Phasmatta -ch 4-

Chapter 4 - Baptism -

Ryan looked over the mass of information laid out on the hotel room’s dining table.

A great deal of information that looked as if it’d been gathered over a period of weeks, rather than recently.

From home purchases, to news clippings of things happening in the area, to interviews with previous owners, neighbors, realtors, and even what looked to be the mailman.

Blowing out a breath, Ryan rubbed at his brow with several fingertips as he read over it all.

“Care to give me the gist of it?” he asked, looking to his brand-new boss.

The beautiful and clearly well-heeled Misha.

“I would most certainly be happy to do so!” she said, her words crisp.

They’d had a nice lunch, talked a great deal about the contract she wanted him to sign, and then he did so.

Shockingly he found he had no reason to argue with her.

Every clause in the contract seemed to work in his favor.

There were somethings he didn’t like but by and large it was so slanted in his favor, he’d bee a fool to say no.

Then she’d brought him back to her hotel room and here they were. Going over the information she’d purported to have, and did, and planning for the job tonight.

“It is a haunting,” she said and nodded her head. “It has occurred for the last twenty years.”

Blinking several times, Ryan opened his mouth, stared at her, then chuckled. He nodded his head, sighed, and looked to the paperwork in front of himself.

He got the hidden jab.

How would she know what to look for, when he was the one with the experience.

“Yeah,” he said and looked at the papers. “What’re the haunting reports? What’s happened? Or point out where that is in all this?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. It is a haunting that seems to be targeting men in the home,” Misha said, leaning over and picking up several papers. “They are always around them and tend to be increasing in intensity.

“The longer the individual is around, or the frequency is often, the more the events ramp upward. There wasn’t any fatalities, or actual violence, but things came close once.

“The father of the last family felt drained and kept hearing a woman’s voice. Even a scream at one point. His health kept deteroiriating and gradually getting worse.”

“Oh,” Ryan said and looked at Misha. “If that’s all true and accurate, it’s just… a drainer type. They can be a bit different depending on the area and details but… Succubus, Churel, Banshee, or a Kikimora.”

Misha’s eyes widened at the last word and her chin dipped down. Then she leaned forward toward him her fingers pressing to the table.

“A kikimora,” she repeated, her accent becoming pronounced on the word. “It is… this… it could be this? Here? In America? A house spirit gone mad?”

“I mean, ghosts are universal, honestly. It’s not really a Kikimora but just… one culture’s name for this type,” Ryan said with a shrug, watching her. “It’s their tactics and habits that get them a definition as well, rather than the other way around. It’s why you can give them a couple different names and it’s the same thing.

“What you described though really fits a Drainer. Could be something else but… outside looking in, there ya go. Next question though, deaths in the house, or immediate family. I thought I saw it around here somewhere?”

Misha’s face had grown tight at his words, her eyes unblinking and locked to him.

She made a light airy noise, then grabbed a piece of paper after finally looking away from him. It was laid down in front of him and she pointed to the top line.

“A woman, yes? We are looking for a woman?” she asked. “Alexis Snowhill.”

The line under her finger had a female’s name listed there. Her cause of death was asphyxiation some sixty years previous.

Born Alexis Dana, married name Alexis Snowhill.

“It fits but the age is a bit much,” Ryan admitted, then scanned down the list. “Sixty years is a long time when you figure she was dormant for forty. Unless… did the original family move out twenty years ago maybe? Or was it… was there no man living here at that point?”

Once again Misha’s eyes flicked over the papers and she dug through them quickly. Then she came out with a paper and laid it in front of Ryan. It was a sales history page with every time the house had changed ownership.

The first listing was thirty years ago, but not again until fifteen years ago. Giving a five year gap from the new-hand off and when the hauntings started before that.

Looking over the name on the deed change, Ryan wondered if the owner thirty years ago wasn’t a sale, but an inheritance shift. Because the surname on the changeover in the from and to were both related to the dead woman. One had her maiden name and the other her married name.

