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Title: Hungry Ray
Fandom: Real Ghostbusters
Rating: 13 and up
Genre: Fantasy/Horror
Warnings: None
Synopsis: Ray faces up to the past in order for the Ghostbusters to step into the future.
“Don’t worry, Janine.” Egon Spengler said, handing over Peter's proton pack to his friend before shouldering his own. “We’ve found Bix. We’ll stop him now.”
“You’re being overly macho, there, Spengs,” Peter Venkman stated, tightening the straps to his pack while standing guard directly next to Janine’s desk, inside the white circle of esoteric powder that surrounded and protected her. His thumb caressed the trigger mechanism on his thrower. He looked down into Janine Melnitz’s tired, strangely blank face. “Egon is ze Macho Grande Man!” Not meeting his eyes, Janine smiled.
“I thought you were over Macho Grande, Egon?” She said, playing along, nervously flipping a can of pepper spray back and forth in her hands.
“I’ll never be over Macho Grande,” Egon said, his deep, deadpan voice delivering the punchline flawlessly. Winston Zeddemore, walking by with his arms full of deadly equipment with a similarly loaded-for-action Ray Stantz in tow, rolled his eyes.
“You guys ready to Blow Rock? I mean…blow this joint?” Winston said, uncharacteristically joining in. Janine looked at him in surprise. Ray said nothing and climbed behind the wheel of Ecto, the group’s converted classic ambulance, and kept his eyes down. That was also strange. Strange enough for Peter to investigate and Janine watched him walk over to the car, nervously adjusting the red sweatband circling his brow as he went. Egon claimed the shotgun seat and Winston crawled into the back, rechecking his own can of pepper spray and a couple of pairs of handcuffs.
Peter leaned into the driver’s side window and patted Ray’s shoulder. His voice floated back to Janine’s desk. “Well, it ain't every day we go after someone who's still alive. Give Bix a couple of broken ribs for me, huh? Teach him not to mess with our own again.” He said glancing back at Janine’s desk. “Teach him that Black Magic isn't healthy.”
Ray’s brown eyes rested on Janine for a moment and she smiled at him reassuringly. He didn’t smile back. He reached down and turned the key and Ecto roared into life. “I’ll teach him, Peter,” Ray answered softly. “Take care of Janine for us, okay?”
“Oh, I’ll take care of Janine all right,” Peter said, giving Ray a friendly whack on the face. “I’ll guard her as if she were my own…dog or somethin’.”
“Thanks, Peter,” Ray mumbled and backed the car out of the firehouse, hitting the siren as he went. Peter stood in the garage door and watched until they turned the corner, the siren fading into the distance, then he slowly turned and went back inside.
Janine was still sitting calmly, her chin resting on her fist as she watched Peter approach. He was singing. “Oh, baby, don’t be cruel…to a love that’s true! I don’t want no other love, baby, it’s just you I’m dreaming of!” It seemed to take him days before he finally crossed the length of the garage and Janine let out a thousand mental screams as she waited for him. Peter looked down at the white circle that shielded her and hopped over it, clutching his thrower. “Does Ray really think that a circle of salt, white sand and other such fairy-dust bullshit is going to stop Bix? Black Sorcerer from Hell?”
“From the Bronx, actually, and thanks, Peter, what a reassuring thing to say.” She checked the polish on the fingernails of her left hand, her right hand carefully out of sight. “Real professional, Mr. Numb-nut Psychologist.”
Peter's green eyes became flat and cold. “Real nice, Janine. Real, real nice,” he snarled. Obviously thrown out of his stride, he looked away for a moment. “I mean…you know me, Janine, I’m just a wealth of comfort.” He smiled at her and, oh yes, it looked a little…off.
Janine drew in a great calming breath. “The circle is supposed to keep the black energy out.” Janine smiled the way a Great White Shark might smile. “If Bix sends over anything worse than bad vibes while the guys are gone then you can take care of it with the thrower.”
“Ummm…hummm…” Peter looked down at the circle and, with one sweep of his foot, broke the symmetry of it. “Well, Janine, sweetie, my darling little red-head with the gorgeous ass, I’m afraid he’s sent me.” He flicked the thrower on with his thumb and aimed it directly at her head. “A weapon is only as good as the guy aiming it and I’m really afraid I’m no good at all.”
Janine studied the nails on her left hand again. “What a shock. What an absolute shock.” Below the desk, in her right hand, her knuckles were white as they gripped the pepper spray.
