The Chess

Danny felt an urgent need to communicate with someone more involved in the lives of ghosts than his parents, who only saw one side of the issue: immediate destruction so that there would be enough remains to study and create even more effective weapons. His friends would have been perfect, but not when they were in combat mode due to the changes in the school menu. Again. — Tucker, you're hopelessly outdated! — Sam looked like a big panter. A menacing, cruel, and, by some ridiculous coincidence, a who that didn't want to eat its prey alive. Just want kill it. — High cholesterol, diabetes, and worsening chronic illnesses. These are just a few of the things you're putting others through by resisting the new! ― Tell that to the guys with anemia and malnutrition, who don't have enough strength without meat to resist your stupid ideas! ― Tucker jumped up from his seat, and only Danny, who was sitting between him and Sam, prevented him from attacking the proud goth girl. ― Weakness is just a consequence of years of corpse consumption! — You know, until this moment, I thought you were a smart person! Danny had been breaking them up for almost a week. He'd stood between them in the hallway, pulling them apart in the classrooms, apologizing to the teachers on behalf of his friends. Even Desh seemed to be looking at him with almost tangible sympathy. “I appreciate them, of course, but at times like this, I want to kill them both,” he thought as he wearily dropped his backpack on the floor after a long day at work, staring at his bandaged finger. After today’s gym class, he had to visit the nurse when Dash, who had miscalculated his strength, dislocated his phalanx during a game of dodgeball. The football player seemed to pale as Danny himself set the joint, which was bent at an incorrect angle to his little finger. — Oh, damn... — Dash muttered, wincing at the dull crunch of Danny's bones. — You didn't have to do that yourself, you know? ― Oh, come on, from the nurse to the hospital, then to the X-ray room, then to the trauma room, and all because of something that could be fixed in three seconds? Do you even have any idea what those bills are going to be? ― At that moment, the need for a conversation with someone became particularly urgent. He couldn't stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth. ― Of course not. It's not your problem. After every injury, you have to report to the school. To your parents. Get punished by the teachers for having to justify themselves to the medical and social services. I don't want to deal with that! Desh looked much more serious than usual. He's a simple guy, like a log. He's confident that he won't get as much fun in the future as he did today. At that moment, Danny thought that the football player would beat him up, because even the teachers didn't dare to reprimand him, and here he was, a frail classmate who was two heads shorter than him. But no, the giant simply took him by the shoulder and dragged him to the nurse's office, not really listening to his protests. Looking at his bandaged finger, he was quietly pleased that he didn't have to deal with a bunch of fussy, career-driven adults who were more concerned with their own reputations than with the object of their insincere sympathy, who would be scolded when there were no witnesses. He fell face-first onto his bed, thinking about how much he wished he could create his own copies. Just like the Masters had done at the class reunion. So that they could stay with his parents during his nighttime escapades. So that they could cover for him when another lost spirit decided to roam the school in search of someone who had foolishly and ignorantly provoked them to return to the world of the living. So that they could stay in his place during boring meals and classes that required only attendance, not active participation from the students. Vlad's phone number, written in blue ink on a business card, was quite simple, but Danny couldn't bring himself to dial it. It seemed like the easiest solution if he wanted to learn a few new ghost tricks. No matter how many times Danny tried to convince himself that Vlad had given him the number and that he wasn't forcing his company on him, it didn't help. From downstairs, he heard mother calling for dinner. The woman herself didn't eat that evening. She was hunched over the table, assembling a new device based on her husband's rough sketches, refining it as she went. Since the reunion, her parents had been holed up in the lab, consumed by new ideas that Maddy had gleaned from her brief conversation with the Wisconsin Nosferatu. Father was more energized, but Danny suspected it was because he was constantly distracted by smaller projects. Because of this, he and Maddie started fighting more often. And this scared the teenager. — Um... Mom, can we talk? — Danny's voice triggered a nasty beep from the device under Maddy's soldering iron. It was an alarm, and he could clearly hear his own voice repeating the phrase he had just spoken. — Let's do it later, sweetheart, — Maddy said as the board started smoking. It would have caught fire if she hadn't turned off the power. — Or is it an emergency? She looked very tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair was disheveled, and her hands were covered in new burns from the soldering iron. One of her nails was darkened, probably from a hit with a hammer. Danny kept his injured hand under the table during dinner, so his mother wouldn't worry. His father might not notice, but his mother would. In her dark purple eyes, he could only see fatigue and a lot of curses that she couldn't say out loud in front of the children. His parents were very busy people. Wasn't it selfish of him to pull them away from their work? Especially during such a stressful time for them. — No, it's not urgent, — he smiled, looking back down at his plate. — It's just nothing. Pushing a pea along the edge of his plate with a fork, he thought about the fact that he also wanted to learn how to move objects without touching them. Like Vlad did with those books in the library. The sight of the thick volumes circling around the graceful figure in white was still something that calmed him down in its own way. The dance of objects floating through the air was something magical and unattainable. He tried hard to repeat it, but failed. It took a tremendous effort of will to move the pencil even an inch. In a boring class, he managed to make a piece of pencil balance on the tip for a couple of seconds, but only until the teacher called out to him, noticing that he was counting crows. He didn't hear anything or anyone when he managed to keep the pencil from falling. Danny had to focus so hard on the objects he was trying to move that he briefly wondered if that was why Vlad hadn't noticed him in the library. However, he quickly dismissed the thought. Masters was definitely more interested in studying the contents of the books than in keeping them in the air. After dinner, he tried again. With a smaller object. He pulled a feather out of the pillow and began to practice with it. It was a small thing, but it seemed to work. In a locked room. In complete silence, isolated from the outside world by headphones. It was a stretch for him to call it a success. Danny couldn't focus on his extra astronomy project. He couldn't focus on the Chinese science fiction book about the distant future in deep space. He didn't even want to check his chat with his friends. Updates were coming in almost every second, but Danny knew from today's events at school that Tucker and Sam were having a heated argument. He didn't want to get involved as a mental regulator. The feather fell to the floor after another alert on his phone. Danny irritably turned off the chat notifications. “They can handle it without me,” he thought, leaning back in his chair wearily, when Vlad’s business card caught his eye again. The teenager looked at the screen of his mobile phone. The cursor was flickering at the end of the text message, after the period (which he had never put at the end before). It was both steady and unnerving. He had read the message three times to check for grammatical errors. He had rewritten it a couple of times and checked it. But even now, he was not entirely satisfied with the text he was using to distract a busy and extremely wealthy person from their important work. “Is it worth it?” ― is someone else’s time cheap enough to spend on a teenager with supernatural powers that he can’t even control properly? “It’s just a message!” — Danny was angry with himself. For being indecisive. For being cowardly. For not being able to make decisions quickly. Maybe he really was the problem, or maybe the adults were right when they said that his generation had trouble communicating. When he finally hit the submit button, it didn't make it any easier. To some extent, he even began to hope that Masters's words were just the standard lies of an adult who, for some reason, couldn't help but offer assistance out of politeness.

