32: Unnatural Dealings
The two men shambled over to her, their auras reaching across the aether to smother hers. Their single-minded desire was on a whole other level to that of Doyle and their lustful emotions groped her body with little thought for her own feelings. When they surrounded her, their hands followed suit and she forced to use all of her strength to keep up her act and not collapse from disgust – it felt like she was being attacked by a leansídhe again and she was thankful she’d taken time to strengthen her defences.
Without speaking they guided her around a corner and into a darkened room. White sheets of webbing clung to broken cabinets packed against the walls, while scraps of mouldy food littered one corner of the room. A stained mattress covered part of the floor and it was this she was ushered towards. One dealer broke away just long enough to turn on a small, flickering blue light and lock the door.
“Let’s see what you’ve got them,” said the other. He grabbed the cuffs of Phantasia’s shirt and tore it off. When he saw an identical replica materialise underneath he had to blink his eyes, as if trying to shake off the last vestiges of a hallucinogenic. When he tried to tear off the ethereal shirt, his hands slipped through the material and flew backwards, slapping the other dealer in the face.
“What the fuck’re you doing?” said the other, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I’m fucking stripping her,” he said, “I can’t get a fucking grip, that’s all,”
He tried again, with identical results. The second dealer was not amused and pulled out his gun. As they bickered, Phantasia slipped over to the door.
“Where the fuck’re you going?” said the first, waving his weapon in her general direction, “Get the fuck back here and get on your fucking knees, bitch,”
“You’re boring,” she replied, pulling the key out of the lock, “Have fun getting out!”
She flipped the key into the air, then caught it and slung it towards a hole in the wall. While one dealer dived to catch it the other came lumbering towards her, but she phased back through the door before he could lay a finger on her. Shaking off the tendrils of lechery and rage that filtered through after her, she returned to Dante to find him hiding in a corner with his hands over his ears.
“That was way too easy,” she said, surprising him. He spun around in a whirl of white material, eyes wide with shock.
“Y-you! What did you just do? Where are they? What? How?”
“Oh, I just locked ‘em in their own dungeon,” she replied, “We should go see the ghost now!”
Dante grunted reluctant agreement and stepped back so she could take the lead. The steps leading to the attic were steeper than most and re-enforced with wood salvaged from around the mansion. Each step emitted an echoing creep as Dante followed and Phantasia hoped his keen observation wouldn’t pick up on her weightless steps. Standing before the door to the attic, Phantasia took a second to focus once again on the aura within.
She’d been observing it through the haze of corruption within the walls since they’d arrived, and the closer she got to the attic the more defined the image became. She had no doubts that there was some kind of spirit lingering there, but how and why remained a mystery. Spirits that lingered, refusing to enter the cycle of rebirth, were doomed to fall into darkness and become wraiths and shadows that preyed on the living, but this spirit was different – and that it was still so hazy, even though Phantasia was so close, suggested shenanigans were afoot.
Opening the door and ascending the final set of steps explained everything. Twilight filtered through gaping holes in the roof, falling across a floor made from planks of faded, rotted wood. A few metres from where they stood, drawn in blood, was the answer to all Phantasia’s questions. From his sharp intake of breath and the mental barriers he was throwing up, she guessed Dante had seen the markings too.
“A demon-summoning circle,” he whispered, taking a few steps back towards the door.
