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"I hate riding in the car for hours," Peter Venkman complained,
stretching as he did so. "I'm stiff, I'm sore, and I had to spend the whole
time listening to Egon's
opera station."
Egon Spengler smiled slightly, stretching his tall, lanky frame as well.
When he responded, there was no hint of amusement in his tone, but his
blue eyes sparkled a
bit. "Some of us simply prefer music to that discordant hash you seem
to like so much."
"Music!" Peter retorted, pretending to be hurt. "That sounds like a bunch of people screaming to me!"
"Hey, Pete, you're a fine one to talk," Winston Zeddemore chuckled, climbing out of Ecto-1 as well. "Who was the one who fell for the banshee?"
Peter blushed. "Well, that was different," he mumbled.
"That's not fair, Winston," the fourth member of the team protested, climbing out of the car. "She put a spell on him. He couldn't help it!"
"Thank you, Ray!" Peter cried dramatically, pretending to hide behind his younger, shorter teammate. "Super Stanz to the rescue again!"
Ray chuckled. "Egon," he began, changing the subject, "are you sure
this is the right place?" Ray swept his arm around, indicating the empty
town around them. It
was five o'clock in the afternoon, and though the sun was beginning
to set, the small town's streets should have at least had a few shoppers
on them. Instead, the
place was desolate and empty.
The tall physicist adjusted his glasses, looking around. "'Foster's
Bluff,'" he read from a nearby sign. "This is where Mr. Ralston said to
come to, and that he would
meet us by the courthouse."
"Which would apparently be this incredible edifice," Peter broke in,
jerking a thumb at the run-down whitewashed building behind him. "Egon,
I don't like this place.
Ralston better be paying us a lot of money to take care of whatever
this is. We're in upstate New York, which I don't like anyway, and we're
out in the middle of
nowhere. There isn't a decent restaurant around for miles! Worse yet,"
and suddenly the slightly jocular tone to Peter's comments disappeared,
"this town is empty.
Completely. Can't you feel it?"
Winston shrugged. "I've seen a lot of towns like this. The main industry dies, and the whole thing just dries up and blows away."
"Maybe," Ray replied uneasily, "but don't places like that usually have
like one or two families and a couple businesses hanging on for dear life?"
It was obvious that
the occultist had caught Peter's jitters. A glance flew between Egon
and Peter, and the latter nodded.
"Aw, I'm probably just antsy from being in the car too long," the psychologist
said casually. "So where's this Ralston guy? I tell you, I don't want to
spend any longer
in this place than I have to. I have an image to protect."
"Ghostbusters?" The four turned to see a man, in his mid-twenties, standing
on the other end of the courthouse parking lot. He was impeccably dressed
in a gray suit,
dress shirt, and sober gray tie. Peter and Winston looked at each other
quickly.
"Lawyer?" Peter asked under his breath. Winston shook his head.
"Accountant," the black man replied, just as quietly.
Egon ignored them, stepping forward. "We are the Ghostbusters. Are you Mr. Ralston?"
Ralston nodded. "Yes, I am. I'm sorry I'm a little late, but my car
wouldn't start. Now, as to why I asked you to come, I recently inherited
some property, with a- let
us say, unsavory history. I'm afraid I don't know much about it, but
no one has been able to live there for very long. My grandfather attempted
to rent it several
times, with no success. I would like the four of you to check out the
house, and deal with whatever is in there, if that is within your field
of expertise. If not, I'll still
pay you a smaller fee for the call, but if there is a problem, we can
negotiate your fee from there. Is this satisfactory?"
The other Ghostbusters turned to Peter. He was the one they generally
allowed to deal with the monetary matters, as he had the best head for
them. Egon and Ray
were usually too absorbed in their science to care about money, and
Winston just didn't have the ability to make the clients cough up. Peter
did.
"That sounds good," Peter agreed. "Now, where is this house?"
"Whoa," Winston breathed. Next to him, Peter nodded wordlessly. The
house- mansion, really- was a huge Gothic monster, obviously built before
the turn on the
century. The paint was peeling, the boards were beginning to rot, and
the whole thing exuded an aura of age that was nearly overpowering.
"Looks kind of like the house from The Amityville Horror," Ray said
cheerfully, strapping on his proton pack. The other three looked at him,
Egon in amusement,
Peter and Winston in dismay.
"I really wish you hadn't said that Ray," Peter sighed.
Egon chuckled. "Actually, the Amityville case was proven to be a hoax, concocted to get one of the previous inhabitants of the house off of a murder charge."
"No kidding?" Winston asked, interested despite himself.
"Oh, WOW!" Ray's exclamation cut through any conversation, drawing all
three of his friends over to peer over his shoulder. The display on his
PKE meter was
enough to cause them to draw in their breath quickly. The reading was
fluctuating oddly, rhythmically, as if it were flowing out from something
in waves. The readings
were also fairly high.
