Ghost Guard Read Online Free Page A

“And just how did you die, Rev?”
    He gritted his teeth. He hated when she went there.
    “Rev? How did you die again?”
    “Okay, I was in a wreck . But it wasn’t my fault!”
    “Uh huh,” Abby shook her head and held on tight.
    “I’m serious. My damn Fiat had a weak back-axle shaft. I knew I should’ve driven an Aston Martin!”
    “Whatever allows you to live with yourself,” she eyed him sideways. “Or die with yourself.”
    They sped north on Interstate Five in the Phantom, a marvel of modern technology fused with old-world charm designed by their master engineer, Morris Crafton. Rev loved that car. Had one just like it during his living years. But he had to admit, this one was better. The old flathead straight six had been replaced by an all-electric power plant, the suspension had been upgraded, and the dash was a tech geeks dream.
    He took I-405 to Linton, a riverside berg ruled by giant oil containers and a massive grid of railroad tracks. In the moon shadow of St. Johns Bridge, they veered for a lonely, moss-grown, and boarded three-story brick building—the old Gasworks. Gothic style, and, though showing years of neglect, it still presented hints of grandeur from its once vaunted past. As the Phantom approached, it stopped inches from the fence. With a clang and a clatter, the shiny metal came to life, two sections sliding apart. They drove through as the sections came back together. When the Phantom got close to the crumbling brownstone, a boarded region slid open and they descended into a concealed parking area.
     
     
    “I THOUGHT YOU GUYS weren’t going to make it,” once the Phantom came to a stop, Morris pulled open the suicide door and pointed his static magnetic energy field indicator—a device that measures the vital signs of ghosts—inside the car. “Ruby? How are you feeling? Are your—” he noticed she was hiding something behind her back. “Ruby, what do you have?”
    “What?” Abby shot out her hand. “Ruby, give it to me.”
    Ruby flashed a sheepish grin, then shook her head, refusing to cough up her prize.
    “Have you been taking things again, Ruby?”
    Ruby pretended not to hear them.
    “Ruby!” Abby shouted, and Ruby flinched, offering up the mysterious item.
    “What is it?” Rev said.
    “It’s a flash drive,” answered Abby. “From Forsythe!”
    “Ruby, I thought we had a talk about this,” Morris chastised the playful prankster. “You were supposed to stop taking things from people, remember?”
    Ruby tried to snatch the tiny item, but Abby tossed it to Morris. Dejected, Ruby circled the basement, a place that looked more like a dungeon than a one-time storeroom. The building predated the time when Portland was even a city, serving as a central hub for the gas company in the northern neighborhoods. Ruby loved the basement, with its dark recesses, its cracking, moldering plaster and exposed brick seeping with repellant grime. Rats and other vermin, even snakes and salamanders, dwelled in the cool, moist environment. Not good for the living. Perfect for a ghost. She skimmed mere inches above the dirt floor, kicking up pockets of dust, and slid through some cracks in the far wall.
    “What a little klepto!” Abby got out of the Phantom and slammed the passenger door. She glared at Rev as Morris checked him with the static magnetic energy, or SME, indicator. He watched the levels with keen interest.
    “How about you, Rev? How are you feeling?”
    “He’s fine, Morris,” Abby oozed with sarcasm. “Didn’t you see? He’s a one-man team now. He doesn’t even need us.”
    “Don’t tempt me,” Rev stayed put in the Phantom.             
    “Impossible,” Morris tapped the machine. Lightly. Didn’t want to break it. Or was it already broke? Abby dropped her mission bag, hurried to Morris’s side, and looked for herself. It was all she could do to contain her shock.
    “I know, I know,” Morris studied Rev, and Rev puzzled at them both.