Chapter 8

“Gin,” Gregg said as he placed the last card down.

Billy’s mouth pulled into a tight line and he rose quickly, grasping the edge of the card table and flipping it up and over. “Gin that!” he barked in frustration. It was the ninth hand in a row Gregg had won.

“Have you ever considered taking up Mission work? Maybe haunting a pediatric ward in the hospital? You’re so compassionate and gentle,” Gregg’s voice was heavy with sarcasm as he lifted his table back up and began to pick up the cards. “How about visiting the newly departed elderly at the local nursing home to gently guide them home?”

“You’re playing with loaded cards,” Billy accused as he sat back down on the old folding chair. He had gone to Gregg’s house to visit while the girls took Jayce to town for some new clothes. Billy had suggested that they set up the card table on the front porch to take advantage of the fine weather courtesy of an early afternoon thunderstorm.

Nix was on the roof of his own place putting in two by fours so he could have a deck on the flat roof. Billy had grown weary of the loud tasteless music and the intermittent sounds of hammering mixed in with a healthy dose of cursing.

“How in the world am I playing with loaded cards, it’s gin,” Gregg asked slowly.

“I don’t know, but you are. I can feel it.”

As the two apparitions squabbled, Sabaste stood in the middle of the road, listening. It was comical because their argument sounded like one an old married couple would have. Lance didn’t know much about the area, but one thing he did know was when to rest and how. Evening was falling, and after sleeping all day next to the water, with the sun bathing him in its warmth, he felt more refreshed and awake than he had during his entire death. Lance had explained that you could do what you had to do during the day; the sun would give him vigor, but his activities would deplete him as he went along and in the end, he just didn’t make any headway. For them, Lance had explained, it was much like talking on a cell phone as it charged, but while it was being used, the battery wasn’t as quick to complete its charge and it required a longer plug in time.

To Sabaste, it made sense, so he had rested during the days. At night, he would roam, talking to other spirits and asking questions about the stately old home and who haunted it. He didn’t really like what he heard, though. Especially about Billy, who was beautiful to look at, but mean and possessive of his property and privacy. They also warned him about crossing the tall, thin blue barrier around the land, as the vicious blond was like a funnel web spider; if you touched his web, you were guaranteed to be struck.

“You do this every time! This is why I don’t come over and play games with you!”

Sabaste blinked, and then let out a short laugh. “Are you kidding me?” he asked in disbelief. “This is the guy I’m supposed to be afraid of?” Another thing he was also taught was about the barriers themselves. During the evenings, Billy would set his own up, and all through the night, it would stand as a warning to stay out. Not all spirits used them, but Billy just didn’t feel like having company. When the sun came up, its light would dissipate it, burning it away like an ethereal fog. However, Billy wasn’t concerned, since most spirits wisely rested during the day anyway. One of the old souls Sabaste had spoken to offhandedly remarked that if you could get in during the day, he wouldn’t likely know you were on his land. If he found you there however, that was whole other matter and not many of the resident ghosts felt like having their spectral hindquarters handed to them. He also told Sabaste that if the ghost who had put the barrier up wasn’t on his land when you crossed it, you had a good chance of not being caught as well.

“Did you ever consider that you’re just not as good at some of these games as you think you are?” Gregg’s voice floated back to Sabaste again. At first Sabaste thought they were coming closer, so he held still and watched, waiting for the two to come out of the thick stand of woods. He relaxed when he realized that the argument was just getting louder, and then turned his head towards the faint sounds of hammering. “You’re all mine, Nikki.”

The stone cottage had been used as a servants quarters over a hundred years ago. When it was constructed, it had been one large room just under a thousand square feet. Over the years, some wise person had decided it would make a nice guesthouse in a pinch. They had divided it up into four rooms; a kitchen, a living room with a large, prominent fireplace, a roomy bedroom and a nice full bathroom. For one person, it was perfect. Nix missed having Jayce with him all the time, but he knew his son was safe and Jayce was happy, so that made him happy. Also, the little stone house had a flat roof and since it wasn’t an extremely tall building, he felt a nice sun deck would be just the thing for it. Put railing up for the kids’ safety, a grill and some furniture and it’d be great to hang out on.