"Looks like we're going to earn our keep," Peter sighed. "Come on, let's
go." The four of them made their way into the house. Inside, Egon noticed
that the house
obviously hadn't been redone, the way many old houses had been, suggesting
that the troubles had started not too long after the house was constructed.
The four of
them stood in the foyer, looking around nervously.
"All right, guys, do we split up, or stay together?" Peter asked Egon. The physicist frowned.
"I believe it would be best if we split into two groups. That way, we would cover the house more quickly, but we'll always have two throwers in case of trouble."
"Right," Winston agreed. "Ray and I'll take the upstairs. You two can handle the downstairs, all right?"
Egon nodded. "Be careful, everyone. We have no idea what we're facing in here."
The two groups split up.
Upstairs, Winston and Ray carefully poked through the rooms. Their efforts
went unrewarded, however. The needle on Ray's PKE meter never budged. "Weird,"
the younger man mused. "It's as if the house itself was the supernatural
entity. That's not possible, though."
"Well, got an explanation?" Winston asked, gingerly making his way through
yet another cobwebby door. He suppressed a shout as a number of spiders
scattered at
his approach.
"Well, maybe the house is a storage battery for paranormal energy, but
there's no intelligence in the house to direct it. If a human with mediumistic
powers moved in,
there'd be poltergeist activity all over the place, which would generally
convince people the house was haunted."
Winston frowned. "Ray, how many rooms have we been through up here?"
"About six. This is a mansion, after all."
"Yeah, but- weren't they all bedrooms?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Come look at this." Winston led the younger man back into the first room they had investigated. "Look around, and tell me what you see."
Ray shrugged. "An old bedroom. Moths eating the covers, the wallpaper peeling off, dustbunnies in the corners, and the bureau mirror is broken. So?"
"Come on." Winston headed into the next room. "What do you see here?"
"Another old bedroom, slightly different style." Ray was beginning to
become impatient with the little game they seemed to be playing. Then Ray
remembered
Winston's passion for mystery novels. Taking a deep breath, he looked
around the room as Sherlock Holmes would, comparing and contrasting the
two rooms.
"Hey, the mirrors are both broken!"
"Exactly. Every bedroom we've visited has had a broken mirror, but a
lot of them have had precious porcelain stuff still intact. Now, if poltergeists
had broken the
mirrors, wouldn't they have broken the glass, too?"
Ray frowned. "Yeah. But I can't think of any reason something would break every mirror in the place and leave everything else intact."
"Neither can I," Winston replied. "And I don't like that."
Any further conversation was cut off by the sound of a human scream,
a scream of fear and pain, as it split the air from downstairs. Instantly,
the two Ghostbusters
were off and running.
While Ray and Winston explored the upstairs, Peter and Egon slowly made
their way through the ground floor of the house. Ducking under a veil of
cobwebs, Peter
looked around in interest. "Whoever built this place really knew how
to live," he murmured, looking at the ballroom they had entered.
"Mmm." Egon was not really listening, as usual. Long ago, he had learned
to tune out Peter's monologues. If there were danger, the change in the
sound of Peter's
voice would alert him. Instead, he was focusing on his PKE meter, frowning
at its changelessness.
Suddenly a thump from the nearby kitchen drew both their attentions.
Egon pointed his PKE meter towards the noise, and frowned again, this time
at the spike in the
readings. Peter looked up at him and grinned slightly. "I think we've
got our ghost," he whispered.
Egon's frown deepened. "I don't know. These readings are rather anomalous. I think that we may not be dealing with your typical ghost."
"So, do we bust it?"
"Carefully. I think we should flank whatever is in that kitchen. You take the right access, through that door. I'll go back into the hall and cut around to the left."
Peter nodded. Through the ballroom windows, the two of them could see
the last of the sunlight fading from the sky, and the ballroom was now
almost completely
dark. Peter gripped his friend's forearm, pulling him a little closer.
"Be careful, Spengs. I don't want to have to scrape you off the floor because
some gooper tripped
you in the dark."
Egon nodded, smiling slightly. "Same goes for you, Doctor Venkman."
The two of them parted ways, creeping slowly through the darkened mansion.
Suddenly a
bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, startling Egon. With no
more thought for stealth, he kicked open the kitchen door, thrower powered
up and held ready.
What he saw inside rendered him astonished and paralyzed.
A pale, slender woman, almost as tall as Peter, had her arms locked
around the psychologist and her face buried in his neck. Her hair was raven
black, and flowed
around her shoulders, mixing with the black silk gown she wore.
Peter's face was pale and his eyes were shut. The scream had obviously
been his, and Egon thought absently that he looked as if he had lost a
great deal of blood.
While the implications of that sank home, Egon was automatically firing
a proton bolt into the wall above the woman's head.