Ryan grabbed the death-certificate of Alexis which he’d spotted earlier and pulled it over. It was rather old but it was at least modern enough that it’d been done up by type-writer or printer.

“Asphyxiation… discovered by… husband,” Ryan stated and looked to the deed-change.

The home went from Alexis’ husband to a different man’s name.

Ryan felt a soft stutter in his heart as he saw the break in the chain. This was likely where the issue might’ve begun.

Glancing back to the death-certification, Ryan saw the other man’s name there, and the same name on the transfer of deed form.

It was Alexis’ younger brother, Ewing Dana, which confirmed his thought about it remaining in the family to a degree.

Flicking back to the ownership paperwork, he confirmed that it went to an unaffiliated name at that point. Passing out of the family hands. Ryan then looked to Misha. “Did Ewing rent the house out? Is there anything about the first hauntings occurring to someone other than Ewing?”

“Mm! First hauntings, first hauntings, first… here,” Misha answered and handed him a paper. Her fingers had sorted through the papers quickly and reorganized them as she’d been repeating the request.

“Not Ewing,” Ryan said with a smirk. “A renter by the name of Clyde. Clyde didn’t like the haunting much, made a stink out of it, got the news involved, which is how we know, then bailed.

“After that, it got a bit of a stigma and the next family reported hauntings. Up until the father moved out. It remained as a rental for the wife and kids, sans the father, and got passed off again not long ago.

“Which is… where you found the recent haunting and the family. Got it. This makes sense.”

“It does?” Misha asked. “Is it because Alexis was family to those in the home? She didn’t… act?”

“That’s my guess. Ghosts don’t shift from what they were in life that much,” Ryan admitted and glanced to Carl. The ghost-kid held up a sign that displayed he had a level-up waiting for him. Not staring, Ryan looked down to the floor as if he were contemplating, then back to Misha. “They take similar paths, similar routes, and are more or less stuck. Unable to leave that home, or that instant.

“With her husband there, she might’ve been dormant. Placated.

“Her little brother took over, perhaps even assisting his brother-in-law in his old age, maybe there was a nephew or niece involved as well, and Alexis remained dormant. Then it started getting rented out and… Alexis didn’t like that.”

Misha was all smiles now, nodding her head excitedly.

“This is a clever solution. I never would’ve thought to connect it like that,” she murmured, looking over all the papers in front of her.

“It’s just experience talking,” Ryan negated with a shake of his head. “As for handling the spirit… well… we’ll gear up and go take a look. She’ll focus on me and that’s fine. A perfectly safe first run for you.”

“Yes!” hissed Misha, her smile wide, her eyes gleaming. It was obvious her brain had just turned off and she was excitedly elsewhere.

***

Ryan waited quietly in his car. Staring at the unlit dashboard.

He glanced over at the home they sat in front of.

A home that was old, over-grown, and worn.

It was likely built in the fifties or sixties for this area. A fairly standard American Foursquare home.

The plot was rather large with a large front yard, large sized side yards, and what looked like a backyard on a ridge that ran straight up to a thick group of trees.

In Ryan’s mind it was likely idyllic in many ways, but also what he would call ‘backed up to the scary murder woods’. Where hobos and bears would fight over leftovers or snakes both.

I didn’t realize I’d miss the open fields of the mid-west. Feels kinda crowded here.

Mountains, hills, trees, all around me. Can’t see so far in any direction.

How the hell did they fight a civil war over areas like this?

Could run into a village or a military camp alike and never know it was there till you ran into it.

“Will you pick your level up now?” Carl asked.

Ryan chuckled at that and looked over at Carl in the passenger seat.

Before he knew what he was looking at, Carl had held up a large window for him to look at. Inside of it was a great deal of information that reminded Ryan of a video game.

“See? This is how it works. You finally broke the tutorial,” Carl murmured. “Now you can keep leveling!”

