Ghostfinders 01 - Ghost of a Chance

streamers drifted towards JC and his people, light as gossamer but full of purpose.
    Heavy clumps of webbing fell in sudden jerks from the ceiling, hanging down like grey stalactites. JC’s breath caught in his throat as he realised there were shapes inside the webbing. Human bodies, wrapped and cocooned, with blank, staring faces barely visible through the dull grey shrouds. The bodies didn’t move. They were dead. They had to be dead. JC made himself study what he could make out of the faces; but he didn’t recognise anyone from the missing persons files he’d studied earlier. He wasn’t sure what he could have done if he had recognised anyone. And then a thought struck him . . .
    “Happy,” JC said carefully, “I don’t think I trust this. Any of this. It’s . . . too sudden to be anything natural. Is any of this real?”
    “Not even close,” said Happy. He was standing up straight now and was actually smiling. Now he had something he could recognise and deal with. “It’s all a projected image.”
    Melody scowled as she tried to scrape thick masses of webbing off her precious instruments. It clung tenaciously to her hand as she tried to shake it off, and she had to rub her hand hard against her hip to shift it. “Bloody well feels real enough . . .”
    “Of course it feels real, that’s the point,” said Happy. “But it’s all nothing but a telepathically broadcast image designed to prey on standard fears and discomforts.” He snapped his fingers dismissively, and every bit of webbing disappeared from the station. Happy smiled, smugly. “Kid’s stuff. They must think they’re dealing with amateurs.”
    “‘They’?” said Melody, still surreptitiously rubbing her hand against her hip. “What they? Are you saying those images didn’t come from whatever was running the hell train?”
    “Exactly,” said Happy. “Something that powerful doesn’t need to deal in images. No; we underwent a psychic attack, one of the first things my Institute trainers taught me to defend myself against. It’s the Project telepath. She knows where we are.”
    “Okay,” said JC. “This we can deal with.”
    “And the other-dimensional nasty?” said Melody.
    “We’ll get to it,” said JC. “After we’ve kicked the Project agents out of here.”
    “I love it when he gets all confident,” Happy said to Melody. “Don’t you just love it when he gets all confident? Doesn’t it make you feel all safe and protected?”
    “The hell train was sent to break our nerve, undermine our confidence,” JC said patiently. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter what’s behind this haunting. If it’s come into our world, it has to obey our rules. It can’t operate here unless it’s taken on a material form; and if it’s material, we can kick its arse.”
    “I knew it,” said Happy, rolling his eyes. “He’s going to walk up to an other-dimensional entity and look for an arse to kick. I want a transfer to another team. Do you know if the Foreign Legion’s hiring?”
    “You don’t speak French,” said Melody.
    “I’ll learn!”
    “Hush, man,” said JC imperiously. “Your leader and commander is talking. Even if we are dealing with some Force or Power from the afterworlds, whatever it is must be using someone or something from our dimension as a focus, an entry point into our plane of existence. Some original event that roots the haunting in this station. So all we have to do is identify and locate the focal point, deal with it, and we can shut this whole mess down. Melody?”
    “I’m working on it,” said Melody. She felt rather better, now that she had a definite goal to pursue. “I’m getting so many readings, it’s hard to tell what’s significant and what isn’t . . . I’ve never seen so many manifestations in one location. This place must be lousy with ghosts at the best of times.”
    JC looked at Happy. “Well?”
    “Don’t push me!” he snapped. “I’m trying! But the aether’s so full of psychic information it’s practically saturated. There’s too much going on; it’s like a thousand signals all broadcasting at once and bouncing around inside my head.”
    “Try,” said JC.
    “Bully! I need my pills.”
    “Then take some,” said JC. “Do whatever you have to, to put your thoughts in order. Because you’re no use to me like this.”
    “JC!” said Melody, turning away from her keyboards to glare at him. “You know what too much of that stuff does to him!