PsyCop: GhosTV Part 36

d.a.m.n it. It was right behind Faun Windsong's head. I pulled my hand out of Jacob's grasp and went for the necklace. Getting it back around Faun's neck where it was supposed to be was the only quick course of action I could think of. Only my hand wasn't closing around the necklace. Did I feel something? Was that it? I made another grab.

Used tissue, moist. No necklace. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!

Another crash behind me, and Dreyfuss said, "I'm gonna stay on the floor for now."

"The necklace," I said.

I'd expected Jacob to hand it to me, but instead it was Dreyfuss who said, "To your right."

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I moved my hand right, and sure enough, there it was. Only Dreyfuss couldn't have seen it, not from behind me where he was flailing around on the floor. So his sixth sense really was in overdrive just as much as mine. And his funky eyeb.a.l.l.s didn't need to be lined up with something to see it. I grabbed the necklace and tried to slam it down on Faun, but the swing went wild. I punched her in the arm and dropped it again. Meanwhile, the crack of light took another right turn and crawled down the wall until it disappeared behind the couch. "Jacob..." once it formed a rectangle, the glowing cranked up even harder, and the section of wall in the center began to...dissolve.

"Put the necklace back on her. Now."

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Chapter 37.

Jacob grasped Faun by her uninjured hand and gave her an alley-oop. He was moving fast and efficient, but Faun was like a floppy rag doll. Who's to say if Jacob would've moved faster if he could see the big, honking, scary-a.s.sed door to another dimension opening directly behind her head. But I knew in my gut that the only one who had a visual on it was me.

"Now," I said, and somehow, despite the feeling that my muscles were brittle enough to shatter if I forced them into motion, I rose into a crouch, and then stood.

The cold light s.h.i.+ning from the magic door was scary, but once my psychic eyes adjusted to the brightness, the figures lurking beyond it were ten times worse. The figure in the forefront resolved itself as it moved closer, and closer still, and the haze of overbright light receded, and revealed the stain down the front of her dress where her heart had been torn from her chest, and that long, wet stain was pulsing blackish red. I wasn't sure what scared me more, all that blood, or the look in her eyes. Because sane people's eyes didn't look that way-I know that for a fact.

Most of the cops I've worked with over the years have a particular fear of crazy people. Not just because crazies are so unpredict-able, but for some deeper, subconscious reason, like the fear that their mental imbalance might be somehow contagious. Luckily, I shed that phobia probably a week after they locked me in the loony bin.

Nutjobs are people too, after all, and unless they've got a history of 330.

violence or maybe a weapon, I don't find them any more intimidat-ing than your average joe. So here's the part that was spooking me: most nutjobs think they're sane, at least on some level, and so Karen Frugali's astral form shouldn't have been staring out through those glittery, crazy-girl eyes.

But Karen saw herself as crazy.

And crazy Karen looked pretty d.a.m.n happy to see Faun Windsong without her lucky necklace on.

She didn't just reach for Faun Windsong's head. She reached into it, like a horror-flick zombie looking to grab a quick snack. Faun gasped- a small inhalation, as if maybe she'd just remembered something.

She'd felt it, though. She'd definitely felt it.

"And here comes our buddy, Lyle," Dreyfuss said, "just in time.

Detective Marks, keep him in the hall, would you?" Jacob started to turn toward the door, and I snapped, "Stay with Faun." He listened to me and not the federal agent on the floor behind me-I give him that much credit. But even though he finally got that ugly-a.s.sed necklace fastened around Faun Windsong's neck, he was too late. Karen had already broken through.

She felt around inside Faun's head as if she was searching for the last piece of chocolate in a plastic jack o' lantern full of cheap lollipops, and the moment she seized on whatever it was she'd been looking for, I saw it. Karen's face lit up in a wide, brutal smile that showed way too many teeth. Faun Windsong's face changed, too. Her look of mere surprise s.h.i.+fted, intensified, and became fear.

Karen clutched hard, and she pulled.

I thought I was the only one who saw the top of Faun's head stretch- but then Jacob dropped her and jumped back with a very un-Jacob-like, "What the f.u.c.k?" and I realized that Karen had somehow managed to bridge the gap between astral and physical.

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I tried to shove Jacob back toward Faun, but my arm wasn't where I thought it was and I only managed a girly slap across his shoulder.

