I'm starting to get a lot more reviews for this story that I did before. I deeply appreciate the feedback/theories/questions. I rather enjoy hearing what people think. Hopefully all of you will continue to enjoy this story as it continues. After all, I have plans for these characters…
I know that this isn't the longest chapter ever, but I'm still pretty happy with it. Maybe you'll be happy with it too.
Mirrors and reflective surfaces do not operate in the same manner for the living and the deceased. The deceased will not be able to view their own reflections in the surface, though they can cause the living to see their presence through the use of reflections. This is possible even for the living that will not see the deceased under normal circumstances, providing a useful skill for haunting. To achieve this effect, the mirrored surface must be illuminated only by a single candle, uncolored and unscented for best results. The presence of electric or natural light will not work.
High-power and experienced deceased may use such surfaces to observe events in the realm of the living while present in the Netherworld or other locations. Similarly, certain deceased can use mirrors to communicate and be viewed by the living over greater range without the use of candles or their presence in the room to be reflected. Further instructions on the use of mirrors during a haunting will be discussed in the chapter covering more advanced techniques.
-Excerpt from "Handbook for the Recently Deceased"
Almost the instant that he flew back through his bedroom window, giving up the evening's task of finding Lydia as a failure, Danny's cell phone rang. He recognized the number as Sam's, which made him equally worried that she didn't find Lydia and hopeful that she did.
Shifting back to his human form, the teenager answered desperately, "Please tell me you found her."
"Yes, I found Lydia," she said. "I went to her house and we talked. I explained to her about you properly, making sure she understands. She won't tell anyone."
He felt himself relaxing at her words, breathing a sigh of relief. Danny trusted Sam's judgment. If she said Lydia would keep quiet, then the secret was safe.
"Sorry I wasn't more help," he apologized. "Poindexter was at the school. He was actually very helpful. I finally got some answers about what's going on."
"That's great," said Sam, the excitement in her voice clear through the speaker. "What did he tell you?"
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Danny said, "A lot. I'll go over the information in more detail when we see Tucker tomorrow, but he told me about ghosts from a place called the Netherworld and how they aren't made of ectoplasm. He also told me about the ghost that freaked out the Box Ghost. The Ghost With the Most. Apparently he can be summoned using his name, which is why no one wants to tell me what it is. And the 'Mortal Bride' is a woman, not a ghost, who he is supposed to marry to get more power or something." Running a hand through his hair tiredly, he added, "Poindexter even agreed to keep an eye out for him and to listen for any useful rumors."
"That is one freaky coincidence," she remarked. "Lydia mentioned the Netherworld too. And the ghosts there are different from the ones we deal with. Her previous house, the one in Connecticut, was haunted by a dead couple. They weren't from the Ghost Zone. She was really close to them. She knows all about the Netherworld and the kind of ghosts who come from there. That's why she wasn't scared of the attack at the school and how she was able to figure out your secret. And why she got so mad at your parents. Lydia deals with ghosts on a regular basis, just not our type of ghosts. And she agreed to share what she knows about them as well as keep your ghost half a secret."
"That's awesome," he said, smiling slightly. "Things are finally going our way. Between what she knows and what Poindexter told me, we might have enough information to stay on top of the situation and deal with the Ghost With the Most. For the first time, we might actually have all our problems under control before we get attacked."
"Yeah, all of our problems are under control," she said.
Something in her tone made Danny frown. There was something off about her voice. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though. It was just enough to spark his concern.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"No, there's nothing wrong. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed. Between the stress caused by Lydia figuring everything out, listening to her rant against your parents, trying to track her down, and learning about the ghost stuff she deals with, it has been a long day. Not to mention making small talk with her aunt."
Hearing the wince in her voice, he asked, "That bad?"
"Worse than you can guess. She seems to adore cute nicknames and couldn't be any more sickeningly sweet if she was coated in pure sugar. I suggest avoiding Lydia's aunt like the plague."
"I'll take your word for it, Sam." Hoping that the encounter with the woman was the explanation for her previous tone, Danny continued, "I'll give Tucker a call to let him know the Lydia situation is under control and share the basics. We can meet up before school to cover the rest."
"Perfect. I'll talk to you then," said Sam.
"Bye."
