#ectoberweek22

I got rebelle during the sale, and I'm trying to figure out how to use it. Unfortunately, it's a bit unwieldy on my computer - the UI has been difficult for me to understand. 😅

“Do not wonder at our call, oh you of unequaled power,” continued the cultist, “for it is an auspicious night, and though this place may be foreign to you, your lost bones lie six feet beneath our woven circle.”

"Believe it or not," said Danny, coolly, "I do know where I am, thanks."

He shifted his glare from the cultists (who were sort of hard to look at, because they were all carrying stupidly bright flashlights) to the cloth beneath him.  It was white, with black, silver, and, regrettably, Fenton ecto-line green.  Apart from the weird symbols, the pattern of stitches was reminiscent of the Fenton Ghost Catcher.  

Not a good sign.  Danny would appreciate it if his parents would run better background checks on the people who bought their stuff.  Not that cult membership was generally a matter of public record, and even if it was, not all cults were like this.  

Danny caught himself sinking towards the ground and yanked himself up.  Doing so was oddly difficult.  He felt himself straining, as if he was carrying something heavy.  Trying to go sideways was worse, like trying to move a particularly stubborn Ghost Zone door.  

Yeah.  Not a good sign.  

“What do you want?” asked Danny.  

“We, your servants, wish to reunite you with your flesh, oh wonderful one.  For this purpose we have crafted this circle, to marry the spiritual divine with the physical divine, so you may lead us in all ways and for all time, and grant us the blessings we deserve as proclaimers of your might.”

“That’s… kind of gross sounding.  Plus, I knew this was here.  I could come get my stuff at literally any time.”

“Of course, oh puissant one, your power is vast and unmatched.  But we, your faithful servants, have long gathered knowledge with which to aid you, and it is by this that we have found this night, and this ritual, that shall truly wed you to your once-discarded flesh.”

One of the other cultists muttered something like ‘We’ve only been around for a year,’ before being elbowed in the gut and pushed to the back of the group.  Well, that narrowed which cult this was exactly down a bit.  A very little bit.  

Whatever.  Who these people were wasn’t currently the problem.  Getting away before they somehow turned him into a zombie or forced him to possess his own corpse was the problem.  

“Okay, so what if I don’t want to be reunited with my flesh?”

This seemed to baffle the cultists.  

“But of course you do!” said one of them.  “Everyone wants to be alive again!”

Danny rather doubted that these guys had figured out how to resurrect people, and didn’t particularly want to be resurrected in the first place.  What would that even look like for him?

Speaking of looking, weren’t Collins, Paterson, McGee, and Daily still watching?  Why weren’t they here, doing something?  He could use the backup.  

Almost as if summoned (ha) by his thoughts, Collins, Paterson, and McGee emerged from the decorative shrubbery.  

… Actually, if Danny squinted past the cultists (and their flashlights) he could see Daily making a slow jog towards the group as well, still carrying his computer.

“Freeze!” shouted Collins.  He did not have his gun out.  Danny wasn’t sure if cops in Amity Park even had traditional firearms, to be honest.  Several of the cultists raised their hands anyway.  “You’re under arrest!”

“For what?” demanded the leader.  

There was a beat of silence.  Danny dragged his palm over his face, exasperated.  Not only were they kind of late getting here, but they clearly hadn’t thought this through.  

“Trespassing?” suggested Paterson.  

“This is public property,” said one of the cultists.  The others nodded in agreement.  

“The park is closed,” tried Paterson.

“Mayor Masters passed a new ordinance to keep the park open all day to accommodate our undead and night owl citizenry!” 

“Wait, really?” asked Paterson, glancing at Collins.  

“Oh, yeah, he did do that,” said Collins, his face scrunched up as if he’d bitten into a lemon unexpectedly.  “Defacing public property?”

“With a blanket?” 

“Come on,” said Danny, “you guys have to do better than that!”

The cultists jeered.  The ones who had put their hands up had, for the most part, put them down.  

“Whose side are you on?” asked Paterson, crossly.

“The side of the faithful, of course!” proclaimed the lead cultist, waving his arms.  

“The side I’m on is the inside of this circle, that’s the problem,” said Danny.  “Maybe you could get them for, I don’t know, kidnapping?”

“Kidnapping only applies to people!” asserted a cultist.