***

The phone rang half an hour later. Just when Danny was trying to force himself to focus on his studies. “You could have handled it yourself, Danny,” — the teenager thought as he answered the phone and said a quiet “hello.” — Good evening, Daniel, — the voice on the other end sounded calm and measured, just as it had during their last conversation. It even sounded a little cheerful, as much as Masters' reserved and cool temper allowed. In the background, Danny could hear the sound of crickets chirping and frogs croaking. This seemed a bit strange, as Danny hadn't noticed any ponds or lakes near castle in Wisconsin. — Sorry for taking so long to respond, — half an hour wasn't a long time in the teenager's opinion. The response time was usually longer. In his correspondence with friends, he usually took into account the fact that they might get tired of chatting or simply fall asleep. ― Tell me, what exactly were you trying to learn? Looking back on that first conversation, Danny usually began to understand why even his teachers called him a mumbler. As much as he wanted to believe that he was good at communicating, the truth was different. He had taken too long and answered a simple question in a confusing way. He had started from a distance, taking even more time than he had planned from an already busy person. And then some extra time to apologize. I'm probably talking too much, — he said, and his throat went dry, either from the thought of the consequences of his own talkativeness, or from the thought of how much his parents might scold him for the phone bill after his conversation with Wisconsin. ― This conversation started with the intention of me listening to you, didn't it? ― The man's pleasant voice tone sounded soft. This was the tone his aunt Alice usually spoke to him in when he did something she considered cute. It was flattering to some extent, especially considering how rare it was for his aunt to consider anything cute. ― By the way, why did you text instead of calling? ― Vlad sounded a bit surprised and energetic. It was much easier to determine the emotions in his voice over the phone than in his facial expressions. — I didn't want to disturb you, — Danny replied honestly, trying to lift a feather into the air with his mind again. It worked almost immediately, and it had a calming effect on him. — You must be a busy man. — Not enough to take time to the person I promised it to, — Danny liked the way it sounded. Although he still saw Vlad as a rich man who couldn't express his emotions through facial expressions. — Do you have any other questions? It seemed strange to the teenager that a voice-only conversation was obviously more natural for this person than a face-to-face meeting. And yet, he was the same age as his parents, for whom personal communication was everything. His mother's lively facial expressions and his father's active gestures made their speech much more vivid than the emphasis placed on their voices. In this regard, communicating with Masters was slightly easier than with his parents, but Danny would still prefer a text chat to begin with. It was easier to control what he wanted to say to the other person. — Um, you know, during the alumni reunion, I never figured out what you do, — his own voice sounded distant. He managed to lift two feathers into the air at the same time. Watching them spin in the air, forming an infinity sign, was a rare pleasure. It was almost like cracking the crust of ice on a late-autumn puddle. — If it's not a secret, of course. — It's not a secret, my boy. I run research centers and sell patents to large corporations. Well, or I organize small research projects on behalf of my partners, — the voice on the phone became a little more animated, as if Danny were listening to a student reciting a poem at the blackboard. It seemed that Masters was not so much used to this question as he was tired of it. He had probably repeated this answer many times in various variations. — I provide the equipment. My employees provide the work. It's nothing special. Why the interest? Danny made the feathers fall into his palm. He tried to estimate their weight, thinking about Masters' words. About how a person with his abilities could make a fortune. — I was just curious, — he replied, somewhat colorlessly, blowing the feathers off his palm and causing them to float again. The rapid flight of the light objects unraveled the tangle of his thoughts. Like a hypnotist's pendulum, it calmed his heartbeat but did not lull him to sleep. For the first time in a while, Danny felt his thoughts clear and distinct.