“DON’T SCREAM. Don’t move, don’t make a sound.”
“Okay.” Janine put just the right amount of bored disgust into her answer.
Peter was sweating, his face was shining with it, and he adjusted his headband again. “Or, what the hell, scream yourself blue, it won’t matter. Before you go, I’ve got a message for you from Bix. Y’know? The last words you ever hear will be his, he wanted me to point that out.”
Janine nibbled a cuticle. “Oh, joy. Let’s hear it.”
“Um…” Peter blinked his eyes and almost imperceptibly swayed. “Oh…you should have said yes. Would it have killed you to say yes?”
“Probably. That’s why I said no.” Janine pointed that out as calmly as if she were trying to explain something to a four year old. That set Peter back and he blinked at her for a moment. His eyes became unfocused and the thrower drooped as he listened again to something she couldn’t hear. She realized he was receiving further instructions. Her skin blushed a mottled, fiery red, furious. Bix. Bix was so dead. That bastard. He was dead. Peter’s green eyes cleared and connected with her own again.
“You couldn’t have been nice? Y’know? A nice word, a nice touch? Sweet girls don’t die. They get…they get rewarded.” Peter’s voice was low and wheedling. “I’ll let you live if you’ll be…grateful to the poor guy. If you’ll be nice to him. I mean, after all the hell you put him through you owe him something.”
“After all I put him through? Okay, look here,” She brought her thumb and forefinger together in a tweaking motion. “This is the violin of my heart and it’s playing just for you, Bixxy, you loser.” The pepper spray can was slick with sweat in her hidden hand. The brand name was beginning to wear off. She could see Bix’s insulted dismay reflected in Peter’s face. The thrower came up again, pointing at her face. She sniffed with contempt.
Peter’s face showed confusion. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid of YOU? Oh, please.”
Peter’s thumb slowly came off the trigger and he powered down. “All right. I guess I’m going to have to get a little personal here.” He took off the proton pack and laid it on the floor. For the first time during their strange conversation Janine looked dismayed and she stood. “I mean, one quick blast to the head doesn’t send out the message that’s required here. Y’know, ‘It Pays to be Nice.’” Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss army knife. He flicked out the smaller, more delicate blade. “You should have been nice, Janine, I mean, when a guy admires a girl she should be flattered. She should giggle and act all feminine and blush and be shy. But you weren’t. Wow. You weren’t. A restraining order isn’t very romantic, Janine. Then, you put me in jail. Jail! Shame on you. It takes a lot of guts for a guy to pursue a girl and to be rejected is just plain cruel. Cruel! So, you have only yourself to blame, you frigid bitch.” He walked around the desk to face her.
“Let’s get one thing straight right now.” Janine kicked her office shoes off. “I’m not frigid.” Her high-heels clattered along the floor and the sound seemed to distract Peter for a moment. Then he lunged at her, swiping the knife at her abdomen as if he meant to completely cut her in half. Janine jumped back and triggered off a blast of pepper spray into his face. Peter blinked and wiped at it sluggishly.
The fumes made Janine’s eyes water and Peter should have been in agony but he was reacting as if she had simply spit on him. He advanced again, his eyes red, and Janine dropped the can. Deciding to be a little more blunt, she swung her office chair into his gut. He doubled over, wheezing, then slowly straightened up. Janine had put the desk between them and Peter stared at her pityingly. She was growling and cursing in a low, uncontrollable monotone and now had her stiletto-shaped letter opener in both hands.
“What are you going to do, Janine? Eviscerate Peter? Your friend?”
“If I gotta, yeah. He'll understand.”
He skidded the desk quickly across the floor, knocking her over. Her ‘stiletto’ skidded under a file cabinet. Peter leapt over and stood on her hair. Janine punched his knee and he didn't so much as sway. She screamed, then, and he smiled.
A sudden blow to his back sent Peter flying forward over her. He hit the ground hard. Freed, Janine sat up and delivered a devastating punch to his groin. He dropped the knife and groaned, clutching between his legs. Janine scrambled to grab the pocketknife and clutched it in her fist tightly as a large, brown hand reached down to haul her to her feet. A radio crackled.
“Winston, come in!”
Janine secure beside him Winston flicked on his radio. “Winston here, go ahead Egon.” Peter turned over and looked up at Winston, his eyes wide in shock.
“But…but you left…” Peter mumbled at the big man and started to drag himself up. Winston planted a foot in his chest and kicked him down again. Peter clawed at Winston’s combat boot and Winston leaned a little extra weight on the man. Peter gasped for air. “You left!”
