Chapter Text
The ghost capture array was finished about an hour before sundown. The four troopers who'd entered earlier would be the entire team going with me, which I agreed with. Honestly Dad and I had thought we'd have to argue the team size down, too many and we'd just be giving the ghost targets to kill because I wouldn't be able to defend everyone, but four was well within my abilities to keep track of. Turns out, Director Armstrong had the same thoughts.
The PRT Team and I followed the forklift carrying the array to the PRT Motor Pool, Dad and the Director trailing behind us, when Lieutenant Wilson, the team leader spoke up.
"How exactly is a bunch of squiggly copper lines and a giant crystal on a steel plate supposed to capture Mr. Molina, Miss Hebert?" He asked
"When powered up it will trap any spirit that crosses the array boundary inside the crystal," I explained.
"And what keeps the ghost from just popping back out and killing us?"
"The array on the crystal itself is derived from the ones used on the Sessho-seki, so as long as the crystal isn't damaged it can't escape."
"Isn't that the stone your mother was sealed in for a few centuries?" Armstrong asked.
"A century," I corrected, "and yes. Which is why I'm certain that once trapped the ghost cannot escape without external assistance."
"Does that mean we could get trapped in the crystal?" Trooper Russel asked worriedly, his hand fingering a large ornate silver cross at his side.
"Only if you die on top of it while it's active. If that happens we can take a hammer to the crystal and let you out, or wait a few months for the crystal to break down under the strain of holding a full soul. It can't tear your soul out of your body, that's something only major deities and archangels have the power to do, and even they would just kill you and get access to your soul that way."
"Do I have to worry about Mr. Molina eventually breaking free due to the crystal decaying?" Armstrong asked.
"No," I reassured him, "A shade is vastly less than an actual soul and the crystal can hold it… not indefinitely, but only because the shade will lose cohesion and fade after a few decades."
"Power requirements?"
"Self-powered as long as there's a shade inside."
"It's using the shade as a power source, isn't it?" Lt. Wilson asked, "that sounds… less than ethical."
"Shades are not the souls of the dead," I sighed, "They are not sapient or even sentient, merely imitating it. They cannot learn, cannot grow, cannot change. It's more accurate to group them with constructs than life."
"This is why I want the ghost captured, lieutenant," Armstrong said, "so that we can independently verify that."
My ears flicked out to the side in annoyance but I held my tongue. I'd said my piece.
"We can interrogate Mr. Molina while he's trapped in the crystal?" Lt. Wilson asked.
"Audio only," I answered, "The directions should be with the rest of the instructions."
We passed through the doors to the motor pool when Trooper Hurst nervously asked in her high voice
"So, uh, the director chose me and Russel because we are the 'most devout troopers' he could find and gave us these," she hefted her own silver crucifix, "but, uh, how do we use them? I don't think pointing them at Mr. Molina and yelling 'the power of Christ compels you' will work."
Dad and I chuckled.
"No," he said, "That wouldn't work. Admittedly we know very little about faith based magics, but our family's long been affiliated with the Shinto, not the Abrahamic. That said, heartfelt prayer is probably your best bet. Preferably in Latin."
Trooper Parry, who was by far the largest of us – he was slightly taller than Dad and could give most dockworkers a run in brawn – rumbled
"Sirs, we need to get a move on if we want to get the array in place before Molina manifests."
"Indeed," Lt. Wilson said, darting ahead of the forklift to open the back of a PRT van, "lets get this stowed and mount up."
We took two vans, as the array and I were both large enough to take up the entire troop compartment, the humans riding up front. On paper, we should have had enough time to reach the ghost's house and set up so that he'd be trapped in the array almost as soon as he manifested.
But thanks to a local football game ending as we left, traffic disagreed.
