Yes, a reasonably fast update this time. Don't expect it in the future.
There aren't a lot of "Danny Phantom" characters in this chapter, though there should be more in the next one. You'll manage to get a few hints and clues about what is going on with this one, but not everything is getting revealed just yet. But I do have this planned out pretty well already. So sit back and enjoy.
In the event that the deceased is hostile to the living inhabitants within the haunting perimeters, certain actions may be taken to prevent excessive harm. Physical objects of importance or significant meaning from their previous life can be used to affect the hostile deceased. Depending on the severity and level of aggression, meaningful physical objects can be used in conjuncture with proper incantations to summon the deceased in a more observable manner, bind their actions or abilities to varying degrees, banish the deceased from the haunting perimeters either temporarily or permanently, or to exorcise the deceased.
The final option should only be used after all other alternatives have been exhausted, relocation is unavailable, and peaceful cohabitation is no longer possible. Instructions for exorcism are not provided in this book and should be sought elsewhere, such as "Handbook for the Recently Deceased." The other options will be covered in greater detail in the next chapter.
Physical objects of importance or meaning to the deceased can also serve as a connection between the realm of the living and the Netherworld. Specific objects can also be used to extend a haunting perimeter.
The ability to use physical objects of importance or significant meaning to affect the deceased may vary from individual to individual and object to object. Ghosts who originally manifest in the zone rather than the realm of the living or the Netherworld often are less affected than those who have more standard haunting parameters.
-Excerpt from "The Living and the Dead"
Eyes glaring at the sidewalk as she walked, Lydia fought the urge to deviate from her path. She didn't want to return to her aunt's house. She didn't want to go anywhere near that woman and her husband (her lackey). She wanted nothing more than to hitchhike all the way back to Winter River, march through the front door of her home, and let Barbara and Adam hug her tight and say everything would be all right.
She wanted to do it. The house on the hill was still there; Dad and Delia's wills ensured the property was under her name and they even set up a fund to pay any taxes and such until she was older. Delia's sculptures had taken a huge surge in popularity after her "inspiration" struck and started selling like crazy (and even more so after her death). And her dad always made plenty of money with real estate development before he was forced to seek out a more relaxing life. There was definitely a reasonable inheritance and the last two years living with ghosts encouraged the pair to take proactive steps in preparation of death. The only thing that her parents couldn't do was list the Maitlands as the girl's legal guardians after their accident. Apparently listing ghosts as the caregivers for their daughter in case the worst should happen wouldn't exactly be legal or believable.
Lydia knew her home, and the ghostly occupants, remained safe and secure. She desperately wanted to go home… to her godparent ghosts. She wanted it so badly that it hurt. It would be so simple…
But she couldn't do it. Even if she ignored the fact she'd be labeled as a runaway and dragged back to Aunt Melinda by the cops almost instantly, Lydia couldn't risk it. She couldn't risk them. She'd already lost her mom, dad, and step-mom. She nearly lost Barbara and Adam due to Otho's idiotic accidentally exorcism stunt. And then there was what Aunt Melinda was able to do to him… Lydia couldn't risk angering her aunt in case it convinced the woman to go after her ghost godparents. She had to stay. And she hated it.
Still, there was something about the town that might make staying less painful, even if it made her wonder about her aunt's motivations a little. The entire town was haunted. After a strange, green-skinned, crazy, aggressive, lunch lady ghost attacked the school, she found out it was actually a fairly regular occurrence. Everyone talked about it, even to the unusual and creepy new girl.
They were strange ghosts, far more powerful than most she'd encountered and missing clear evidence of their cause of death. And everyone could see them. Lydia remembered reading about ghosts like that, ghosts who dwelled in the zone between the land of the living and the Netherworld, but she couldn't look up any more information since "The Handbook for the Recently Deceased" was back in Connecticut and "The Living and the Dead" was currently in Aunt Melinda's possession. Regardless, there were ghosts and that was a nice distraction from everything she'd lost.