“Winston, Ray’s plan worked perfectly. We’ve found Bix’s location, just a block away, and Ray is destroying his paraphernalia now. I have…ah…rendered Bix unconscious. How’s Janine?”
Janine batted her eyes at Winston and fluffed her hair hoping the big man would decide to ignore her pale face and ragged breath. “She’s fine. We had a little bit of trouble when Peter decided to attack her with his bare hands instead of the booby-trapped thrower but she still kicked his ass. He’ll never live it down.”
“His bare hands?” Egon repeated dully.
“He couldn't connect to save his life. Not a mark on her, Egon, I swear.”
“Float like a butterfly! Sting like a bee!” Janine sang for Egon’s benefit and Winston laughed a little too loudly.
“What about Peter?” Egon asked. Janine heard Ray shout something and then Peter went utterly limp underneath Winston’s foot. “He should be free, now.”
“He’s not fighting anyway.” Winston did not relax. He handed Janine a pair of handcuffs and she secured them tightly around Peter’s wrists.
There was another consultation between Egon and Ray and then Egon returned to the radio. “Ray says to check under his headband for marks.”
“His headband?”
“Ray says that most Controlling spells involve flesh cutting on the head. He theorizes that’s why Peter’s been wearing his work-out sweatband all day. To hide the marks.” Egon’s voice was one of carefully controlled disgust.
Janine flinched and looked up at Winston as he almost dropped the radio in horror. “Oh, god. Winston, let me check. Keep your foot on him.” Winston nodded, looking suddenly green. Carefully watching Peter’s limp hands for any sign of sudden movement Janine slowly bent down and twitched the red band off Peter’s head.
A pentacle, roughly the size of a silver dollar, had been carved deep into Peter’s pale forehead. Janine gently touched the clean edges of the cuts and looked up at Winston, confused and horrified. “There’s no blood.”
Winston’s lips drew back from his teeth in disgust and he spoke into the radio again. “Egon, there’s some slashes there but no blood.” They could hear Egon relay this to Ray who shouted back.
“Winston,” Egon spoke again.
“Yeah?”
“Ray says to take some of the salt and sand from the circle around Janine’s desk, mix it in cool water, and wash the cuts.” Ray shouted something more. “Ray says it’s important that Janine do it.”
“Why Janine?” Winston asked, perturbed. Janine understood why, he was the medic of the group after all. “Wait, mixing sand and SALT into an open wound? Does Ray have it in for Peter?”
“Ray says,” Janine briefly wondered what happened to Ray’s own radio. “He says there has to be only about a teaspoon of the circle mixture to about one pint of water. Peter won’t hurt too much.” Janine turned and began to ransack her desk.
“He’s out cold.” Winston finally removed his boot from Peter’s chest. “Like his strings have been cut.”
“They have. Ray says he’ll come around after his wounds are cleaned. The police are here, I have to deal with them. Ray, take the radio.” Janine ran back with a 34 ounce bottle of Evian spring water, half gone, a scarf with a sunflower pattern on it and the company first aid kit that she kept in her bottom drawer. She unscrewed the top from the bottle and gathered up a sizable handful of the white mixture, much more than a teaspoon, just to be safe, and added it to the water. She screwed the lid back on and shook the bottle for a couple of seconds. Her chest, her eyes, her entire body felt leaden and heavy with tears but she refused to give in to them yet.
She knelt by Peter’s side. He looked grey and her mouth went dry with a fear she didn’t feel when he was attacking her. That wasn’t Peter then. That thing had been Bix, that worthless bastard. But this was Peter now and the cuts looked bleached and dead. Janine gazed up at Winston imploringly. “Why do I have to do it? This is your area.” Janine ran her fingers through Peter’s hair.
“Good question, I don’t like the way those cuts look. Ray, come in.” Janine dabbed at the cuts with her scarf. The slashes were completely dry and she could see the tiny red circles of severed veins in his flesh. She moaned and her face twisted.
“Ray here.”
“Why does Janine have to do it?”
“Because she’s a woman. Excuse me, I have to puke.” The radio went dead.
Winston shrugged at Janine. “I guess it’s a Ray Magic thing.” Janine swallowed and shook the bottle again. She unscrewed the top and quickly poured half the bottle directly onto the pentagram. “AGH! No, no, no!” Winston protested.
“What?!”