***

After the portal incident, he didn't visit his parents' lab very often. It wasn't because he was afraid of entering the spirit world, but rather because of the amount of weapons capable of destroying his other half. It wasn't even him who was afraid, but the ghost within him. They thought the same way. They thought about the same things. They were parts of each other, like the left and right hands of one body, but even after almost four months of partial death, Danny still couldn't get used to thinking of them as a whole. He tried to, of course, always saying "I, me, mine" out loud, but in his mind, it was always "we, us, and ours." “I need to retrain myself,” — he thought, overcoming his fear of touching the weapon that frightened the ghost the most. His fingertips trembled, and his father’s voice flashed in his mind as he demonstrated the miraculous gun: “It strips the ghost atom by atom.” — It's not that scary, you see, — he said quietly to himself as he put the gun back. Until today, he had carefully avoided using any of his parents' firearms (except for the thermos). Perhaps he was making things harder for himself, but perhaps he was doing the right thing. His father's safety system was often flawed, and he didn't want to accidentally shoot himself in the foot. The portal to the Ghost Zone had an unpleasant habit of opening periodically against the will of the technology and in spite of all the locked locks. Seeing the slowly growing green glow of the otherworldly whirlwind, Danny approached closer. His friends still hadn't told him what he looked like when the portal opened. He didn't remember the day well, but he knew for sure that Sam was there. Danny was certain that it was her muffled electric hum and metal screeching that he had heard at the moment of his death. But the Goth girl was silent, as if she became mute when he asked her this question. Turned pale and looked away. The ectoplasmic funnel slowly rotated in the open portal, emitting a slight hum that resembled the distant buzzing of a swarm of wasps. They were curious... He. He was curious. However, he decided to insert his left hand into the portal first. It was not his dominant hand. This was done to avoid any potential issues with the limb. On the other side, there was nothing but a slight electric tingling in his fingertips. It was almost pleasant. The temperature in the portal was the same as in the laboratory, as was the density and humidity of the air. He tried to move his fingers, as he usually did to make sure the water in the bathtub wasn't too hot. There's no difference. At that moment, he decided to look inside. He closed his eyes and held his breath, as if he were about to dive into water. The tip of his nose itched, as if it had been tickled by a light feather, causing him to almost sneeze. Opening his eyes, Danny saw the birthplace of his second self. It was a greenish space filled with strange, physics-defying transitions and staircases, reminiscent of the paintings of Cornelius Escher. Many of the suspension bridges ended in closed doors or arches, where whirlwinds swirled like new portals. In the passages where there was nothing like that, there were other worlds, not in the green tones of this wild jumble of stairs and air passages, but in other colors: yellow, red, multicolored, as in reality, or monochrome. A cloud of icy steam escaped from his lips as one of the tall double doors, which looked more like the entrance to an ancient castle, opened. A ghost appeared, dressed in a white military uniform and black patent leather boots. Instead of a human face, the shadow of his hat concealed a skull with large, glowing red eyes. ― Untermensch, ― the words burst from the skull's toothy mouth, accompanied by a flash of hot ash, as the creature lifted its burning gaze to Danny. The hellish creature made the teenager's living heart tremble and retreat back to its own world. He pulled the portal's switch, extinguishing the otherworldly green light in the laboratory. Although they were both frightened, both the human and the ghost. There was something wrong with the monochrome figure in every sense. Something more terrifying than just the afterlife, something worse than hell. The word "Untermensch" echoed in the skull with a haunting, otherworldly sound.

