Ghost Town (38 page)

“I may have woken her up, but she harmed no one until recently. And she can't be reacting to my presence, because the first two murders took place before I contacted Amber,” Greg said.

“Maybe she had a precognitive flash that you would return,” Trevor said, although he didn't sound as if he believed it himself.

“A possibility. I suppose I could always try apologizing.” He turned to the Dark Lady. “I'm very sorry that I disturbed your slumber. I promise I won't do it again. Can we return to reality now?”

She tilted her head to the side, a slightly bemused expression on her face, but otherwise didn't respond.

Greg shrugged. “I tried.”

Carrington had been looking back and forth between Trevor and Greg as they had talked.

“What in the hell are you two going on about?” he asked.

“Long story,” Trevor said. He turned to Drew. “Back to you, Doctor.”

Drew decided to try a different approach. “Who are you?”

“I am the Dark Lady.”

“You're appearing to us as the Dark Lady,” Drew said. “But she's just a bit of local folklore. There's no evidence that she was ever a real person. In that case, what are you?”

She regarded him silently, a blank expression on her ivory face, as if she didn't understand his question.

Drew continued. “We know that your power comes from the spirits of those who drowned in the flood, but there's more to it than that. You
are
those spirits. They died together in a terrible disaster, and afterward their souls remained earthbound, but not as separate entities. They banded together, merged into a single collective consciousness, one that took on the form of the Dark Lady, a legend they were all familiar with.” He gestured toward the shadowy shapes swimming around the rooftop. “That's who you truly are.”

The Dark Lady frowned, but again, she didn't reply.

Trevor picked up the thread after that. “After the flood, spiritualists and mediums were drawn to Exeter. Maybe because of an increase in paranormal activity, maybe simply because a lot of people lost loved ones in the disaster and were desperate to make contact with them by any means possible. Whatever the reason, they came. And one day, a group of them decided to make contact with the Dark Lady and lay her spirit to rest. They tried to get rid of you. Send you away from your home. You were scared. You didn't want to go, so you lashed out and killed the psychic conducting the exorcism ceremony. And you said the word
Stop
to tell people to stop trying to make you leave.”

The Dark Lady regarded him for a moment.
“This is our home. We lived here. We died here. It's where we belong.”

Drew was encouraged to hear the spirit refer to herself in the plural. The mask was beginning to come off. He continued speaking. “You were left alone for many years. People kept coming to
Exeter, drawn by its history and reputation for paranormal events, and many of them settled here. But no one attempted to send you away again.”

“No one that we know of,” Greg said. “That doesn't mean a psychically gifted person didn't drop dead from a heart attack now and again, raising no suspicion.”

The Dark Lady smiled but made no comment.

Trevor turned to Greg. “Then you came to town and attempted to absorb the Dark Lady's power. I'd say that qualifies as trying to ‘make her go away.' ”

“And that put her on the alert,” Greg said. “After I failed, she remained watchful, wary of anything that even resembled an attempt to drive her out.”

“And she saw Erin's film as such an attempt,” Carrington said. “But why? It wasn't as if we were conducting exorcism rites as part of the film.”

The answer came to Drew then. “She wasn't afraid of the film itself. She was afraid of what people would do when they saw it.” He turned toward the Dark Lady. “You feared that a new wave of psychic mediums would descend on Exeter, intrigued by the accounts reported in Erin's film. You feared that some of them might attempt to send you away. And if there were enough of them working together, you feared they might succeed.”

“This is our home,”
the Dark Lady repeated.

“So she started killing people to . . . what?” Carrington said. “Scare us off? Get us to abandon the film and leave?”

“Yes,” Drew said. “And she hoped you would spread the word to other filmmakers about how dangerous it was to shoot in Exeter, so that no one else would attempt to make a film. That's why she didn't simply kill Erin outright.”

