Ghostfinders 02 - Ghost of a Smile

and wavered uncertainly this way and that, trying to escape their gaze. When she found she couldn’t, she moved in close beside JC. He gave her his best reassuring smile. The ghosts were coming out of the fog, slowly, deliberately, more solid and more real.
    “They’re just images,” Melody said loudly, though whether she was trying to convince herself or the others was open to question. “They don’t have any physical form. They can’t . . . They can’t hurt us!”
    “Try saying it louder,” said Happy. “You might convince some of them. They looked solid enough to me . . .”
    “They’re drawing strength from the ghostlight,” said JC. “Which, in turn . . . is drawing strength from the altered reality of the building. And, possibly, from the New People . . .”
    “Don’t you have anything good to say?” demanded Happy.
    “Not often,” JC admitted. “Comes with the job, and the territory.”
    Happy scowled. “They feel real. More like individuals, now. Though all I’m picking up from them is . . . bad intent.”
    The first rank of ghosts was almost upon them, dead hands reaching out for Kim. They smiled at her, devouring her with dark, unblinking eyes. She cried out and shrank away. JC moved forward, to stand between her and the approaching ghosts. He took out his silver dagger, and quite deliberately cut his palm with the razor-sharp edge. He closed his fist, and blood dripped thickly from it.
    “Spilled blood has a voice,” said JC, almost casually. “It calls to the dead. Leave her alone, you bastards! Concentrate on me!”
    When he cut himself, the ghosts had stopped. When he spoke, all their heads turned at once, towards JC, and when they started moving again, they all headed straight for him.
    “All right,” said JC. “Now I’ve got their attention, a plan would probably be a good idea. Anyone got any ideas? Because I think I’m going to be very busy in a moment.”
    “I don’t know what to do!” said Melody. “I don’t have my tech, my gun’s no use . . . What can you do, against an army of ghosts?”
    “The fog keeps making more of them,” said Happy. “The ghostlight’s the source of their power, but how do you fight fog . . .”
    “The fog!” said JC. “That’s the answer! It shouldn’t be here, inside the building! It’s an unnatural condition, which makes it physically precarious. Which means vulnerable! Melody, run back down to the previous floor, log on to the computer, and access the building’s internal systems. Override the air-conditioning, throw it into reverse, and have it suck the fog right out of here!”
    “I thought you said it wasn’t really fog?” said Happy.
    “The more real it becomes, to make the ghosts real, the more real its physical properties become,” said JC. “Don’t argue with me, I’m a doctor!”
    “No you’re not!”
    “I might be. You don’t know. Melody . . .”
    But Melody was already off and running, through the doors and back down the stairs. Happy started to go after her.
    “Happy, stay right where you are!” JC said urgently. “I need you here. You have to look after Kim while I’m busy.”
    Happy hesitated, looked longingly at the doors, then looked at Kim, cringing miserably back against the far wall. He sighed, heavily.
    “What do you need me to do?”
    “Good man,” said JC.
    “I’ve always thought so,” said Kim, trying hard to smile bravely.
    “I know I’m going to regret this,” said Happy. “What’s the plan, JC?”
    “Well, I plan to keep them occupied, while you keep Kim safe, and Melody hopefully saves the day,” said JC.
    “That’s it, is it?” said Happy.
    “Everything else is just details,” said JC.
    The first ghost to emerge fully from the fog seemed utterly real and solid, and very dangerous. The fog itself seemed to be thinning, as more and more ghosts walked out of it. Up close, they were a horrid sight. Road-crash victims, dragging broken bones and twisted necks. Victims of domestic abuse, with wild, feral eyes. Victims of gang wars and honour killings. Old men and women who died alone and weren’t found for months. All of London’s dark, dead secrets, given shape and form and purpose by the ghostlight.
    A tall, spindly figure in the rotting remains of an evening dress, with a dead white face and outstretched hands like claws, loomed suddenly up before Kim, coming at her from out of nowhere. Kim shrieked, and Happy thrust himself between Kim and the ghost, and hit it