With that, Danny hung up the phone and let himself fall back the rest of the way on his bed. He'd call Tucker in a minute. He just wanted to stay perfectly still for a moment. He just wanted to relax and enjoy the sensation of having a little control of the situation. Things were going their way for once. They were making progress on the problem. It was just so nice. He didn't want to move.
But a moment later he was forced to sit back up with a groan. He'd just remembered something important. He couldn't rest yet. He had to finish his homework.
He'd found the portal. After scouring the combination of shadows and green glow for an annoyingly long time, he managed to get through the expansive zone and found the famous stable portal. Honestly, it wasn't as impressive as he expected. As far as he could tell, it was simply a swirling vortex surrounded by the usual floating land chunks and assorted doors. There wasn't even a sign or an arrow pointing towards the thing.
He knew it led to the home of a couple of ghost hunters, but the poltergeist knew he could handle it. What in the world they were doing with a portal in their home, he didn't have a clue. The living could be idiots sometimes. If they didn't want the Ghost With the Most showing up and sending them running for the hills in terror, then they shouldn't live on top of a portal.
A smirk crept across his face at the same moment a centipede did. After several centuries of their annoying rules and limitations trying to stop him, he finally found the perfect loophole for his worst restriction. No summoning. No need to say the name three times. All he had to do was step through. It was so simple. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy that fact while crunching the unfortunate centipede between his teeth.
"One small step for poltergeists," he remarked. "One giant leap for the Ghost With the Most."
Head held high and with all the confidence that someone with his levels of power deserved, he stepped through the portal. One second he was in the ectoplasm-filled zone and the next he was in a dimly-lit, weird-junk-filled basement. He grinned victoriously as he glanced around the room, the only source of light being the green glow from the portal.
But that brief moment of success crumbled as a rarely experienced, yet still very identifiable, sensation hit him with all the force of a speeding sandworm. It sent him stumbling and biting back a colorful and loud outburst that would have definitely brought the resident ghost hunters running. Pain. Sharp, intense pain. Just because ghosts in general and powerful poltergeist specifically were difficult to actually hurt didn't mean they were invulnerable. And he was definitely having problems. It felt like he was being ripped apart, dissolving, and crumbling to pieces at the same time. His entire body was losing integrity, breaking down into nothing.
Gritting his teeth, he focused all his power of the task of keeping his body in one piece. It wasn't much different in theory than twisting himself into a snake or turning his arms into huge hammers, but it was taking far more power than normal. It also didn't stop hurting. While he didn't know for sure what was causing it, he had a pretty good guess. He could keep himself from falling apart for a while, but it took far too much energy and focus to keep it up for long. There was no way he could maintain it long enough to track down his girl.
Muttering and snarling under his non-required breath, the poltergeist reluctantly stumbled his way back through the portal. The instant he crossed back over, the sharp and destructive pain faded to a dull ache. That confirmed his suspicions and only worsened his mood.
His loophole wasn't quite a loophole after all. Rule 1 was still Rule 1. No matter what he tried to do, he couldn't get out without someone saying his name. He just couldn't get around that simple fact. Even going through a portal obviously wasn't going to work. It would just lead to him getting gradually destroyed in the attempt.
He found a floating chunk of land a short distance away. The poltergeist claimed a perch on it and ended up slumping limply. He may have been dead for centuries, but there were still a few fragmented memories of life flapping around the dark corners of his mind like demented bats. The exhaustion and ache that extended down to his semi-insubstantial bones vaguely reminded him of what would happen after extreme amounts of overworking past his body's limits. Trying to cheat on his main limitation clearly had unpleasant consequences. Consequences that he really didn't want to repeat.
He couldn't use the portal to get out. He couldn't get to her. And she couldn't call him. For the moment, there was nothing he could do about it.
As frustrated and furious as he felt by the discovery, the poltergeist forced himself to think rationally. He needed to be patient. He was over six hundred years old; waiting a few days to find another method out wasn't too bad. He could keep an eye out for some brainless loser he could trick, study the best ways to handle them, and find a method to get them to say the magic word. Or he could find a gathering of superstitious astronomers and manipulate them into figuring out his name. It wasn't the end of the world. Given a little time, he'd come up with Plan B. He was the Ghost With the Most, after all.
