Chapter Two: Restless Spirits

"I may look calm, but in my mind I've killed you three times." - Unknown

When I get home, I try to distract myself with some movie on TV, but I'm too emotionally fried to pay much attention. There are a lot of explosions in it, but that's all I got.

The doorbell rings, breaking my concentration further. Dad, who had been sitting next to me and working on some needlepoint project, gets up to answer it. I think nothing of it until I hear a familiar yet oddly startled, "Jack! You're-you're here."

"And, you're there, Vladdy," Dad quips.

Vlad. With everything going on, I'd forgotten all about him. I leap off the couch and survey the scene, ready to intervene if necessary. But, Vlad Masters doesn't look hostile. He just looks confused.

"Um…" Vlad's face goes pale suddenly. I've never seen him so…flustered. "Is…Maddie around?"

Dad jerks his head back. "She's in the lab. Let me go get her-"

"Oh, no, no. That's fine," Vlad says, the color returning to his face. "I was just in the neighborhood and…was wondering if I could get my container back? The salsa?" He adds when Dad looks confused.

"Ah, that. Sorry, my head's been a little off lately or I would have returned it sooner."

"Oh, that's quite alright." Vlad's snake-in-the-grass smile is back. "Though, I do hope everything is alright with you, old friend."

Yeah, and I'm half-unicorn.

Dad sighs and scratches the back of his head. "Well, not really. We had to admit Jazz to the hospital yesterday."

"Jazz?" Vlad says, confused once more. "As in Jasmine, your daughter? What in the world happened to her?"

Dad tosses his hands at his sides. "I couldn't tell you. One moment, she's scarfing down your salsa, and the next she's bedridden," Dad's voice breaks at the end.

Meanwhile, the gears in my head start to turn.

Vlad is completely thrown off, and that's making him sloppy. "Jasmine ate the salsa? The salsa I gave to you?"

"Sorry, Vlad, but I didn't get a bite of it. But, at least someone in this house enjoyed it. I'll go grab the container."

"I'll keep you company," I say to Vlad as the pieces fall into place and rage coils inside me.

Dad doesn't hear me. When he goes off to find the container - the one my sister had been eating out of, no doubt - I stomp up to Vlad. He's a foot taller and a lot stronger than me, but I haven't been intimidated by him since I first saw him transform. Times have changed.

"Let me guess," I snarl. "The plan was to poison my dad then come here to comfort my mom like the swell guy that you are."

Vlad doesn't spare me a glance, though the faintest grin forms on his mouth. "Why, Daniel Fenton, you know me so well."

"So, you don't deny it."

"I'll admit that your sister was…an unforeseen obstacle," he says with no trace of remorse. "But, no plan is perfect."

I hate him. I've hated him for a long time, but I've never hated him so much until now. "Seriously? You poison my sister in an attempt to poison my father, and that's all you have to say? Do you have a conscience, or is there just a big empty hole up there?"

Vlad doesn't get to respond because Dad returns, clean container in hand. "Here you go, Vlad," Dad says, handing it off to him.

"Thank you, Jack," Vlad says, sounding so very pleasant, like he didn't attempt murder recently. He takes the container and as he turns to leave, adds a sincere-sounding, "And, I do so hope that your daughter recovers. Perhaps I'll check on her in person."

Or, you could jump into an active volcano. That would be a much better idea.

Dad gives him a grateful smile. "She'd like that."

I, too, think that Jazz would enjoy watching Vlad fall into molten lava.

Right when Vlad leaves, I tell Dad that I'm going for a walk. Outside, I scan for Vlad and see that he didn't get far. I run after him and watch him stop on the sidewalk and turn around. He was expecting me.

"If I find out that you went to see Jazz," I growl, "then you'll be the hospital's newest patient."

"Ah, there's that temper of yours." Vlad points to his eyes. "Mind the glow, Daniel. There are witnesses."

And, the people on the street and in their yards are the only things stopping me from tearing their precious mayor in half. Literally.