"Drop him!" At the sound of the physicist's bass command, the woman
looked up and snarled, flashing canines much longer and sharper than any
human should
have. Straightening up, she released Peter, who dropped to the ground
like a discarded toy. Throwing her hair over her shoulder, the woman tried
to catch Egon's
gaze with her own. He was ready for that, however, and refused to meet
her eyes. He shot off a proton bolt, but without looking at her, his aim
was not the best, and
she dodged easily. As she advanced on Egon, Winston and Ray came running
into the kitchen. Faced with three armed Ghostbusters, she stopped and
smiled
soullessly.
"I will retreat for now," she chuckled, in a low, pleasant voice that
was at the same time devoid of all humanity. "I can wait. After all, I
have eternity." Then she
dissolved into a cloud of smoke and disappeared.
"What the hell was that?" Winston asked, as the three of them quickly moved to Peter's side.
Ray looked at the other man in surprise. "Don't you know?"
Egon quickly checked Peter over for head injuries and to make sure he
was still breathing. Seeing that he was, the physicist turned to Winston.
"Does this answer
your question?" he asked, pulling back Peter's collar. Both Winston
and Ray gasped at the sight of the two small puncture wounds over Peter's
jugular. Winston
closed his eyes.
"A vampire. Shit." That pretty much said it all.
Luckily, the lights in the house were hooked up to the electricity,
something the previous tenants had forgotten to rectify in their haste
to move out of the house.
Carefully, the three Ghostbusters had moved the unconscious Peter into
the still-furnished living room, which had a number of lamps and a comfortable
couch.
Laying Peter on the couch, the three men sat on the floor, nearby in
case he should wake up.
"So Peter's been bitten by a vampire," Winston sighed. "An honest-to-goodness- or to whatever- real vampire. Not a slime-sucker, a bloodsucker."
"Right," Ray replied. The occultist's usually cheerful face was grim with worry. "Egon, how is he?"
The blond physicist shrugged. "He's lost quite a bit of blood, Ray.
Not enough to kill him, but a fair amount. He'll be asleep for a while,
and when he wakes up, he's
going to be pale and shaky."
"So what do we do?" asked Winston, looking at his two companions. "Load him into the car and get the hell out of here? Because that's got my vote."
Egon shook his head. "We can't do that, Winston. I scanned Peter with
the PKE meter while I was checking him for injuries. He has an abnormally
high level of
PKE about him, even for a Ghostbuster."
Ray paled. "Oh my gosh! You aren't saying...."
"What does that mean?" Winston loved Ray and Egon like brothers, but
they were so close that it was sometimes impossible to understand the conversations
between them. It was like listening to identical twins, ones who knew
each other's thought processes so well that they didn't need to have the
entire conversation.
"What's wrong with Peter?"
"Winston, you remember the Lupusville fiasco," Ray replied seriously. "What happens when someone is bitten by a vampire?"
All the color drained from Winston's face, leaving his skin an unhealthy
shade of gray. Deep down, he had known what the consequences of the bite
were, but he
hadn't wanted to make the connection. Not when the infected person
was Peter.
"It only takes one bite?" he asked softly.
Egon shrugged. "Not necessarily. It has to do with the amount of blood lost. Unfortunately, Peter lost a fair amount of blood."
"So what do we do? Is there any way to stop it?"
"This is not my field of expertise," Egon replied. "Ray?"
The auburn-haired occultist looked thoughtful. "There is one cure. If
we can destroy the vampire who infected Peter before his condition becomes
complete, we can
reverse the process."
"Great," Winston groaned. "Now we just have to find her."
"I'd like to do some research first," Egon mused. "Ralston said this house had an unsavory history. Perhaps there's some information there on who she is."
"Winston and I passed a library upstairs. We could check that out," Ray offered. Egon nodded, rising to his feet.
"I think that would be best. Winston, if you would please remain with
Peter? I don't want to take the chance on him being attacked again, and
you're the one I'd
most trust in a fight."
The older man nodded. "You got a deal."
Up in the library, Ray and Egon regarded the wall of books with some trepidation. "That's a lot of books," Ray sighed. Egon nodded.
"However, we don't have to check anything we recognize. Look for something that might be a diary. "
The two of them began to methodically pull books off the shelves and
thumb through them, meeting with little luck. Suddenly, Egon chuckled dryly,
drawing Ray's
attention from the shelf.
"What's so funny?"
"Do you remember the time we took that dare to go into Heck House and
spend the night without our proton packs? And I holed up in the library
and refused to
come out?"
"Sure, I remember," Ray grinned. "You were right, as usual. That was
the only place that the real weirdness didn't happen, and you probably
saved our lives when
you found out what was going on with that house."
"Well, while I was doing my research, Peter came in. He had decided
that since the rest of you were having all these problems, I was not to
come out unscathed. He
walked in and casually mentioned the details of our first case in the
Public Library, making sure that anything listening could hear."
