The medium nodded and dropped his notebook back into his bag. "That's a pretty common reaction. And an understandable one... things like this can get tricky. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I can get enough information from outside sources to find a surefire solution... might just have to see if he's willing to talk."
It was becoming clearer and clearer to the ex-mechanic that for the first time in...well his strange new existence, he's got a whole plethora of information right here. The way he talks, even when he talks in a circle, is comforting for Maurice.
"Hey...Mr. Ginko. Can the Devil actually show up? Is that a thing that really happens? Or is he like, too busy to deal with us?"
He gives a quiet, unsure hum, which probably isn't particularly reassuring. "Well... I can't say for sure, honestly. But I kind of doubt it. Sure, there are stories, but... the reputability of those sources is usually questionable, to put it generously. I'm pretty sure I've never run into him myself, in any case."
Ginko shrugs slightly. "I wouldn't worry about it. If there's an entity like that out there, the chances of running into him seem like they'd be practically zero."
Hey, he's just a spirit medium, he figures the Devil is probably out of his jurisdiction anyway.
Ginko nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out a Ziploc baggie of marbles a moment later. He set about placing them on the ground, one by one, a total of six in a circle around himself. He glanced up when Maurice spoke again. "What makes you say that?"
"Well she did murder me." He folded his arms and slouched into a half-melted pout at the memory. He'd always think of Jessica as the devil. The actual devil. He replayed that night in his head often and he couldn't really help it, being a ghost and all.
"What are those for?"
He tipped the bill of his cap toward the glass circle.
When the circle was finished Ginko straightened up again, dropping the spare marbles back into his bag. "These are specially treated to react to the presence of spirits... or, more specifically, the negative emotions given off by malevolent spirits," he added, with a glance at Maurice. "There's a chance that a couple will roll toward you, but don't worry about that. As long as you're not secretly out to get me or something, your presence shouldn't cause too much interferene."
Maurice listened in wonder as Ginko explained his low-tech but high-functioning ghost detector system. Honestly it sounded pretty cool. He wondered what you treated dollar store marbles with.
"Haha, don't worry. If I was out to get you, you'd already be dead....that sounded a lot less horrible in my head. Sorry."
Ginko just snorted and stepped back to watch the marbles. "No, I get what you mean. If I thought you were out to get me I'd be a lot more careful about this."
The marbles started to move. At first, they just shifted back and forth a bit, then, sure enough, a couple began to roll slowly toward Maurice. Ginko watched them in silence before turning back to the others.
Gradually, as if on a very slightly tilted plane, the remaining marbles began to roll toward the stairs. Ginko nodded and followed them, sticking his hands in his pockets. "There we go."
Maurice drew his feet away from the nearing marbles and frowned at them as if they were betraying him--telling dirty secrets! But when Ginko didn't start jabbing him for questions, he followed the man's gaze toward the stairs.
"Hey if you're gonna go down there again...you should take one of these."
The ghost made a gesture and with a scraping sound, a motorcycle helmet scraped its way out from under one of the tables. It was a good fit but heavy and covered with eagles and stars and all that good American shit.
He stopped a couple feet from the stairs when Maurice spoke up, turning to look at him. When he caught sight of the helmet, he raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly.
Then his usual flat expression shifted into a small, but genuine, smile. He walked over and stooped down to pick up the helmet and put it on.
Maurice thatched his fingers together and offered up a broad, strained grin.
"Gotta protect that mellon!"
The basement was just as uninviting as it had been during Ginko's previous visit. The air whined and popped and bad vibes seemed to drip invisibly down the walls.
"Yeah." He paused at the top of the stairs and glanced at Maurice again before he headed down. "...I'll be fine, okay? It's just gonna be a few minutes."
He hoped so, anyway. Especially as he got further down into the basement, and the spirit's influence - even now, however passive it may have been - became more evident.
He eventually caught sight of the four marbles, rolling in a lazy circle on the floor. Ginko slowed to a stop a foot or so in front of them and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around again.
His gaze flicked around as the sounds started up, but he only tilted his head back to look up at Maurice.
"I heard it. Means we're making progress, I would guess."
Or that he was about to be fried by an angry ghost. He looked down at the marbles; they were moving a little faster now, twitching back and forth and rolling in tiny circles.
Ginko looked up to scan the basement and spoke up again. "So you are here, then. I need to talk to you."
Thunder rolled a second time and the air in the basement buzzed. Ginko would find the hairs on arms and head standing up and somewhere within the building, a radio buzzed to life. It swapped channels furiously, giving off angry bursts of music and static. It finally settled on one of those preaching stations.
Maurice would have swallowed if he'd had a throat. "Well that's not creepy..."
The ghost refusing to talk directly was pretty standard, but... he doubted that it was a good sign. He really was going to have to take this slow, it seemed.