The Molina house was a modestly sized two-story in a middle-class neighborhood, currently surrounded by police tape and with a pair of officers standing guard to make sure no one went in and got themselves killed. The house had a very open first floor, with the garage opening to a small utility room holding a washer and dryer, with a small bathroom to the right, before continuing to a living room. Taking a left would lead to a four-way junction where the living room merged with the kitchen – separated by an island – and two doorless doorways to the stairs and a large dining room/reception hall where the front door was. The second floor was a single hallway that wrapped back around the stairs with a series of small rooms off of it that were used as bedrooms. The lights had also been left on for us.
The troopers backed the vans into the drive way, parking half into the street to leave plenty of room between the rear doors and the garage door for the main bay.
The moment the passenger door of my van was opened I could smell the dried blood from the last exorcism attempt. As Russel opened the van doors and I began to shuffle backwards to get out it occurred to me that, depending how long ago the exorcism happened, I shouldn't be able to smell it, even with my keen nose, though I wasn't sure how long I should be able to smell blood without magical shenanigans involved.
"So," Lt. Wilson said from where he stood next to the closed garage door as I turned around, "I think we all know that sticking the array where Mr. Molina manifests before he starts roaming is shot. Ms. Hebert, I know you and your father already agreed that facing the ghost directly was an acceptable risk, but are you certain? We can do this another day. No one will say a thing if you want to head back, kid."
I shook my head.
"I need to test how effective my magic is against shades, and it's best for me to learn that in a semi-controlled environment than against something actually dangerous."
I didn't mention that I wanted to test if my fire was actually soulfire. If it was, the merest contact would cause it to go up like a gasoline-soaked haybale, as shades were made of soul… energy I guess, even if they weren't true souls themselves.
"Molina has a double-digit body count," Parry said sharply, "Most of them were fellow troopers."
I winced.
"Sorry, I phrased that badly." I paused to collect my thoughts and remember what Mom had taught me. "What I meant was… ghosts, like other ethereal beings, only effect the physical world when they wish to, and often in very limited ways. On the flip side, anything comprising or incorporating magic is as opaque to them as physical objects are to us, whether that be ritual array, enchanted object, or spell. My magic should be highly effective against him, the question is only by how much."
"Hang on," Russel said, "doesn't that mean Molina can come at us through the walls and floors?"
"Theoretically yes, but most ghosts never figure that out."
"What?" Hurst said, "They become intangible and somehow don't figure out something that basic? If I became intangible I'd have figured that out almost instantly!"
"There is a reason ghosts aren't even classified as sentient," I retorted, "Did you not think there was cause for that?"
A moment of silence proved that they didn't have a response to that.
"Before we go in," Wilson said, obviously deciding to move past that, "I want a plan in place. I know it's probably going to go out the window in short order, but I still want something in place before we enter." He looked at me. "And if things start to go south on us we will retreat and try again later."
I nodded.
"It depends on how effective Russel and Hurst are with their crosses. If they can repel the ghost it should be easy to pen it in for capture," I said, "of course, it's also possible that they might not be able to repel it, but do otherwise impair it."
"So three plans then," Wilson said, "If the crosses have no effect, we stick close to Ms. Hebert – actually Russel, Hurst, if your crosses have no effect fall back to the perimeter. It's going to be crowded enough in there with just two of us and Ms. Hebert."
They nodded.
"If the crosses are only somewhat effective I want you two to stick close. You'll be on defense, make sure Molina can't get the drop on us. How close will have to wait until we know how effective the crosses are. If they repel him, I want you to be aggressive and herd him towards the array."
We nodded and Wilson waited until I used my magic to pull the array out of the other van, the steel plate hovering next to us, before he unlocked the garage door and rolled it up, producing an enormous clatter.
We froze, ears straining.
"…Welcome home, Rebeca! Did you… miss me?" As the shade cackled from somewhere upstairs my fur bristled at the malice in its voice.
In response I powered up the array and sent it sliding through the air to land at the base of the step leading to the inner garage door that separated the garage from the rest of the house, which I grabbed with my magic and shut. Russel and Hurst both stepped forward to stand between me and the door on either side, crosses held at the ready.