Ray chuckled. He couldn't help himself. It was exactly the kind of trick
Peter would pull. It wasn't dangerous enough that Egon might be hurt, but
it would definitely
throw a monkey wrench in the staid physicist's composure. "So what
happened? Did the books start flying every which way?"
Egon shook his head, smiling at the memory. "No, one started to, but I backed it down." Ray could see that despite his smile, Egon was extremely worried.
"Don't worry, Egon. We'll save him. We're the good guys. We always come out on top."
Egon nodded, the smile becoming a little more genuine. "You're right,
Ray. Come on, let's get moving. I don't want to spend any more time in
this house than we
have to."
Downstairs, Winston was still sitting beside the unconscious Peter,
watching him with worry. The psychologist was far too pale, his white skin
a startling contrast to
the shock of dark hair that still seemed to be perfectly combed. Winston
chuckled quietly. Peter was always very meticulous about his hair, perhaps
because his
father had gone bald so early. He'd be real happy to know that his
styling efforts had survived the fight with the vampire.
At that thought, Winston sobered. Peter had been bitten by a vampire,
and even Winston could tell that the fight had taken a lot out of him.
It wasn't just the unusual
pallor of Peter's skin. Even unconscious, his face was tight with some
sort of strain, and Winston had an awful feeling that he knew what Peter
was straining against.
The Ghostbusters had faced so many awful things in their time, although
Winston thought idly that nothing came anywhere close to Gozer. That battle
had been the
first time he had realized the stakes of the job he'd taken- and the
bond he'd formed with the others. He could still remember crossing the
streams, feeling the energy
jolt through his body, and knowing that sooner or later, something
had to give. Luckily for all of them, it had been the gateway.
"I'd do it again," he murmured, a slight smile touching his face. "Even
the marshmallow cream." It had been worth it, all of the danger and fear,
because he'd wound
up with the best friends he'd ever had. Now one of them was fighting
for his life, and there was nothing Winston could do about it.
What would they do without Peter Venkman? It was a sobering thought.
Peter had always been the anchor that kept the team on track. His sense
of humor had
helped break the tension in almost any situation that they ran across.
Sometimes Winston was taken aback by some of Peter's more outrageous remarks,
but then
he'd look up and see the sparkle in the psychologist's green eyes,
and realize that he'd taken the bait, hook, line and sinker. Peter and
his sense of humor were
sometimes all that kept them going.
As close as Winston felt to Peter, though, he knew that Egon and Ray
were much closer. The three of them had been together since their college
years, and had
practically evolved each other. The Ghostbusters business had been
their brainchild, and while Winston had never felt like an outsider, he
had always been aware of
the deep friendship between those three.
"Stop thinking like that!" he scolded himself. "Egon and Ray are on the case, and everything's going to be fine. He's not dead yet!"
"Can I get a second opinion?" a voice groaned behind him. Winston turned to see Peter sitting up, rubbing his head.
"Are you all right?" Winston asked, crossing to his friend.
"No," Peter groused. "I feel like a pot of your coffee- weak and watery."
Winston laughed. "Hey, some people prefer not to drink battery acid in the morning!"
Peter smiled, but it was not his usual expression. Gingerly, he reached
up and touched the side of his neck, where Egon had taped a small bandage
over the two
punctures in his throat. "I was hoping that that was just a really
bad dream," he said quietly. Winston had no reply; he simply shrugged.
"So where's the genius team?" Peter asked lightly, trying to change the subject.
"Upstairs, doing research in the library. They want to find out whatever they can about the house."
"Right." Slowly, carefully, Peter rose to his feet. "Well, all I can
say is that Ralston had better pay us big bucks for this one." He stared
out one of the windows at the
dark night beyond, then turned back. Winston could see by the expression
on his face that he had something big on his mind. "Winston, I need to
ask you a favor.
You're not going to like it, but I have to ask."
"Go ahead," Winston replied cautiously.
"Egon told you what's going to happen to me, right?"
"What might happen," Winston corrected him. "It's not going to. We're going to fix this, Pete."
"Maybe." Peter didn't look as though he believed it. "But what if we
don't? I don't want to spend the rest of forever as a vampire, Winston,
and I certainly don't want
to hurt any of you. That's why I need your help. If it looks like I'm
going to be dangerous, or if something happens and I go all the way over,
I need you to stop me."
"Stop you how?"
Peter's response was almost too soft to be heard, but was full of steel, nonetheless. "Permanently. "
"No way!" Winston exploded. "If you think I'm going to pound a stake through your heart or something like that, you're nuts!"
"It's the only way," Peter insisted. "And you're the only one I can ask. It'd destroy Ray, and it'd still tear Egon apart!"
"And you don't think it'd hurt me? I'm your friend too, you know!"
Peter nodded. "I know. You've been one of the best friends I've ever
had. I've never regretted any of it. I know it would hurt you, but you're
tough enough to do it.
Winston, I don't want to die, but it's a hell of a lot better than
the alternative. Please."