Vlad goes on, confident that I won't maim him in public. "And, I wouldn't worry too much. Yes, your sister is in a bad way, but unlike your father, she's young and strong. I have no doubt that she'll make it through this."

"You really don't feel guilty, do you?" Not that I'd expected him too. "You poisoned an eighteen-year-old girl, and you don't feel bad in the least? I knew you were a monster, but that's just wrong, man!"

Vlad has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Oh, Daniel. Do you know what your biggest problem is?"

Oh, this ought to be good. "Let's see…" I tap my chin in mock-thought. "Is it my grades? My smart mouth? The fact that I have morals?"

There's that condescending smile of his. "Actually, I was referring to your soft heart."

Excuse me? "Soft heart?"

"You're a sensitive person, Daniel." I start to deny it, but he cuts me off. "It isn't a bad trait, but you tend to let your emotions guide you, and that can be dangerous."

"If the alternative is being like you, then I'd rather have a heart made of marshmallow."

"Despite what you think of me, Daniel, I am not happy that your sister has fallen ill. Though, I must confess," he adds with his usual smirk, "I don't care all that much."

That did it. A primal growl rumbles in my throat, and I feel the icy rings appear around my waist-

"Ah ah ah," Vlad says in amusement, wagging his finger. "Witnesses, remember?"

Here's a fun fact about Vlad: I hate him. I force the rings to disappear, leaving me in human-form.

"That's better," Vlad says. "It isn't becoming for the 'hero of Amity Park' to behave in such a manner."

Physical violence isn't an option right now, so words will have to do. "It's not becoming for the mayor to poison innocents either. You are the very definition of a total monster, and you don't give a flying fuck!"

"Language," he chastises.

Which only fulls my rage more. "You stay away from my family. I mean it, Vladimir. You better hope my sister recovers, because if she doesn't, all bets are off. I will make you wish you'd never come to this town even more than I do!"

Having said my piece, I whirl around and march to wherever as long as he's not there. Behind me, he calls out, "Sticks and stones, Daniel. Your little tantrum won't help your sister."

Help. My core cries out at the word, and Vlad knows it. I say over my shoulder, "I hate you, Vlad."

"For your sake," he retorts, "I'll let you have the last word this time. Ta ta, little badger."

I. Hate. Him.

"Let me get this straight," Sam says with carefully contained fury. I'd started a video chat with her and Tucker as soon as I'd calmed down enough that I wouldn't scream at them. "Vlad tried to poison your dad with tainted salsa, but Jazz ate it and that's why she's sick?"

"Dude," Tucker starts, properly horrified, "that's a whole new level of messed up!"

"You're telling me," I say, pacing around my room because, though I've calmed enough to not scream, I'm still too wound up to sit. "He didn't even try to deny it! Fucking fruit loop!"

Suddenly, Sam's voice sounds more concerned than angry. "Uh, Danny, maybe you should take a breath."

I stop and stare at the worried faces on the screen. "Why?"

Tucker bites his lip then says, "You know just transformed, right?"

I what? I take note of my attire, a black jumpsuit with a bright green D-with-a-P-inside sitting over a white pentagram on my chest, and note the soft white glow and the lack of air in my lungs. I went ghost, and I didn't even feel it happen.

I slap my hand on my forehead and change back. "Sorry." I finally sit at my desk. "Between Jazz, my hands, my core, and now this, I think the pressure's starting to get to me."

"That's understandable, Danny," Sam says sympathetically.

"So, what's the plan?" Tucker asks. "Call the police?"

"And, tell them what?" Sam retorts in frustration. "That the mayor poisoned a girl with salsa that she ate, like, a week ago? Even if they did believe us, need I remind you that Vlad has ghost powers?"

Tucker frowns. "I guess you have a point."

"And, my parents won't believe us either," I say bitterly. "No one would believe us. All we can really do is hope Jazz gets out of this okay. Vlad did sound pretty confident that she would recover."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "And, you believe him?"

"You know how Vlad is. He just loves to gloat," I say with an eye roll. "If Jazz was going to…not recover, he would have said so." That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.