Name: Ryan Hale

Level: 1

Affinity: None

Sanity: 100%

Health: 90% (Injury-1)

Mana: 100%

Forbidden Knowledge: Rank 1

Guide: None

Title: Odds and Ends

Directly below that header area was a picture of himself and his current clothes. Oddly he was moving through a walk animation.

Below that living approximation of himself and his ‘equipment’ was another block of rows and columns.

Perks/Hexes:

Knowledge:

Awareness Of You:

Dauntless-I fear nothing

Spectral: Journeyman

The Dark Sees You

Numb-I feel no pain

Spiritual: Novice

The Ether Knows Nothing

Terrors-Am I Awake or Asleep

Demonic: Journeyman

The After Knows You

Springs Eternal-Cursed to Hope

Death: Master

Death Is Your Debtor and Ally

“Carl… what… what the hell is this,” Ryan whispered, looking it over.

If he took it too seriously, he’d have to question everything. Including his sanity.

He shook his head and tried to clear it from his thoughts even as they continued to bubble to the surface.

“Your card! See? You’ve done really well for a level one! It took you too long to beat the tutorial but… that’s okay! Now… where do you want to put your point? It’s a perk level!” Carl said enthusiastically and then shifted the view. “You automatically get an increase to your sanity and and mana, but you also have to pick.”

A list of ‘perks’ in a list appeared in front of him.

They seemed to cover every and any possibility under the sun.

Ethereal Sight, Phantom Resistance, Void’s Gaze, Echo of the Grave, Undying Hope and… I… Happy…Harem… Ending?

“Carl, what the hell?” Ryan asked, not really sure what to make of the list of at least sixty things all lined up

“I know, I know. They’re not that great,” admitted Carl sounding frustrated. “I think Infernal Ally would be really great, but it’d be hard to explain always smelling like brimstone. A lot of these don’t matter to you since you can see and hear them directly anyways. This first level is kind of a throw away perk pick I guess. Aura Cleanse isn’t bad!”

“No, I mean… Happy Harem Ending? Really?” Ryan asked with a laugh.

“I mean, I’d want that one. Don’t you?” answered Carl.

“So would I, I guess,” Ryan mumbled as Misha’s headlights came into view.

He could see the large moving truck rolling toward him with her behind the wheel.

She’d dropped her electric vehicle off and told him she’d meet him here before sunset. Apparently the moving truck had been nearby and she had someone bring it around.

“Okay, I picked it for you then. Happy Harem Ending,” Carl said with a chuckle.

“I… okay then,” Ryan said with a laugh as well. “Let’s hope they all look like Misha. Now… before I go in there, you get an eye on our haunter?”

“No. But it’s in there. I can feel it. Not much beyond that,” offered Carl. “I can’t go in with you today though. I’d set off all the devices.”

“Oh yeah. Mm. I forgot about that. I’ll just have to pretend I can’t see the haunter tonight and go the normal route for the boss,” admitted Ryan.

He watched the as Misha handled the brand new moving truck expertly.

She rolled past him a short way, then backed up while spinning the wheel.

Rolling it right up to the curb with the rear-doors nearly perfectly in line with the edge of the driveway.

It turned off and she appeared getting out of the driver’s side door.

Ryan got out of his car and walked over to the rear of the truck as Misha hit a button on a key-fob and stairs camp down from the back of the truck, rather than the ramp he’d been expecting.

Not waiting, or explaining, Misha walked up the steps, pulled the door open, and he saw that it was filled with boxes. Boxes of what looked like electronics, equipment, and genuinely things that had no label on him to be identified.

“I was able to get an approximation on things we might need from other companies, yes,” Misha said, gestured at the overly full truck, and looked to Ryan. “You will have to assist me with figuring out what is worth keeping, what we should return, and what is a ‘just in case’ item.”