We listened to the footsteps – the stairwell was connected to one of the garage walls – as the shade came down the stairs and rounded a corner to the garage, each step unnaturally loud. None of us moved, even as the garage door handle turned and the door squeaked open, revealing the shade of Richard Molina.
In life he had been a plain and forgettable individual, between his short hair, average height, and unremarkable features. He'd died wearing a mono-color t-shirt and slacks, though what color they had originally been was indeterminable now as the ghost's ethereal form washed out all colors in addition to being translucent. He was carrying a kitchen carving knife, the very blade that his wife had rammed into his back a dozen times, and it was dripping spectral blood that left nothing on the floor. Past him, though the doorway from the laundry room - living room doorway, I could see a long couch pushed up against the far wall from when the previous exorcism attempt had cleared the area for their failed ritual.
"I see Rebeca sent more thugs to 'take care' of me," he mocked with an ugly grin, "run along, little government goons, or you'll meet the fate of your friends."
In response to us staying stationary and silent, he stepped onto the step leading down to the garage floor… and noticed the array. He eyed it with extreme wariness, his open hand slowly waving in front of him like he was feeling heat.
Nonono please take another step please take another step.
The ghost gave us a suspicious glare… and stepped back into the house.
Fuck! Of fucking course he could sense magic! He's made of it!
My magic lashed out and the shade dove to the side as I flipped the array up and rammed it into the doorframe, so that it was facing into the house rather than up, pumping more magic into it as I did so. Molina's shade immediately began to scream expletives for several long seconds before falling silent.
For a moment there was the hope that we had done it, that it was that easy.
It wasn't.
"Now it's fucking PERSONAL!"
I withdrew the array back to me and the shade took the opportunity to sprint from the bathroom into the living room.
"Go, go, go," Wilson barked and we charged, the array hovering off to the side like a giant shield.
The doorways were only wide enough to permit one person at a time so Russel and Hurst went first, then me, then the array.
Unfortunately, I didn't pay enough attention to how the array was angled.
There was a loud crunch of splintering wood as I entered the living room, and I turned to see that the steel plate was wedged into the doorframe for the inner garage door at an angle, completely blocking Wilson and Parry unless they wanted to crawl under it. Which could get them killed if the ghost rushed us.
Speaking of the ghost.
"He's throwing knives!" Russel yelled as one bounced off his breastplate, "Oh Lord in Heaven…"
I looked back as the shade hissed from the kitchen as Russel began to pray, cross pointing at it.
"Another one of you fucking priests?" the shade snarled, its anger causing the lights to flicker as it rounded the island and stormed towards us, raising its arm in front of its face as though to shield its eyes, "You'll die first."
Hurst stepped up beside Russel, presented her cross, and began to pray. The ghost grimaced and leaned forward like it was being buffeted by extremely strong winds, but after a long moment, it took a step forward. Then another.
I looked back at the garage door, where Wilson and Parry were trying to dislodge the array, back at the ghost, then back at the array.
Wilson noticed.
"Hebert, focus on Molina!"
I dropped the array – causing Wilson and Parry to curse as it tore itself out of the doorway under its' unsupported weight – and lashed out at the ghost with a whip of my fire. Unable to see it coming due to its' arm in the way, the shade didn't even attempt to avoid it.
The moment my whip made contact the entire upper half of the specter ignited in emerald fire, shot through with blues and purples. The shade shrieked in agony, causing me to whimper in pain from my poor sensitive ears, as it fell to its knees. I snuffed out the flames before they could set the entire house alight. We watched as the shade toppled forwards, upper half looking rather charred. After a moment Wilson and Parry joined us.
Yeah, I definitely have soulfire.
"I… am going… to kill… you…" the shade rasped.
"Is this going to kill him?" Wilson asked.
"No," I answered, "Given it hasn't dispersed by now he probably will recover eventually. Even if it was being put into the crystal would stabilize it. Speaking of."