There was also a mystery. When the green-skinned ghost woman attacked and everyone ran away in fear, someone fought back. It was another ghost, a boy with white hair and the ability to fire destructive blasts of light. The other students knew him, chatting about him excitedly to one another. They called him "Danny Phantom." They said he showed up to save people from ghost attacks like a superhero. He even flew around in a black-and-white jumpsuit. All that was missing was a cape.
The odd thing was, even though she didn't get a close look while he was fighting the aggressive ghost lunch lady, he was familiar. Lydia was certain, without even a shadow of a doubt, that she recognized him. What really surprised her was that no one else apparently noticed. A change of clothes, his hair color, and eye color shouldn't be enough to disguise him. The only explanation she could think of was the fact "the living ignore the strange and unusual," even in a town that suffered from regular ghost attacks. Somehow Sam's friend, Danny, was a ghost who could convince the entire population he was normal and completely alive.
Lydia definitely knew she'd have to investigate further. Did Sam know? She seemed like she would be strange and unusual enough to notice too. Did that boy, Tucker, know? Did his parents know he was a ghost? Were they ghosts too? Were there other ghosts in the town who were pretending to still be alive? She knew Barbara and Adam would do it if more people could see them. What was his haunting range or was he more free-roaming? Was he more like a regular ghost, other than the blasts of energy, or was he more similar to the ghosts that dwelled in that zone between life and the afterlife?
…Could he help her?
The girl abruptly stopped walking, surprised by that stray thought. Then she shoved it aside. No, not a chance. She needed to keep Danny Phantom, or whatever his name was, away from Aunt Melinda. She couldn't risk it. He had enough trouble playing hero to the entire population of Amity Park without getting involved in her personal problems. Besides, she didn't want to see what would happen to him if her aunt got involved.
She almost didn't recognize the house before she passed it. The brick-and-mortar structure didn't have the familiarity and charm of her home in Winter River, but she knew it could have been worse. She could have ended up in a trailer or a house painted an obnoxious shade of fluorescent pink. Reluctantly, Lydia dug out her key and opened the door.
The front hall was still filled with boxes, waiting to be unpacked. She wasn't even sure what was in half of them, the labels reading "Important" without actually describing the contents. The girl did know that they weren't her belongings and that she wanted nothing to do with anything her aunt considered to be important.
"Lydia, is that you?" a voice called from the living room.
"No," she muttered under her breath.
Aunt Melinda's poked her head out. Her hair was as dark as Lydia's, just like how she remembered her mother's hair. The woman wore her hair in a neat bun like she was an old-fashion teacher from a few decades ago. She was a lean woman with only a few minimal curves to her figure. There were a few crow's feet around the corners of her eyes, but she still appeared reasonably young regardless. And while Lydia would prefer to drape herself in dark shades with the occasion small touch of color, her aunt was wearing a white business suit. And as usual, the girl found her eyes drawn to the bright red lipstick on the woman's face and the green stone she wore around her neck.
Lydia hated the woman. She hated her like she'd never hated anyone before.
"How was your first day of school, darling? Did you have fun?"
"What do you care?" she said darkly, heading towards the stairs.
In the sweet and nurturing voice that set the girl's teeth on edge, Aunt Melinda said, "There's no reason to be that way. I know you're upset about what happened to Charles and Delia, but I'm here. And so is Roger." She gestured back towards the kitchen where her husband was undoubtedly lurking. "We're here for you, darling. And I just want you to remember that everything I do, I do for your own good."
She couldn't help it. Even with her intentions of not wanting to spark her aunt's anger, Lydia couldn't keep silent. She turned on the stairs and glared down at the woman venomously.
"Reading my journal was for my own good? Taking me away from Barbara and Adam, my family, was for my own good?"
"I'm your family," the woman interrupted. "Me and your Uncle Roger. And if you ever get to meet him, your Uncle Freddy is family. Those things weren't your family."