Sam still looks skeptical, but she doesn't argue.

"Just try to chill for now, dude," Tucker says. "Maybe do some of that," he presses his hands together, "namaste stuff you're into."

"It's called meditation," I correct, rolling my eyes once more, "and don't mock it. It's part of the reason I mastered Duplication."

Tucker grins. "I know. I just can't get used to you doing that. Do you use incense and stuff?"

"I do not. I sprinkle a special blend of herbs in a circle and chant in an ancient ghost language." When both of my friends stare at me in a mix of awe and horror, I say, "I was kidding."

When I visit Jazz after school the next day, Mom and Dad are there with me. Tucker had a dental appointment and Sam's parents were dragging her to some rich person event, but my friends said they'd drop by later. My hands sting and lock up as soon as I'm in Jazz's room, but I keep them hidden enough that no one notices. Jazz stays awake for the whole visit, and she does seem stronger, though she still has the oxygen mask. I'll take anything, partly because my core still wails at the sight of her.

As we're about to leave, Jazz asks for a private moment with me. Mom and Dad say they'll meet me at the van and head out. Once they're gone, Jazz gets a surprisingly intense look on her face that sends me into Obsession-mode. I kneel by her bed.

She says quietly, "Vlad Masters was here yesterday."

"What?" My blood boils. I should have known he wouldn't listen to me. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Do you need me to stuff him in a sack and dump him in the ocean?"

Jazz gives me a tolerant smile. "How's your core, little brother?"

"It's been better," I say in embarrassment. "But seriously, what did Vlad do?"

"Not much," she says. "He just sat down and asked me how I was feeling and said he hoped I felt better soon." She didn't believe a word of that. I can tell, and I don't blame her. "Stuff like that. There was nothing noteworthy, but it was really uncomfortable. After a while, I pretended to fall asleep so he'd go away."

"And, he didn't do anything, you know, Vlad-like?"

"Besides being creepy, no."

Vlad didn't hurt her any worse. Thank God. I flex my fingers, double-checking that they work before I rest my hand over hers. "You let me know if he comes back. Especially if he tries anything."

Jazz nods. "I will." Then her expression falters, and she doesn't meet my eyes. "He did this to me, didn't he?"

Should I tell her? She doesn't need anything else to worry about, but I don't want to lie to her either.

I hesitated too long. Jazz groans in resignation. "I knew it. As soon as he showed up, I knew he had something to do with this."

The cat's out of the bag. "Let's just say that I'm never eating salsa again."

Jazz throws her hands over her eyes and groans again, but this time it sounds dangerously close to a sob.

"Hey, hey, Jazzie." I gently pry her hands off her face. Her eyes are filled with tears when she looks at me. "I won't let anything else happen to you. I love you too much for that. And, I swear to you that you will get out of this. I won't allow any other outcome."

A tear rolls down her cheek, but there's a tender smile on her mouth. "When did you become the older sibling?" My core feels a little better. I brush the tear off her face. "Mom and Dad are probably wondering where you are."

"Oh, they already left," I say with a grin.

It takes a moment, but Jazz grins back. "They have a duplicate with them, don't they?"

"I won't tell if you won't."

She laughs, and I stay with her until she falls asleep for real.

Jazz improves bit by bit over the next three days. She still gets dizzy easily, still has no appetite and little to no energy, but she's awake more and she no longer wears the oxygen mask. As promised, I'm there every day after school. Sam and Tucker come with me each day. Mom and Dad always meet us in Jazz's room. One time, my friends and I ran into one of Jazz's friends on her way out, and I know more of Jazz's friends came to see her as well. A nurse teased my sister about how popular she is.

Jazz smiles all the time despite her situation. I'm so glad she doesn't have to go through this alone. I'm especially glad that you-know-who hasn't paid her a visit since that day.

Today has been her best day so far because the doctors finally let her eat real food (soft foods, anyway) instead of just liquids. Granted, she didn't eat much, but she wasn't the only one happy that she could actually eat something. Mom, Dad, my friends, and I had walked out of there feeling optimistic. My core has calmed down some as well, though my hands are another story. But, I decide to let it go for now and enjoy the fact that Jazz is going to be okay.