"Hold onto her," I barked. "Protect her." Faun's head stretched like taffy, and glistening globs of ectoplasm burst from the point at which her physical body stretched into the astral. That, I gather, Jacob saw- the slimy stretched head-and he didn't budge. She howled, and it didn't sound like a human howl. It didn't even sound like an animal howl, or anything else from the physical world. I tried to give Jacob another shove toward her, and might as well have been beating him up with a wet noodle. "Go on, protect her. Isn't that what your talent is for?"

"What's happening?" Dreyfuss demanded, but if he couldn't see anything while he was hopped up on psyactives-not in the sense people normally see things-I didn't have the luxury of calling "time out" to explain things to him.

I said, "Karen Frugali." Hopefully that'd convey enough.

Her head snapped up at the sound of her name-yeah, she could hear me all right. Her crazy astral eyes met mine, confirming that she knew I could see her-while I was physical and she was astral. How's that for a parlor trick?

Jacob forced himself to take Faun Windsong by the shoulders, even though her head was stretched two feet into the astral, and she was covered in slime and making that horrible, hollow, bone-chilling wail.

"Karen's pulling on her," I said. "Pull back." And then another voice joined the fracas. "Oh. My. G.o.d." I recognized it from the Mexican restaurant, so I didn't need to risk a disorienting glance over my shoulder to know Lyle had just graced us with his presence. Some photo op.

Dreyfuss tried to round him up. "Don't move. Stay calm-" but stretched heads had never been among the psychic phenomena on 332.

PsyTrain's lesson plan. Lyle started shrieking, louder even than Faun Windsong.

Karen set her jaw and started hauling at Faun's head even harder.

Faun's face was at least four feet long now and her features looked like a melted multicolor candle. Her screaming sounded echoey, and more astral than physical. "Grab her f.u.c.king head," I told Jacob.

Because he was the one who'd always wanted to dig in, and get his psychic hands dirty, right? Well, here was his chance.

He didn't want to-I could tell he was straining to do what I'd ordered.

h.e.l.l, if he'd actually wanted to touch it, I'd probably have good reason to be squicked by the extent of his Psych fetish. But he summoned up his courage, and he forced himself to wrap his hands around that long, slimy, rubbery, wailing thing that had been a human head mere seconds ago, and he pulled.

"Red energy," I told him. "You're stronger than a d.a.m.n necklace.

Suck white light and send your red energy up to zap her free." Even though I couldn't see what Jacob was doing, it must have had some effect. When Karen saw what was going on, she blazed sparkly-astral and pulled even harder, gaining a few more inches on Jacob.

The weird wailing sound Faun made was so far away now, when Lyle drew breath to keep panicking, I realized there were more voices- small and distant, but definitely voices-coming from behind Karen.

"Police. Drop it. Drop it now. I will shoot."

An astral cop? A female astral cop, at that...and then the slight Spanish accent clicked in, and everything else fell away-Jacob and Faun, Dreyfuss and Lyle, and the world's loudest Quiet Room. Because that was Lisa's voice. Lisa.

I surged forward and found myself face to face with crazy-eyed Karen...which didn't make sense, because how could I be in the doorway when the astral door was way up by the ceiling, and I was half-crippled with drug-induced muscle cramps. Only I didn't feel crampy 333.

at all. I looked down and saw the top of Jacob's head. Then I glanced over my shoulder and saw myself.

I'd projected...standing up.

It was useless to look at my physical body, stooped and gla.s.sy-eyed- it only gave me vertigo. What was the worst thing that could happen, anyway? I'd fall over? I've survived worse. Or maybe someone else could carjack me while I wasn't behind the wheel...but no time to think of that. Not now. I poured all my focus into Karen Frugali, co-ordinating with Lisa to get her to let go of Faun. "Drop it," I shouted, directly in her face-and I felt the familiarity of my holster on my left side, and the gel insoles of my work shoes. I wasn't ex-Hardcore Vic, a guy with no hobbies besides pretend-jogging and p.o.r.n. I was an astral cop too, and now I was on-duty. "Police. Drop it. Now." I'm not sure whether she would have been scared of my astral gun or not-heck, I didn't even know if my astral gun was even loaded-but that dumb training session with Sando I'd endured came back to me clear as ectoplasm, and instead of worrying about guns and bullets and how they would or wouldn't function in the astral, I grabbed her by the wrist, leaned in, and snap-pull-pop, I'd jarred her funny bone.