Most of the hard part was finished. He had put in the framework for the deck and had gotten the lumber up and in position. Now all he needed to do was hammer them in and the floor would be finished before installing the outdoor staircase. He was so focused on his work, with his nails held in his mouth, that at first, he ignored movement in the corner of his eye until realization kicked in. Nix lifted his head quickly, and then almost did a double take when he realized that it was Sabaste standing in the yard with his head tipped back, watching him work. He felt a sudden wave of warm, familiar nostalgia.

"Sabaste?" Nix mumbled. For a second, all of the heartache he had felt over the loss of his friend seemed like a bad dream, until he realized that he was awake and his friend indeed was dead, standing below him without his physical body. The nails tumbled from Nix’s lips, bouncing over the freshly installed wooden boards.

“Hey, brother,” Sabaste’s soft voice sounded like the sighing of the wind.

Nix rose on shaky knees as he gazed down to the spirit of his best friend. Emotions flooded him, though his expression of sorrow never wavered. “Sabaste… I’m so sorry,” Nix murmured as he moved to the ladder, where he swung onto it quickly and began to climb down. He wasn’t expecting his friends face to contort into rage, nor did he expect the sudden burst of energy as the ladder, with him still on it, was suddenly flung from the eaves of the house, throwing him backwards where he landed on his back hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

“Sorry? You killed me and all you can say is “sorry”?!” Sabaste cried out loudly. “I’m like this because of you! I’m dead, you get to live! You traitor! You stabbed me in the back and I am going to make you pay!” His friend punctuated that with a hard, vicious kick to Nix's head with his boot.

Nix was still seeing stars bursting in his sight from the unexpected fall when the stomps began raining down on him. He lifted his arms to try to block the blows, but he was tangled up in the metal ladder while being pummeled without mercy. "Sabaste, stop!" Nix finally wheezed out. He managed to grab the ladder and toss it to the ground with a hard rattle.

"You screwed up big time Nikki!" A hard kick was aimed at his head, but Nix got his arm up in time and caught the blow on his forearm. "You told me what scares you, what your weaknesses are!"

“Sabaste, I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” Nix clambered onto his hands and knees, and then took a hard kick to the ribs. He fell back to the ground and lifted his face to his friend. “Sabaste!” Nix had a split second to roll out of the way before the heavy boot came down again, aiming for his face. This time, he was able to rise to his feet and break into a shambling run to put distance between himself and his best friend.

“Why you runnin’, Nikki?” Sabaste called as he stalked arrogantly after Nix. “Be a man, come here and face what you got comin’ to you!”

Turning around so he could face him, Nix put his hands up. He noticed they were trembling. “You need to calm down, man, you’re acting crazy!”

“Crazy?” Sabaste paused so he could throw his head back and laugh like the madman his best friend was accusing him of being. “Crazy? Nikki, you don’t know the half of it, man! You traitor!”

“I’m not a traitor, Phantom! You need to chill out before you do something you’ll regret.”

Sabaste paused, looking around as if they had an audience. “He’s telling me I’ll regret something?” he asked the trees around them. “He kills me, and asks if I’m the one being crazy?”

“Killed you? What are you talking about, man? I didn’t kill you!” Nix spat, finally feeling anger over the situation.

“Yeah, you did, man, and you’re pissing me off by trying to lie to me. You know I hate being lied to. It was your face I saw before you blew most of mine away, brother.”