He listened carefully to the radio for a few seconds. "...If you set it on this station on purpose, could you switch it to a different one, and then back to this one?"
Ginko winced, moving to cover his own head at the same time. "--Good thing you suggested the helmet," he muttered.
This was getting really bad, really fast. It was starting to seem more and more like this was a case of a ghost who didn't want to talk. Ginko didn't know what he did want, of course, or if he could give it to him at all, but he was definitely too far into this to back out now.
He dropped his arms by his sides and glanced at the marbles again with a frown. They were effectively just vibrating on the spot now, and every so often the hair-thin line of a crack in one flashed in his vision.
"Please, listen to me." His voice became a little more insistent, but stayed steady. He had a lot of practice at that. "You're not helping yourself or anyone else with this; I just need to talk to you."
Maurice uncovered his head as the disembodied preacher shouted about Hell in the other room.
"Ginko, listen... Now I'm not an expert on ghost huntin' or anything like that but I have been a ghost for a while and I don't think he wants t' talk!"
The fact was, of course, that this tactic didn't work nearly as often as Ginko would hope. But he didn't have any connected item or remains to burn or bury. He couldn't release the spirit, couldn't move him anywhere else.
That pretty much left communication, or exorcism. Ginko hadn't performed an exorcism in years, and he had no intention of breaking that streak now.
"Then what do you want?" It's spoken half to Maurice and half to the other ghost. "You have nothing to gain here! Attacking me or the people who go here won't bring you back."
A single spark, bigger than the others, fell onto a discarded Questionable Magazine that had been left on the floor.
The garbled preaching overhead suddenly stopped.
For a long moment, there was no sound.
Somewhere a glass broke. The wires in the walls started to hiss.
Maurice tipped his head to one side and listened for a moment. THen he gasped and dove back through the ceiling. He was only gone for an instant.
"I THINK YOU'D BETTER GET UP HERE!"
I the long silence, the radio that the spirit had been using to channel its aggressions had been unplugged and a metal fork had been jammed in the socket. Sparks flew and a stuffed marmot was already ablaze. The television had been yanked from its shelf and it hung by the barest of threads as its wire tried to pull in two. It was on mute, playing some police chase movie, and sparking.
Ginko spun to face the stairs, his eye wide, and only cast one worried glance at the cracked marbles on the floor before hurrying after Maurice. He stopped short when he caught sight of the growing fire, only taking an instant to glance around and determine the cause.
"...Shit." He barreled forward, shoving any chairs aside that happened to stand in his way. "Maurice, is there a fire extinguisher here?!"
The dead man pointed and sure enough one was under the register with the napkins and several unmarked cardboard boxes.
The TV cord groaned and snapped. Another bulb overhead burst. The flames started to crawl up the walls and thunder roared overhead but not a single drop of rain streaked the windows. The nicotine stains on the walls and ceilings dripped in the growing heat.
Before Ginko's hand could reach the extinguisher, the register hummed into life and dinged. The card swipe pad beeped and the screen lit up with scrambled numbers. Suddenly they all counted down to a line of flashing zeros.
The zeros quickly replaced themselves with letters.
His gaze locked on the display for a few seconds. Then he scowled and grabbed the fire extinguisher. "Not planning on it," he muttered, almost too quietly to be heard.
Ginko stepped out from behind the bar again and aimed the fire extinguisher at the source of the blaze, quietly hoping that it was the kind with the foam so that it could maybe. You know. Actually stop the socket from just sparking everything up all over again.
Even if that were the case, though, he had his doubts about how much good it would do. The flames were spreading too fast for one guy with a fire extinguisher to do a lot of good.
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"Hey...Mr. Ginko. Can the Devil actually show up? Is that a thing that really happens? Or is he like, too busy to deal with us?"
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Ginko shrugs slightly. "I wouldn't worry about it. If there's an entity like that out there, the chances of running into him seem like they'd be practically zero."
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"Oh. Uh. So. If you wanna get talking I can just--"
He drifted backwards and faux-sat on the edge of one of the tables with his hands thatched together on one knee.
"Guess you're right. I think the devil's already passed this place by anyway."
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Ginko nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out a Ziploc baggie of marbles a moment later. He set about placing them on the ground, one by one, a total of six in a circle around himself. He glanced up when Maurice spoke again. "What makes you say that?"
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"What are those for?"
He tipped the bill of his cap toward the glass circle.
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When the circle was finished Ginko straightened up again, dropping the spare marbles back into his bag. "These are specially treated to react to the presence of spirits... or, more specifically, the negative emotions given off by malevolent spirits," he added, with a glance at Maurice. "There's a chance that a couple will roll toward you, but don't worry about that. As long as you're not secretly out to get me or something, your presence shouldn't cause too much interferene."
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"Haha, don't worry. If I was out to get you, you'd already be dead....that sounded a lot less horrible in my head. Sorry."
