Simon Green - Ghost of a Dream

She slowly turned around in a complete circle, taking in the empty, innocent-seeming lobby. Her back muscles crawled, in anticipation of the attack she probably wouldn’t know anything about until it was too late. Her hands clenched into fists. She could feel cold sweat on her face. And then she caught a glimpse of someone, out of the corner of her eye, watching her. She spun round to look straight at him, but there was no-one there. She caught another glimpse of the watching, smiling stranger, out of the corner of her other eye. She spun around again; and again there was nobody there. She was breathing really hard now, ready to jump on anyone and beat the truth out of them, about what was really going on. She caught another glimpse, and another, from this side and from that, but no matter which way she looked, or how fast she turned, she couldn’t catch him. Only the briefest of glimpses; quick impressions of a man watching her, smiling at her, enjoying her agitation. And every time she saw him, he was that little bit closer, closing in on her. She spun round and round, eyes wide open, then stopped herself with an effort. She stood very still, hands clenched painfully tight at her sides, fighting to get her frantic breathing and heart rate back under control. She let her head hang down, squeezed her eyes shut, and refused to open them again.

Come on, girl. You can do better than this. You’ve been trained to withstand Outside influences. Trained to keep other people from messing with your mind. So focus! You can do this!

Her breathing slowed, and her thoughts settled. Her back muscles unclenched, and so did her fists. Her mind calmed and cleared, as well-rehearsed mental shields slammed down and locked firmly into place. And when she finally lifted her head again, opened her eyes, and looked around her, the lobby was very definitely empty. Melody sniffed loudly and shook herself roughly, like a dog shaking off a bad dream. She took out her mobile phone. She had to reach Happy and JC, let them know what was happening. Let them know there was someone else in the theatre with them. But there was no signal. Even though she was sure there had been, before. She shook the phone hard, and a voice from the phone said her name. Melody… That and nothing more. She checked the phone again, but there still wasn’t any signal. Not a single bar. So where was the voice coming from? The voice from the phone said her name again. A soft, self-satisfied voice, like a purring cat. Like someone used to having the advantage over other people.

“Hello, Melody,” said the calm, malicious, masculine voice. “Tell me. After all these years of hunting ghosts, are you finally ready to become one? You won’t like being dead, you know. No-one ever does. The truth always comes as such a terrible shock; and then they cry and they cry and they cry…”

“Who is this?” Melody said harshly, looking down at the phone in her hand, clutching it so tightly her fingers ached.

“You spent all this time looking for me, and you don’t even know my name. How sad is that? Of course, it wouldn’t have helped. I have a lovely new name now, to go with my new and very special nature. I’m the one who took your Kim away. Snatched her right out of that dead man’s head and dragged her off, kicking and screaming…”

“Who are you?” said Melody.

“I serve The Flesh Undying. Ah, you know that name, at least. And I am here for you, little girl. Do you want your precious machines back? What would you give me to have them all working properly again? To be able to depend on what they told you? Hmm?”

“I don’t make deals,” said Melody.

“Have them back anyway,” said the voice. “I want you fully armed. I want this to be something like a fair fight. It’s no fun otherwise.”

The phone shut itself down. Melody glared at it. “I really must get a Fuck off and die app.”

And then she jumped slightly, despite herself, as her machines came alive again. All her instruments were back on-line, all her short- and long-range sensors were reporting in, and everything seemed to be working perfectly; sane and calm and reliable again. Melody put her phone away and moved slowly and methodically from one set of readings to the next. Brightly coloured LEDs blinked reassuringly back at her, everywhere she looked. She checked the arms cabinet, and the machine-pistol was back in place, as though it had never been away, along with everything else. She ran one hand caressingly over the gun, but she didn’t take it out. She didn’t want the owner of the voice thinking she was afraid of him.

Her head came up sharply, as she heard footsteps approaching from outside. Slow, steady, apparently perfectly normal footsteps, barely audible above the muted traffic noise from the street. Heading straight for the main entrance doors.

“Oh come on!” Melody said loudly. “Not that trick again! Getting really tired of that! It didn’t work last time, and it won’t work now!”

The entrance doors crashed open, and he came in.

Something new and terrible had come to the Haybarn Theatre. Something that was not what it appeared to be.

He came swaggering into the lobby, head held high and hands thrust deep into trouser pockets, bringing with him all the arrogant assured cockiness that JC used to have. He wore a very smart and expensive coal grey suit, complete with a waistcoat of many colours. He had slicked-back jet-black hair and dark, unblinking eyes. Eyes as cold and inhuman as a shark’s and just as hungry. He had a smile like Satan’s, a smile that never stopped. He sauntered around the lobby and then slammed to a halt right in front of Melody, on the other side of her wall of instruments. Everything about him looked perfect. Impossibly, inhumanly perfect. He was heavily built, though muscle and bulk rather than fat. A huge, overpowering, physical presence. The kind that makes you feel it would be dangerous to look away, not because he was a clear and present danger but because he was always going to be the most important thing in the room; and you might miss something important.

His face might have been classically handsome if there’d only been some character in it; but though everything was in the right place, in all the right proportions, it looked more like a mask. With those eyes, and that smile. Melody made a point of sneering at him, on general principles, to let him know she didn’t impress that easily.

“Hello, Melody,” he said, and it was the soft purring voice she’d heard coming out of her phone. The voice of a man who’d never lost a fight and wasn’t about to start now. “I am the Faust. Horror without end, amen. I made a deal with The Flesh Undying. Didn’t sell my soul, in return for the pleasures of the flesh. Rather, I sold my flesh in return for a better soul. Have you any idea what it is you and your fellow Ghost Finders are up against? I gave up ownership of my flesh, to The Flesh Undying, to be its presence in the world; and in return, it promised me I’d never have to die. How cool is that? And now, I am so much more than I used to be. And so much more powerful, of course. Ah, the things I can do…”

“Like to make speeches, don’t you?” said Melody.

The Faust shrugged easily. “Comes with the job. And the territory.”

He turned his back on her and strode off to saunter around the lobby again, taking it all in and looking it all over as though he were planning on buying it, then destroying it, then pissing on the ruins because he could. He ended up back before Melody and sneered equably at her ranks of scientific equipment.

“There is something to be said for improvisation in the face of jeopardy, I suppose. Look at it…Something old, something borrowed, something cobbled together at the last minute. None of it of any real use against something like me.” He cocked his great head on one side and considered her happily. “Did you enjoy my posters? My little mental movies? Nothing like a good video nasty, I always say.”