Pennies for the Ferryman - 01 (35 page)

I wasn’t worried about the car. The police could scratch their heads over the comatose guy behind the wheel of a car with a broken back windshield. I was already on the move with my pipe wrench in hand. Don rose up out of the ground like a freaky horror movie scene almost on top of the Skinwalker flopping on the ground.

The general was staggering to his feet when I brought my wrench down two handed, right in the middle of his back. “Hello General Reynolds. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Mike Ross.” I grabbed him with one hand to keep him from sinking into the ground and rained blows on his head with the wrench.

Had this been something visible to the normal eye, it probably would have been a repulsive scene, worse than those kids beating up that truck driver in the LA riots. I grew up on the poor streets of suburbia and my mean streak worsened while I was in Iraq. Fighting ghosts wasn’t a point-and-shoot affair. It was up close and nasty. Don stopped me after the tenth blow. Reynolds no longer moved and was leaking a glowing vapor.

“Let me in there! It’s only the energy keeping him together and I want that.”

Coming out of my fog, I undid the General’s belt, removing both the scabbard and the sword – time for a bit of an upgrade! I drew the sword. It had a more intricate pommel guard than Vincent’s with a nice balance and heft.

The rapidly dimming Civil War ghost continued to fade as Don siphoned the energy away. Hodges, on the other hand, was beginning to shine brighter than ever. I looked up and saw figures already moving towards us. There was still time, but not a lot. “Company is on the way, Don! You almost done? I don’t want to cut it close.”

“I could drain a little more, but this is plenty. Let’s get while the gettin’s good.”
Don used his sword to sever the head of the fading ghost from its body. I grabbed my wrench, the water bottle, and the antifreeze jug and sprinted towards Rusty’s truck.

Climbing in the passenger’s seat, Rusty asked me, “Did it work? I couldn’t really see a damn thing, but you looked like you were handing out a king-sized ass whipping.”

“Yeah we’re good. I’ll let you know when Don’s in the bed of the truck. Get ready…Now!”

Rusty accelerated swerving by the stalled Lexus with the driver slumped behind the wheel. I spared a glance towards the ghosts who were still over a quarter of a mile from us, looking for Vincent, but from that distance with my piss poor eyesight, they were all just a blur.

Three days later, I should have been in class, but negotiating a peace accord in my weird little world seemed more important than my day at Montgomery Community College. So I ended up sitting on a bench near the Shady Grove Metro Station. The location was flexible; I could easily disappear into the lightly wooded area surrounding it, or run into the station and fade into the sea of humanity. Rusty was parked in his truck near the highway if I needed him.

Don located a fairly new ghost and convinced him to walk into Taney’s museum and tell them that we wanted to “meet and reach an understanding.”

Roger Taney, also known as the Lord Justice, was an old, shriveled ghost with a gaunt face and longish hair. He’d emerged from the gold Lexus I’d ambushed a few days ago. His aura was definitely bright enough, though Diamond Jim and Eva seemed much more powerful. Heck, toting all that energy, Reynolds might have been brighter, but it was doubtful Taney would fall for an ambush.

My old buddy, Colonel Strong Vincent stepped out of the vehicle and stood next to Taney. Vincent’s face was a mask of barely contained rage. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing Reynolds’ sword. Having a scabbard made carrying a sword, even a ghostly one, much easier. Some juvenile part of my existence yearned to piss Vincent off, but it felt childish and I suppressed the urge. Besides, the driver of the Lexus was clearly armed; it wasn’t any time to fool around.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Taney,” I said.

“Hello, Mr. Ross. You asked for this parlay. What can a humble spirit clinging to the space between this life and the next do for one such as you?”

“I want to be left alone,” I answered.

“Pardon me for stating the obvious, but you have a rather odd way of demonstrating it.”

“Well, your men have tried to kill me, several times in fact.”

His brow knitted,
“Yes, and you decided a display of force was necessary. So, John’s destruction was simply a negotiating tactic on your part?”

“No more than imprisoning and torturing Karla Thompson was your way of making an example. When I first showed up in Gettysburg, I only wanted to understand what was happening. I met the good Colonel there and things went bad, quickly. I don’t intend to lead the next Great Cleansing. You don’t want to go on to whatever is next; hey, that’s between you and the powers that be. I don’t mind helping a ghost cross if they want to, but the pay isn’t very good and the locations stink.”

I only had a vague idea what the Great Cleansing was, but I guessed that Taney was well aware of the Poe brothers and what they did. Let him worry about what I might know. Since I always seemed to be grasping at straws, maybe it was time someone else joined me.

“I see. Then what exactly are you interested in, Mr. Ross?”

“Living a relatively normal life; one not full of turf wars between factions both living and dead that are trying to control DC.”

Taney held his hands together tapping his two index fingers against each other as I spoke.
 
“Ironically, that struggle is what prevented me from locating you. Rockville is in my territory, but like a farmer intentionally leaving a field fallow of crop, I choose not to plant roots here. The parties contesting for the District of Columbia respect my boundaries – for the most part. By claiming this area, but not really doing anything with it, I have a buffer zone and make my organization less of a target. You must understand that Ferrymen are a rare occurrence. Mr. Porter’s appearance caused quite a stir in my territory. My dear friend John acted rather poorly and sanctioned Mr. Porter based on superstition and the limited facts available.”

