“They’re occupied,” I heard Rose say. “Trying to stall the Eye and ward it off so it can’t follow.”
“Should I give him CPR?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But CPR isn’t a fix. It’s something you do until better help comes along, and I don’t like the look of those things I’m sensing over there.”
“Ghosts,” Tiff said.
“We need a fast fix. Do you have something to cut yourself with?”
“Yeah.”
“Do it. Hold Blake’s hand… his right hand. Put the blood in his palm.”
Such an ignoble, anticlimactic way to go out.
“Yes, like that. In his palm.” Rose said. “This is my fault,”
I was only peripherally aware that she was touching my hand.
“Why? How?”
“I told Conquest that Blake was weak. That he’d been giving up too much blood, and he was tired. I didn’t know he’d bleed himself out in the prison, to get me back.”
“I think anyone could look at Blake and tell that he had problems,” Tiff said.
I could feel the moisture in my palm. It was surprisingly warm, when my hand felt so cold.
“I still hate that he’s using information I gave him against us. Blake’s fragile, and if we lose him, we lose this.”
“We lose, period.”
“Yeah,” Rose said. “That’s enough. Cover the cut. Close his hand. Ball it up…”
Tiff closed my hand into a fist. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but with my hand clenched as tight as it would go, it squeezed between my fingers. More warmth. When my hand felt nearly normal, it made its way up my arm.
“The ghosts are getting closer. The salt on the road is hampering them, but they’re finding their way through. He’s probably burning power to make it happen. You’re going to need to take action.”
“I’m not good with fighting,” Tiff said.
“Don’t look at it as fighting. Look, position his hand so it won’t open…”
I managed to raise my hand, clenching the fist, to show I could manage it on my own. The warmth was spreading through my upper arm to my shoulder, but my feet were almost completely gone, and my vision was going black, lost in a sea of sparks and blots.
“He can hold it up. Good. In his bag, there’s-”
“A book, some tools, twine-”
“Box of salt?”
“Yeah.”
“Get it out. Use the salt. Don’t worry about wasting it. Just dash it out.”
“Oh god.”
“Don’t worry. They’re more a force of nature than people. It’s like taking shelter from the rain. Or throwing salt on the sidewalk to prevent people from getting hurt later on.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Like that. Stall, keep it up. I’m going to go help the others.”
The warmth in my arm and shoulder reached my heart, and things quickly returned to normal. I gasped, and this time the gasp was more like a breath of air after being underwater.
As my vision cleared, I could see how close the ghosts were getting. They staggered, left and then right, trying to find patches where the salt wasn’t as thick.
When they did stagger through, they visibly weakened, flickering and fraying.
Each one radiated a particular emotion or idea. If I didn’t feel one hundred percent yet, it was because they were radiating sickness and malaise, weakness and general pain. Even with the salt as a barrier, it was noticeable.
“I feel better. You feel better?” Evan asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks to Tiffany.”
Tiffany glanced back at me. Her smile was fleeting.
I fixed the kickstand, then stood.
Fell’s gun went off a few more times. The Eye was closing in.
I took the box of salt from Tiff. She stepped back until she was behind me.
“Evan, fly closer to the ground. Stir the salt into the air. Loop by the others, report back.”
“‘Kay.”
A ghost with needles sticking out of it drew closer. I cast salt out. It was weak, crossing the salt already on the road, and the salt I used was enough to banish it. It wasn’t gone, but it was dissolved into its constituent echoes. Wisps, ectoplasm, flickers. Whatever snips and snails went into making a ghost on the fundamental level.
I dealt with another. I could feel how light the box was. This wasn’t a permanent solution. I glanced over my shoulder.
The Eye.
Especially not with him around.
“Evan just asked me to come back?”
“What’s holding us up?” I asked.
“Alexis had the same symptoms you did,” Rose said, from the motorcycle’s side mirror. “Ty’s helping her. Fell’s stalling.”
“Why her?” Tiff asked. “Blake’s weak, but Alexis…”
“I don’t know,” Rose said.
“I do,” I said. “Her dad had a heart problem. She used to always complain about the food she had to eat as a kid, because her mom made super healthy food with zero cholesterol.”
I threw salt to deal with another ghost. The needle ghost was already starting to reform, complete with transmitted bursts of desperation that was really fucking with my ability to stay calm and assess the situation.
“She always liked eating crap,” Tiff said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“And she smokes.”
“Yeah,” I said, again. “Shit, I hope she’s okay.”
“Even if she makes it through this…”
“She will,” Rose said.
Evan returned, flying close to the ground. He wasn’t flying fast, but snow and salt were stirred in his wake, and the ghosts retreated.
I took the chance to get on the bike. Tiff climbed on behind me.
I headed back to the others.
The Shepherd wasn’t far from the Eye, standing by a corner, ready to duck behind cover if Fell pointed the gun his way.
The Eye had stopped.
Fell, with his focus on the targets and the encroaching ghosts, wasn’t seeing what the Eye was doing while it was stopped.
The hood of his car was smoking.
Ty and Alexis were in the vehicle, Alexis lying on the back seat, Ty squeezed in between the two front seats, holding her hand.
I knew why. I knew what they were doing, but I still felt a little uncomfortable seeing it.
“Fell!” I shouted.
“What!?” he called out. He didn’t even turn. He changed targets, aiming at the Shepherd.
The Shepherd ducked out of the way. By some unseen signal, the ghosts around us drew closer.
I shook the box, using the last of the salt to drive some ghosts back.
The nearest were half a block away, but I could still feel them, and it was only a matter of a minute or two before they got close enough.
“You’re okay?” Fell called out.
“Fake heart attacks suck balls, but they’re still fake, I’m feeling better every second,” I said. “The Eye is cooking your car.”
He looked. “Motherfucker.”
“Alexis seems okay. We should go.”
He nodded.
When he turned, though, the ghosts took that as a cue. They approached, a little more quick and intense than before.
“Out of salt,” I said, as Fell climbed into the car. Ty moved out of the way, climbing into the passenger seat.