Ghost of a Dream (20 page)

“We can make more money…” said Benjamin.

“This isn’t about the money!” said Elizabeth. “This was never about money! I want our play! I won’t be stopped, and I won’t be beaten. I won’t be driven out of here, by the living or the dead or our own damned past!”

Benjamin smiled suddenly. “That’s my girl.”

And this time, when they looked at each other, Happy could see exactly what they saw in each other.

They all looked around sharply again as they heard footsteps approaching. Outside, in the corridor, slow and heavy footsteps that didn’t even try to seem human were heading their way. The sound came clearly through the closed door, as though carried on something more than the air. Each step more than naturally heavy, like something pressing down on the world, imposing its presence through a sheer act of will. The same kind of footsteps they’d heard before, up on the stage.

Elizabeth clutched at Benjamin. “Not again. I can’t stand it again. Make it go away.”

Benjamin looked at Happy. “If Old Tom was the ghost, what’s that?”

“I think…” said Happy, “that Old Tom was a mask for the real ghost to hide behind. As though he was putting on a performance. Old Tom may be gone now, but the threat is still here.”

He moved forward, to face the closed dressing-room door. It worried him that he couldn’t remember exactly when it had closed, or who had closed it. Outside, in the corridor, the footsteps were drawing slowly, chillingly, closer.

“Lock the door!” said Elizabeth. “Keep the bastard out!”

“Do you have a key?” said Happy.

“Of course we don’t have a key!” said Benjamin. “The renovators had all the keys. When they left, they gave them to the caretaker…Oh God.”

“Do something!” said Elizabeth shrilly.

“You really think locking a door will keep a ghost out?” said Happy, incredulously. “They’re famous for walking through doors! And walls…”

“You’re the expert!” said Benjamin. “There must be something you can do!”

“There’s no other way out of here,” said Elizabeth. “We’re trapped!”

“Yes, I had noticed that, thank you!” said Happy.

He didn’t want to be there. Being in charge, making decisions, doing something, that had always been JC’s role. But Happy was the only Ghost Finder in the room, which made him the man on the spot. Part of him wanted to open the door, run blindly, and hope the actors could keep up. Another part wanted to pull open the door, point at the actors, and shout
They’re the ones you want! Not me!
But Happy had always been a man of many parts, and he’d spent a long time learning how to decide which of the voices inside his head he was going to listen to. One of the reasons he became a Ghost Finder, though he’d never admit it to JC or Melody, was that he wanted to become a better person. If only because being a coward didn’t half take it out of you. JC had put him in charge of the actors and told him not to let them get killed; so it was up to him to do something. And since his usual tactics of screaming and crying and hiding behind other people weren’t really options here, that left…doing the right thing.

He thought of the pill bottles he still carried secreted about his person. He could knock back a swift cocktail of reds and blues and yellows, and all the problems would go away. Or they’d still be here, but at least he wouldn’t
care any more. Or care what happened to the actors. Happy smiled sadly. He couldn’t do that. Because he sort of liked Benjamin and Elizabeth, for being as larger than life as he’d always thought actors should be; because he didn’t like seeing anyone bullied by ghosts; and because he was damned if he’d let JC down. The man who’d believed in him enough to make him part of his team, despite all the warnings. The man who believed that Happy could be a better person.

Happy needed someone to believe that on the days that he didn’t.

He walked up to the closed door and scowled at it without touching it. The idea that you could run right at something that scared you, instead of running away, was a new one to Happy. He closed his hands into fists to stop them shaking. The heavy footsteps came right up to the other side of the door and stopped. Everything was still and quiet. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the three people in the dressing-room as they stood very still, listening.

“Has it gone?” said Elizabeth. “It disappeared, the last time it stopped, on the stage.”

“That’s right,” said Benjamin. “The footsteps stopped, and it was over.”

Happy didn’t know what to say. Reassurance was another of those people skills that he usually left to JC. It didn’t feel like it was over…but now that the footsteps had stopped, it was hard to remember why they’d scared him so much. Footsteps weren’t so bad, after all. Just sounds. The crawling thing on the stage—that had been bad. With all the blood, and the eye hanging out.
But it had been in no condition to hurt anyone. What was so scary about the footsteps…was that there was nothing to see. They could have been made by anyone, or anything. The threat and the menace were all in the anticipation…

When Happy was still a child, before his powers kicked in, he was afraid of the dark. And what scared him then was that he couldn’t see what it was that scared him. There could be anything in the dark, anything at all. Imagination filled in the details, in the worst way possible. Of course, Happy grew up to be a major-league telepath and discovered that he had good reason to be scared of what was hiding in the dark. Another reason he became a Ghost Finder: to find a way to strike back at the things in the dark. So no-one else would have to know, and be scared, like he was.

“I can’t hear anything,” said Elizabeth. “Is that good? Has he gone?”

Something knocked on the other side of the door, loud and hard—great crashing knocks that made the door jump and tremble in its frame. Something outside wanted them to know it was there. Something that wanted in. It must know the door wasn’t locked, so it must want, or need, to be invited in…It knocked again and again and again, hammering on the door with vicious force, barely pausing between each knock.

“Don’t let him in!” screamed Elizabeth.