“You’re supposed to wet a piece of cloth and GENTLY dab at it.”
“Oh, geez!” She tried wetting a corner of the scarf but it wouldn’t absorb water worth a damn. Tossing it aside, Janine shook the solution again and wet her fingers. She stroked the grains of sand and the dissolving salt well into the lips of the wound. If Ray said it was good then it was good. She blew a breath over the pentacle as if she were treating her nephew for a scraped knee. She rubbed and blew on the star and circle again and, with a suddenness that made them both exclaim out loud, the pentacle took on the appearance of a rose bursting into bloom as it finally began to furiously bleed. Peter’s eyes opened and he gasped for air.
“Peter! Peter, hold still.” Winston pinned Peter’s shoulders down with his hands as he writhed in shock and pain. “Peter hold still, we’ve got you.” Janine dumped the last of the solution onto his face and the salt, sand and blood poured over his face and onto the floor. He knocked Winston’s hands away, cuffs grinding metallically, and sat up. “Peter! Stop! Peter, stop!”
“Peter, hold still!” Janine wrapped her arms around him from behind and pulled him back against her body in a bear hug. He instantly went limp. A good jolt with a taser couldn’t have been more effective. He gasped for air. Suddenly he looked up at her in muddled astonishment.
“D…Damn, Janine. Have you got your Mojo working or what?” he mumbled.
“Ray said you needed a woman’s touch.” Janine explained, holding him tighter. “Why, we don’t know. It’s a magic thing.” Peter’s blood was dripping onto her forearms. Just the ‘woman’s touch’ comment should have sent him off into a salacious, five minute spiel of bad jokes and innuendo but he just lay there instead.
“I think I can take these off, now.” Winston unlocked the cuffs and put them in his pocket. Peter had a band of swollen, bleeding flesh around each wrist and Janine patted at them. “I’ll put a bandage on, too.” She heard him breathe a sigh of relief as he turned to the first aid kit. “Who took the tape out and didn’t put it back? Oh, here it is. Nevermind.”
Janine ignored the blood and kissed Peter on the cheek. It was a moment before her action registered in his cloudy mind and Peter turned an astonished bloodshot eye to her.
“After what I did you give me a smooch. You're nuts.”
Janine interrupted fast. “You didn’t do anything. It was Bix. It was all Bix.”
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” Janine hugged him tighter and Winston reached over and grasped his leg. “I went to get the paper this morning and he was waiting for me in the alley. He pinned me down without moving a muscle, just grinned at me, the bastard...I couldn't fight, couldn't talk. Then...I couldn’t stop. Janine, I'm sorry,” Peter was babbling and Janine covered his mouth with her hand.
“Don't be. It was Bix,” she snarled. Subject closed. End of discussion. Peter gave up and sagged. Janine put her hand down and Winston began to treat Peter’s slashes. Head wounds bleed terribly and his face was pinched with concentration.
Then Peter asked, “How did you know? How did you know he had gotten to me? And you, Winston, I thought you were long gone.”
Winston answered, “Ray knew. He wouldn’t say how, he just said that you smelled bad. You smelled like blackness, he said. He came up with the idea of using your readings to get a fix on Bix’s location since the spell connected the two of you. Janine was the bait. We all figured, rightly, that you were spelled to put a serious hurt on her so Egon modified your thrower to give you a nasty jolt of electricity when you tried to use it. Then, as soon as Ecto was out of your sight I jumped out and circled around back here. Anyway, Egon and Ray continued on to whup Bix’s ass over there while Janine and I whupped yours here.”
“Thank god she took the heels off." Peter’s hands spasmed. "Ray’s the man of the hour, huh?” Peter said, trying to be stoic as Winston cleaned the sand and grit out of his cuts. “Janine?”
“Yeah?”
“You gotta give Ray some of your fine Mojo, too, he’s done good today.” It was a lame joke but they all laughed at it.
“Oh, yeah, right!” Janine snorted.
Peter passed out.
Janine looked at the pentacle and groaned. "That's gonna scar. Peter's gonna go nuts." She ran her fingers through his hair again. Peter was vain and rightly so. He was the most handsome man Janine knew.
"They’re deep. They need stitching. Maybe…maybe as soon as they're healed enough, he can go to a plastic surgeon and get them erased." Janine sighed. Peter would find that cold comfort when he fully came back to himself. Winston began to twine a bandage around Peter’s head.
