16
They were startled by the sounds of gunshots very close by. Someone yelled and then they heard a rather disturbing, "Gurk!"
"There," said Winston, rushing toward the open door the ghoulish girl had emerged from. Ray followed suit while Egon moved slowly, waving his PKE meter around, and Peter stood his ground, uncertain where his focus ought to lay. The moment Egon had crossed the threshold and he realized he was alone with the mouthpiece of the nightmare that had taken over the town, he turned and hurried after him.
They had entered some kind of shop from the rear. Tall, cheaply made metal shelves were filled with boxes, jars, and bottles of bulk items. More boxes were lined against the narrow corridor. There appeared to be quite a bit of Sharpie graffiti on the walls amidst random splashes and psychedelic designs done in black-light paint. The place had a peculiar odor like burnt sugar, mildew, and freshly cut wood. From there they followed another corridor past a small bathroom featuring filthy fixtures and another room housing a plain card table and two mismatched chairs. A fringed square of fabric didn't quite serve as a sufficient tablecloth, and in the middle of it stood a candle within a cone of dribbled wax that cemented the bottle it coated to the fabric beneath. Past that the space opened up into an area that looked like it had been taken from a children's book…about nightmares. Ceiling and walls depicted a rainbow-hued twilight that filtered down between painted and perhaps actual papier-mâché twisted tree limbs that disgorged oversized eyes and pained-looking faces here and there. Mismatched living room furniture was set between shelves and displays featuring oddball merchandise like the shop owner didn't know whether he wanted to attract an earthy New Age crowd or heavily pierced, tattooed, studded, drug-experimenting death metal enthusiasts. In the center of the ceiling was a full moon that, upon closer inspection, contained a pentacle decorated within and without with nonsensical symbols. The floor beneath it held a much larger version of the same design, this one surrounded by the signatures of former and present coven members.
"Is this legit?" Venkman asked, trying not to step on anything specific lest it trigger additional weirdness.
Ray stood, mouth agape, staring up toward a corner. Egon's PKE meter went kaput and he accidentally collided with Ray. Winston had sunk to one knee so he could better look up at Amanda and attempt to gently persuade her to allow an upside-down police officer to resume his preferred upright posture.
"She's a witch!" the cop insisted. I saw lights in here and I told her to drop the weapon and when she didn't I fired at her!"
"Weapon?" Winston asked.
The cop pointed to a stick on the floor near the girl's feet.
"You consider a stick a deadly weapon?"
"Well the lighting is bad, she didn't drop it when I asked her to…and I think it's a wand."
Zeddemore reached past her to pick it up. "Yup. Made in China." He sighed. "I promise he won't hurt you. He's a good guy like the rest of us. You just startled him, is all."
She tilted her head and twisted her mouth to the side before exhaling softly and nodding. As she stepped away as if to browse the wares, the man sank slowly down the wall to the floor. His drooping comb-over touched the floor and he bent his neck so that he slid down onto his back, his legs dropping comically over his body until he grunted uncomfortably and rolled into an awkward crouch. He lifted a finger to point at her. "She's the cause of all this!"
"She's with us," said Ray, shaking his head as he approached her. "What made you come in here?"
She said nothing, didn't even indicate she had heard him, but wandered over to a door that opened for her and strolled into a much larger room with black-painted walls and glow-in-the-dark stars and glitter scattered across them and the ceiling.
"This is where they meet," he murmured.
"Who, Ray?" Venkman asked, trailing them a few steps behind.
"This is some parody of an occult shop. A number of which rent space to local covens."
"Then there are witches here?"
"No, Peter. Not likely. This kind of place attracts wannabes and occult-culture freaks more so than actual students or practitioners of various types of magicks."
"Then who are they?"
Ray looked where he pointed. Amanda stood looking down at a collection of still figures in mostly black clothing looking like bad horror film extras thirty years too late. "Well," he breathed, nearing to bend before one, "I wouldn't assume they're witches."
"Are they…breathing?"
"None of them. I'm guessing the Namer already harvested them as a supply of mouthpieces."
"Namor? Where have I heard that before?"
"What?"
Realizing his mistake, Pete shrugged. "Never mind."
At that moment a huge black bird made itself known by flying suddenly across the room, out of one wall of night and off through another.
The guys looked at each other.
"Nevermore," the teenaged girl said softly, stepping lightly over sprawled legs and performing a twirl.
They quickly hustled her out of the room, meeting the others just outside the door. Asked Egon, "Find anything?"
Stantz turned toward the police officer. "There's a line of bodies in there, probably locals."
"A line of bodies? What do you mean?"
Reluctantly, Ray lead him back within.
"Is she a witch, Egon?" Winston asked, staring at Amanda. She had picked up a chunk of bismuth and seemed fascinated by the play of light across it.
"Too powerful."
"Can we use her?" Peter asked.
"The problem is…we don't exactly know how."
Amanda set the mineral specimen down and wandered toward a semi-circle of ratty-looking chairs that smelled like smoke. She lifted items from a small table set between two of them, and eventually made her way over to the glass display case that glittered with piercing jewelry. She bent as if considering a piece despite the fact the case was unlit and reached swiftly past the glass to seize something and drag it forward.
The creature squealed, but revealed itself finally as a frightened child trying to remain more or less in spherical form. He trembled and his face glistened with snot and tears.
"What the?" Winston began, uncertain of what he'd just seen. He moved forward until he could touch the boy's hair. The child was very real. Squatting, he asked, "What's your name?"
"Tyler."
"Hi, Tyler. My name is Winston."
"You're a Ghostbuster."
"Yeah. What are you doing here?"
"I was," he began, straightening a little as he pointed to the solid and intact display case, "I was….I was behind that."
"Yeah. We saw that. So, why are you hiding here?"
"I came here with my momma. Have you seen her?"
He hoped it wasn't the deceased thing they'd been conversing with outside. "There's a policeman here. Would you like to go with him? See if he can help you find your mom?"
The boy turned as though just noticing that something held his wrist. His eyes traveled up his arm and halted at the sight of the strangely pale hand, and then he turned to look back at the display case. He leaned a little Winston's way and whispered, "I saw her…and the cop just shot her…but she didn't fall down…."
"He missed," the Ghostbuster said with a reassuring grin.
"But, but…I was back there…."
"I know," Winston said, rising to his feet when he saw Ray again. "Look, we found this little guy and he's looking for his mother."
The police officer reached up to tilt his hat back and realized it was missing. "How d'you come to be here, kid?"
"My momma…she comes here sometimes. Sometimes with the moon. And she goes into that room there. And I stay out here and read books or play games." The kid, perhaps nine, gazed about the place. "I don't like the way it smells."
"Can you take him?" Winston asked, taking hold of the hand Amanda held and walking the boy toward the cop.
"Uh, well," he said, looking back toward the room he'd just left. "I…sure. This is the most normal thing I've dealt with all night. But…I'll have to take her with me, too."
Peter grinned broadly. "Try."
The man looked at him, then toward the distracted teen again. "You, uh…you said she's with you guys?"
Ray said, "That's right."
"And, uh…I should be able to track her down again…through you…whenever…when this night is…somehow over?" He swallowed.
"Most likely," Spengler supplied, reholstering his dead psychokinetic energy meter.
"Hey," interjected Pete with suspicion. "How do we know he's not part of this?"
They all watched the child who stared back at them fearfully.
Amanda sighed and neared the boy to sweep an arm through his body like he was only a hologram. "Not this," she said as if it explained everything, walking past them and through a closed glass door.