***

Danny began to notice that his parents were arguing more often in the laboratory. Something was clearly not going well with their work. However, if you thought about it, they had created much more than usual in recent times. Some of the devices were still waiting for a patent, and most of them were functioning properly, proving not only the Fenton's family's straight-forwardness but also the existence of ghosts. They had been invited to conferences, and the small table by the front door was filled with invitations. But apparently, the problem was deeper than just the minor inconveniences. What scared Danny was that he couldn't figure out why. Everything started falling apart again. Only the feathers continued to float peacefully in the air, obeying his will. He even managed to learn how to lift heavier objects and show off his new ability to his friends. “One more thing and you’ll be able to do the same cool things as Keri,” Sam had said back then. And the boy still felt hurt by that. He was being compared to the most infuriatingly unlucky book character in the world, who was getting kicked around by everyone in her story, and not to some cool superhero. Did he really deserve that? Downstairs, Danny could hear his parents' overly loud conversations. They were arguing again. If Danny hadn't been certain that it was September, he would have thought they were arguing about who Santa was. After all these years, he should have been used to his parents' constant emotional outbursts, but unfortunately, he wasn't. Danny raised his feathers in the air, blocking out the noise with his headphones. The door locked itself at his command without him having to touch it. He'd learned a lot recently, and Masters had praised him for his progress. It was hard to resist, especially since he'd previously received at most a reserved "well done" at dinner for his good grades. While that was still a good thing, he hadn't excelled academically in a long time. He was occasionally reprimanded for being rude to teachers, getting into fights with the school's football stars, and getting into various minor mischief with Samantha, who was always eager to make the world a better place, regardless of the world's desire. He didn't mind, but it turned out that simply "well done" wasn't enough for him. At the table, he wasn't doing his homework today, but rather drawing. He focused on moving his pencil across the paper, while markers rolled across the tabletop, propelled by his telekinesis. The clack of the plastic cases resembled the sound of the padre's rosary beads during Sunday services, when he was still accompanied by his aunt Alice as a child. It was a ritualistic day, meticulous, unhurried, consistent, and filled with tranquility. Auntie gave them the cleanest and nicest clothes, helped Jess put her hair in a beautiful braid with lots of blue ribbons, and helped him tie his shoelaces. He was very little then. The strokes on the paper formed a picture that he had seen in the ghost zone. A multitude of disordered stairs and passages. Empty, desolate, and frozen in a state of decay for eternity. To an outside observer, the image would appear chaotic, but to the teenager, to his dead self, it was a perfect sequence. Clear, logical, and simple. As Danny filled the drawing with various shades of green, he fully understood it as a human. Someone knocked on the door of his room. Danny was so surprised that he accidentally knocked all the markers on the floor. — Are you all right? — His mother's voice came through the door, slightly muffled by the music in his headphones. — Yeah, it's okay, —'Danny hastily pulled the headphones off his head and headed for the door. —' You just startled me a little, — he let his mother into the room and quickly began collecting the markers and pencils scattered on the floor. — Did you need something? — I wanted to warn you that I'm going to be away for a short time, sweetheart, — the woman said as she crouched down to help her son clean up the mess. — It won't be more than a couple of days. I'm going to ask you to take care of the house while I'm gone. You don't need to cook or clean every day, but make sure your father doesn't accidentally send it to a parallel dimension, — Maddie said as she stood up and handed her son the markers. — Can you handle it? — Where are you going? — teenager felt his back start to sweat. He tried to suppress the cold breath of the dead man that came out of his throat every time he felt something bad. — To my sister. You remember Aunt Alice, right? — woman glanced at the desk. A thick A3 sheet with a complex pattern caught her attention. — That very nice, Danny,― she gently ran her fingers through her son's hair. ― I didn't think that you were so diligent. You were such an energetic boy when you were a kid. A couple of minutes of doing the same thing tired you terribly. — Why do you have to leave? — His voice cracked. Danny hoped his mother didn't feel the cold air escape from his lungs. — I just want to be in silence for a while. I need to think, — Maddy looked into her son's frightened eyes and quickly put her arm around his shoulders. — Don't worry, sweetheart. It has nothing to do with you or Jess. I just need to get away from the ghosts and the work for a while, so I don't lose my mind. You've probably noticed that your father and I have been very busy lately. We've even forgotten our own wedding anniversary, — her expression was a visual representation of the word "Tired." She was rumpled and unkempt, and there was a smudge of mascara in the corners of her eyes, as if she had already cried today. — Why leave for that? — He could feel something bad in his gut. Very, very bad. The ghost could see through his mother. — You could have rest here. — Your father isn't tired, but I am. He wants to keep working, and I won't stand in his way. But I want you to keep an eye on him. He can be a bit irresponsible. — She was hiding something, and her words tasted bitter, settling at the base of his tongue and making her want to drink milk to wash it away. It was like eating a spicy taco with too much chili. — I won't leave you for long, I promise, — she said, gently wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. At any other time, he would have bristled and tried to break free from her suffocating embrace, but not now. She kissed the top of his head, then looked back at the drawing on the table. — You're really good at drawing, sweetheart. Can I take it? ― Do you want to hang it on aunt Alice fridge? — He was still trying to joke, even though it was coming out really badly. — Maybe, — woman smiled, touching the still-damp paper with her fingertips.