He was clearly using General Reynolds as a fall guy. I wasn’t necessarily buying it. “And now that you have more facts available?”

“I do believe that we can reach an accommodation. I have no real interest in this area. Stake your claim to it, Mister Ferryman. My energy is brought in from the battlefields of Gettysburg and Antietam. The meager offerings here pale in comparison. If all you wish is a simple truce that is more than acceptable. Confine your actions to this city, the south, and east and do not interfere in my dealings to the north and west and I see no reason why we cannot coexist in peace.”

“What about the spirits in DC?”

“I cannot speak for them, Mr. Ross. As they are not privy to our arrangement, it is likely that they would continue to believe this to be my territory; treating it as such. That said, I do not recommend that you provoke them, for surely you would be taking your life into your own hands.”

“And that’s it? You’re fine with that?”

“Yes. The arrangement is acceptable for now. Perhaps in the future we can work on a more amicable relationship, but such things do not occur overnight. I would ask as a gesture of good faith on your part that you return Colonel Vincent’s weapon to him. I believe your friend beneath the roadway is holding it behind that protective shield you have established.”

The barrier hadn’t impeded Taney’s vision. So much for my precautions. He must be powerful. I hoped that he couldn’t spot Don if he was hidden behind my barrier. It wasn’t all bad though; Vincent appeared surprised to learn that I had “reinforcements” with me, so the tactic can work on weaker spirits.

“Come on up, Don.”

My ghostly buddy rose up through the ground, holding Vincent’s sword. Further demonstrating his supernatural power, Taney pressed his weathered hand against my barrier. His face twisted in concentration and he pushed right through it as easily as I had pushed through the Oubliette in Atlantic City. Taney gestured for the blade.

I nodded to Hodges and he handed the saber over. Taney was blatantly trying to psyche me out. He wanted there to be no doubt who the boss was. I knew it was posturing and that it shouldn’t get under my skin.

The problem was it did.

The next two weeks were relatively peaceful. Things were actually nice when I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder. With one notable exception, I slept better than I had since the first time I’d gotten a ringside seat to the “wide world of spooks.”

Elsbeth and Megan were out of town, visiting relatives down in Florida. Kevin McNeil was shadowing his family like usual. Honestly, Kevin and I didn’t get along that well without Elsbeth in the equation. It wasn’t my fault he was an asshole. Don continued to train me, but there was a less frantic pace to it. I wasn’t about to pick fights with any of the ghost clans out there. My profits from Atlantic City eliminated most of the bills and, for a change; I still had some left in my account.

Out in the garage, there was a shiny ball of ghostly light. Don discharged the captured energy from Reynolds. We were both surprised that Taney hadn’t asked for it back. It was strange to walk in there and see it. The first night, it stayed in my room, like a big old nightlight. That lasted until it triggered several vivid nightmares. The garage was a much better place for it.

“Weird,”
Don said,
“I just feel drawn to it when I’m out here. Watch this!”

Don placed his hand on the energy and siphoned off a bit. His aura brightened. Cocking his arm, he struck the heavy bag and it recoiled to his blow. Pushing out with his hands, a fifteen pound barbell zipped off the floor and crashed into a pile of old paint cans leftover from last spring when mom painted the house just before I came home from the hospital for good.

“Hey, easy with the tossing crap around!”

“Sorry, Mike. Didn’t mean to make a mess. Easy to see why ghosts want this stuff.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild to look at, but knowing that Skinwalkers use this junk to keep a person under their control makes it feel dirty. How goes the scouting to the south?”

He shrugged, staring at the orb before him, reminding me of a moth distracted by the bright light.

“Do you want me to leave you two alone, Don? I could put on some slow music? Don, stay away from the light…”

My jokes shook him out of his funk. We’d agreed not to operate anywhere near DC, but due south and slightly west were viable options.

“Oh yeah, the south! Most of the graveyards don’t have much activity. Haven’t met any murder victims with rewards and whatnot, but there’s a lot of charity cases who want you to play messenger boy for ‘em,”
Don said.

“Yeah; maybe when I’m a little more established, I’ll consider more charity work, but do me a favor and keep looking.”

“You’re the boss. So, you’re giving up the helping the living business? I liked that Deadeye Mike website you made.”

He was referring to one of my school projects. Jenny also liked it and started offering all kinds of ideas. “That was just for one of my classes and it is still pretty crude. Right now, I stand less of a chance of pissing anyone off if I approach the ghosts first, looking for those that can pay.”

“Well, we could start by recruiting some of the charity cases and have them ‘buy’ their release by looking through those lottery tickets like that Snowden woman can.”

“You’re not-quite-living proof that not every ghost can do that.” Don was frustrated that he wasn’t able to do it. Elsbeth must have some superior skills after all.

“Yeah, well she’s been dead for a few years. I’m still getting the hang of things, but we can test ‘em and any of the ones that can do it can pay for you helping to release ‘em.”

“Not a bad idea, though I’m worried if I start winning all the time that the State of Maryland might start wondering how I do it. Lord knows who or what might be controlling Annapolis!”