"They aren't things. They are part of my family. They care about me," she said. "And what about what you did to me and… and him? Was that for my own good too? How could you? How could you do something like that so anyone, let alone your niece?"
"He was a monster," said Aunt Melinda, some of the sweet and nurturing tone slipping from her voice. "All of them are, but he was worse than most. You just couldn't see it."
"Trust me, I've seen him at his worst."
"He enthralled you, tricked you. That's what they do. You can't trust them. What I did, I did to protect you and everyone from a heartless monster who would have turned on you like rabid dog at the first opportunity. People keep making the same mistakes, thinking that they're harmless pets. That they're actual people. That they're amusing ways to entertain the masses, like a carnival show or an amusement park attraction. They aren't. They're treacherous, dangerous, and they don't belong here."
The two of them stared off, neither of them willing to back down yet. They were too stubborn for that.
"I know it can be difficult to understand at your age, especially since your parents didn't know better than to let you get attached. That's why we chose to be lenient on the things. Honestly, it would have better if we went ahead and finished at least him off, but I didn't want to make you watch that until you were more accepting of the truth. And I needed to test exactly how effective it was of something with a little more power. Binding is more challenging than a straightforward exorcism," said the woman, glancing down briefly. "You'll understand someday, darling. I promise. You'll see that this was for your own good."
"I can see why Mom never wanted anything to do with the rest of her family," Lydia remarked dryly.
Not waiting to give the woman the opportunity to respond to her final comment, the girl hurried the rest of the way up the stairs and ran into the room she'd claimed for herself. It was still a dull beige color and filled with boxes, but it at least had a bed that Lydia threw herself on. After a moment, she remembered to get back up and lock the door. The woman probably had a key or something, but the girl wasn't quite ready to start shoving furniture against it yet.
She remained in silence for a little while, her emotions a turbulent storm that she attempted to control. She wasn't going to scream. She wasn't going to cry. And she wasn't going to throw herself off a bridge. She wouldn't give her aunt the pleasure of those sorts of reactions. Instead, she was going to do something practical. She would do her homework.
Lydia pulled out her notebook and opened it. On the first several pages were frantic and desperate scribbles, random letters tossed out in every order she could devise. She'd tried to find the right combination to spark her memory. She wasn't even certain how many letters it was or if she'd even recognize it if she saw it. But that didn't stop her from trying over the course of the numerous sheets of paper. It just didn't work.
She could remember him, what he said or did at various points of the last two years, and all sorts of details about the poltergeist. She just couldn't remember his name.
And it was all Aunt Melinda's fault. She sent him away and she stole his name. How it worked, Lydia wasn't certain, but all memory of the name was gone. Even the memory of him playing charades to teach her his name originally was missing. Not even the privacy of her mind was safe from the woman and her actions.
Frustrated tears began to burn in her eyes against her will, but Lydia blinked them away. Sparing a glance towards the door, the girl reached into her backpack and pulled out something familiar and comforting.
The cloak-like poncho was a warm shade of red with a spider web pattern woven in. She wasn't certain what the fabric actually was or where it came from, but she didn't care. It was a project from a few months ago, a whim that she followed through with. She thought that a cloak might be more interesting than a plain and ordinary jacket, even if she couldn't wear it with her old school uniform.
Delia, enthusiastic about the idea of adding a little color in her wardrobe, helped research the sewing pattern. Barbara helped with the hem and other simpler sections, sewing being one of the skills she wasn't particular experienced with and she didn't want to risk ruining the more complicated sections. And he provided the fabric, without her asking or even considering the idea that he might want to get involved in the project. He just left it, draped across her sketches while he muttered something about the red wedding dress looking good on her, that some broad left it at his place, and she might as well do something with it since he certainly didn't want it. Lydia just accepted it as a minor peace offering and didn't believe his cover story for even a second.