***

Maddy left for the airport the next morning in a taxi, after one last heated exchange with Jack. The man tried to stop her, grabbing her suitcase and getting in her way, but to no avail. When mom set her mind to something, there was no stopping her, something Danny had learned the hard way. A yellow car with black stripes and a driver with a strong southern accent quickly disappeared around the next corner. But before she left, his mother took his drawing and carefully placed it in a suitable-sized folder to prevent it from getting wrinkled. And even asked him to sign it like a real painting. His father was in a hurry, hastily booking tickets and cursing under his breath because all the tickets except for the evening flights had been sold out. He was packing his things, throwing them into a suitcase in a haphazard and completely unsystematic manner. He locked the filing cabinets in the laboratory, but forgot to close the front door behind him. As he made his way to the airport, he hoped to either catch up with Maddy or purchase a last-minute ticket. — You're leaving us alone, again?! — Jess shouted. But the taxi door had already slammed shut and another car with black checkers on the roof rolled further down the street, disappearing around the bend. ― Oh... Great. We need to check how much money and provisions we have, in case this mess drags on, — sister cheerfully strode into the house and shamelessly reached into her mother's everyday bag for her purse, counting the cash. — Mom said she was planning to go away for a couple of days, — Danny said absently as he closed the front door. — When she asked me to look after the house and Dad. — Well, that's only the house on the list, — Jess finished counting, handed Danny a couple of crumpled bills, and put the rest back. — Here's the plan: we'll see what in the fridge, make a shop list, and use that amount to go to the store. Together. If we use my car, it shouldn't take more than an hour. If anyone asks, our parents are very busy and sent us to get groceries. Okay? — Okay, — teenager sighed, carefully folding the bills into his wallet, which was attached to his belt by a chain. — But first, I'm going to go down to the lab. I'm worried that father might have left something plugged in, and we'll end up back at the ashes. ― Good idea, — Jess was already bustling around the kitchen with her favorite pink pen and a small notebook. ― Is a pack of milk enough for you for a couple of days, or is it better to buy another one? — She shouted to her brother. Chaos reigned in the basement. Danny managed to praise himself for his prudent precaution. God forbid one of the devices left on the table next to a stack of papers would create a random spark. And portal to the Ghost Zone opened again, adding a touch of green light to the chaos. — Aren't you going to eat it with your cereal for breakfast? — Danny didn't really know what he was doing. Just he was putting the papers in one pile and the potentially dangerous items in another (presumably on a non-flammable surface). He'd let his parents deal with it when they got back. There was a small box with a colorful ribbon and an object that looked like a high-tech cyberpunk belt near the portal. These were definitely important items that needed to be kept away from the ghost zone. ― Nah, I'll just have some juice. You like milk more than me anyway. — Then it should be enough for me. I drink it only with tea anyway, — Danny chuckled in response. The small box turned out to be a gift for his mother on their wedding anniversary. Perhaps it was because of this trinket that his parents had gotten into an argument? It was unlikely, of course, but the teenager didn't rule out the possibility. ― Gastronomic pervert! His sister's words made Danny smile until he touched the belt. The item, equipped with anti-ghost technology, caused a painful electric shock. Screaming in pain, the teenager instinctively dropped everything in his hands. — Danny? — The worried sister started down to the basement. — What happened? The belt hit the emergency portal closure switch, and the box... went straight into the Ghost Zone. The portal closed as soon as Jess descended into the lab. Danny didn't even have time to react to the gift that disappeared into the portal before it went out and closed permanently. His fingers burned from the electric shock, and he felt a chill run through him, knowing that he had just ruined something very, very important due to his own clumsiness. ― Oh, my God, your hand! ― Jess pulled him out of the lab. ― You can't be here without a hazmat suit. No one can't!