“You know I’m a con, I can’t even own a gun, and besides, why would I kill my best friend? You tell me that!” Nix shouted. He didn’t expect the sudden rush of empty space as Sabaste collided into him. The only thing Nix was concerned about was the tree trunk as it made hard contact with his back. He knew he’d feel that for a couple of days at least. Another thing he could feel, was the raw, pure rage coming off the smaller spirit, who at present, was suddenly pounding his body with his fists. Nix lifted his arms, trying to deflect the blows as well as he could. The only problem with that was the fact that he and Sabaste had playfully sparred too many times in the past while his friend was still alive. Sabaste knew when and where to hit Nix to cause the most pain.

This time, when the gin table fell over on its side, it wasn’t because Billy was being a sore loser, it was the result of the tall apparition feeling something very wrong. He stood stock still, his face set in a mask of concentration. For a moment, Gregg had the fleeting mental image of a wolf sniffing the air. Then, the blond was gone, having formed into a ball of silver energy and shooting along the trees towards the road. Gregg set his table upright, but before he could follow, Billy commanded him; “You stay here, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Nix’s nose was already bleeding, and a series of bruises were forming on his face. He tried to strike out a couple of times to retaliate the blows, but they just went through the enraged ghost’s body. He knew he was in danger, but was thankful that Sabaste was still too new at being dead to know how to kill him by simply sucking the energy right out of his body. Darkness began to form on the outside of his vision. He tried to gain any sort of leverage on his feet by pressing his back against the tree, but was only rewarded with a rapid series of punches to the left side. He felt a rib snap and he let out a strangled cry, holding his arms to his sides as he sank back down. Then, suddenly, the beating stopped as soon as it had started.

Nix lifted his face, hoping that Sabaste had gotten the anger out of his system and had come to his senses. For one brief moment, Nix hoped that he could get it through the spirit’s head that it wasn’t him who had killed him, and then that Sabaste would feel remorse at his actions and they could go back to being brothers again. Instead, what he saw was Billy standing behind his friend and holding him in a chokehold. Billy’s face was a mask of anger, but Nix knew that it wasn’t directed at him, especially when those dark eyes touched upon him briefly, holding a small amount of compassion when he saw that Nix was wounded. Sabaste’s own face was an open expression of surprise and he tried to struggle as Billy began to back away.

“Get in the house,” Billy said to Nix, his voice flat as he tried to control his rage. “I’ll send Gregg in to see to you when I take out the trash.”

“Who you callin’ trash, pal?” Sabaste cried out. He kicked his legs since his feet were no longer touching the ground as Billy began to glide backwards.

Nix reached his arm out, towards them as they began to disappear. “That’s my best friend!” he cried to Billy. “That’s my best friend who died!”

“Some friend you got here,” Billy grunted. When they were standing in the front yard and out of Nix’s sight, Billy swung Sabaste around roughly by the shoulders. He held him up so they could make easy eye contact. At six foot seven, Billy was almost a full foot taller than the younger spirit.

Sabaste’s struggles fell still as he gazed into the handsome face. “Say, you’re awful pretty for one of those women basketball players. Even if you don’t have boobs, I wouldn’t mind seeing you naked.”

Billy’s mouth opened and closed, not sure exactly how to rebuke such an insult. Still holding Sabaste by the shoulders, he began to shake him roughly back and forth while yelling; “I’m not a female, you blithering idiot!”

Sabaste’s head snapped back and forth, but to say that this wasn’t the first time he had had a large woman shake him to the foundation before, would have been a lie. He lifted his hands, gripping double handfuls of the moonlit hair, trying to yank it as he was being scrambled. “Let go of me, you dumb amazon she-beast! You should use this energy to go into the kitchen and make me a sammich!”

Billy’s face twisted in rage and he stopped shaking Sabaste so he could scream in his face. “Hey! That’s my line, pal! You don’t use MY LINE on ME!” He lifted his hand and smacked the smaller ghost as hard as he could upside his head. Sabaste let out a cry of pain, and then winced up at Billy. “Hey, I’m dead; you’re not supposed to hurt me!”

