Chapter Four: Hope
"And, they are your friends. No matter how much they scream they're not." - Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach
My free period is immediately followed by lunch. I don't know how I got that lucky, but today I'm taking advantage of it. My friends and my parents were right; I should have taken the day off from school. Or, the week. Too much gossip, too many whispers.
Flying usually relaxes me. It's an escape, something I can just enjoy and not have to think about. Normally, I wave to civilians when they spot me and say hello. They remind me that I have a purpose, that people want me around. It feels good.
But, today is different. Today, flying does nothing to stop the images of Jazz in that room from filling my mind. The news made it sound like the butterfly-ghost flew into the hospital of its own accord and I helped with the repairs after the fact. I am invisible in the air because no one's mad at me, and I don't feel like smiling at people. They all expect their "hero" to be a cheerful guy with a sharp wit and endless compassion. I can't be that guy right now. At least I'm getting a brief reprieve from my morbidly curious peers.
I couldn't stop myself from phasing my head into Jazz's room just to see if there were any changes. There weren't. I was barely in there for a moment before my hands cramped up so much that I cursed loudly and became tangible and spent a few seconds with my head stuck in the wall. I really should see someone about that.
I don't know what hurts worse: my heart, my core, or my hands.
Thankfully, my hands relax in time for my Ghost Sense to go off as I fly over the park. I descend and vow to be careful for real this time. Since school won't let out for a few hours yet, the park is deserted. Well, almost deserted.
A small dog with glowing green fur, floppy black ears, and a spiked collar runs up to me, barking happily. He stops in front of me and crouches down, purple tongue out, short tail lashing.
Despite everything, my lips pull upward the tiniest bit. I kneel down and give his head a scratch. "Hey, Cujo."
He responds by aggressively licking my hand. I giggle. What is it about dogs that makes you smile no matter how you're feeling? It must be the innocence, the look of "I don't know what's going on, but you're sad and I don't like it" that they get when you need someone. Cujo has that look now that he's given his greeting and really sees my face.
"Sorry, boy," I say. "I know you wanna play, but I don't think I'll be much fun today."
Cujo puts on a paw on my boot and tilts his head, whining in question. Living animals are highly intuitive; ghost ones are extremely intuitive and can even understand human speech.
"Cujo, I…" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Cujo, please go home. I promise I'll play with you another time. I'm just not in a good mood, and I don't wanna risk taking it out on you."
Cujo's ears droop, but there's understanding in his red eyes. His body ripples like a glitch in a video game before he vanishes, teleporting back to the Ghost Zone.
I already miss him, but I don't deserve his comfort, his unabashed dog loyalty. I sniff and wipe away loose tears. I need to get a grip before I have to head back to school.
Then I am sent rolling along the grass by a white-hot blast, and I realize that that's going to take even longer than I thought. I cry out when another blast sends waves of pain over me. I manage to form a green shield around myself before a third hits me.
It's Valerie in her Red Huntress garb, and she isn't holding back.
"Jesus, lady!" I curse, letting down my shield. "Who peed in your coffee?"
"As if you don't know!" She yells, aiming her blaster once again as she floats on her hoverboard.
I leap into the air in the nick of time, morphing my legs into a translucent gray wisp of a tail since I know I'll need a speed boost. "I really don't!" I say honestly. "Mind filling me in before you waste me?"
Valerie grits her teeth in a hard snarl but lowers her blaster. Barely. "The giant bug? The hospital? Ringing any bells, ghost boy?"
This is about Jazz?
"I can see I've jogged your memory. That poor girl's brother happens to be a friend of mine, and you should see the state he's in!"
This is about me?
"His parents are ghost hunters - albeit, incompetent ones - and he's got all sorts of equipment at his arsenal. But, he's too distraught to even think about revenge. Unfortunately for you," she takes aim, "I'm not!"
She wants to destroy me on my behalf. Irony's a bitch.
The next shot hits harder than the last ones and not just physically. I crash into the ground, and my legs reform at the impact. Valerie hovers over me, raw hatred in those eyes that were caring and compassionate this morning. It's not as bad as my parents attacking me, but it still hurts in more ways than one.
"I don't wanna fight you, Red!" I plead.
"Okay." Valerie adjusts something on her blaster. Something that makes the barrel bigger. "But, that'll make this a lot less fun for me."
I hold out my hands and form a shield, but I still struggle under the impact of the shot. She's not letting up. I don't know how much longer I can hold the barrier.
"Give up, Phantom," Valerie commands. "I've got you cornered. Can't wait to see Danny's face when I tell him I took down the monster who hurt his sister."
I can't take it anymore. My core, my hands, Vlad's cruelty, my ability to freeze blood, Valerie's good intentions, my gossiping peers, my sweet, beautiful big sister. It's all too much.
Oh, Jazzie, it's my fault you're in that bed, clinging to life.
…What if she's stopped clinging?