***

Masters was hardly an intrusive person. He appeared in Danny's life only when the teenager himself wanted it, but this was a completely different case. The call from him came exactly at the moment when the ghost-boy was in one of the rooms of the Ghost Zone, in the middle of a sparsely lit huge room in dark purple tones. Around him floated a lot of lost objects from stocks without a pair and Keys, to and motorboats. The annoying buzzing of mobile phone, which he kept in his belt pouch next to his thermos, didn't fit in with the peaceful silence of the place — Just ignore it, — Sam's voice advised through the headphones. — The last time you did that, your own parents came back from a business trip and ruined our movie marathon, — Tucker reminded her. His voice was a little further. — Those aren't his parent. It's just a guy who sometimes gives him advice on the phone, — Sam countered, while Danny himself was focused on his smartphone screen, where a Wisconsin number was displayed. — He's an old friend of my parents, — Danny said. — Maybe my mom or dad contacted him to keep an eye on Jess and me. — You said yourself that your parents haven't spoken to him in almost twenty years, — Sam retorted. — Even if he was asked to look after you, how would he know that you didn't answered because you were in the Ghost Zone, and not because you left your phone at home when you went to the movies with us? Relax, this guy definitely has better things to do than drive across the country to check on you. ― That's not what worries me about him. The phone stopped ringing. The call ended, and Danny closed the book-like case and returned the gadget to his bag. His intuition was silent. Perhaps Sam was right. — You see, — she chuckled into earpiece. It was quiet around the teenager again. Among the many lost objects, he was looking for only one, and he hoped that the Ghost inside him had not made a mistake in the direction of his search. The world of spirits was understandable on an intuitive level, but as a living person, he still had doubts. It was too easy to navigate through the maze of passages and doors. There was a ringing in this house of ghosts. The trill came from an old-fashioned telephone from the last century, in which the speaker and the microphone were still separate parts of the device. The ringing was so loud and persistent that Danny finally picked up the phone, just in case the sound can might attract other ghosts. — What the hell are you doing in the Ghost Zone, Daniel!? — Masters' voice came through the ear trumpet, crystal clear and loud enough for even Tucker and Sam to hear through the microphone. — What did you say? — Tucker's quiet voice came through one of the headphones, which the teenager had partially removed from his head. — What makes you think I'm here? — The teenager chuckled nervously, trying to turn it into a joke. — Daniel, stop it! You would have had the opportunity to lie if you had taken your mobile phone instead of Charles Bell's telephone, — Masters was angry. Definitely. And very much. — Your mother asked me to check on you if I had the opportunity, not to bring you back from the world of the dead! — I have an excuse, — Danny blurted out, not really thinking about how he would explain himself. — I hope it's good enough, — Masters' voice echoed eerily. It was just what he needed to sound even more menacing. Vlad would have killed him for that if Danny wasn't already half-dead. — Yes, — his brain stuck between the truth, half-truths, and outright lies, for which not only would Mástres, but also his parents, kill him as soon as he made it out into the world of the living. And he'd be lucky if it was only him. — I wanted to... A huge leather-gloved hand clamped down on his mouth, quickly pulling him away from the phone. The uninhabited space of lost items was not as uninhabited as Danny had expected. His headphones were ripped off and thrown into the dark tiled floor. Vlad's voice, calling out to him from the ancient phone, became increasingly muffled and distant. The teenager struggled to fight back. Tried to reach for his thermos in his waistband, but heavy, otherworldly chains wrapped around his body like a tangle of iron snakes. The bag was torn off his belt and thrown after the headphones. ― Untermensch, ― the echoes reverberated off the objects and the floor. And in that moment, Danny realized how deep he was in trouble. — Half-breeds are not allowed to roam without a leash, — the military-uniformed ghost said in a heavily accented English. It was done to ensure that the prisoner understood everything perfectly. — Subhuman creatures are not allowed to walk freely. It is the law. Puffs of incandescent ash erupted from the skull's mouth with every word spoken. Settled on the teenager's jumpsuit and burning his fase. The chains tightened around his wrists already, pulling him to the floor, preventing him from resisting. He shouldn't have come here. He really shouldn't.