While I hadn't expected it to work...I hadn't exactly thought it would fail, either. I think my sliver of confidence was the catalyst that converted the physical maneuver into its astral equivalent. Karen let go of Faun's head and screamed-if you could call it screaming. It sounded more like the squeal of brakes right before a car crash.

"Watch it, Vic. She's dangerous." Lisa. My G.o.d, it was so good to hear her voi...wow. There she was. I'd expected her in a J-Lo type velour tracksuit, or maybe a poorly-fitted woman's blazer, but astral Lisa was wearing the navy uniform of a beat cop, complete with a mascu-line black tie and a big, gold badge over her heart. She held her gun like she meant business, and I wouldn't have been surprised if she was a better shot than me. The weird thing was, in the astral...Lisa didn't quite look like Lisa, not the way I thought of her. Astral Lisa 334.

was plainer. Harder. Like if you saw her from the wrong angle and you didn't notice the tight single braid down her back, you might mistake her for a short Mexican guy with thin eyebrows and biggish hips.

"Don't let her pull you in." Debbie-holy h.e.l.l, astral Debbie looked like a pinup girl. She could give Betty Page a run for her money. She didn't glow as brightly as Karen, though. Neither did Lisa. Or that weaselly little dark-haired kid beside her...Chekotah. Cripes, Chekotah really was as pathetic as Dreyfuss said.

I didn't think I needed to worry about Karen trying to pull me in. Just the opposite. "Get out," she bellowed, and her voice was like thunder. It knocked me back a couple of feet, and the magic door began to dim. I could make out the texture of the stucco wall behind it, or through it...or however it was situated in relation to the physical.

I started to feel panicky around the edges, because Lisa and Debbie- and that weirdo Chekotah-were within reach, and since I had no intention of taking one of those evil psyactives again, I needed to figure out how to bring them back to the physical now. I sucked white light and rushed back toward the door. The closer I came to it, the more defined it became. But Karen was right on the threshold this time...

and now she had the astral axe in her hands.

"Get out." Karen hefted her axe like she d.a.m.n well meant to use it.

Given that she was so adamant about guarding that doorway, I figured it must be important. Behind her, Lisa motioned for me to get going-right, as if I'd turn tail and just leave her trapped there beyond the looking gla.s.s. I was in cop-mode just as much as she was, and on top of that, Karen's craziness didn't scare me-though it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to watch out for that axe. I glanced down- Jacob was cradling Faun Windsong, who was gasping out huge sobs and covered in slime, but her head looked round enough. If I could pull Lisa and Debbie back through that door, maybe they'd be okay, too.

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Of all the various scenarios I'd trained for, hostage negotiation was not one of them. Maybe that was another of Sando's many skills, and we'd learn it during next fall's training inservice. Even so, I knew the value of staying calm. So while Karen was bugging out and Lisa was screaming at her, I decided to take it down a few notches. I showed her my empty hands so that she could see I wasn't going to draw on her-yet. Then I motioned for Lisa to stop the Droptheweapon!

routine, and said, "Look, I just want to talk." Karen clenched the axe, but her psycho-eyes went slightly puzzled.

"This isn't what you wanted," I said, "is it?" Karen didn't contra-dict me, so I went on. "You're a smart lady-think about it. Yeah, Chekotah's a creep, and yeah, he strung you along. But it doesn't look like revenge is gonna make anything better. Keep going with this, and there's no way it can end well."

"There never was," she snapped.

Behind her, Lisa motioned for Debbie to take Chekotah and start circling around so they were flanking Karen.

"Right," I said, "I get it. Sometimes everything's just another shade of c.r.a.p. But listen, here's something else I know. You've got a ton of talent-and you could do more with it."

She must've been waiting for me to tell her to tone it down, because the look of confusion on her face was priceless.

"Forget the 'light worker' bulls.h.i.+t. You're a medium."

"No...." she didn't sound very sure.

"You are. Your subtle bodies come apart like a bunch of nesting dolls.

But you've only been working on one muscle-the astral muscle-and leaving everything else to go flabby." As someone who'd never had any idea he could project, but who saw ghosts like they were right there in front of him, I should know. "If you can do this astral thing, 336.

then you can sense spirits." She was so strong, level-five at least, that with the right training, she'd probably be able to see them as well as I could. "It's just a matter of focusing on a different subtle body."

