“Let’s find the elevator shaft,” he suggests and keeps a hold of the hammer. I get hit with raw energy the moment we step out of the room, and I turn my head, immediately looking at a door.
“There’s the office,” I say, knowing it leads into the old office. I’ve compared instantly knowing a ghost’s memories to downloading a file. Being a medium is more than just seeing ghosts and feeling their emotions. The random knowledge ghosts share is hard to explain.
Picking up the pace, I lead Ethan and Mike into the office and startle when a man who is none other than Dr. Hanover rushes at me. I turn my head as he passes through me, feeling like an electrically charged mist is hitting my skin.
“Whoa!” The EMF meter in Mike’s hands spikes and our flashlights start to flicker.
“He’s here.” I turn, trying to figure out where Dr. Hanover went. “It’s the doctor.”
“You’re sure?” Ethan sets the hammer down on a desk and pulls a canister of salt from his bag.
“Yeah. I read his name tag.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asks and I look at Ethan, who gives me an encouraging nod.
“I saw him. Just for a moment,” I add. “He, um, ran right at us.”
“Is he here now?” Mike pulls a wooden stake from inside his jacket. You can’t stab a ghost, buddy. He looks at me again, eyes wide. Right. He hasn’t been indoctrinated by the Order yet and might not know it’s frowned upon to be a medium, though I don’t see why. Not all mediums are witches, and when you’re in this line of work it comes in handy.
“I can feel him hanging around,” I say right as the EMF meter spikes again. Dr. Hanover materializes in front of us and grabs the hammer on the desk. Ethan is only feet from it and could have easily gotten whacked in the face. But the hammer drops at his feet.
Pushing his brows together, Ethan calmly bends over and picks it up, no doubt thinking the same thing I am. This ghost is trying to scare us, not hurt us.
Taking a step away from the ghost, the bad feeling grows stronger. I turn and make sure the ghost of Dr. Hanover is still standing by the desk—he is—and then take another few steps forward. I can feel the spirit trying to pull from my energy.
“Take it,” I whisper. “And then maybe you can tell me what you’re trying to do here.” I hold out my hand, feeling magic buzzing around my fingers. The spirit whooshes forward in a shadow of gray mist and I get hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion. Blinking, I watch Dr. Hanover materialize in front of us.
“The fuck,” Mike exclaims and drops the wooden stake. It’s then I realize it’s inlaid with some sort of metal—probably cold iron—which has long been believed to repel ghosts as well as witches.
“Wait,” Ethan tells him when Mike goes to pick up the stake. “It’s trying to tell us something.”
“Yeah, before it kills us!”
“No,” I counter and hold my hands out to the side, showing Dr. Hanover I mean no harm. He points to a wall, shakes his head, and then falls through the floor. I get a flash of a memory, and an overwhelming feeling to run like hell out of the building. Yet it’s not the ghosts I need to be afraid of.
“What’s behind that wall?” I ask, letting out a shaky breath.
“I’ll find out.” Ethan strides out of the room, flashlight illuminating the way.
“I’ve…I’ve never seen a ghost like that,” Mike says, still staring at the spot where Dr. Hanover stood. “He looked alive.”
“Yeah, they can sometimes. Well, to certain people. I’ve made that mistake before,” I add with a snort of laughter.
Mike turns, blinking a few times, and looks at me curiously. “You’ve seen your fair share of spirits?”
“I have.” I take a tentative step forward and listen as Ethan’s footfalls continue to grow quieter. Now’s the time to tell this guy to run for the hills and avoid the Order at all costs.
“How’d you know the ghost wasn’t going to hurt us?”
“I was able to sense it.”
“You told him to take something.”
I nod. “My energy. Most spirits need to take energy from something in order to appear in our world. That’s why your phone battery tends to drain when you’re on a ghost hunt, for example.”
“You learn that from the Order?”
“No,” I say quickly, making a face that I hope conveys my distrust in the organization.
“Huh. So, you were able to figure this stuff out without them?” Mike replies and I mentally high-five myself.
“Yeah. There are, um, actually a lot of I guess you’d call it freelance hunters out there. And I’m not really a fan of being told what to do.”