a life and the loss of all the things that person might have done. Lot of energy in murder. You were lured down here just to be killed, Kim.”
“I want my machines!” said Melody. “Theories are all very well, but I need hard, solid facts to work with! I have got to run some tests on you, Kim. I’ve never encountered such a conscious, interactive, alive-seeming post- mortem presence.”
She walked quickly around Kim, several times, examining the ghost girl from all angles, much to Kim’s quiet amusement.
“Most ghosts run in circles,” said Melody, at least partly to herself. “Endlessly repeating old actions, old emotions, significant events. They don’t react to, or interact with, the real world because they can’t see it. Quite literally lost in their own worlds. The future isn’t important to them because they’re locked in the past.” She turned abruptly to study JC. “And I’m dying to put you under the microscope and see what makes you tick. You’ve changed . . . and I don’t mean only those highly unsettling eyes of yours. I want to know what hosting the Light has done to you. There’s a whole series of serious scientific papers in you, JC, and I want my name on them.”
“You’ve got to do something about those eyes, JC,” said Happy. “They’re too disturbing for mere mortals like us. How about a nice set of designer shades?”
He produced a pair of sunglasses that might have been borderline fashionable, several years previously, and handed them to JC. He slipped them on with a certain amount of self-consciousness.
“Okay, that’s weird,” said Melody. “The glow is actually shining through the sunglasses.”
“Well, yes,” said Happy. “But it is more bearable.”
“Oh yes,” said Melody. “Definitely more bearable.”
JC looked at Kim. “How do I look? Seriously?”
“Well, the shades do help detract from the somewhat shredded suit,” said Kim. “But to be brutally honest . . . you look like a second-rate spy who’s been dragged through a car wash, backwards.”
“I can live with that,” said JC. “Now, let us concentrate on more important problems. We need more information on our unseen Intruder. Happy, crank up your amazing mind and scan Kim. See if you can pick up any traces left behind from contact with our enemy.”
“I can try.” Happy smiled diffidently at Kim. “Don’t worry; you won’t feel a thing. I’m going to take a quick poke around through your recent past.”
“Go ahead,” said Kim. “I’ve always been pretty transparent. Little ghost humour there. Don’t let me spook you.”
Happy scowled, concentrating, all his attention fixed on Kim, then he blushed suddenly and backed away. “Ah. Yes. I see. Sorry!”
“What’s the matter?” said Kim. “I didn’t feel anything.”
“I did,” said Happy. “In fact, I feel in definite need of a cold shower, and a lie-down with an instructional book. Sorry, JC . . . All I’m picking up from her is, well, love. Her love for you. Her feelings are really quite . . . overwhelming. Can’t see anything else through it. I haven’t felt so embarrassed since I walked in on Great-uncle Sebastian and the two parlour-maids. Haven’t felt the same about feather-dusters ever since. I’m babbling, aren’t I? Don’t mind me. I’ll go stand over there by myself and think pure thoughts for a while if that’s all right with everyone.”
“Stand firm, man,” said JC. “You still have work to do. Scan me. See if you can identify the source of the Light that saved me.”
“You don’t want much,” grumbled Happy. He considered JC thoughtfully for a long moment. “Hmmm . . .”
“What does that mean?” said JC. “Hmmm . . . what?”
“It would appear,” Happy said carefully, “that in the hour of your greatest need, something very high up in the pecking order of the Good reached down from the afterworlds and touched you, briefly, with its power.”
“Then why are you looking so concerned?” said Kim, drifting forward to stand beside JC. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It’s never a good thing when the Outer Forces start taking a direct interest in you,” Happy said grimly. “Unless you want to end up as a conscript foot-soldier in their never-ending war between Light and Dark, Law and Chaos, Good and Evil.”
“Well,” said JC, after a moment, “who knows? Maybe I’m officer material.”
And that was when Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman burst onto the platform, guns blazing. Once again, it was only Happy’s last-moment apprehension of danger that allowed the Institute agents to survive. Natasha’s mental shields were powerful enough to hide both her and Erik’s approach, but the presence of such a strong mental shield was enough to alert Happy’s well-nourished sense of paranoia. He yelled a warning and was actually diving for cover even as Natasha and Erik made their entrance through the archway. JC and Melody were off and moving even as the first bullets were fired.
Kim stayed where she was, lacking both Institute training and self-preservation instincts. She looked confusedly about as bullets punched harmlessly through her ghostly form. Melody threw herself behind a vending machine, produced her machine-pistol from somewhere about her person, and returned fire. Natasha ducked back into the archway and kept up a steady barrage on the vending machine, which jumped and shuddered as bullets slammed into its steel side.
Happy peered out from behind a row of metal seats and hit Erik with a powerful mental probe, freezing him in place. Natasha spotted her partner’s plight immediately but ignored it, concentrating all her mental powers on Melody, to make her miss. Puffs of plaster flew through the air as Melody’s bullets pock-marked the archway, but not one of them came anywhere near Natasha. Emboldened, she stepped forward and drew a bead on Melody. And that was when JC stepped out of the shadows, whipped off his sunglasses, and fixed the startled Natasha with his gaze. She froze in place, the gun slipping from her nerveless fingers. And then she sank abruptly to her knees, crying out and covering her eyes with both hands. Unable to face what she’d seen in JC’s new eyes.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to judge,” said JC.
Natasha and Erik were made to sit with their backs to the wall, hands clasped together on top of their heads. Neither of them gave any trouble. Between Happy’s telepathy and JC’s eyes, they felt seriously outgunned. They both looked dazed, and a little disturbed, at how easily they’d been taken down. Natasha wouldn’t so much as look in JC’s direction even after he put his sunglasses back on. He stood over the Project agents, frowning thoughtfully. Happy and Melody stood on either side of him, doing their best to look dangerous. Melody was the most successful at that because she still held her machine-pistol at the ready.
“Talk to me,” JC said coldly. “No use playing dumb. I know who you are; I’ve read your files at the Institute. Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman, field agents for the Crowley Project. So what are you doing here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” said Erik, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“Happy,” said JC, “see what you can dig out of them. No need to be gentle about it.”
“Way ahead of you,” said Happy. “I can’t see much; the Project’s installed really good shields. Still, this pair isn’t exactly A team material; they operate on our level, more or less.” He smiled nastily at Natasha. “Don’t think you can keep me out forever, though. I already know things about you. You’re a soul eater, you nasty little cow. And your fat friend tortures animals. For fun.”
“For science!” said Erik. But he still wouldn’t look up.
“What are you doing down here?” said JC. “What’s your mission? Talk to me; or I’ll take my shades off again.”
“This is all the Project’s fault, isn’t it?” snapped Happy. “One of your Workings gone wrong! Your higher-ups let something nasty into our world, and you were sent down here to clean up the mess and wipe off the fingerprints.”
“No!” said Natasha. She looked up at Happy, avoiding JC. “We’re not here for the haunting; we’re here for you. Vivienne MacAbre put a death mark on all three of you for being too good at your job. We don’t like competition. Your deaths were supposed to send a message to the Institute. No-one told us what was really going on down here, or we wouldn’t have come. We’re no more fit to deal with a mess of this magnitude than you are.”