“Oh, I see how it is.  At first, I’m the great and powerful Phantom, and now I’m not even a person.”

“Er,” said the head cultist.  “We’re only using the unjust law as our shield, great and powerful Phantom.”

Danny closed his eyes, feeling the strain of both the ludicrous conversation and staying afloat.  “Okay, look, I meant that title sarcastically, I don’t want you to actually use it.  What I want is for you to let me go.”

“Oh, most gracious and humble Lord Phantom, we wish only to free you from ignorance and the horror that is the division of soul and body!”

“Can we get them on conspiracy to commit a crime?” asked McGee, who looked almost as done with the situation as Danny.  

“What crime?” demanded the lead cultist.  “We are only exercising our right to practice our religion as we see fit!”

“Uh,” said McGee.  “Grave robbing?  Desecrating a corpse?  This reunion thing has to be one of those two, right?”

“We are not grave robbers!  We are merely returning what has been stolen!”

If only Danny had access to this kind of enthusiasm when his body had actually been stolen.  

Cameron Daily finally arrived, panting.  He doubled over, clutching his computer to his stomach, and raised one finger.  “I’ve got it,” he said finally.  “You’re in violation of Amity Park Municipal Ordinance 11042.”

“What.”

“Passed in nineteen eighty-four, APMO 11042 states that no spirits, demons, ghosts, or other similar beings are to be summoned on public property, on the penalty of fines, and confiscation of all related ritual paraphernalia.”

The cultists exchanged nervous glances.  

“You’ll never take us alive!” declared the leader, before absolutely booking it.  

The other cultists were flustered at first, but then they ran, too, scattering into the night.  

“Well,” said Daily, gesturing at his flabby and sweaty body, “I’m not going to be able to catch them.”

McGee swore and took off.

“Hey, wait!” shouted Paterson following.  Collins gave Danny an apologetic look before running as well.  

“Great,” said Danny.  “So, could you maybe get me out of this?”  It was becoming harder to keep his distance from the ground.

“I can try,” said Daily, starting to dither around the circle.  

“Maybe you can just–” The sharp party-popper sound of a taser being fired somewhere in the park made Danny flinch.  

His control slipped.  His foot hit the embroidered cloth.  

The symbols and lines sewn into the cloth flared and spasmed, swarming up Danny’s leg, crawling over the fabric of his suit as if they belonged there until they twined around his torso and arms as well.  

There was a flash of light.  Danny was human again, but the symbols were still there, stitched into his clothes and apparently inked into his skin, still glowing.  

“Oh,” said Daily, wide-eyed.  “I don’t, um.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually do that.”

Danny grunted in reply and turned his hands over, looking at the symbols that circled his wrists.  They tingled, both on his skin and in his eyes.  

"What are you doing?" asked a harried Mr. Kynbaz, interrupting what was probably going to be an interesting fight.  "You were supposed to take him to the rest of the family.  Danny, Matthew wants to speak with you before he gets sent to the hospital."

"Right," said Danny, going to his side.  "What about Mom and Dad?"

Maddie and Jack had been separated from Matthew and Sophia, and, more notably, the vehicles the rest of the family had been hustled off to.

"They did shoot at Matthew with live ammunition."

"Yes," said Danny as they walked, "and I threw a knife in his general direction.  What's the difference?"

"You didn't miss."

“That can’t be it.”

Mr. Kynbaz glanced down at him, then took to scanning the surroundings again.  “Regent Matthew trusted you.  When you said it wasn’t Vivian, he moved.  He didn’t even trust Princess Madeline that much.”

Well, yeah.  Matthew knew Maddie’s opinion on ghosts.  Of course he wouldn’t trust her on anything about them.  

Except… most people would assume Danny and Jazz were the same way, wouldn’t they?  Matthew knew better, because he’d been spying on them, but other people?  Not so much.  He worried at the bottom of his lip.  That would be… complicated.  It was already complicated.  

On the same subject, there really wasn’t a lot to distinguish… whoever had been wearing Vivian’s face from a regular ghost.  So maybe there were more people who’d assume that was Vivian’s ghost and that she was… really mad at her mother and Matthew for some reason.  

Hopefully, most people would realize that didn’t make sense.  Mad enough to pull a knife on them.  Did Vivian know how to use knives?  She probably had some combat training; Danny wasn’t sure how codified into the law it was, but the royal family had a thing about being able to fight…

Security around Matthew parted and let Danny walk by.  