Janine and Winston were silent as they waited for Ray and Egon to come home and for the darkness to end.
tbc
Fandom: Real Ghostbusters
Rating: 13 and up
Genre: Fantasy/Horror
Warnings: None
Synopsis: Ray faces up to the past in order for the Ghostbusters to step into the future.
“Don’t worry, Janine.” Egon Spengler said, handing over Peter's proton pack to his friend before shouldering his own. “We’ve found Bix. We’ll stop him now.”
“You’re being overly macho, there, Spengs,” Peter Venkman stated, tightening the straps to his pack while standing guard directly next to Janine’s desk, inside the white circle of esoteric powder that surrounded and protected her. His thumb caressed the trigger mechanism on his thrower. He looked down into Janine Melnitz’s tired, strangely blank face. “Egon is ze Macho Grande Man!” Not meeting his eyes, Janine smiled.
“I thought you were over Macho Grande, Egon?” She said, playing along, nervously flipping a can of pepper spray back and forth in her hands.
“I’ll never be over Macho Grande,” Egon said, his deep, deadpan voice delivering the punchline flawlessly. Winston Zeddemore, walking by with his arms full of deadly equipment with a similarly loaded-for-action Ray Stantz in tow, rolled his eyes.
“You guys ready to Blow Rock? I mean…blow this joint?” Winston said, uncharacteristically joining in. Janine looked at him in surprise. Ray said nothing and climbed behind the wheel of Ecto, the group’s converted classic ambulance, and kept his eyes down. That was also strange. Strange enough for Peter to investigate and Janine watched him walk over to the car, nervously adjusting the red sweatband circling his brow as he went. Egon claimed the shotgun seat and Winston crawled into the back, rechecking his own can of pepper spray and a couple of pairs of handcuffs.
Peter leaned into the driver’s side window and patted Ray’s shoulder. His voice floated back to Janine’s desk. “Well, it ain't every day we go after someone who's still alive. Give Bix a couple of broken ribs for me, huh? Teach him not to mess with our own again.” He said glancing back at Janine’s desk. “Teach him that Black Magic isn't healthy.”
Ray’s brown eyes rested on Janine for a moment and she smiled at him reassuringly. He didn’t smile back. He reached down and turned the key and Ecto roared into life. “I’ll teach him, Peter,” Ray answered softly. “Take care of Janine for us, okay?”
“Oh, I’ll take care of Janine all right,” Peter said, giving Ray a friendly whack on the face. “I’ll guard her as if she were my own…dog or somethin’.”
“Thanks, Peter,” Ray mumbled and backed the car out of the firehouse, hitting the siren as he went. Peter stood in the garage door and watched until they turned the corner, the siren fading into the distance, then he slowly turned and went back inside.
Janine was still sitting calmly, her chin resting on her fist as she watched Peter approach. He was singing. “Oh, baby, don’t be cruel…to a love that’s true! I don’t want no other love, baby, it’s just you I’m dreaming of!” It seemed to take him days before he finally crossed the length of the garage and Janine let out a thousand mental screams as she waited for him. Peter looked down at the white circle that shielded her and hopped over it, clutching his thrower. “Does Ray really think that a circle of salt, white sand and other such fairy-dust bullshit is going to stop Bix? Black Sorcerer from Hell?”
“From the Bronx, actually, and thanks, Peter, what a reassuring thing to say.” She checked the polish on the fingernails of her left hand, her right hand carefully out of sight. “Real professional, Mr. Numb-nut Psychologist.”
Peter's green eyes became flat and cold. “Real nice, Janine. Real, real nice,” he snarled. Obviously thrown out of his stride, he looked away for a moment. “I mean…you know me, Janine, I’m just a wealth of comfort.” He smiled at her and, oh yes, it looked a little…off.
Janine drew in a great calming breath. “The circle is supposed to keep the black energy out.” Janine smiled the way a Great White Shark might smile. “If Bix sends over anything worse than bad vibes while the guys are gone then you can take care of it with the thrower.”
“Ummm…hummm…” Peter looked down at the circle and, with one sweep of his foot, broke the symmetry of it. “Well, Janine, sweetie, my darling little red-head with the gorgeous ass, I’m afraid he’s sent me.” He flicked the thrower on with his thumb and aimed it directly at her head. “A weapon is only as good as the guy aiming it and I’m really afraid I’m no good at all.”
Janine studied the nails on her left hand again. “What a shock. What an absolute shock.” Below the desk, in her right hand, her knuckles were white as they gripped the pepper spray.