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The marbles started to move. At first, they just shifted back and forth a bit, then, sure enough, a couple began to roll slowly toward Maurice. Ginko watched them in silence before turning back to the others.
Gradually, as if on a very slightly tilted plane, the remaining marbles began to roll toward the stairs. Ginko nodded and followed them, sticking his hands in his pockets. "There we go."
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"Hey if you're gonna go down there again...you should take one of these."
The ghost made a gesture and with a scraping sound, a motorcycle helmet scraped its way out from under one of the tables. It was a good fit but heavy and covered with eagles and stars and all that good American shit.
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Then his usual flat expression shifted into a small, but genuine, smile. He walked over and stooped down to pick up the helmet and put it on.
"Thanks."
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"Gotta protect that mellon!"
The basement was just as uninviting as it had been during Ginko's previous visit. The air whined and popped and bad vibes seemed to drip invisibly down the walls.
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He hoped so, anyway. Especially as he got further down into the basement, and the spirit's influence - even now, however passive it may have been - became more evident.
He eventually caught sight of the four marbles, rolling in a lazy circle on the floor. Ginko slowed to a stop a foot or so in front of them and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around again.
Might as well start with the simple approach.
"Hey. Anyone down here?"
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The mechanic dared to stick his head through the floor of the bar and keep watch. Just in case.
Suddenly, a deep primal sound came not from the basement, but from somewhere above. Thunder.
"Did you hear that?"
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"I heard it. Means we're making progress, I would guess."
Or that he was about to be fried by an angry ghost. He looked down at the marbles; they were moving a little faster now, twitching back and forth and rolling in tiny circles.
Ginko looked up to scan the basement and spoke up again. "So you are here, then. I need to talk to you."
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Maurice would have swallowed if he'd had a throat. "Well that's not creepy..."
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The ghost refusing to talk directly was pretty standard, but... he doubted that it was a good sign. He really was going to have to take this slow, it seemed.
He listened carefully to the radio for a few seconds. "...If you set it on this station on purpose, could you switch it to a different one, and then back to this one?"
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Then it exploded, raining glass down on them both.
Maurice covered his head out of reflex.
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This was getting really bad, really fast. It was starting to seem more and more like this was a case of a ghost who didn't want to talk. Ginko didn't know what he did want, of course, or if he could give it to him at all, but he was definitely too far into this to back out now.
He dropped his arms by his sides and glanced at the marbles again with a frown. They were effectively just vibrating on the spot now, and every so often the hair-thin line of a crack in one flashed in his vision.
"Please, listen to me." His voice became a little more insistent, but stayed steady. He had a lot of practice at that. "You're not helping yourself or anyone else with this; I just need to talk to you."
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"Ginko, listen... Now I'm not an expert on ghost huntin' or anything like that but I have been a ghost for a while and I don't think he wants t' talk!"
The sump of the bulb overhead sparked menacingly.
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That pretty much left communication, or exorcism. Ginko hadn't performed an exorcism in years, and he had no intention of breaking that streak now.
"Then what do you want?" It's spoken half to Maurice and half to the other ghost. "You have nothing to gain here! Attacking me or the people who go here won't bring you back."
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The garbled preaching overhead suddenly stopped.
For a long moment, there was no sound.
Somewhere a glass broke. The wires in the walls started to hiss.
Maurice tipped his head to one side and listened for a moment. THen he gasped and dove back through the ceiling. He was only gone for an instant.
"I THINK YOU'D BETTER GET UP HERE!"
I the long silence, the radio that the spirit had been using to channel its aggressions had been unplugged and a metal fork had been jammed in the socket. Sparks flew and a stuffed marmot was already ablaze. The television had been yanked from its shelf and it hung by the barest of threads as its wire tried to pull in two. It was on mute, playing some police chase movie, and sparking.
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"...Shit." He barreled forward, shoving any chairs aside that happened to stand in his way. "Maurice, is there a fire extinguisher here?!"
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The dead man pointed and sure enough one was under the register with the napkins and several unmarked cardboard boxes.
The TV cord groaned and snapped. Another bulb overhead burst. The flames started to crawl up the walls and thunder roared overhead but not a single drop of rain streaked the windows. The nicotine stains on the walls and ceilings dripped in the growing heat.
Before Ginko's hand could reach the extinguisher, the register hummed into life and dinged. The card swipe pad beeped and the screen lit up with scrambled numbers. Suddenly they all counted down to a line of flashing zeros.
The zeros quickly replaced themselves with letters.
FRY
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Ginko stepped out from behind the bar again and aimed the fire extinguisher at the source of the blaze, quietly hoping that it was the kind with the foam so that it could maybe. You know. Actually stop the socket from just sparking everything up all over again.
Even if that were the case, though, he had his doubts about how much good it would do. The flames were spreading too fast for one guy with a fire extinguisher to do a lot of good.
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