“Pain is death!” Billy cried out as he lifted Sabaste up high, and then turned, throwing him across the yard. Sabaste let out a yelp of pain-filled surprised as he rolled along the fresh cut grass. When he finally came to a stop in the driveway, he lifted his head, and then tried to roll away, much like Nix had done when he started his attack on him. However, he was too slow as Billy pounced on his back and held his throat in a tight grip.

Nix had staggered to the front yard, hanging onto a low hanging branch of an oak that resided close to the house. “Billy!” he cried out. “Don’t hurt him! Please…” he coughed, a wet racking cough that produced a fine spray of blood. He knew he had a broken rib, and prayed the blood wasn’t from it puncturing his lung.

Sabaste couldn’t understand. Nix had killed him, but now he was trying to protect him? Maybe seeing him dead twice was a little more than he could take. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t doing it himself? He shook his head, and then let out a bark of pain as those long, slender fingers suddenly tightened their grip upon his throat.

“You leave this to me,” Billy said. His voice was once again calm and collected. “Go lie down and rest, because if you die, that means I’ll have yet another squatter on my property and I just don’t feel like running a boarding house for the dead.”

“Billy… please…” Nix pleaded.

“Get inside, Nix,” Billy instructed in a tone that was not to be ignored. He turned his head over his shoulder, looking down the driveway towards the house he had just left. Gregg was standing at the road, quietly watching the events unfold. “See to Nix,” he instructed.

“Man, you got two pretty girls here,” Sabaste said before his throat was once again squeezed hard. He grew angry and tried to buck the taller spirit off of him, but Billy just wouldn’t be unseated. He realized that he had finally met someone as mean, or maybe meaner, than he was. “What do you want?” he wheezed. “Tell me what you want!”

“I want you out of here, off my property, away from my land, away from my people.”

“These ain’t your people,” Sabaste rasped out to him. “This is a house full of traitors, man. You better watch your back, or Nix will put a blade in it. You better watch your back, because I’ll put a blade in it, too. After I get done scaring the hell out of those kids.”

That was the magic phrase. That was all Billy had to hear, was a threat to the kids. He wasn’t scared of the young spirit; he could handle him just fine. However, after seeing what Sabaste had done to Nix, he knew he could cause some real harm to the children. Billy rose, and lifted Sabaste by his soft, ebony curls. You didn’t threaten those kids, even if Billy did so on a nightly basis, they were his.

“Hey, let go of me!” Sabaste cried out as Billy began to float towards the road. “I’m warning you now, Hermano, you let go of me or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried about you doing anything to me,” Billy said. “In fact, let me show you how I deal with gutter trash like you.” When they reached the road, Billy once again swung Sabaste around so they could face each other. He brought his face close until they were nose to nose and Billy could speak where only Sabaste could hear. “I want you to hear me now, because I won’t be repeating it with my lips. The next time I have to warn you about coming onto my property and causing trouble for this family, I’ll make you wish you were alive, just so you could wish you were dead. Do you understand me?”

Sabaste’s eyes lit up as if he had just heard a wonderful secret. He had just discovered the buttons to push to get this spirit’s attention. It was something he could use against him as leverage if the need arose. “It’s those kids,” he said. “They’re your weakness, aren’t they? You love that family, don’t you? I know how that goes, I love Jayce, that’s my little boy, so I’ll tell you right now, you leave Jayce alone, and I won’t have to do terrible things to you. Or the girls. I don’t know those girls, but I do know that Nix loves them and I will use them against him in any way that I can. I’m street, baby, I know how to deal with things.”

“Well,” Billy said. “I’m country. I know how to deal with things, too. And your threats will only cause you more pain than you can imagine, because brother? I’m the boogeyman’s boogeyman.” He tilted his head back and when their ethereal skulls collided, pain and electricity exploded behind Sabaste’s eyes. Then, the real beating began.