“DON’T SCREAM. Don’t move, don’t make a sound.”
“Okay.” Janine put just the right amount of bored disgust into her answer.
Peter was sweating, his face was shining with it, and he adjusted his headband again. “Or, what the hell, scream yourself blue, it won’t matter. Before you go, I’ve got a message for you from Bix. Y’know? The last words you ever hear will be his, he wanted me to point that out.”
Janine nibbled a cuticle. “Oh, joy. Let’s hear it.”
“Um…” Peter blinked his eyes and almost imperceptibly swayed. “Oh…you should have said yes. Would it have killed you to say yes?”
“Probably. That’s why I said no.” Janine pointed that out as calmly as if she were trying to explain something to a four year old. That set Peter back and he blinked at her for a moment. His eyes became unfocused and the thrower drooped as he listened again to something she couldn’t hear. She realized he was receiving further instructions. Her skin blushed a mottled, fiery red, furious. Bix. Bix was so dead. That bastard. He was dead. Peter’s green eyes cleared and connected with her own again.
“You couldn’t have been nice? Y’know? A nice word, a nice touch? Sweet girls don’t die. They get…they get rewarded.” Peter’s voice was low and wheedling. “I’ll let you live if you’ll be…grateful to the poor guy. If you’ll be nice to him. I mean, after all the hell you put him through you owe him something.”
“After all I put him through? Okay, look here,” She brought her thumb and forefinger together in a tweaking motion. “This is the violin of my heart and it’s playing just for you, Bixxy, you loser.” The pepper spray can was slick with sweat in her hidden hand. The brand name was beginning to wear off. She could see Bix’s insulted dismay reflected in Peter’s face. The thrower came up again, pointing at her face. She sniffed with contempt.
Peter’s face showed confusion. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid of YOU? Oh, please.”
Peter’s thumb slowly came off the trigger and he powered down. “All right. I guess I’m going to have to get a little personal here.” He took off the proton pack and laid it on the floor. For the first time during their strange conversation Janine looked dismayed and she stood. “I mean, one quick blast to the head doesn’t send out the message that’s required here. Y’know, ‘It Pays to be Nice.’” Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss army knife. He flicked out the smaller, more delicate blade. “You should have been nice, Janine, I mean, when a guy admires a girl she should be flattered. She should giggle and act all feminine and blush and be shy. But you weren’t. Wow. You weren’t. A restraining order isn’t very romantic, Janine. Then, you put me in jail. Jail! Shame on you. It takes a lot of guts for a guy to pursue a girl and to be rejected is just plain cruel. Cruel! So, you have only yourself to blame, you frigid bitch.” He walked around the desk to face her.
“Let’s get one thing straight right now.” Janine kicked her office shoes off. “I’m not frigid.” Her high-heels clattered along the floor and the sound seemed to distract Peter for a moment. Then he lunged at her, swiping the knife at her abdomen as if he meant to completely cut her in half. Janine jumped back and triggered off a blast of pepper spray into his face. Peter blinked and wiped at it sluggishly.
The fumes made Janine’s eyes water and Peter should have been in agony but he was reacting as if she had simply spit on him. He advanced again, his eyes red, and Janine dropped the can. Deciding to be a little more blunt, she swung her office chair into his gut. He doubled over, wheezing, then slowly straightened up. Janine had put the desk between them and Peter stared at her pityingly. She was growling and cursing in a low, uncontrollable monotone and now had her stiletto-shaped letter opener in both hands.
“What are you going to do, Janine? Eviscerate Peter? Your friend?”
“If I gotta, yeah. He'll understand.”
He skidded the desk quickly across the floor, knocking her over. Her ‘stiletto’ skidded under a file cabinet. Peter leapt over and stood on her hair. Janine punched his knee and he didn't so much as sway. She screamed, then, and he smiled.
A sudden blow to his back sent Peter flying forward over her. He hit the ground hard. Freed, Janine sat up and delivered a devastating punch to his groin. He dropped the knife and groaned, clutching between his legs. Janine scrambled to grab the pocketknife and clutched it in her fist tightly as a large, brown hand reached down to haul her to her feet. A radio crackled.
“Winston, come in!”
Janine secure beside him Winston flicked on his radio. “Winston here, go ahead Egon.” Peter turned over and looked up at Winston, his eyes wide in shock.
“But…but you left…” Peter mumbled at the big man and started to drag himself up. Winston planted a foot in his chest and kicked him down again. Peter clawed at Winston’s combat boot and Winston leaned a little extra weight on the man. Peter gasped for air. “You left!”