The two men looked at each other in silence for a long moment, then
Winston nodded slowly. "All right. If it comes to that, I'll do it. But
it's not going to come to
that. You're not going to die."
Peter turned back to the window, fingering the bandage on his neck. Almost too softly to be heard, he replied, "That's what I'm afraid of."
Sometime later, Egon and Ray came downstairs to find Peter and Winston sitting in the living room talking quietly. Both jumped as the two scientists entered.
"Don't do that!" Peter grimaced, putting a hand over his heart. "Did you find anything?"
Ray nodded. "You bet we did," he replied, waving a small black book in one hand. "The diary of the man who built the house."
"We haven't read it in-depth yet," Egon continued. "We decided that
since this house seems to be the center of the disturbance, we should relocate
to somewhere
else."
"Where?" Peter asked lightly, rising slowly to his feet. "Peoria?"
"No," the physicist replied dryly. "Downtown. There should be some place down there that we can use as a base."
Winston rose from his chair as well. "Well then, let's go." The four of them headed out the door and down toward the car.
"Hey, that looks like a good place!" Ray cried. Winston, who was driving, looked in the direction that Ray's finger pointed and nodded.
"The old church? Good idea, Ray. Even if the fact that it's a church
doesn't do any good, it looks pretty solid. Should be fairly defensible."
Ecto-1 pulled into the
parking lot, and the four men got out. They trooped up to the door
of the church and stopped, anxious. None of them particularly liked the
idea of breaking into a
church, even an abandoned one. Finally, Ray stretched out a hand and
tried the knob. To his surprise, it opened easily.
"Hello?" Ray called, moving cautiously into the church. The place had
a decidedly empty feel to it, nothing to hint that something might be lurking
in the shadows.
One by one, the Ghostbusters walked in, Peter last in line. Egon, watching
him closely, saw the psychologist wince for a second as his foot crossed
the threshold, but
the expression quickly passed.
"Are you all right?" Egon asked quietly. Peter nodded.
"Yeah. A little uncomfortable, nothing major. I'm not sure whether that's
due to the bite or the fact that I haven't been inside a church since I
was a little kid." They
quickly joined the other two in one of the pews in the middle of the
room. They were fairly certain that they would be safe in the building,
but none of them wanted to
take any chances by sitting too close to the windows. Winston had brought
one of the powerful flashlights from Ecto-1 and held it as Ray quickly
scanned the diary.
"Says here that the house was built by a man named Jonathan Waldroe
in the late 1800's. His wife, a woman named Marina, was very beautiful,
at least in his eyes.
Tall, black hair, thin. I think she's the vampire we saw in the kitchen.
"Anyway, as she got older, Marina became obsessed with remaining young.
According to her husband, she locked herself in a room in the attic and
wouldn't come
out for hours at a time. That's when children started disappearing
from the nearby town."
Even in the darkness of the church, the ill expression on Peter's face was clearly visible. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Human sacrifice? Blood rituals?"
"Right," Ray affirmed. "There's a historical precedent. Remember the Vampire Duchess?"
"Elizabeth Bathory," Peter affirmed. Seeing Winston's look of puzzlement,
he explained. "Elizabeth Bathory was a European noblewoman in the fifteenth
century.
Maybe sixteenth. Anyway, she was obsessed with remaining young, and
she wound up torturing and murdering young girls for their blood. Nasty
lady, trust me."
"Anyway, no one ever connected Marina to the disappearances, not until
she died. She still looked maybe thirty years old, and she was in her fifties.
When her
husband tried to have her buried in the local churchyard, the coffin
burst into flame. He put it out, but she was declared a witch, and he had
to bury her in a
mausoleum he constructed under the house. A few nights later, he heard
noises coming from that room she used to disappear into. He went to investigate,
and didn't
find the source of the noises, but he did find out what happened to
the missing children," Ray continued grimly. "A few nights after that,
Marina started appearing in
his dreams, and he woke up each morning feeling tired and weak. His
last entry is almost unreadable, but it says something about being 'together
forever.'" All four
men were silent at the implications of those words.
"Does it say where the mausoleum is, Ray?" Egon asked finally.
"There's a secret passage hidden in the house," Ray replied, "but the
house is pretty big. He's left a riddle as to where it's hidden." Listen
to this. 'Let those who seek
the resting place know the beauty of her face and take the hidden door
that stands beneath her white and sculptured hands.'"
"I hate riddles," Peter moaned.
"You go relax," Winston replied. "Maybe try to get some sleep. We're
gonna have a heck of a fight on our hands when we get up there. Egon, Ray,
and I will figure
this one out."
Peter sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks." Rising, he moved a few pews forward, leaving them alone.
The church was dark, but enough of the moonlight outside filtered in
the windows for Peter to make out the cross hung on the front wall. He
stared up at it
impassively, not even flinching as Egon slipped into the seat next
to him. "Find something?" the psychologist asked casually.