"Why should I care?"

"Because that's really what it's all about, isn't it? The afterlife?" I searched her face. "Your son?"

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Chapter 38.

At the mention of her dead kid, her expression froze, but her energy s.h.i.+fted palpably. She flickered. The door flickered. Lisa saw the change, and made the call to get out of there while the getting was good. "Go-go-go," she barked, and tried to herd the civilians through.

There was a blur, and a whoos.h.i.+ng sound filled my ears, and the three of them distorted and began to stretch-but Karen reached into the smear of light and astral matter, snagged something, and pulled.

Chekotah's astral body pulled free from the stream and snapped back into the astral. Lisa and Debbie, it seemed, had broken through.

Commotion in the physical started up behind me, lots of shuffling and yelling, but I didn't dare take my focus off Karen. She flickered, hard. But there was no way for Chekotah to get past her. It would serve him right for me to leave him behind, but I supposed I should at least attempt to pull him out, too. "Listen," I said, "just listen a second. I know about spirits. Okay?"

The flickering stabilized. Karen stood before me, still blocking the doorway, but now the axe was dangling at her side and she was making major eye contact-not looking there occasionally and then looking away again, like normal people do-but unflinchingly staring deep into my eyes.

"When people die," I said, "and you'll be able to verify this for yourself-most of 'em move on. A few of 'em stick around. But the ones who stick around are usually messed-up. Murders and suicides, or people with unfinished business. As for accidents and illness-at the 338.

very worst, they leave a little residue. A repeater. A psychic impression of the final moments, like a moving snapshot. I think the spirits of those repeaters, they're fine. They go wherever it is people...go.

When they die."

Karen was so still, I almost thought her astral pause-b.u.t.ton had been triggered. But then she said, "Heaven?"

While I knew she probably wanted to hear that heaven was full of clouds and angels and Jesus and all-you-can-eat, calorie-free buffets, I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. Not Psych to Psych. I felt something pulling at me, voices in my ear. It was getting hard to think, but I managed to say, "Maybe it's heaven, or maybe it's some higher plane. Call it what you want. I know there's something more, though.

I've seen spirits go there...and join up with their loved ones again." She didn't cry. She was beyond crying. Her face twisted into an expression of such raw despair I had to look away.

"Don't you get it?" I said. "You'll see your kid again. When it's time.

But until then, what good's it gonna do to rack up a bunch of casual-ties, all over this...guy?" I did my best to ignore the sensation of being shaken when it seemed to me I was standing still. I gestured at the sniveling little nerd she'd trapped beyond the door. "Forget about him. He doesn't deserve you."

While it blew my mind that I'd actually been in full agreement with Con Dreyfuss, especially to the point of repeating him verbatim, Karen seemed to experience a headful of epiphanies, too. Her expression registered a series of shocks. She released the astral axe, and it dissolved into a shower of sparks as it slid from her grasp. She was still blocking that door, though.

"Let him go," I said gently. "I have no idea if there's a big scorecard in the sky or not-but just in case there is, do you want to take the chance you'll screw up your afterlife-for him? And even if it turns out 339.

to be one big free-for-all once you go into the light, what about the rest of this life? You can be so much more without him." I'd been trying to appeal to the childless mother in her, but inadver-tently, I ended up speaking to the dog-eat-dog part of her that wanted to be the best, the brightest, at everything she did. She whirled around to get a look at astral Chekotah, and even though I had serious doubts about whether I'd have any aim when my physical body was being jostled around, I slipped my astral gun out of its holster in case the axe made a reappearance. But instead of splitting Chekotah like a cord of firewood-which I have no doubt she could have-Karen gave him a look of such pure contempt it made him shrink even smaller, and she pointed her finger in the direction of the Quiet Room, and she said, "Go."

I couldn't stick around long enough to see if he made it or not. My physical body was pulling at me hard, and the sickening psyactive in my system was the only thing that kept me from snapping back like a lightning bolt. It felt good to let go, to let it drag me into that sh.e.l.l, in the way that puking feels good after you've been hovering over the toilet half the night waiting to hurl.

My hearing came back first-pandemonium-while my vision took a moment to clear. And it seemed like there were hands all over me, though I was too stunned to recoil from all the unwelcome touching.

"Can you hear me?"