There was something strange about the air.  A sort of electric weight.  Danny breathed in, deeply.  He couldn’t smell any ozone.  

“Dannyl,” said Matthew, eyes flicking up and to the side.

Danny followed his gaze.  Cameras.  Danny hadn’t realized Matthew had let them get so close.  “Regyn Mathyw,” Danny replied, having to take a moment to remember the proper term for regent.  What was Matthew planning?  Belatedly, he tacked on a tiny bow.  

He was very bad at this.  

Matthew held out his hand, and Danny took it, hoping he was reading the signals right.  It’d really suck if Matthew had been going for some other gesture.  

“Keswyn,” said Matthew, then he looked at the cameras.  “We knywet…” We know that there are many questions, and some of them are ours as well.  Even so, let us answer a few before we must depart.  It is clear, now, that in our midst was a false face, come to beguile us and sow discord.  Even so, I was fooled, and who could trust the council of those who raise weapons against a loved face, when they in turn have proved false before?  But we are blessed in this, that we knew we had been blessed with–

Danny tensed, realizing what was about to happen, and Matthew paused, looking only slightly apologetic.  

“We knywet that or kynekyn…” We knew that our family had been blessed with a true syvyr.  

Damnit.  

.

Needless to say, everyone wanted to ask Matthew and Danny questions after that.  He didn’t particularly feel like answering them.  Matthew answered some before the medics finally insisted on taking him away.

Danny returned to Basym Hyws over half an hour after everyone else, in a different car.  Armored, of course.  

.

“...viously some kind of propaganda stunt,” said the woman on the British news program playing on the TV in the media room in Basym Hyws as Danny walked into the room.  All eyes turned to him, then away, back to the screen.  “I don’t know what the state of education in Avlynys is, but for Matthew Doris to try something like this, it must be atrocious.”

“Sweet Jesus’s Ghost,” muttered Iris.  “Try that one out when you can pronounce our last name right, British hag.  I know dockworkers better educated than you.”

“Taking a look at their social media,” said one of the other person on the screen, “it appears that many Avlynians believe that Prince Daniel–”

“Oh my gosh, why are they calling me that?” asked Danny.  “Don’t they have title attenuation over there, too?”

“Hush,” said Jazz, tossing a pillow at him.  

“--slew a creature out of local folklore, something called an ‘evil face.’”

There was a collective groan.  

“I can’t believe the international press is judging our family over this,” said Iris.  “They caught that– that thing on camera.”  She stilled, then twisted to stare at Danny, who was picking his way through the chairs to the seat next to Jazz.  “Do you know what it was?”

“Uh,” said Danny, “other than a–”  He stumbled over terminology for a second.  Most people here would consider ghost to mean dead person, which wasn’t always the case.  “--spirit,” he finished with a shrug.  

“How’d you know it wasn’t Vivian?” asked Leo.  He looked, and sounded, like he’d been crying.  

“Um,” said Danny, floundering.  He’d never had so many people aware of his powers before.  It was uncomfortable.  He didn’t know how much to say or not say.  “Because I’d seen Vivian.  Earlier.  That wasn’t her.”

“You saw her?” asked Lewis with a sharp intake of breath.  “Is she here now?”

“No,” said Danny, “she went with your mom to the hospital.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No,” said Danny.  “They can’t– None of them can really talk.”

“There’s more than–”

“H-hey,” said George, running worry beads through his fingers.  “Are we– Are we really believing all this now?  This is kind of… No offense, but this is all kind of… wild, isn’t it?”

“Are we doubting the proof of our own eyes now?” asked Iris.  There was a slight waver in her voice.  

“Mass hysteria is a thing.”

“Yeah, for the nocebo effect and dancing mania.  Not for your dead cousin showing up and starting to stab people while your lunatic cousins shoot sci-fi laser guns and your baby cousin turns out to be psychic.  That’s not mass hysteria, that’s a– a full blown break with reality.  I’m not sure that’s even psychosis anymore, George!”  At this point, Iris was on her feet, screaming, looming over her twin.  

“Iris,” said Jazz, “are you–”

“I’m not okay!  God!  Dad almost died again, and you’re going to pretend we hallucinated it?”  She whirled and stabbed a finger at Danny.  “You!  Did Vivian tell you who killed her?  Was it that spirit?  What about the poison?”