I turned and grabbed the steel plate, which had thankfully not landed on the crystal when I dropped it, and levitated it into the room, without catching it on the doorframes this time. Inverting it over the ghost we watched as the shade was sucked into the crystal without any fanfare.
Flipping it back over I carefully applied telekinesis to pop the now faintly glowing crystal off the array – one of the mounting points had already broken from my rough handling – and handed it to Wilson.
"One captured ghost," I said.
As he inspected the crystal I looked around. As I'd previously noticed, all the furniture had been pushed against the walls, consisting of a long couch and a few chairs aside from the tv stand which had started against the wall, in order to make room for what had probably been a circled pentagram made of salt with candles on the points where the pentagram and circle intersected.
Now it was a mess, with salt smeared everywhere, the candles toppled, spilling their wax onto the carpet, and three large bloodstains staining the floor and salt. Looking back towards the kitchen I saw another bloodstain at the base of the stairs, with a blood trail leading into the dining room, and another on the kitchen hardwood in front of the dishwasher.
No wonder I could still smell the blood.
"Alright," Wilson called, "Everyone back to the vans, time to go back to base. Miss Hebert, can you grab the steel?"
I nodded, levitating the spent array as I followed him back to the garage.
When we returned to the PRT building Parry escorted me back to the training room where the array had been built… and I had accidentally created a mana bomb. Which was still there, hovering in its containment array, along with Dad, Trayson, and surprisingly the Director who were all deep in conversation about something. They looked up as I entered.
"Ah, Miss Hebert," Armstrong said, "Everything went well I take it?"
"There were a few hiccups," I admitted, "but no injuries and the ghost was captured."
"Good." He pointed at the mana bomb. "Now once we deal with that you can go home."
At that Trayson stood up, picking up a repurposed fire extinguisher that she brought to me, the top having a large copper stud that could be covered by flexible rubber cap (that was connected to the neck by a thin plastic lanyard) atop a pressure gauge.
"Are the scripts correct?" she asked, slowly rotating the extinguisher so I could read the copper array that had been fused onto it.
After the second full rotation I nodded.
"Looks good."
We followed Trayson as she went over to the containment array and, at my nod, touched the copper stud to the chalk circle. Immediately a bolt of faux lighting, far larger than the three connecting the bomb to the circle, snapped to the stud, causing Trayson to flinch slightly. But it worked, over the course of several seconds the mana was drained into the high-pressure cylinder. Once it was done she broke the circle with her foot, releasing a faint pop of residual mana.
"One hundred fifty-seven psi," she reported, reading the pressure gauge, before moving over to an array that had been drawn on the floor at some point in the past.
I recognized it as the same trainer array I had shown Armsmaster back during my initial testing, albeit properly constructed and with a few array modules for automatic function added to its exterior, which made it sound a lot more advanced than it was. The "control" modules were only capable of outputting a single variable and could only be turned on or off. They had been provided in the trainer pack I had given the PRT as it was the way Mom had introduced me to rituals that didn't need my constant attention.
We watched as Trayson touched the stud to the array, and a pillar of white light instantly reached from floor to ceiling.
A few seconds later she removed the stud, causing the array to instantly deactivate, and checked the psi gauge.
"One-fifty-six."
"Excellent," Armstrong said, smiling, turning to Dad, "As agreed the patent for a mana battery will be jointly held by your daughter and the PRT."
I did a double take. According to Mom mana batteries were supposed to be notoriously difficult to construct, being the sort of thing you built entire buildings around as you needed literal tons of stone to withstand the force of the contained mana.
…But that had been a materials science limitation.
Yes, I did know that a high-pressure cylinder should be able to contain the mana bomb I made. Yes, the script Trayson asked for allowed for two-way mana flow in and out of the cylinder. Yet somehow I hadn't put those very obvious pieces together until someone else did.
Dad shook Armstrong's hand and at a gesture I fell in beside him as we headed to the door.
"…Don't think I've forgotten about your punishment, daughter-mine," he muttered.
I whined.