Uncanny Witnesses
10th of November 2006 A.D.
U up?
???
I need someone to talk to ghosts, Whamp was hunting someone from the Ordo.
Sure, I'll be out in 45.
It is a little awkward having that conversation with Murphy looking over your shoulder, though judging by her expression she's probably more worried about teenagers with power over life and death than she is the quality of your late night texting. You throw her a smile: "Back to the scene of the crime it is."
"This isn't a game," she shoots back.
You do not contradict her, but privately you agree with Usum
"It is a game, one where the pawns cry when they are taken, but a game just the same. They can be played in deadly earnest too."
***
As the midnight hour creeps in the alleyway grows colder still, somewhere above a window rattles in stray gusts of wind down am old brick throat sending discarded bags flying like shadows peeled from the walls. If ever there was a place one would expect to find a ghost it's this one.
"Hi Molly, Detective," Lydia inclines her head fractionally as she gets out of her own car, the driver looking considerably less chipper at the nighttime outing. "I got a message from..." she cuts herself off, probably noticing Murphy's sudden interest and putting two and two together on the fly. "I got the warning circling around to pay attention if we get any weird letters. Do you think it's the vampires?"
"Could be," you allow. Supposed witch hunters would make a good ploy.
Lydia only half listens to the answer, her eyes already shinning soft silver as though reflecting the light of the absent moon. She walks over to a bunch of cardboard boxes arranged in what might have once been a homeless person's shelter, long since abandoned in the face of this cold November, one can only hope for something more sturdy. As the light of your friend's anima pours out from her a figure emerges crouched, no
hunched there, back bent as though under some great burden, hands scrambling at the wall.
"I can touch it... I can touch it... I'm not dead... Where is it? Where is it? How'd that bitch take it away?"
"I think he means his demon, his Hunger," you say, an up-welling of unexpected pity in your voice. As horrible as what he had been trying to do was this vampire's dead now and he's going to have to deal with the consequences sooner or later.
"Oh so that's why... that makes sense. I've never seen a White Court Vampire's ghost before," Lydia muses. "Fair warning the dead can get violent when confronted with the reality of their condition."
"What do you shoot ghosts with?" Detective Murphy asks, more rhetorically than anything you would guess.
For her part the fifteen year old ghost whisperer takes it at face value: "Depleted uranium."
"Noted." To the lieutenant's credit she only sounds a bit perturbed.
"I'm afraid it's gone." The words are gentle a waves upon the shore and yet they are as inexorable as the tides. "You don't have to go though, if you don't want to, if you promise not to hurt people anymore."
"I have to! I have to! Don't you understand! I break things! That's what we do! Break or be broken!"
"Well you were broken," the girl's voice does not waver in the least, nor does she seem troubled by the wild eyed look in the ghost's eyes. "Breaking's just a kind of change though. You are something else now, like a vase that's been shattered you don't have to contain the water anymore, you don't have to balance on the shelf, you don't have to fit in the cupboard and you don't have to hit that wall if you don't want to."
For a minute or two the ghost looks down at his hands, face twisted in horror, in wonder or maybe both. Finally he reaches out slowly and passes one trembling palm though the brownstone.
"The world is wide, the roads are as long as you need them." Lydia's smile does not look young at all now, a distant knowing thing perched on the precipice of eternity. "Two of my friends have some questions for you if that's OK."
The dead man gives a spasmodic nod as Lydia waves you over.
What do you do?
[] Interrogate the vampire's ghost
-[] Write in questions (optional)
[] Let Murphy take the lead
[] Write in
OOC: Murphy is having a hell of a night. In Molly and Lydia's defense she did asks for this.