"You think I like this?" I shout. Sobs burst out of me. If Valerie is surprised, I can't see it through the white light of her attack and the green blur of my tears. "You think I wanted to hurt Jazz? You think I want her to die?" Die. The word I've been avoiding. It stabs straight through my heart and my core. "You don't know shit, Valerie Gray! You don't know what's in my head!" My shield brightens. I barely notice. "You can't comprehend how much I hate myself! I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for these powers! I didn't ask to be a ghost!"
The shield is gone. In its place is a ghost ray, bigger than any I've ever used, big enough to overpower Valerie's blaster and send her flying. I throw my hands over my mouth in a gasp and watch in horror as she flies into a tree, sending it crashing into the ground. Her hoverboard is in pieces, her suit is cracked and sparking.
And, Valerie herself isn't moving.
My core is furious. My hands feel like fire.
I keep hurting people.
I sprint to Valerie's side and pray to whoever's listening. Her red-tinged face shield is shattered. Blood drips from the cuts covering her face. I choke back sobs and reach for her neck, fearing the worst. I press two fingers to her pressure point..
A pulse. Oh my god, she has a pulse.
But, my relief is short-lived when my hand on her neck starts glowing. I jerk it back, and the odd yellow glow vanishes. My hands feel…normal. My core feels better as well.
And, Valerie's face… The blood remains, but the cuts are gone.
Did I do that?
Valerie groans, and I switch forms just before she opens her eyes. Better she wakes up face to face with Fenton than Phantom.
Valerie blinks at me groggily. "Danny? What are you-" Her eyes widen and she sits up straight and looks around wildly. "Where's Phantom?" Despite having just taken such a huge hit, she shoots to her feet and fiddles with something on her wrist. "Where is that no good son of a-" She stomps her foot. "God damn it all!"
"Are you okay?" But which I mean, how are you this lively right now?
Valerie turns around and remembers that I'm here. She curses softly and presses a hand to her forehead. "How much did you see?" She pulls her hand away, sees the blood on it, and adds nervously, "And, why is there blood on my face when I'm not hurt?"
"Um, in order," I say, climbing to my feet. "Probably more than you wanted me to and you don't want to know."
"In order," Valerie responds. "Crap and yeah, I probably don't."
Play it cool, Danny. I rub the back of my neck. "So…you're that Red Huntress I've been hearing about."
Valerie huffs in resignation. "Yeah, that's me. Sorry you had to find out this way."
Well…
"How much of the fight did you see?"
"Like…all of it?" Up close and personal, at that. "Val, you weren't really doing that for me, were you?"
Valerie's face turns the same color as her suit. "Well, you… You were always there for me, and I just- With what happened to Jazz, I- And, I like Jazz, so…" She slaps her forehead and mutters, "This is embarrassing."
"I think it's sweet," I say honestly. "Demented but sweet."
Valerie smiles shyly and presses a button on her wrist. The remains of her suit somehow disappear into a wristband I've never noticed before, leaving her in the yellow blouse and long orange skirt she'd been wearing before. At my confusion, she shrugs. "The suit is self-repairing. Don't ask me how it works."
"So, you're really okay?"
"I, uh," she bends her limbs with a curious expression, "I think so. Crazy thing is, that ghost ray hurt like a mother. Guess my suit's more protective than I thought!"
"Yeah, I-I guess." I whirl my finger around my face. "You should probably clean up before we get back to school."
Valerie grimaces. "Y-yeah." As she walks toward the pond, she asks me, "What are you doing out here, anyway?"
"Taking a break from the gossip."
"I don't blame you."
She crouches down at the pond's edge and splashes water over her face, a face that should be covered in open wounds but isn't. I flex my fingers, which move perfectly and feel better than they have in days. My core feels better as well, though not in top form.
I think I have healing powers now. Ghosts in general heal quickly, but I've never heard of one who could heal other people. Vlad may be a jerk, but he wasn't wrong when he said that there's a lot I still don't know.
So, that solves the mystery of my messed up hands. What about my eyes turning black? Could that be a new power as well? Some kind of super eyesight or X-ray vision? I'm rooting for X-ray vision.
Valerie stands up and, once I confirm that her face is clean, puts her hands on her hips and says, "If we start walking now, she should be back before lunch ends." Luckily, Casper High is only about a ten minute walk from here. As we head off, Valerie says, "You're not gonna tell anyone about me, are you? My dad thinks I gave up ghost hunting. I don't want word getting back to him."
"Hey, we all have secrets." And, I've been keeping hers for longer than she thinks. "My lips are sealed."
Valerie relaxes at that. "Thanks."
I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But, "What did you think? About Phantom's, uh, breakdown. What did you think of it? Honestly," I say when she hesitates.
Valerie shrugs. "Had to be fake. Phantom's good at mimicking emotions, but that was way too intense a reaction over a girl he barely knows. And, the daughter of ghost hunters, nonetheless."
I chew on that for a moment, wondering how to phrase this so I don't give myself away. I settle on, "You don't know the context."