“Well,” Ryan mumbled and then sighed. “We’ll need a lot of the detecting equipment first. Things to more or less help us narrow down where it is, what it responds to, and how it responds.

“Spectral Sounders. Squawk Box. Laser grid. A K2 meter or a Trifield for the EMF. Basic thermometer, gun or mercury, doesn’t matter. UV light, just don’t aim it at the bed unless you want some answers to things you don’t want. Video and audio recorders. REM pod if you want to set up a corridor.

“Then a bunch of passive things like… spirit-chalk to see if they write, some salt to see how they interact with it. Holy objects infused with actual prayer and belief.

“It’ll be responsive to some of the normal stuff.”

“Like… cold-spots and salt, yes?” asked Misha in an excited voice followed by a small bounce in place, which left Ryan desperate to keep his eyes on her face.

“Yeah, good examples,” Ryan confirmed. Then sighed, looking at all the boxed stuff. Rather than dig through it, he went to his trunk and opened it. Pulling on his gear he went the full nine-yards this time. Everything was put into place or packed into a duffel-bag.

Most of his gear was third-hand, repaired six times, and somewhat ugly, but it all worked. It was known-working gear that would give him results that he could show and teach Misha.

“I like this,” reported Misha from his side. She’d snuck up on him and he hadn’t even noticed. “This is-this-I expected something like this. I’m glad to see it. This is the ‘lived-in’ experience of someone who has done the work. Not an amateur or a hobbyist, yes.”

Not waiting, Misha grabbed the duffel-bag almost the moment he zipped it shut.

The smaller woman held onto it with both hands and held it in front of herself. There was some strain in her shoulders, but he could tell by the look of her that offering to take the bag would just make her angry.

Instead, he pulled over a cardboard box filled with random holy-items, spirit-chalk, and non-prayer filled religious books.

“Carry this instead, would you?” he asked, gently took the bag from her, and lugged it up and over his shoulder. He was ready otherwise. Even his water gun was set tight in his holster. Even his brass censer was in place with a good plug of sage, wormwood, thyme, and rue. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d help slow down whatever drainer was in there once he lit it.

“Yes! I can do that. Thank you for not… setting me aside,” Misha said with a grimace, picking up the heavy box. “I’m attractive, yes. I know this. I am not a delicate flower, though I look like one. I want this business. I want this career. I am spending much on it. Respect me, please.”

“Of course, boss,” Ryan said with a grin. He began moving for the front door, adjusting his helmet and the attached spectral-sounders. “You sure are pretty as a flower alright. Especially for being… bread.”

“I am bread, yes. I will hold everything together for you while you make up the insides for us,” confirmed Misha. “We just need whichever you are not, peanut-butter or jelly. You are good at the investigation, but you are elimination predominantly. I must find an investigator for us.”

Us.

Not me.

Us.

Why do I get the impression that unlike Cindy, Misha is going to be hands on, boots on the ground, down in the muck, wondering how hard it’ll be for these home owners to get salt out of the carpet.

“The key is in my left pocket. You will grab it from me, yes?” asked Misha. Ryan noted that she had been adding ‘yes’ to almost every sentence. He wondered if it was a nervous trait or just a need for reassurance.

Ryan grimaced, looked at Misha’s rather tight pants, then grit his teeth and reached it. He did his best not to touch her, but he had to get to the inside of her short little pocket to find the key.

Women’s pockets aren’t pockets. They’re just… lint-holders. Can’t hold anything in them.

Walking up to the steps and staright to th edoor, Ryan stuck the key in, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

It slowly creaked open as it swung on it’s hinge. Coming to a stop after a light bounce against the door.

“This is quite spooky,” Misha remarked. “I’m very excited. Very excited and eager.”

“Well, at least one of us is excited about this,” Ryan remarked and then moved into the home. He flicked the light switch on his way by and breathed in the home.

There was most certainly a presence here. That slightly off feeling when a home wasn’t and he had to teach Misha everything tonight.

Another newbie.