“What is that?” Benjamin yelled at Happy. “What’s out there? You’re supposed to be the mind-reader! What can you see?”

“I can’t tell!” said Happy. “I’m trying, but…I can’t
see anything! Something’s hiding it from me. Something big and powerful that’s been waiting here for twenty years, growing more and more powerful, determined to have its revenge! What’s out there? You tell me! You made it!”

“Please,” said Benjamin. “Please help us. Don’t let him get to Elizabeth.”

Happy scowled at the reverberating door, his heart hammering like the frenzied knocking. It sounded like all the monsters that ever were, determined to get in, and get him.

I can do this,
thought Happy, trying hard to make himself believe it.
I ain’t afraid of no ghost. I faced down Fenris Tenebrae, and the New People. And I’m damned if I’ll chicken out in front of strangers. They’re relying on me. Bit of a new feeling, that. Not sure if I like it, but…

He cranked up his nerve to the sticking point, grabbed the shaking door handle, and hauled the door open. He cried out something incoherent, ready to hit whatever was there with the strongest and most concentrated blast of disbelief he had…But there was no-one on the other side of the door. Happy stepped quickly out into the corridor and looked up and down; but there was nothing but shadows and silence, and a feeling…That there had been something there a moment before. Something bad. The light in the corridor was calm and steady, and so were the shadows, and Happy…wondered what the hell was going on. He would have liked to believe he’d driven the thing away, by confronting it; but that…didn’t feel right.

He stepped back into the dressing-room. Benjamin
and Elizabeth, backed up in the far corner, looked at him pitifully. Elizabeth was trying to be brave; and Benjamin was standing in front of her, shielding her. Happy smiled and nodded quickly to them, and they almost collapsed in relief.

“Whatever that was, it isn’t there any more,” said Happy. “But it’s getting closer. And stronger. If I’m going to protect you, you have to tell me the truth about what really happened here, twenty years ago.”

“I’d rather die,” said Elizabeth.

Happy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. It could come to that.”

Back in the lobby, Melody happily bustled around her precious machines, firing up her scientific equipment, checking that everything was as it should be, and having a merry old time. She always enjoyed putting things in order, making sure they were working right, crossing off things on her list and running through her rituals. She liked machines as opposed to people because, with machines, you only had to punch the instructions in once. Melody understood machines. Whereas people, usually men, remained mostly a mystery. Melody had never had any problems having sex with men; it was the talking to them afterwards that gave her problems. One of the reasons she enjoyed Happy so much was that he was delightfully uncomplicated. He divided the entire world into things that he liked and things that scared him; and as long as Melody was careful as to which category she
put herself into, she always knew where she was with Happy.

She patched in the short-range sensors, fed extra power to the long-range sensors, and smiled happily as the readouts flickered calmly before her. This was the part of any Ghost Finders mission that she enjoyed the most, being left alone to set up and calibrate her marvellous machines, without the others hanging around making what they presumably thought were helpful comments. She didn’t feel alone, or vulnerable, in the lobby because she was never alone when she was with her equipment. Her machines made her feel safe and protected because she knew she could always rely on them. Machines rarely let her down, and on the rare occasions when they did, she either fixed them or hit them until they didn’t. People, on the other hand, were always surprising her, and rarely in a good way.

She thought of JC, off on his own somewhere with the lovely Lissa, and smiled briefly. JC might think he was impressing Lissa, but Melody was fairly confident Lissa wasn’t the kind who impressed easily. Melody knew a fellow hard-hearted professional when she saw one. In fact, JC would do well to watch out for himself.

Melody’s thoughts then turned to Happy, off on his own with the two actors; and she didn’t smile at all. She wasn’t at all sure why JC had put Happy together with the oh-so-theatrical Benjamin and Elizabeth. Happy did have some good qualities if you were prepared to dig deep enough to find them; but leadership and responsibility definitely weren’t on the list. It was always possible JC thought the actors might relax a little around
Happy and unburden their souls to him where they probably wouldn’t talk to JC, or to her. People often felt sorry for Happy and told him all manner of things they’d never tell another soul, so he’d stop looking at them with those big, soulful, puppyish eyes. Personally…Melody doubted it. Benjamin and Elizabeth had secrets they only shared with each other. Anyone could see that.

She wasn’t worried about Happy. Wasn’t worried at all. The actors would look after him.

She moved back and forth before her control boards, swaying sensuously, checking sensor displays and energy readouts, fine-tuning things here and there and having a perfectly wonderful time. Everything in the lobby seemed entirely normal, all conditions as expected. Not even a hint of a cold spot, or an energy spike; no electromagnetic fluctuations; and not even a murmur on the EVP dead-radio channels. Melody looked cheerfully round the lobby…and then something caught her eye. There were posters on the lobby walls. Large, colourful posters, leftovers from the theatre’s past triumphs. There were half a dozen of them, scattered around the lobby, and Melody had to turn around in a complete circle to take them all in, in turn. Melody’s good temper was gone in a moment, her smile replaced by a slowly deepening scowl. Because she couldn’t for the life of her remember whether the posters had been there before. She hadn’t noticed them when she first entered the lobby, or when she was putting her instruments together; but then she often didn’t notice unimportant details like that. Unless someone pointed them out to her or she had nothing else to look at.