“You don’t ask ghosts how they died,” said Danny, vaguely disturbed, inching away.  “That’s dangerous.”

“Did you find out, then?”

Danny raised his hands defensively.  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“Try.  Harder.”  Iris spun and stalked out of the room.  There was the sound of a door slamming and something glass breaking.  

“I’ll go talk to her,” said George, quickly getting up.  

“And,” said the TV, which hadn’t been turned off, “get this.  The Fentons are ghost hunters.”

“Seriously?”

“One hundred percent.  Jack Fenton is actually descended from a witch hunting family that made a name for themselves in the sixteen hundreds.”

“Wow, a whole family of crazy murderers.  They’re letting these people run a country?”

Danny stared up at the ceiling, begging for patience.  “Why are we even watching this?”

“Intel,” said Eugene.  “Pays to be informed.  And it’s the most watched foreign news program in the country.”

“Great,” said Danny.  “Where’s your Mom?”

“Sleeping,” said Eugene.  “Tonight was a bit much for her.  What about your parents?  Jazz was really nervous about that.  And you, of course.”

“I wasn’t nervous,” said Jazz, who indeed appeared to be rather relaxed, compared to how tense she sometimes got.  “Just concerned.  But Mr. Kynbaz kept me updated about you.”

Danny sighed.  “They’re at the security checkpoint down the hill.  Apparently firing weapons at the acting head of state is frowned upon in this country.  Matthew has to get some paperwork together to officially pardon them or something.”

“But you did see them?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  He didn’t like them being so far away, but he’d be downright anxious if he hadn’t seen them there.

“Good,” said Jazz, relaxing… Well.  Not the rest of the way, but a hair more.  “I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  He rubbed his eyes.  The night might have been a disaster, but no one had died and everyone was accounted for.  

Except for Aunt Alicia, but she might just be refusing to come before her harvest was put up or something like that.  Or maybe the people they sent couldn’t find Spitoon.  The town was barely larger than a postage stamp.  

“The whole thing reads like something out of a fantasy novel.  The estranged prince no one knew about until this year saves the king and is knighted.”

“Is that what syvyr means?  It’s untranslated on most of the sites.”

“More or less,” asserted the idiot they’d gotten on the show.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  “I’ve already had enough of this.  I’m going to bed, too.”

Everyone’s phones cheeped or rang or beeped.  Danny pulled his out of an inner pocket and opened the text he’d just received.  It had been forwarded from Matthew’s phone, as he was apparently out of commission.  It was from one of the security teams in America.

But any word that bound up in a culture had connotations and denotations aplenty.  Gwensyvyr had been a syvyr; it was in her name.  Being a syvyr was one of the possible admissions criteria for the College of Heroes.  In the Reckoning of Titles practiced by the court, Syvyr was equal to Knight or Doctor.  Avlynyse children’s fantasy often featured syvyrys on quests.  The forests of Myrgyn were called the Wyduys Syvyryse.  

Danny… fit the definition.  It was, again, part of the joke behind his chosen name.  

Being called a syvyr, being recognized as a syvyr, especially by a member of the royal family, was an honor.  

That wasn’t why Danny’s still-slow heart rate had just sped up.  

“You can’t tell our parents.”

Matthew’s brow crumpled.  “What?  Why?  I know Maddie hasn’t been receptive to… anything traditional in a long time, but she’s doing that awful ghost hunting thing.  She wouldn’t deny it out of hand.”

“That’s the problem,” said Jazz.  “She wouldn’t deny everything, she’d just think that Danny was overshadowed.”

“Over– I’m sorry, is that a direct translation of avyrsydod?  The direct inbryth gyse?  Why would that be a bad thing?”

“Because they really hate ghosts.”

“They use it more like possession than spiritual inspiration,” explained Danny.  “They’d want to drive out whatever ghost was doing it.”

Matthew sighed.  “Of course they would.  Have you, ah.  Which of the honored dead is speaking to you now?”

“Speaking is… a strong word,” said Danny.  Danny shifted back against the bed, unsure how much he should say.  He’d spent so long keeping everything secret.  

He felt the slightest breeze play across his knuckles, and looked down to see Gwensyvyr’s transparent hand resting on his blurry one.  

“Okay,” he said, slowly.  “Here’s what we know.”

.