***

The part of the Dead World he was dragged into was black and white, like a war movie. A gray snow was constantly falling from a gloomy sky with low, dark clouds, mixed with the ash that poured from the crematorium's chimney. The Phantom thought he was done for when they pushed him into the furnace and slammed the heavy iron door shut. The gray flames discolored his ghostly skin and stripped the flesh from his bones. He collapsed on the floor, which was made of sheet iron and stained with the blood of previous victims. The chains pressed him to the ground and became white-hot in the fire, and the remains of his flesh sizzled and turned black. He thought that everything was set for him. Hoped so, to a degree, when he realized that his tongue had been charred so badly that it was crumbling to ash on the floor. He almost stopped feeling anything when the flames left him with only bones and chains, but he was still aware of himself for some reason. He remained aware until the last, as the remains of his body were flung out of the crematorium's chimneys into the dark sky, settling on the gray, cold ground along with the snow. The creature inside him wasn't going to give up so quickly. He was gathering around his core. He slowly rose from the ashes full of rage and thirst for revenge. Perhaps this was the only thing that made him get to his feet when the camp guards surrounded him again, putting him in chains. The ghostly prisoners around looked haggard and surprised. — You're stronger than you look, — the ghost in white looked down at him from his balcony. His eyes, burning with scarlet fire, were the only light in the black and white space, and Phantom wanted to rub them into a fine powder with all his might. — It won't last long. You'll give up like the others. The shackles began to form a thick crust of ice. The icy steam that escaped from his mouth hit one of the guards on the arm. The creature screamed in pain as his arm crumbled with a loud crack. The ring of coldness around him expanded. The temperature became so low that one of the chains finally broke under the intense cold, partially freeing the Phantom. He was furious, angry, and more determined than ever to seek justice. A stream of energy that erupted from his fingertips destroyed one of the guards. Danny couldn't hear what the other prisoners were shouting. His ears were ringing and a lump of half-digested and burned-to-ashes breakfast was rising in his throat. It seemed that the Phantom had expended too much of their energy. Blood was dripping from his nose. Or was it not blood? The taste of the poisonous green substance that dripped on the ground at his feet was as sour as if he had licked a battery. The guards were afraid to cross the boundaries of the ice circle that the Phantom had marked as his personal space. Those who tried were left with their limbs frozen, as if they had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. It was draining Danny's last reserves of strength, and Phantom's rage was the only thing keeping them both conscious. ― Stehen Sie nicht mit Säulen! Beruhige schmutzigen hund! ― the Jailer shouted from his balcony. — Danny! — A familiar voice brought him back to his senses, causing his rage to subside a little. — Become human! Listen to me! — Masters? — The Phantom looked around, but couldn't see the source of the voice. Although it seemed to be very close. “Become human!” He become, and the shackles fell to the ground, passing through his body. The guards looked around, shouting at their commander. It was as if they didn't see him. — You've come to the wrong place, young man. — The teenager felt warm hands carrying him away from the black-and-white world of the concentration camp. Masters looked like an ordinary person. He was wearing black trousers and a white shirt with a loose collar. His hair was slightly disheveled. — Why can't they see us? — Danny asked, holding back his vomit. The camp was in chaos. The prisoners had rebelled after witnessing the Phantom's slaughter of the guards, and it seemed to have given them the strength or inspiration to resist. They were running through him and Vlad, completely oblivious to their presence. — It's just as difficult for ghosts in the Ghost Zone to perceive living people as it is for people to perceive ghosts in our world, — the man replied as he led the teenager outside the camp walls. They entered an endless maze of stairs, passages, and bridges. A dense black haze enveloped his body for a brief moment, revealing the familiar appearance of a Nosferatu. Red eyes stared at the teenager with a mixture of malice and pity as the man picked them both up and carried them away from the sadistic prison guard's hideout. He was leading him to the Fenton' portal, and when Danny realized this, he twisted free from Masters' grasp. His head was spinning wildly, and it was difficult to stay in the air after expending so much energy and ectoplasm. He felt that he had to. After all, he had not yet completed what he had come to do. — This is not the time to seek new adventures, Danny, — Vlad's speech sounded slightly more hissing due to his fangs. He looked at the teenager with a strange expression on his face. — I won't tell your parents where you've been. Just let me get you out of here. — I need to pick up something, — Danny said, staggering away from Nosferatu's clawed hand as it reached for his wrist. — If your mother called you, you must know what happened. I need to find something very, very important and return it to my parents. ― Daniel... "Please! I can't just don't try to reconcile my parents," his voice cracked. He didn't want to cry in front of a stranger, but he couldn't hold back the emotion. Phantom always felt emotions more intensely than Fenton, and he expressed them more vividly. "They've been on edge lately. I've been listening to their arguments from the lab for a week, and now my mom's gone to stay with her aunt because my dad's overloaded them both with projects. They've always had a lot of arguments, but my mother never left slamming the door. — Daniel, — another attempt to grab his hand and pull him back into the world of the humans. — Please, I really don't want to leave them like this, — he said, wiping ectoplasm from his lips and chin with fist. — It's my fault that their anniversary gift ended up here, and I owe it to them to bring it back. To do something to make them forgive each other. Red eyes without pupils looked at him with unbearable pity. Vlad sighed wearily, giving in to the boy's teenage stubbornness.