“Winston, Ray’s plan worked perfectly. We’ve found Bix’s location, just a block away, and Ray is destroying his paraphernalia now. I have…ah…rendered Bix unconscious. How’s Janine?”
Janine batted her eyes at Winston and fluffed her hair hoping the big man would decide to ignore her pale face and ragged breath. “She’s fine. We had a little bit of trouble when Peter decided to attack her with his bare hands instead of the booby-trapped thrower but she still kicked his ass. He’ll never live it down.”
“His bare hands?” Egon repeated dully.
“He couldn't connect to save his life. Not a mark on her, Egon, I swear.”
“Float like a butterfly! Sting like a bee!” Janine sang for Egon’s benefit and Winston laughed a little too loudly.
“What about Peter?” Egon asked. Janine heard Ray shout something and then Peter went utterly limp underneath Winston’s foot. “He should be free, now.”
“He’s not fighting anyway.” Winston did not relax. He handed Janine a pair of handcuffs and she secured them tightly around Peter’s wrists.
There was another consultation between Egon and Ray and then Egon returned to the radio. “Ray says to check under his headband for marks.”
“His headband?”
“Ray says that most Controlling spells involve flesh cutting on the head. He theorizes that’s why Peter’s been wearing his work-out sweatband all day. To hide the marks.” Egon’s voice was one of carefully controlled disgust.
Janine flinched and looked up at Winston as he almost dropped the radio in horror. “Oh, god. Winston, let me check. Keep your foot on him.” Winston nodded, looking suddenly green. Carefully watching Peter’s limp hands for any sign of sudden movement Janine slowly bent down and twitched the red band off Peter’s head.
A pentacle, roughly the size of a silver dollar, had been carved deep into Peter’s pale forehead. Janine gently touched the clean edges of the cuts and looked up at Winston, confused and horrified. “There’s no blood.”
Winston’s lips drew back from his teeth in disgust and he spoke into the radio again. “Egon, there’s some slashes there but no blood.” They could hear Egon relay this to Ray who shouted back.
“Winston,” Egon spoke again.
“Yeah?”
“Ray says to take some of the salt and sand from the circle around Janine’s desk, mix it in cool water, and wash the cuts.” Ray shouted something more. “Ray says it’s important that Janine do it.”
“Why Janine?” Winston asked, perturbed. Janine understood why, he was the medic of the group after all. “Wait, mixing sand and SALT into an open wound? Does Ray have it in for Peter?”
“Ray says,” Janine briefly wondered what happened to Ray’s own radio. “He says there has to be only about a teaspoon of the circle mixture to about one pint of water. Peter won’t hurt too much.” Janine turned and began to ransack her desk.
“He’s out cold.” Winston finally removed his boot from Peter’s chest. “Like his strings have been cut.”
“They have. Ray says he’ll come around after his wounds are cleaned. The police are here, I have to deal with them. Ray, take the radio.” Janine ran back with a 34 ounce bottle of Evian spring water, half gone, a scarf with a sunflower pattern on it and the company first aid kit that she kept in her bottom drawer. She unscrewed the top from the bottle and gathered up a sizable handful of the white mixture, much more than a teaspoon, just to be safe, and added it to the water. She screwed the lid back on and shook the bottle for a couple of seconds. Her chest, her eyes, her entire body felt leaden and heavy with tears but she refused to give in to them yet.
She knelt by Peter’s side. He looked grey and her mouth went dry with a fear she didn’t feel when he was attacking her. That wasn’t Peter then. That thing had been Bix, that worthless bastard. But this was Peter now and the cuts looked bleached and dead. Janine gazed up at Winston imploringly. “Why do I have to do it? This is your area.” Janine ran her fingers through Peter’s hair.
“Good question, I don’t like the way those cuts look. Ray, come in.” Janine dabbed at the cuts with her scarf. The slashes were completely dry and she could see the tiny red circles of severed veins in his flesh. She moaned and her face twisted.
“Ray here.”
“Why does Janine have to do it?”
“Because she’s a woman. Excuse me, I have to puke.” The radio went dead.
Winston shrugged at Janine. “I guess it’s a Ray Magic thing.” Janine swallowed and shook the bottle again. She unscrewed the top and quickly poured half the bottle directly onto the pentagram. “AGH! No, no, no!” Winston protested.
“What?!”
