“We can make more money…” said Benjamin.
“This isn’t about the money!” said Elizabeth. “This was never about money! I want our play! I won’t be stopped, and I won’t be beaten. I won’t be driven out of here, by the living or the dead or our own damned past!”
Benjamin smiled suddenly. “That’s my girl.”
And this time, when they looked at each other, Happy could see exactly what they saw in each other.
They all looked around sharply again as they heard footsteps approaching. Outside, in the corridor, slow and heavy footsteps that didn’t even try to seem human were heading their way. The sound came clearly through the closed door, as though carried on something more than the air. Each step more than naturally heavy, like something pressing down on the world, imposing its presence through a sheer act of will. The same kind of footsteps they’d heard before, up on the stage.
Elizabeth clutched at Benjamin. “Not again. I can’t stand it again. Make it go away.”
Benjamin looked at Happy. “If Old Tom was the ghost, what’s that?”
“I think…” said Happy, “that Old Tom was a mask for the real ghost to hide behind. As though he was putting on a performance. Old Tom may be gone now, but the threat is still here.”
He moved forward, to face the closed dressing-room door. It worried him that he couldn’t remember exactly when it had closed, or who had closed it. Outside, in the corridor, the footsteps were drawing slowly, chillingly, closer.
“Lock the door!” said Elizabeth. “Keep the bastard out!”
“Do you have a key?” said Happy.
“Of course we don’t have a key!” said Benjamin. “The renovators had all the keys. When they left, they gave them to the caretaker…Oh God.”
“Do something!” said Elizabeth shrilly.
“You really think locking a door will keep a ghost out?” said Happy, incredulously. “They’re famous for walking through doors! And walls…”
“You’re the expert!” said Benjamin. “There must be something you can do!”
“There’s no other way out of here,” said Elizabeth. “We’re trapped!”
“Yes, I had noticed that, thank you!” said Happy.
He didn’t want to be there. Being in charge, making decisions, doing something, that had always been JC’s role. But Happy was the only Ghost Finder in the room, which made him the man on the spot. Part of him wanted to open the door, run blindly, and hope the actors could keep up. Another part wanted to pull open the door, point at the actors, and shout They’re the ones you want! Not me! But Happy had always been a man of many parts, and he’d spent a long time learning how to decide which of the voices inside his head he was going to listen to. One of the reasons he became a Ghost Finder, though he’d never admit it to JC or Melody, was that he wanted to become a better person. If only because being a coward didn’t half take it out of you. JC had put him in charge of the actors and told him not to let them get killed; so it was up to him to do something. And since his usual tactics of screaming and crying and hiding behind other people weren’t really options here, that left…doing the right thing.
He thought of the pill bottles he still carried secreted about his person. He could knock back a swift cocktail of reds and blues and yellows, and all the problems would go away. Or they’d still be here, but at least he wouldn’t care any more. Or care what happened to the actors. Happy smiled sadly. He couldn’t do that. Because he sort of liked Benjamin and Elizabeth, for being as larger than life as he’d always thought actors should be; because he didn’t like seeing anyone bullied by ghosts; and because he was damned if he’d let JC down. The man who’d believed in him enough to make him part of his team, despite all the warnings. The man who believed that Happy could be a better person.
Happy needed someone to believe that on the days that he didn’t.
He walked up to the closed door and scowled at it without touching it. The idea that you could run right at something that scared you, instead of running away, was a new one to Happy. He closed his hands into fists to stop them shaking. The heavy footsteps came right up to the other side of the door and stopped. Everything was still and quiet. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the three people in the dressing-room as they stood very still, listening.
“Has it gone?” said Elizabeth. “It disappeared, the last time it stopped, on the stage.”
“That’s right,” said Benjamin. “The footsteps stopped, and it was over.”
Happy didn’t know what to say. Reassurance was another of those people skills that he usually left to JC. It didn’t feel like it was over…but now that the footsteps had stopped, it was hard to remember why they’d scared him so much. Footsteps weren’t so bad, after all. Just sounds. The crawling thing on the stage—that had been bad. With all the blood, and the eye hanging out. But it had been in no condition to hurt anyone. What was so scary about the footsteps…was that there was nothing to see. They could have been made by anyone, or anything. The threat and the menace were all in the anticipation…
When Happy was still a child, before his powers kicked in, he was afraid of the dark. And what scared him then was that he couldn’t see what it was that scared him. There could be anything in the dark, anything at all. Imagination filled in the details, in the worst way possible. Of course, Happy grew up to be a major-league telepath and discovered that he had good reason to be scared of what was hiding in the dark. Another reason he became a Ghost Finder: to find a way to strike back at the things in the dark. So no-one else would have to know, and be scared, like he was.
“I can’t hear anything,” said Elizabeth. “Is that good? Has he gone?”
Something knocked on the other side of the door, loud and hard—great crashing knocks that made the door jump and tremble in its frame. Something outside wanted them to know it was there. Something that wanted in. It must know the door wasn’t locked, so it must want, or need, to be invited in…It knocked again and again and again, hammering on the door with vicious force, barely pausing between each knock.
“Don’t let him in!” screamed Elizabeth.
“What is that?” Benjamin yelled at Happy. “What’s out there? You’re supposed to be the mind-reader! What can you see?”
“I can’t tell!” said Happy. “I’m trying, but…I can’t see anything! Something’s hiding it from me. Something big and powerful that’s been waiting here for twenty years, growing more and more powerful, determined to have its revenge! What’s out there? You tell me! You made it!”
“Please,” said Benjamin. “Please help us. Don’t let him get to Elizabeth.”
Happy scowled at the reverberating door, his heart hammering like the frenzied knocking. It sounded like all the monsters that ever were, determined to get in, and get him.
I can do this, thought Happy, trying hard to make himself believe it. I ain’t afraid of no ghost. I faced down Fenris Tenebrae, and the New People. And I’m damned if I’ll chicken out in front of strangers. They’re relying on me. Bit of a new feeling, that. Not sure if I like it, but…
He cranked up his nerve to the sticking point, grabbed the shaking door handle, and hauled the door open. He cried out something incoherent, ready to hit whatever was there with the strongest and most concentrated blast of disbelief he had…But there was no-one on the other side of the door. Happy stepped quickly out into the corridor and looked up and down; but there was nothing but shadows and silence, and a feeling…That there had been something there a moment before. Something bad. The light in the corridor was calm and steady, and so were the shadows, and Happy…wondered what the hell was going on. He would have liked to believe he’d driven the thing away, by confronting it; but that…didn’t feel right.