Valerie gives me a side-eye. "After what happened to Jazz, you still have faith in him?"
"I…"
I was reckless in battle and put my own sister into a coma. I lost my temper and froze a man's blood. I lost my temper again and almost killed my friend. Even before all of that, there were plenty of times when I abused my powers by getting revenge or cheating on a test or (ha ha) sneaking into the girls' locker room.
But, I also do everything I can to keep my home safe and sound. I try to look out for the people I love, even if they don't always realize it. And, I healed Valerie's injuries with a single touch.
Do I have faith in Danny Phantom? "I think so. Lately, it's been hard to, but I- He's trying his best, and I feel like that counts for something."
Valerie shakes her head fondly. "You're too optimistic, Fenton."
"Maybe you just need to be more open-minded."
Valerie grunts noncommittally.
We made it back to school just in time. The rest of the day was uneventful besides the few people who were bold enough to walk up to me and ask about my sister. Those people brought me right back to my sour mood. At least my hands are better and the popular kids are leaving me alone; Jazz was never in their group, but she was well-liked when she went to this school, and she's tutored Dash before. Dash was actually one of the people who wanted information. Not that I had any to give that wouldn't have revealed way too much.
I have Eileen for my last period. At the end of her class, she catches me on my way out and asks me to stay. Once everyone else leaves, she has me close the door. I do as I'm told and she walks up to me, still in teacher-form.
She leans in and whispers, "I've been thinking about Jazz, and I might have something for you."
I struggle to keep my voice down. "Really?"
"Well, more like someone. They're called Reaper. They're one of the Ancients, known as the Master of Death." My stomach drops. Eileen holds up a placating hand. "I know what you're thinking, but hear me out. Like the title suggests, Reaper knows everything there is to know about death, including causes of it. I'm not saying that your sister's gonna die. I'm saying that Reaper would surely know something about Jazz's condition."
The Ancients are the oldest ghosts in existence. Legend has it they were born from human concepts…or were the sources of them…or something. The details are fuzzy even among ghosts, and the Ancients themselves are pretty tight-lipped about their origins.
I've met two of them during my time as a halfa. Clockwork is very serious and hard to figure out. Pandora is warm and friendly but is terrifying when angered. I wonder what Reaper is like.
"You think Reaper would be willing to help?" I ask.
"Granted, I've never met them myself," Eileen says, "but I'm told they're kind. I can't guarantee anything, but it's what I've got."
"It's plenty. Thank you, Eileen. Where can I find them?"
"I think their lair is somewhere near the Far Frozen, if you know where that is."
A smug grin pulls at my lips. "Let's just say I'm familiar with the area."
My friends, mostly Sam, argued relentlessly when I said I wanted to go see Reaper on my own. But, Jazz's condition is my fault, and I need to be the one who fixes it.
Or…at least tries to…
Don't think about that.
I'd stopped at the Far Frozen and met up with Frostbite, who happily gave me directions. His lack of hesitance or warning made me feel a hell of a lot better about meeting an Ancient known as the Master of Death.
(There's a Grim Reaper joke here, but now's not the time.)
Before leaving the Far Frozen, I'd mentioned my new - shudder - blood-freezing ability. Frostbite had hummed sympathetically when I told him what happened and offered to help me work on it so that I don't go that far again. I'd rather not use it at all, but if I'm stuck with it, I may as well learn how to not hospitalize people with it.
But, that will have to wait.
Lairs are essentially pocket dimensions that are spread throughout the Ghost Zone, their entrances indicated by floating doors of various colors and designs. The lairs of Ancients, however, are much more elaborate.
Reaper's lair exists on a floating graveyard that surrounds a mausoleum that is made of black stone and stands…really, really tall. The gravestones, well, there are a lot of them. A lot of them. I'm starting to think I should have brought Sam after all. Her gothic-self would feel right at home.
(So, so many Grim Reaper jokes.)
The front doors are extremely high and dark gray in color. The knocker is silver and disappointingly lacking in skull decor, only being a simple ring. Bracing myself, I bang it three times and wait. I don't have to wait long.
The doors open, and a demon who must be at least eight feet tall appears. They are wearing a simple brown cloak that covers everything including their face. I assume they have a face; there is seemingly just black nothingness where a face should be, and I don't know if it's because of the cloak's hood. The only visible parts of them are their hands, which have long fingers and are thin and bony, like someone stretched a layer of pale blue-gray skin over a skeleton.
When they speak, their voice is quiet but carries in that way that Ancient voices do. They speak slowly, as if weighing their words as they speak. "Ah. Danny Phantom."
"You know me?" I ask, a little unnerved.
"But, of course. I know the names and faces of all those who become a part of this realm once their lives end."
Master of Death. Right. "So, you must be Reaper then."
"I am. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
So far, so good. "I-it's not really a pleasure. See, my sister's really sick, and I was told you might be able to help."
Reaper hums thoughtfully, possibly cupping their chin. "I cannot promise a cure for your sister's illness, but I will answer any questions you may have."
