Ghostfinders 03 -Ghost of a Dream

from? The voice from the phone said her name again. A soft, self-satisfied voice, like a purring cat. Like someone used to having the advantage over other people.
    “Hello, Melody,” said the calm, malicious, masculine voice. “Tell me. After all these years of hunting ghosts, are you finally ready to become one? You won’t likebeing dead, you know. No-one ever does. The truth always comes as such a terrible shock; and then they cry and they cry and they cry…”
    “Who is this?” Melody said harshly, looking down at the phone in her hand, clutching it so tightly her fingers ached.
    “You spent all this time looking for me, and you don’t even know my name. How sad is that? Of course, it wouldn’t have helped. I have a lovely new name now, to go with my new and very special nature. I’m the one who took your Kim away. Snatched her right out of that dead man’s head and dragged her off, kicking and screaming…”
    “Who are you?”
said Melody.
    “I serve The Flesh Undying. Ah, you know that name, at least. And I am here for you, little girl. Do you want your precious machines back? What would you give me to have them all working properly again? To be able to depend on what they told you? Hmm?”
    “I don’t make deals,” said Melody.
    “Have them back anyway,” said the voice. “I want you fully armed. I want this to be something like a fair fight. It’s no fun otherwise.”
    The phone shut itself down. Melody glared at it. “I really must get a
Fuck off and die
app.”
    And then she jumped slightly, despite herself, as her machines came alive again. All her instruments were back on-line, all her short- and long-range sensors were reporting in, and everything seemed to be working perfectly; sane and calm and reliable again. Melody put her phone away and moved slowly and methodically fromone set of readings to the next. Brightly coloured LEDs blinked reassuringly back at her, everywhere she looked. She checked the arms cabinet, and the machine-pistol was back in place, as though it had never been away, along with everything else. She ran one hand caressingly over the gun, but she didn’t take it out. She didn’t want the owner of the voice thinking she was afraid of him.
    Her head came up sharply, as she heard footsteps approaching from outside. Slow, steady, apparently perfectly normal footsteps, barely audible above the muted traffic noise from the street. Heading straight for the main entrance doors.
    “Oh come on!” Melody said loudly. “Not that trick again! Getting really tired of that! It didn’t work last time, and it won’t work now!”
    The entrance doors crashed open, and he came in.

    Something new and terrible had come to the Haybarn Theatre. Something that was not what it appeared to be.
    He came swaggering into the lobby, head held high and hands thrust deep into trouser pockets, bringing with him all the arrogant assured cockiness that JC used to have. He wore a very smart and expensive coal grey suit, complete with a waistcoat of many colours. He had slicked-back jet-black hair and dark, unblinking eyes. Eyes as cold and inhuman as a shark’s and just as hungry. He had a smile like Satan’s, a smile that never stopped. He sauntered around the lobby and then slammed to a halt right in front of Melody, on the other side of her wall of instruments. Everything about himlooked perfect. Impossibly, inhumanly perfect. He was heavily built, though muscle and bulk rather than fat. A huge, overpowering, physical presence. The kind that makes you feel it would be dangerous to look away, not because he was a clear and present danger but because he was always going to be the most important thing in the room; and you might miss something important.
    His face might have been classically handsome if there’d only been some character in it; but though everything was in the right place, in all the right proportions, it looked more like a mask. With those eyes, and that smile. Melody made a point of sneering at him, on general principles, to let him know she didn’t impress that easily.
    “Hello, Melody,” he said, and it was the soft purring voice she’d heard coming out of her phone. The voice of a man who’d never lost a fight and wasn’t about to start now. “I am the Faust. Horror without end, amen. I made a deal with The Flesh Undying. Didn’t sell my soul, in return for the pleasures of the flesh. Rather, I sold my flesh in return for a better soul. Have you any idea what