She rubbed the fabric between her fingers, wishing with all her heart that any of them were with her. She wished that Dad and Delia were still alive. Or at least that they'd returned as ghosts. But some people didn't. They didn't end up in the Netherworld, the land of the living, nor the zone in between. They just… went on to whatever lay beyond. And that was what happened to her dad and step-mom.
She remembered that Barbara and Adam offered right after the accident to go talk to Juno, to see if they could find out what happened to them. Lydia remembered panicking in that moment, not wanting to be left alone. Time was strange and difficult to predict in the Netherworld and they could be waiting for weeks or months searching for information. She'd grabbed onto their cold, semi-insubstantial hands and begged them not to go. Then he appeared in the mirror, offering to poke around instead and see if he could track them down. There was a seriousness to his voice at that moment, similar to that brief instant where Lydia told him she planned to kill herself so she could be with the Maitlands. He risked getting in further trouble with Juno and everyone just to find out if her parents were ghosts and she wouldn't have to be alone in the meantime.
She remembered him returning a few hours later (he was better at navigating the shifting speeds of time), shaking his head and carrying a crumbled file he found. It listed Charles Deetz and Delia Deetz, originally Delia Robinson, as "passed on" rather than ghosts.
She remembered all of that and yet she couldn't remember a simple name. And it was all her aunt's fault. She might not have killed her family, but everything else that was wrong was because of that woman.
Lydia ran her fingers back and forth over the poncho, the one that so many helped to create. She was alone for the moment, but she wasn't completely powerless. She'd wait. She'd listen. She'd watch her aunt and her husband for any information she could use against them. She'd learn the strange secrets of Amity Park. She would find allies and friends who could help. She wasn't helpless. She'd figure out a way to fix things. After all, she managed to understand the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased" and deal with high school girls on a daily basis. Aunt Melinda had no idea what she was facing.
Getting into the zone between the life and the afterlife was a little tricky, but it was possible. Getting anywhere specific or even getting out could be even harder. It was meant to be that way, after all. What was the point of a buffer if it was too easy to get through? A dark, ectoplasm-filled place that twisted back on itself… yeah, navigation was a joke. Portals floated in the void, but no one could predict where to find them, where they would lead, when they would lead to, or even how long they would last. Most of the portals just opened to another point in the Ghost Zone, ensuring that it was even easier to go around in circles. There was a reason he never bothered with the place much before this point. It was a continuously changing labyrinth filled with annoying ghosts who obsessed over random things. Definitely not a place worth visiting.
But he didn't have many options to reach the land of the living. Well, he could go skulking around the Maitlands' model town and hope they let him out. It was actually mildly impressive that the two managed to put enough power and focus into the thing to accidentally connect it to the Netherworld, but originally he'd just cared that it provided the perfect location to coax others into saying his name. The couple practically created a town version of a voodoo doll, if only they knew how to manipulate their power just a little (a lot) better.
But the problems with using the model and the Maitlands to get out were two simple ones. First, they still held a grudge and a huge amount of suspicion towards him. Second, they were ghosts too and they would only be able to release him within their haunting perimeters (which was yet another rule that he wasn't particularly fond of). Being stuck in that house in Conneticut wouldn't help much, so he was left with traveling through the Ghost Zone instead.
The bad thing about going through the Ghost Zone was the inhabitants. The ectoplasm-based ghosts were usually annoying, aggressive, and crazy. Unfortunately, they also had a few less redeeming qualities too. They tended to have stronger, albeit limited, powers than most standard ghosts. And while he might claim himself to be the Ghost With The Most and could even be worthy of that title most of the time, he could reluctantly admit that some of the ectoplasm ghosts might give him a challenge in the power department. Or might even stand a chance of beating him in a straight-forward fair fight. Of course, he rarely fought fair. Still, he would try to avoid that time guy and maybe the freak who went around calling himself "King" Pariah, just in case.
Most of them, however, knew better than to get in his way. His (well-earned and highly-impressive) reputation and obvious anger were enough to scare most of them off. The green-and-red-eyed masses fled from him in droves. None of them wanted to test the Ghost With The Most. None of them wanted a conflict they couldn't be certain to win.