That night, my Ghost Sense goes off just as I'm about to hit the sack. Standing in my room in my pajamas, I debate on sending a duplicate to deal with it. But despite Jazz's slow but sure recovery, my core is still a little off, and I know Valerie doesn't patrol this late.

My mind made up, I go ghost and head outside. I hear crashes and panicked cries the second I phase through the wall and head in that direction to find a familiar sight.

"Not you again," I say.

The butterfly-ghost from less than a week ago looks up at me. It had been chewing on the wall of a flower shop and now holds a bundle of flowers and plaster between its massive pincers.

"The bouquet is lovely," I quip, "but I'm afraid you're not my type. Can we be friends?"

The ghoul swallows its bundle and screams at me.

"Didn't think so."

The fight is on. I fire a ghost ray, and the ghoul shoots into the air to dodge. It flaps its wings, sending powerful gusts at me. I try to fly against them but find myself thrown back. This butterfly's not playing around this time. I right myself and fly toward it full speed. The ghoul tries the wind-tactic again, but this time I'm ready for it. I duck under it just as its wings start beating and shoot an ice beam at one wing. The ghoul panics and struggles to stay afloat. I'm about to grab the Fenton Thermos, but the ghoul shakes off the ice and lunges at me. I dodge just in time and grab its antennae, spin around for momentum, and throw the butterfly. Too stunned to react, it soars into the distance against its will. I go after it and-

-see that it's heading directly for the hospital! And, it's trailing ectoplasm!

A string of curses leaves me as I pick up speed. But, by the time I've pulled the Thermos out, it's too late. The butterfly crashes into the wall of the third floor. Please be an empty room!

Heart and core pounding in time, I fly into the huge hole in the wall. The room isn't empty, and the butterfly isn't the only occupant.

Workers file into the room to see what's going on and gape in shock at the giant insect lying before them. There's debris everywhere, both from the hole and the sides of the room that the ghoul's wings hit. It looks like I'd torn one of the antennae, because bright green goo leaks from the ghoul's head. There are also splashes of it around the room.

And, in the bed is a patient, an eighteen-year-old girl with long red hair and blue-green eyes. She sits straight up and stares at the butterfly for a while before it registers that there is a large splash of ectoplasm on her bed. Droplets speckle her skin, her hair. My sister is no stranger to getting covered in ectoplasm, but she's never been in this kind of state when it happened. Her shock turns to a weary "this is my life" kind of look. She sees me and gives me a smile and a subtle thumbs-up because she thinks she's okay.

Vlad said that human diseases and ectoplasm don't mix. I want to believe that he was just being Vlad when he said that, but I know him. He said that because he knew someone in my house had been poisoned, even if it was the wrong someone. Taunting with lies isn't Vlad's style; he taunts with the truth.

The workers are starting to notice me. "Uh, sorry," I stammer. "That got, um… That…was an accident. I-I can…clean this up." I whip out the Thermos and suck the butterfly and all its goo inside, making sure I get it all off Jazz as well. "See? All good. Everything's good. Again, sorry about the… Sorry!"

I'm about to fly away with my tail between my legs when I hear a moan. Jazz collapses against her pillow and some kind of alarm goes off by her bed. Doctors file around her and start talking in doctor-lingo I don't understand. I catch words like "vitals" and "heart rate," but there's a roaring in my ears and my hands are stiff around the Thermos and my core is trying to claw itself out of my chest. I am paralyzed as I watch a doctor strap the oxygen mask over Jazz's face, and two others wheel her out of the room, shouting orders.

I promised Jazz I wouldn't let anything else happen to her. I promised that she'd be okay, that I wouldn't let her not be okay.

My brain fizzles out. Up is left and right is down and what are words and who am I?

The workers have forgotten me as they leave to try and save my big sister's life. The life that was getting better. The life that was smiling and laughing earlier today. The life that I promised to protect.

What have I done?