“Dearie, are you ever misguided,” Greg said to the Dark Lady. “The way modern media work, the more horrific the story, the more drawn to it they are, like cats to a canary buffet. You'd have
been better off lying low and letting them finish their film and leave.”

“Of course she doesn't understand the media,” Trevor said. “She's the collective spirit of hundreds of people who died almost a century ago.”

“So this is all nothing but a huge misunderstanding,” Carrington said. He turned to the Dark Lady. “All you have to do is release us, and it will be over. We will go away, and you'll be safe once more.”

The Dark Lady frowned, as if she were considering his words. But then a cold smile stretched across her face.
“Yes, we will be safe. After tonight, we will be stronger. So strong that no one will ever be able to send us away.”

Drew didn't understand. But Greg did. “The parade! She didn't intend to use those people to stop us. She's going to turn them against one another, make them fight until they all die. And every new spirit that's released will join the Dark Lady's collective consciousness and add to her power.”

Images flashed through Drew's mind, and he knew that the Dark Lady was showing them what was happening in the street outside the bookstore. People attacking one another, fighting with whatever weapons they could scrounge—hunks of wood and metal torn from parade floats, using their hands and teeth if they had nothing else. They still appeared monstrous, but that aspect was no longer as strong as it had been; it had become a semitransparent overlay, allowing the real people beneath the illusions to show through. But the expressions of animalistic hatred on their faces were just as horrible as any illusion, if not more so. Those possessed tore at one another with savage abandon, fighting on despite whatever wounds they had suffered themselves. Not everyone was caught up in the Dark Lady's spell, though. Some people ran instead of fighting, expressions of terror on their faces. Unfortunately, they were easily brought down by the possessed.

The vision faded, and once again, Drew stood on the rooftop,
surrounded by wind and rain. “My God,” he whispered. “All those people . . .”

From the expressions on the others' faces, Drew knew that they had witnessed the same horrific images. Trevor and Carrington looked just as shaken as he was, and even Greg appeared disturbed.

But when Greg spoke, he sounded calm. “You're spreading yourself awfully thin, honey. Your illusions aren't holding, and not everyone is dancing to your tune. And how much power is it taking to keep this part of the show running?” He gestured at their surroundings. “You're not going to be able to keep this up much longer.”

The Dark Lady fixed him with a cold stare.
“It shall be long enough.”

“We have to do something!” Carrington said. “We can't just stand here and let those poor people die!”

Without waiting for any of them to respond, he started toward the Dark Lady. Her mouth twitched into a half-smile. She waited until he was within arm's reach, then she made a small gesture. Shingles came loose beneath Carrington's feet, causing him to slip. He fell, slid off the roof, and plunged into the water.

“Arthur!” Trevor shouted. He moved to the edge of the roof as fast as he could without losing his balance. Drew followed and grabbed hold of his hand for support. Trevor called out Carrington's name again, but there was no reply and no sign of him.

Greg turned to Drew. “If we're going to have any hope of stopping her, we have to do it now, while she's overextended and before she gains any more strength.”

Trevor remained at the roof's edge, but he looked back over his shoulder at Greg. “You're a former evil mastermind. Don't you have any ideas?”

“Some,” Greg said. “Unfortunately, I no longer possess the power to implement them. If we had—” He was interrupted by the sound of splashing water as something broke the surface near Trevor.

At first, Drew feared that one of the swimming specters had decided to attack, but then he saw who it was. “Amber!” he shouted.

She grabbed hold of the roof's edge and drew in a gasping breath. Trevor reached out to help her up, but another hand emerged from the water to take his. He pulled Jenn onto the roof and hugged her close.

Drew let go of Trevor's hand and moved to the edge to help Amber up, and they embraced. The relief he felt upon seeing her alive and unharmed was overwhelming. “I thought I'd lost you,” he said softly.

She smiled. “You're not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“People are dying,” Greg said. “Reunions later, all right?”

“What does he mean?” Amber asked.