Regretfully, Egon shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Ray and I are trying
to remember if there were any pictures or busts, but we're not coming up
with anything.
Winston thinks that we're going about this the wrong way. What are
you doing?"
Peter chuckled humorlessly. "Thinking about how ridiculous this is,
mainly. I always figured I'd be done in by a ghost. You know, despite everything
we've seen, I
never really believed in vampires. Kind of ironic." Peter sighed.
"Ironic?"
"That something I don't- or didn't- believe in is killing me, and has
sent me scurrying to a church, the perfect place for questions of belief.
I haven't been in a church in
years, ever since Mom stopped making me go. I guess I sort of picked
that up from my dad. That's one of the first things you learn, watching
a con artist at work.
Faith, belief- it's a weapon, a powerful one. If you've got someone's
faith, if they believe in you, you can make them do whatever you want.
I guess I've always
figured that anything that asks you to believe has got to be a cheat."
Peter sighed. "Sometimes I really envy you, Egon. You've got this view
of the universe that's completely unshakable, and something to believe
in. You've got your
science, and anything that comes along goes through that. Me? Every
time I think I know what's possible and what isn't, this job drops something
new on me. It's
almost enough to drive you crazy."
"So why hasn't it?" Egon asked softly. "What have you found to believe in?"
Peter turned, flashing his friend a genuine smile. "You guys," he replied,
just as quietly. "I believe in you. You never asked me to, you were all
just there, whenever I
needed you. You and Ray, all through college, and then Winston after
we started the business. I have faith that you'll always be there to back
me up. I believe in
you."
Suddenly, Egon reached out and drew Peter into a tight hug, which the
psychologist returned just as fiercely. "And I believe in you, Peter. You
should too. You're
strong enough to come through this, we all are. And we will not let
you down."
Drawing back, Peter favored his friend with his trademark cocky grin.
"Never thought you would, Spengs," he said affectionately. Egon chuckled,
removing his
glasses and beginning to clean them. It was his trademark stall, used
when he didn't want to respond to something right away. In this case, Peter's
words had
affected him deeply. He had always known it was hard for Peter to trust,
to open up, although he'd never quite understood why. He had also known,
to some extent,
that he had been allowed into Peter's inner circle, and just how lucky
that was. Hearing the words, though, brought it all crashing home with
unexpected force.
Suddenly a whoop from the back of the church caught the attention of
the two men in the front. Turning back, they could see Winston pumping
a fist in the air. "I
think I got it!" the oldest Ghostbuster cried jubilantly.
"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Peter replied, heading back to him. "What did you find?"
"You guys were all thinking that the word 'her' was talking about a
painting or a statue of a woman, most likely Marina Waldroe, right? But
that's not all the pronoun
is used for. People sometimes refer to ships as 'her,' too."
"But a ship doesn't have hands or a face," Egon protested, slipping his glasses back on.
"No," Winston agreed. "But a clock does! As soon as I thought of that,
I thought of that big antique clock in the living room, with the black
and gold lacquered
face-"
"And the white sculptured hands!" Ray finished. "Of course! It wasn't running. I'll bet if you open the door on the bottom, there's the passage to the mausoleum!"
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Peter asked. "Let's go show this lady that she can't mess with the Ghostbusters and get away with it!"
"Not so fast," Egon replied. "I think we will need at least one stake.
I doubt there are any other vampires in the area. There wouldn't be enough
people to support
them. However, it's likely that our proton beams would be of little
use against her. We don't have time to modify them as we did in Lupusville."
"Well, heck, there's got to be a woodpile in town somewhere," Winston suggested. "I say we find it, and go finish this."
"Let's go." The four of them trooped out of the church and back to Ecto-1.
The four Ghostbusters, armed with wooden stakes, hammers, and powerful
flashlights, slowly crept through the darkened mansion, heading for the
living room.
Coming up to the clock, Egon and Winston put their flashlights back
in their belts and pried open the door in the bottom of the clock. Sure
enough, instead of the
pendulums and other pieces of clockwork that normally occupied such
a space, there was a narrow passage leading into the wall. Inside, Peter
s flashlight revealed a
narrow flight of stairs.
Egon unshipped his thrower. "I'll go first. Ray, you and Peter follow me, with the flashlights. Winston, you take the rear."
"Egon," Peter asked calmly, "what good is a thrower going to do against a vampire?"
""The vampire may not be the only thing we're facing here, Peter," Ray
replied earnestly. "Marina Waldroe was a sorceress. Who knows what type
of ectoplasmic
entities she could sic on us?"
"I don't want to think about it," Peter grimaced. "And if I see so much as one rat, I'm outta here."
"Sure, Peter," Winston chuckled. The four of them filed through the passage and down the stairs, into the tunnels.
They had been walking for a number of minutes, no rats in sight, when
they came to a large door blocking their paths. "Hmm," Egon mused, scanning
the door with
his PKE meter.