Danny didn’t tell Matthew everything.  He wanted to keep his ghost half, at least, a secret, and Matthew was being an adult and keeping things from them as well.  

“We will have to do the trials after all, then,” said Matthew, rubbing his temples.  “That’s going to be… Dangerous.”

“I assume you mean from something other than the murder attempts?”

“Yes,” said Matthew.  “Andyr was supposed to be renovated, back when we were kids, but it never got finished.  Grandfather kicked the company we’d contracted with out after your grandfather died.  They were blamed for what happened to Leon.”

Gwensyvyr nodded sharply.  “Rightly, it sounds like,” said Danny.  

“Yes, well.  The renovation was still never finished.  I know that William was trying to convince Grandfather to change his mind about it before Vivian took the trials.  Managed to get him to say maybe to this tiny company staffed by, uh, you won’t know them, distant cousins of ours, they clean up European castles, but…”

“But then this happened,” finished Danny.  “Do you think the people from the renovation company, the original one, might be behind this?  They could be trying to cover up something they did down there.”

“Possibly.  Most of them would be quite old at this point.”

“Dead doesn’t mean gone,” reminded Jazz.  

“That’s true,” said Matthew.  “I’ll have to look into it.”  His phone beeped, and he looked down.  “It looks like our time is at an end.  Your parents are coming back.”

.

“Did you notice,” Jazz asked Danny, later, “how he didn’t tell us the name of the company they contracted with?”

“Sure did,” said Danny.  “But we didn’t tell him about the key, so that’s fair.”  There was a feather-light tap on his shoulder.  

Gwensyvyr smirked at him and started to trace letters in the air.  

SKYPPA WYKBYLDYN GRUYP.

Skippa Construction Group.  

“What, like the guy who was angry at Matthew earlier?”

Gwensyvyr nodded.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  “That’s a place to start.”

.

VIVIAN DYRYS FOUND DEAD, PRINCE MATTHEW DYRYS DECLARED REGENT, and JULIUS SKYPPA, ASSEMBLYMAN AND NOTED IMPORTER, FOUND DEAD IN ARGYNTYN HOME AFTER WARRANT FOR ARREST, read the headlines on the newspapers the next day.  

SKYPPA SUICIDE NOTE CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY FOR ROYAL POISONINGS, SOME OFFICIALS SKEPTICAL, read the headlines later that evening.  These headlines were followed in smaller print by CUPBEARER INNOCENT, HEARING TO FOLLOW.

At least Danny could read them.  He rather wanted to break something.  

.

Danny was allowed to return to Basym Hyws the next day, his vision mostly back to normal.  The arguments made Danny wish the doctors hadn’t let him go.  

Maddie and Jack were unmatched in the stubborn argument category, with Maddie believing that all ghosts were evil against all traditions of her home culture and Jack believing ghosts existed despite the general consensus of his.  Then, too, there was the annual Christmas Debacle to consider.  

On the other hand, Matthew had quite a bit of authority on his side, accompanied by faith, and the ever-infuriating thing known as ‘unsharable proof.’

Except, ghosts in general weren’t the main thing they were arguing about.  

“I’m not saying they have to actually attempt the trials,” snarled Matthew.  “They just have to be there to start with, because all available members of the royal family have to be there.”

“It wasn’t going to be like that for Vivian’s trials!”

“That’s because we had a reigning king!  Having only a regent changes the rules!  They can sit in the first room off the hallway for all I care, but they have to be there or else it won’t be considered legitimate!”

“None of us want to have anything to do with your government–”

“It’s your government, too!”

“-- why can’t we just sign something saying that?”

“Because I can’t change the law at a drop of a hat, Madeline!”

.

“I’m sorry,” said Danny, “we’re doing what?”

“We’re holding the Moon Masque next week,” said Irene, “in the Wyduys Syvyryse.  Ah, that’s the ‘Sorcerers’ Woods–’”

“We do speak Avlynyse,” said Maddie, testily.  “I think what Danny wants to know is why we’re holding a masquerade party in the woods while all these murders are still being investigated.”

Danny winced.  He did want to know just that, but he didn’t mean it so… aggressively.  

“It’s part of the preparation for the trials,” said Irene.  “Some of the Assembly wanted to waive it, but after the aconite… the traditionalist faction was worried it was a bad sign.”

“Are you serious.”  It wasn’t a question.