“You’re supposed to wet a piece of cloth and GENTLY dab at it.”
“Oh, geez!” She tried wetting a corner of the scarf but it wouldn’t absorb water worth a damn. Tossing it aside, Janine shook the solution again and wet her fingers. She stroked the grains of sand and the dissolving salt well into the lips of the wound. If Ray said it was good then it was good. She blew a breath over the pentacle as if she were treating her nephew for a scraped knee. She rubbed and blew on the star and circle again and, with a suddenness that made them both exclaim out loud, the pentacle took on the appearance of a rose bursting into bloom as it finally began to furiously bleed. Peter’s eyes opened and he gasped for air.
“Peter! Peter, hold still.” Winston pinned Peter’s shoulders down with his hands as he writhed in shock and pain. “Peter hold still, we’ve got you.” Janine dumped the last of the solution onto his face and the salt, sand and blood poured over his face and onto the floor. He knocked Winston’s hands away, cuffs grinding metallically, and sat up. “Peter! Stop! Peter, stop!”
“Peter, hold still!” Janine wrapped her arms around him from behind and pulled him back against her body in a bear hug. He instantly went limp. A good jolt with a taser couldn’t have been more effective. He gasped for air. Suddenly he looked up at her in muddled astonishment.
“D…Damn, Janine. Have you got your Mojo working or what?” he mumbled.
“Ray said you needed a woman’s touch.” Janine explained, holding him tighter. “Why, we don’t know. It’s a magic thing.” Peter’s blood was dripping onto her forearms. Just the ‘woman’s touch’ comment should have sent him off into a salacious, five minute spiel of bad jokes and innuendo but he just lay there instead.
“I think I can take these off, now.” Winston unlocked the cuffs and put them in his pocket. Peter had a band of swollen, bleeding flesh around each wrist and Janine patted at them. “I’ll put a bandage on, too.” She heard him breathe a sigh of relief as he turned to the first aid kit. “Who took the tape out and didn’t put it back? Oh, here it is. Nevermind.”
Janine ignored the blood and kissed Peter on the cheek. It was a moment before her action registered in his cloudy mind and Peter turned an astonished bloodshot eye to her.
“After what I did you give me a smooch. You're nuts.”
Janine interrupted fast. “You didn’t do anything. It was Bix. It was all Bix.”
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” Janine hugged him tighter and Winston reached over and grasped his leg. “I went to get the paper this morning and he was waiting for me in the alley. He pinned me down without moving a muscle, just grinned at me, the bastard...I couldn't fight, couldn't talk. Then...I couldn’t stop. Janine, I'm sorry,” Peter was babbling and Janine covered his mouth with her hand.
“Don't be. It was Bix,” she snarled. Subject closed. End of discussion. Peter gave up and sagged. Janine put her hand down and Winston began to treat Peter’s slashes. Head wounds bleed terribly and his face was pinched with concentration.
Then Peter asked, “How did you know? How did you know he had gotten to me? And you, Winston, I thought you were long gone.”
Winston answered, “Ray knew. He wouldn’t say how, he just said that you smelled bad. You smelled like blackness, he said. He came up with the idea of using your readings to get a fix on Bix’s location since the spell connected the two of you. Janine was the bait. We all figured, rightly, that you were spelled to put a serious hurt on her so Egon modified your thrower to give you a nasty jolt of electricity when you tried to use it. Then, as soon as Ecto was out of your sight I jumped out and circled around back here. Anyway, Egon and Ray continued on to whup Bix’s ass over there while Janine and I whupped yours here.”
“Thank god she took the heels off." Peter’s hands spasmed. "Ray’s the man of the hour, huh?” Peter said, trying to be stoic as Winston cleaned the sand and grit out of his cuts. “Janine?”
“Yeah?”
“You gotta give Ray some of your fine Mojo, too, he’s done good today.” It was a lame joke but they all laughed at it.
“Oh, yeah, right!” Janine snorted.
Peter passed out.
Janine looked at the pentacle and groaned. "That's gonna scar. Peter's gonna go nuts." She ran her fingers through his hair again. Peter was vain and rightly so. He was the most handsome man Janine knew.
"They’re deep. They need stitching. Maybe…maybe as soon as they're healed enough, he can go to a plastic surgeon and get them erased." Janine sighed. Peter would find that cold comfort when he fully came back to himself. Winston began to twine a bandage around Peter’s head.
Janine and Winston were silent as they waited for Ray and Egon to come home and for the darkness to end.
tbc
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