Free Ghost Guard 2: Agents of Injustice by J. Joseph Wright Page B

the knees, near her large bay window with a view of St. Johns Bridge over the Willamette.
    “I’d be devastated if you were extinguished. But I’d never be able to live with myself if it was me who extinguished you.”
    Rev didn’t look at her. His sights remained fixed on the river, its waves a little choppy today. A freighter, loaded with metal containers, chugged through the whitecaps on its journey downstream to Astoria.
    “Abby, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m a big boy. I know how to handle myself. And I know my limitations, trust me.”
    “But what about Alexandra?” she countered. “And The Singulate? What if something was to happen unexpectedly and you, already drained of energy because of me, become a sitting duck?”
    “That’s not going to happen,” he took advantage of her close proximity and wrapped her in his embrace.
    “But what if it does?”
    He kissed her on the neck. Here came the tingles on cue. He had an irresistible allure.
    “It won’t. Just relax.”
    He flashed those green eyes and smiled. She smiled back, and they leaned together for a glorious caress. Just before their lips met...
    “Abby! Rev!” it was Morris, and his tone signaled something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He never would have interrupted if it hadn’t been drastically pressing. “Come quick!”
     
     
    *****
     
     
    Morris had his entire video surveillance array running at full power, monitoring the flight of his nano drone swarm, displaying the exterior of Gasworks from the highway to the oil and chemical tanks that dotted the industrial zone surrounding the compound.
    “Look there!” he was as animated as anyone on the team had ever seen him.
    Shapes in the darkness. People walking in single file quickly and furtively across the fenced perimeter of the Gasworks grounds.
    “What the hell!” Abby was justifiably alarmed.
    The number of dark figures must have been in the dozens. The compound was as big as a city block, with a sturdy, cement-driven, ten foot razor wire-tipped chain link fence keeping out the unwanted. The mysterious men gathered in perfect unison, spaced at arm’s length. It was dark, but the images showed clearly they had their hands in front of their chests, fingers joined together to form some sort of cryptic symbol.
    “What are they saying?” Morris wondered aloud, and when Abby turned up the volume on the external mics, it became frighteningly clear.
    Mortem venientem de potestate. De uoluntate mors.
    The arcane words were redolent of a demonic chorus. The timbre. The tone. The accursedly obscene subtext. Ruby, feeling a shiver of horror, squeaked and twirled in the air, shoving her fingers in her nonexistent ears, desperate to keep the obscenities out of her delicate mind.
    Brutus stared at Morris, then at the video screens, then at Morris again as the chanting grew in vehemence, all kinds of voices, a sinister and squawking refrain.
    “Wait, Brutus,” Morris held a hand up. He was more afraid of what might happen to his friend than anything else. “Maybe they’re just trying to scare us.”
    “I want to scare them ,” Brutus said in his gravelly, pumice-scratched voice.
    “This is crazy,” Rev snapped his fingers and his clothes changed to a black tactical jumpsuit. “We have to do something about these jokers. Come on, Brutus.”
    Before he could dissipate and divert his ghostly essence, Abby yanked him back.
    “Rev, no! Morris is right. We need to know what we’re up against.”
    “Then what are you waiting for?” Rev asked. Morris already had his nose in the computer, scrolling, reading, scanning. He fed the voices and video into the search algorithm. The hunt for answers was on. “Morris?”
    “The database isn’t telling me anything,” Morris groaned.
    “What good is that damn database!”
    “Look!” Abby had her sights on the monitors. What she saw, and what everyone else saw, was nothing less than bone chilling. Thin, hinged projections, black and