That didn't stop him from snagging a couple of weaker ghosts and interrogating them. Mostly they were useless and couldn't give him any answers to what he needed to know, but at least a couple of them had a few crumbs of relevant information. They mentioned a stable, reliable, permanent portal to the land of the living. It opened into the basement of a couple of ghost hunters, a breed he was familiar with. Those ghosts who couldn't handle a haunting on their own and needed the expert advice of a bio-exorcist often turned out to be facing ghosts hunters. They were more dangerous in the past, but the more modern ones tended to be too scientifically-minded to bother non-ectoplasm ghosts like him. So he wasn't worried. He concluded that it was his best option to find her and he chased off his involuntary informants with a few snakes.
He was never one to worry or over-think things, so he purposefully ignored the possible flaw in his plan. He didn't use portals. He was summoned and banished with his name. He ignored that fact because he didn't want to consider the idea that it wouldn't work. Just because some of his past plans didn't work (ranging from various pickup lines to switching the numbers at the waiting room to his ill-conceived and spontaneous wedding attempt) did not mean this would end in disaster. It would work. He would get her back.
With a proper destination in mind, even if he wasn't completely certain which way through the Ghost Zone he would have to go to reach it, he smirked to himself and straightened his striped suit. He could make it work. This would be a snap.
Gossip spreads between ghosts almost as quickly as it did between teenage girls. Those in the Netherworld were realizing that the Ghost With The Most was on the move and probably dangerously ticked off. They alternated between annoyance with his actions, fear of what he was planning, and relief that the poltergeist wasn't after them. And those in the Ghost Zone were noticing his rampaging charge through the place. Most of those ghosts were terrified to catch his attention and preferred to flee to safety. Some were caught and escaped with further information about what he sought, adding fuel to the fire. The rumors, gossip, and stories were enough to ensure that most ghosts were giving him a wide berth.
But at least one, a ghost rather similar to him by the name of Sanduleak, heard the news of the infamous Ghost With The Most searching relentlessly for his missing Mortal Bride and reacted with something beyond fear. He lurked in a dark corner of the Netherworld, a grim smile on his face.
He'd been waiting for a long time. It wasn't easy to find the perfect revenge against the poltergeist; his power was too strong and adaptable to risk a direct confrontation. Not to mention the fact the poltergeist trapped him in an old well for a century after Sanduleak called his haunting skills "second-rate" and tried to overshadow him. As many were happy to repeat, he did not work well with others. And he especially didn't work well with those who tried to upstage him or interfered in his work.
But now he had the perfect opportunity. The Ghost With The Most wanted his missing Mortal Bride, so preventing him from finding her would be the wisest move. Sanduleak knew the stories. The poltergeist couldn't escape permanently without her. No wonder he was so angry and unrelenting. Finding a living female who would even speak to him, let alone agree to marriage, had to be difficult. While Sanduleak wasn't certain why the poltergeist didn't already wed the girl, it didn't really matter. Misplacing his Mortal Bride would put him in a bit of a bind in regards to escaping the Netherworld for good.
And losing her permanently would delay him for decades or even centuries…
Granted, those in power tended to frown on the actions Sanduleak was considering at the moment, but they also hated dealing with that poltergeist and his chaos. They might even look the other way if the result was keeping him out of the living world for a little longer.
Of course, he would have to find her before the Ghost With The Most managed it. He'd have to poke around and see what he could learn about her whereabouts. But it would be worth it if he managed to even slightly inconvenience the smug, annoying poltergeist.
So not only do the characters have to deal with Lydia's maternal aunt and whatever she's busy with, but now another ghost is planning to take advantage of the situation for a little revenge. But I promise that the next chapter will have some more "Danny Phantom" characters. It will also be a longer wait (I already had most of this one finished when I posted the first chapter). So I apologize about that. Still, feedback is always appreciated and can help motivate writers sometimes.