"We could knock," Peter offered facetiously. Suddenly a wailing behind
them made all four Ghostbusters turn. A cloud of gauzy, transparent ghosts
swooped down
on them. Dropping their flashlights, the Ghostbusters opened fire.
For several long minutes, the battle raged, lit only by the flashlights
on the ground and the crackling
proton beams. Then one of the ghosts managed to slip through the team's
guard. It slammed into Peter, knocking him off balance. He dropped to one
knee, holding
his chest and breathing deeply, while the ghost swooped back up to
join its friends.
Instantly, Ray was at Peter's side, while the other two kept up the
barrage of protons. "Peter, are you all right?" Ray asked, tipping his
friend's head up. Peter
nodded.
"He winded me, but I'm okay. Weak, though. Really weak," the dark-haired man puffed. Ray frowned.
"They're wraiths!" he cried." Guys, don't trap them!"
"WHAT?" Winston asked, incredulously."Ray, why not?
"They're the children! Marina Waldroe's spells stole their life energy
from them. As a result, they became wraiths, ghosts with a life deficit.
Their touch steals the life
from you. But since Marina's connected to them, they can never get
enough energy!"
"This does not explain why we shouldn't trap them, Raymond," Egon responded dryly.
"They're just kids, Egon! We can't stick them in the containment with
guys like Samhaine, or Arzun! Once we destroy the vampire, they should
be released. We've
just got to keep them off our backs until then."
Peter rose painfully to his feet, aiming his thrower at the attacking wraiths with great effort. "So what are we waiting for? Come on, boy genius, get that door open!"
While the other three protected his back, Ray threw all his weight into
the door. It didn't budge. He checked the hinges, noting that they were
indeed on the other
side of the door. "Aw, forget it," the youngest Ghostbuster cried.
Unshipping his thrower, he aimed at the door and fired, blasting the old
wood into matchsticks. "It's
open!" he cried. "Come on!" The four of them moved through the door,
still blasting the wraiths that were following them. In the center of the
room, a coffin lay on a
marble slab. While Ray, Winston, and Peter kept the wraiths back, Egon
crossed over to the coffin and opened it. Inside lay the woman he had seen
earlier in the
night, looking well fed. To all intents and purposes, she appeared
to be asleep.
"It must be almost dawn," he muttered. "She's sleeping off her big meal."
Egon fumbled for the stake on his belt, wondering as he did so how he could
bear to go
through with this. An image of Peter in the same state occurred to
him, and his resolve strengthened.
Suddenly her eyes snapped open. The proximity of the sunrise had paralyzed
her, but the hatred in her eyes was quite evident. Egon quickly looked
away, before
she could hypnotize him, and was startled to hear cold laughter in
his head.
You fool! Do you think I need to waste my control on the likes of you? I have those who are more than ready to do my bidding. Behold!
Behind him, Egon heard one of the proton packs stop firing. He turned
in that direction, but before he could make it all the way, something slammed
into him,
knocking him to the floor. Egon found himself looking up into a face
that he would have sworn was Peter's, except that there was no intelligence
to it. It was the face
of an animal.
Peter's skin was paler than ever, and his dark hair stuck out from his
face wildly. His green eyes gleamed madly, and his lips were drawn back
from his teeth,
exposing canines that were far too long for Egon s comfort.
In retrospect, Egon realized that he should have seen this coming. Peter
had kept up his merry stream of wisecracks all the way through the tunnel,
but his words had
been slightly garbled. Now Egon understood that Peter had been mumbling
so that none of them would see that his canines had lengthened into fangs.
Peter's
condition had been progressing all night, but the psychologist had
kept this information to himself, not wanting to worry any of them. A warm
feeling coursed through
him as he realized once again how lucky he was to have known Peter
Venkman.
All these things ran through Egon's mind in a fraction of a second.
He heard Ray cry out, and turn as if to come to his aid, but Egon stopped
him. "No, Ray! You and
Winston handle the wraiths! I'll deal with this." He returned his attention
to Peter, who was watching him warily. Obviously Marina had not been able
to control
Peter's mind, so she had settled for turning it off. Venkman was running
on pure instinct now. Egon swallowed. He'd be a lot less disconcerted if
Peter hadn't been
looking at his jugular with such hunger, but there was little he could
do about that now.
"Peter, can you hear me?" he said levelly. The psychologist drew back,
startled. He wasn't thinking, but his instincts were telling him that something
was wrong. This
was not normal behavior for his prey. Encouraged by this, Egon continued.
"Listen to me, Peter. You don t want to do this. Whatever control she has,
it's not strong
enough for that. You can break through this. Listen to me."
Fool. Marina's voice came into his mind. He is mine. You cannot reach him. He is now and forever a vampire!
Egon shook his head. "I don't believe that. His condition isn't permanent
yet. If it were, you wouldn't have had to shut his mind down. Peter, there's
still a chance!
