends," Joey said. "They have to know what's going on. Anglien, do you know where they are?"

She nodded, gesturing towards the house, then raising her arm up in a swoop to point at the second floor. Joey was for a second confused as he'd just come from there, but then realized they must have somehow taken opposite paths just seconds different from each other. Was that why the person hadn't lingered to see what had been the cause for the destruction in the conservancy?

Because that person was even now stalking Yami, Kaiba, and perhaps Yugi?

"Anglien, let me in," Joey whispered as he tried the handle without success.

She shook her head, then made a gesture as to go around the house. Why? To save him from running into the murderer? Reluctantly, Joey decided to trust her and allowed her to lead him around towards the front doors. Anglien opened it, though it should have been locked, without effort or sound. Joey hurried inside, heart pounding, but he couldn't call out, for the same reason as before. He could more hurt than help. He just had to be quick.

It was a race against time.