“The Dark Lady is causing everyone who gathered for the parade to fight. She hopes to harvest more spirits to add to her energy.” He paused. “Did you see Mitch?”

She nodded. “I took care of him.” She looked around. “Arthur?”

“He fell in.”

“We didn't see him. I hope he'll be—”

She broke off as a swollen-fingered hand latched onto the roof's edge. It was followed by another, and another, and then faces came into view. Whitish-gray flesh, puffy and distorted features, milky film-coated eyes, and mouths filled with sharp teeth.

The four of them moved toward the top of the roof to join Greg as the flood victims slowly emerged from the water, crawling up the roof on all fours as if they were animals, teeth bared and eyes glistening.

“She recognizes Amber as the real threat,” Greg said. “She's not messing around anymore.”

Drew knew that they only had seconds before the undead creatures overwhelmed them. He thought furiously, running through everything they had learned about the Dark Lady. His mind latched onto their encounter with her in the college library, when she had
used one of their memories to create an illusory scenario. She had masqueraded as the Gork, and they had bested her when they had realized what she feared.

“The water!” he said. “Remember what happened in the library?”

“But there's water all around,” Trevor said. “Those damned ghouls are swimming around in it like it's nothing.”

Speaking of ghouls, the fanged creatures were approaching from all sides now, and they were almost close enough to grab hold with their fat, water-swollen fingers. The Dark Lady watched as the creatures—which in truth were only another part of her—drew closer, a pleased smile on her ivory-fleshed face.

“This is water
she
controls,” Greg said. “It holds no fear for her.”

“Then we need water
we
control,” Trevor said.

They all looked to Amber. “I'll try,” she said. “But I can't do it alone.” She turned to Jenn. “There's a reason she had Mitch kidnap you. She wanted to keep us away from each other. You're as much a part of her locus as the bookstore, and that means I can affect this place—affect
her
—through you.” She held out her hand.

Jenn hesitated, but then she stepped away from Trevor and took hold of Amber's hand.

Amber closed her eyes and concentrated, and the Dark Lady stopped smiling. She gestured, and the flood victims scuttled forward, but they only moved a few inches before they froze. As one, they turned and looked in the same direction, suddenly wary, as if they were animals sensing danger.

From off in the distance came a deep sound, more felt than heard. It made Drew think of an approaching train. As the sound grew louder, the spirits of the flood victims whirled around and scuttled back to the water, leaping in and swiftly disappearing beneath the waves.

The Dark Lady also turned toward the sound, and her face contorted into a mask of sheer terror. They all looked toward the sound then—all except Amber, who continued holding on to Jenn's hand,
her eyes closed—and saw a wall of solid water rushing at them, so massive it blocked out the sky. Drew couldn't see the top of it, and he wondered if it even had a top. It was as if an entire universe of water were rolling toward them, completely obliterating this one as it came.

“Surf's up,” Trevor said in a hushed voice.

They could feel the vibrations in the shingles beneath their feet as the monster wave drew closer. Water surged in advance of the wave, and the level rose quickly up the roof, covering their feet and ankles, rising up their legs to their knees, thighs . . . The wind kicked up, and Drew knew that they were feeling the air that the wave pushed before it.

The Dark Lady stared at the gigantic wall of water as it bore down upon them. Tears rolled down her chalk-white cheeks, and she spoke a single word, one Drew couldn't hear over the water's roar, but he read her lips and was fairly sure that the word was
Please.
But did she mean
Please, no,
or was she perhaps asking for the release that she had resisted for so long? There was no way to know and no time left to wonder about it.

“Everyone grab hold of one another!” Drew shouted. “Before—”

But he was too late. The wave slammed into the rooftop and carried them all away into silence and darkness.

Although it wasn't
quite lunchtime, Trevor finished his Samuel Adams, went up to the bar, and ordered another. After the weekend they'd had, he figured he deserved it. He wished he hadn't quit smoking, though. He could really use a cigarette.