Ghostfinders 02 - Ghost of a Smile

along with the Dogges. Am I to take it that the theory of death by manifesting machines has been officially overturned?”
    “It’s the Dogges,” said JC. “When in doubt, always go for the killer dogs with the huge claws and jaggedy teeth. Try and bring the ghost into focus, Kim. The rest of us will keep the Dogges occupied.”
    “You speak for yourself,” said Happy. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be right here, hiding under the machinery.”
    “You even look like touching my stuff, and I will have your balls off with a blunt spoon,” Melody said immediately.
    “I want to go home,” said Happy.
    One of the Black Dogges broke suddenly from the pack and headed straight for Melody’s workstation, racing across the concrete floor. Melody produced a machine pistol from somewhere about her person and opened up on the approaching Dogge. Graham Tiley and his grand-daughter cried out, and huddled together, while JC moved quickly to stand with them. Melody swept her gun back and forth, riddling the huge Dogge with bullets, the roar of the machine pistol shockingly loud in the quiet. The Dogge didn’t even try to dodge the bullets. They passed right through him, as though his huge shape was nothing but a shadow. The bullets flew on to blast holes in the wall behind. Melody kept firing until she ran out of bullets. The Dogge loomed up before her, and jumped right over her and her workstation, landing lightly on the floor behind. It ran on, then circled quickly round, to come at Melody and Happy again. Teeth showed in its great jaws as though it were laughing; but it hadn’t made a single sound.
    Melody lowered her empty gun and looked at Happy. “Down to you then, lover.”
    “What can I do?” said Happy.
    “Come on . . . You took on Fenris Tenebrae, one of the Great Beasts, down in the Underground, and laughed in his face.”
    “I was very heavily medicated at the time!”
    “Come on, do it for me,” said Melody. “And there will be treats later . . .”
    “Sometimes you scare me more than the ghosts,” said Happy.
    “You know you love it,” said Melody. “Heh-heh.”
    They turned to face the Black Dogge, racing silently across the concrete floor towards them. Happy stepped forward and glared right into the Dogge’s crimsoneyed face. He reached out with his mind, searching for whatever bound the Dogges to this place, so he could break it . . . but the sheer animal ferocity he encountered swamped him. He made a sick, pained sound, thrust the animal emotions aside, and made himself stand his ground. Melody needed him to do this. He thrust out a telepathic block, the psychic equivalent of throwing a brick wall in the creature’s way. And the Black Dogge lurched to a sudden halt as it slammed right into it. Happy advanced on the Dogge, one step at a time, and the Dogge backed away, one step at a time. Happy frowned till his forehead ached, hitting the Black Dogge with one telepathic assault after another, battering it with pure brute psychic force . . . and the Dogge kept retreating, until finally it broke, and turned, and fled back to its pack, still circling round the factory perimeter. Happy made a rude gesture after it and turned back to Melody, trying to hide how much he was shaking.
    “My hero,” said Melody.
    “You have no idea how close to the wire that came,” said Happy. “It feels like my brains are leaking out my ears.”
    “What makes you think you have any?” said Melody.
    Happy glared at her. “Everyone’s got ears! I think I’d like to go home and lie down now, please!”
    “Later, lover,” said Melody. “I’m a bit busy right now.”
    The Black Dogges were still circling, still closing in relentlessly. JC turned to the old man.
    “Talk to me, Mr. Tiley. Tell me the legend of the Black Dogges. The stories everyone tells. Including the not-at-all-nice bits you don’t normally admit to in front of strangers.”
    “It goes back years,” Tiley said slowly. “Long before there ever was a factory here. On this place, back in the eighteenth century, there used to be an old manor house. The Winter family lived in that house and owned most of the land around. There was a quarrel, so they say, between the landed gentry Winters and a local working family, the Tileys. A quarrel, over a woman. A rape, they say, though most of the names and details are lost to us.”
    “I never heard any of this,” said Susan. “You never told me any of this before, Gramps. Mum and Dad never said