You have to fight her."
Peter shook his head, snarling, but Egon could see a flash of something in the other's eyes.
"Yes, Peter. You can do it. Come on, we ve survived worse than this.
We faced Gozer, one of the most powerful beings ever to walk the astral
planes! We were
almost drowned in marshmallow after we beat him, too. You've been kidnapped
by a train-driving ghost, shot at, dropped, and slimed more times than
any of us can
count. Are you really going to let a vampire get the best of you?"
Egon's voice dropped, becoming quieter now. "You told me earlier tonight
that you believed in us,
that we were the only thing you believed in. Well, believe me now.
Believe in me. You are one of the best friends I have had in all my life.
We ve watched each
other's backs, done research together,- heck, we stood together at
the end of the world. Do you think I m going to let you down? Believe in
me, Peter. Believe in us.
Most of all, believe in yourself."
Egon's words were obviously reaching Peter, who released Egon and backed
away, hands on his head. Egon rose to his feet, realizing as he did so
that all activity
had stopped. The wraiths had stopped attacking, and they, Winston,
and Ray were all watching the confrontation in the center of the room.
Winston stepped forward. "Come on, Peter, you can beat this. You have to fight it! Please."
Ray nodded, extending a hand to the psychologist. Peter looked at him,
confused, but with the first sparks of intelligence returning to his eyes.
"Fight her, Peter," the
occultist said quietly. "Come back to us. What would we do without
you?"
That did it. The last of the insane light left Peter's eyes, and he
swept Ray into a tight hug. Ray held on to him, for comfort, but also because
the other would have
fallen had he not. Egon watched them for a second, then remembered.
Turning back to the coffin, he strode over to it. Siting the stake, he
looked up.
"Winston, Ray, you d better hold onto him. This is going to hurt him almost as much as it does her." Raising the hammer he carried, he struck.
Peter howled, throwing his head back. Only Winston and Ray's tight grip
on his arms kept him from charging Egon and knocking the stake away. The
physicist, for
his part, was completely expressionless, and the hammer rose and fell
with methodical precision.
Finally, with one last strike, the stake struck home, and it was finished.
With a loud, despairing cry, the body of Marina Waldroe dissolved into
dust. The minute the
body was gone, Peter sagged with relief. He was mildly surprised that
he had not fainted.
Suddenly, the wraiths, which had been floating in the air above them,
burst into bright light and slowly de-resolved. Finally, after so long,
they had achieved peace,
moving on to the next world. With them gone, all attention returned
to Peter, who was still kneeling on the ground.
"It's gone," he croaked, running his tongue over his teeth in shock. "All gone." He looked up at Egon in sudden panic." Did I-" He couldn't finish.
For answer, Egon pulled his collar away from his neck, revealing an
unblemished throat. A shock of relief ran through Peter like an electric
current. He was alive,
and none of his friends had been bitten. That thought sank home, and
that was when Peter fainted.
He woke up in the back of Ecto-1, the sun shining in his eyes. Pulling
himself to full wakefulness, he realized that he had been leaning against
Egon's shoulder.
Flashing the other man a smile, Peter looked out the window at the
sun, which was high in the sky. "What time is it?" he asked, stretching.
"And how long was I out?"
"It's about four-thirty in the afternoon," Ray replied. "We estimate
that it was about eight when we hauled you out of that mausoleum, so you've
been asleep about
eight and a half hours."
"You mean I missed lunch?" Peter asked, in mock horror. "Listen, you guys, I wanna thank you for everything you did back there," he continued, more seriously.
Egon shrugged. "You would have done the same for us, and have."
"Yeah, you re right, Spengs. It s just- I m glad you re all my friends."
"We're glad, too, Pete," Winston replied quietly.
There was silence in the car for a minute, then Peter perked up. "So, how much did we get out of Ralston? It had better be a big bonus, after that job."
Ray chuckled. "Well, he told us that since the house wasn't exactly haunted, he would only pay us the small fee for checking it out."
"WHAT!" Peter cried. "Why that scheming, low-down, no-good-"
"Easy, Peter," Winston interrupted him. "Egon- took care of it. He paid us three times what we get on our usual busts."
The older man chuckled to himself. All the pain, fear, and worry of
the evening had disappeared in one sweet moment as he had watched the usually
reserved
physicist pick their smug client up by the shirt collar, slam him into
a wall, and proceed to explain in great detail what a proton pack did to
the human body. The
memory was still with him.
"Took care of it?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. Egon had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I want to hear all about it when we get home. Now, though, I'm hungry!"
"It is getting close to dinner," Ray agreed. "What do you want to eat?"
Peter thought for a moment, then a wicked grin spread across his face. "Steak," he replied, pausing for effect. "Rare."
"Peter!" three voices groaned. They continued to drive, laughing and arguing good-naturedly, best friends in the world.
The End