"I heard there was a ghost of unique skill and power traveling through the Ghost Zone," a voice remarked from behind him. "Even if at least half the stories are certainly exaggerated, you could be rather entertaining to hunt."
Turning this head around far enough for the sounds of cracking neck bones to be audible and to cause most people to start cringing (watching "The Exorcist" so many times had some benefits and presentation was always important), he spotted the source of the interruption. As he expected, it was one of the ectoplasm-based ghosts. Tall, metallic, and covered in spikes and the color black, the ghost looked reasonably tough. His face was skull-like and his hair seemed to consist of green flames. The ghost also seemed to be aiming some type of built-in blaster at the poltergeist.
It was exactly the sort of distraction from the disappointing night that he needed. Besides, the slightly-reflective metal gave him an idea.
The poltergeist turned the rest of the way around, taking care to ensure that his body twisted the opposite direction so that his head completed the 360 degree turn to make a point. He climbed to his feet as a malicious grin spread across his face. Even if his unpleasant trip through the portal left him in less than perfect condition, he was still capable of handling the ghost. Besides, he couldn't let anyone spot any sort of weakness. He had a reputation to maintain.
"I don't believe I caught your name," remarked the poltergeist with all the friendliness of a hungry shark. "There's no reason to ignore good manners."
The ghost seemed to blanch momentarily, but quickly recovered from the reaction with a step forward. The metallic figure even struck a confident pose while aiming the built-in arm weapon.
"I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter," he boomed.
The poltergeist couldn't help chuckling at the boast. He was certainly not above a little bragging. It tended to help seal a deal. But he could also back up his claims. Something about the ectoplasm ghost suggested he couldn't quite match his belief in his hunting prowess.
"Good for you, tin man. But here's the thing. I've had a rather disappointing night and the last several days have been even worse," he said in a condescending tone. "Now the way I see it, you have two options. You could actually believe those rumors of who exactly you're dealing with and leave without any trouble. Though you will have to give me a chunk of that shiny, reflective arsenal you're carrying because I need it. Or you can continue your little macho trip and I'll have to turn up the juice and see just what shakes loose. And I'll still get that reflective chunk of metal I need, but I'll get to deal with some of my anger issues first in a healthy and constructive way. So, you can probably guess which route I'm hoping for." He cracked his knuckles. "What's it going to be, Mr. Hunter?"
There was some hesitation. Apparently the sales pitch made it through the ego and confidence enough to make Skulker think. But it wasn't enough to convince him, though. The ghost's expression shifted into one of pure determination.
"If I do not surrender to the challenge of facing the Whelp, then I will not back down to someone who probably does not come close to what the rumors claim," announced Skulker. "Your head will look nice mounted on the wall."
Not knowing or caring who in the world or Ghost Zone the "Whelp" might be, the poltergeist grinned predatorily at the ghost. He'd been hoping the metal specter would pick the hard way. Even with the aftermath of his attempted trip through the portal, he couldn't resist the temptation. It was far more fun and a great stress relief method.
"I will admit," he said slowly, sliding his hands into his pockets, "not all those rumors are true. But enough of them are." He gave the ghost's weapon a sharp look. "It seems you have a bit of pest problem."
With the smallest flicker of power, he watched the other ghost's weapon erupt with insects. Beetles, centipedes, and other creepy-crawlies flooded out of the barrel and down the length. By that point, Skulker was flailing wildly at the infestation in surprise and disgust. The poltergeist merely smirked as he decided to move past the parlor games.
Of all the things that someone might expect to encounter in the Ghost Zone, regardless of how unusual and strange a place it might be, a terrified Skulker racing away certainly caused some notice. Pieces of metal were missing from his armor, his right arm was missing, and the most frightened expression possible was plastered across his face. Whatever he was fleeing from must be truly horrifying.
"I really need to find somewhere to hide for a while," muttered the Box Ghost, watching the hunter ghost.
Brushing off his striped sleeves, he felt the familiar satisfaction of a job well done. Whenever he chose to do something and really wanted it, he made sure it was done right. It didn't matter if that meant being the best free-lance bio-exorcist and haunting whoever he was hired to or simply sending the pathetic "Ghost Zone's greatest hunter" running. He took pride in proving he could do anything he wanted. Finding the motivation to work hard on a project sometimes wasn't worth the effort, but it could still be fun. And lately he'd been finding plenty to motivate him.
The satisfaction was slightly diminished as the poltergeist rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly. The ache and tiredness from his trip through the portal weren't completely gone, but he could ignore it. Honestly, the entire thing was annoying. He was out for less than minute. The fact he caused that much damage to himself in such a short span of time was not fair. It was just yet another reason why he hated rules. Trying to break his biggest limitation nearly tore him apart. Granted, he wasn't exactly sure what would have happened if it continued. He could have ended up in the Lost Souls Room, oblivion, whatever awaited those who moved on, or even freaking Wisconsin for all he knew, but he doubted it would be pleasant whatever the result. The portal was essentially useless to him.
But at least he had the start of Plan B. Or at least the start of a method to learn more about what was happening on the other side. So, the start of a start of Plan B.
The poltergeist looked over the chunks of metal he'd managed to snag off the ghost hunter. After a little searching, he found a piece that was particularly shiny and reflective. Even if it was only about the size of a postcard, it would serve his purpose nicely.
There weren't many reflective surfaces in the Netherworld. For the most part, there wasn't any point. The inhabitants didn't have reflections. They didn't just have much use for mirrors.
At least, not the traditional use for mirrors. With enough power and control, they could serve as a connection to the other side. Not a door. More like a window. It wasn't exactly an easy or common trick. But it could certainly be useful for studying chumps for future schemes, talking to her when he was in the Netherworld, and general reconnaissance.
There were limitations, however. In order to find someone or something through the mirrors, it was necessary to know what you were looking for. Random spying didn't work. Familiarity with the target was an essential component for the process, providing a direction to aim for. Another important aspect was that the target needed to be in view of another reflective surface. That was problematic back in the days when mirrors were rare and expensive and metal usually wasn't as shiny, but now a reflective surface could almost always be found.
Of course, that annoying, evil, clever woman made sure he couldn't see her through the mirrors and vice versa. The evil witch didn't want to risk him reaching the girl, reminding her of the right words to say. That woman wanted to keep him at bay. But if there was one thing the poltergeist knew how to do, it was exploit a loophole.
He focused his power on the reflective piece of metal, his mental image of her providing the direction for his search. The poltergeist knew it wouldn't work right; he could feel the resistance from that woman's binding. He knew that no matter what he tried to do, she wouldn't appear. No matter how much control or finesse he might have, it was doomed to failure. But with a little brute force…
An image began to form, wavering and weak. He stared and focused harder, pouring more power into it. It was a bedroom, the space dark and filled with cardboard boxes shoved against the door. From the angle, there was a mirror attached to a dresser and that was where he was spying from. There was a rumpled blanket and partially-squashed pillow on the bed, but he couldn't see anyone in the room.
That didn't, however, mean it was empty. The woman made it so he couldn't see the girl through the mirrors, but that didn't mean he could see everything around her. She was in the room, probably sleeping in the bed. She was simply invisible from his perspective. But that was all right. Even if he couldn't actually see her directly, he could keep an eye on her. It was better than nothing.
"Don't worry, Babes," he muttered. "I'll figure out another way to get to you. That ugly broad won't win."
He let the image fade away. He could check up on her again in a few hours when she woke up and started going places. He would get the chance to see more of her surroundings, get the lay of the land, catch glimpses of other people who might be gullible enough to use, and other useful info.
Until then, he could rest and recover his strength. Stupid portal. Stupid rules.
And he could imagine potential ways to torment that vile woman who interfered with him and his girl. Because that heartless witch wasn't going to get away with it. Not a chance. Just because his girl was related to that woman didn't mean he would pull any punches.
So his initial plan to get to Lydia didn't exactly work out. Of course, he should have known it wouldn't be that simple.
I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep up the relatively fast updates. I guarantee that it'll slow down eventually. I apologize that there will be long waits at some point. It happens. Honestly, I'm surprised I managed to get this much done as quickly as I have.
But the next chapter should be mostly flashbacks, which means you'll find out some more useful information about what's going on and how it all led up to the current situation. It won't answer all questions, but it should answer some.
Remember, reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I love feedback.