***

Sam and Tucker recoiled in horror at the sight of the Nosferatu, with whom Danny had emerged from the portal. This was strange, as they should have been accustomed to the sight of the dead. Especially Sam. Convincing them that this particular fanged ghost posed no danger was a challenge, but one that could be overcome. After bidding farewell to his friends, the teenager called his sister, who had gone to the library to complete her extra homework, and informed her that he had a plan to bring their parents home. The plan is naive, but in its own way, touching. At the very least, my mother should have bought into it and thawed out a little. — Your parents have a dungeon, — Masters said as he appeared in the doorway of Danny's room. He had managed to tidy himself up a bit: comb his hair, tuck in his shirt, and wipe the ashes of the ghostly world from his face. — I know, — Danny replied, putting his phone charger and thermos in his backpack. — The Iron Maiden is there, — Vlad said in a detached voice. — I know, — teenager packed some change of clothes and a book he hadn't finished reading into his backpack. In the remote area where Aunt Alice lived, mobile phone service was rare, let alone internet access. He needed to keep himself occupied until his mother fully recovered. — I was locked up there once to test whether fear affects a person's ability to perceive spirits. Masters' face expressed a range of emotions, from "I knew they were crazy" to "damn, that's even too much for them." — Oh, come on, I was just joking, — Danny snorted, realizing that he had just said too much. — Whatever you say, — Vlad said, looking at the gift with the tacky bow that Danny had carefully placed in his backpack. The image of a thin teenager in a baggy T-shirt, who was now packing his things, didn't match the demon who had frozen his tormentors in ice. A thin stream of thick ectoplasm was dripping from the boy's nose. Vlad took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and, using one hand to hold the child's chin, began wiping the ghostly substance from his face before anyone could see. Most children his age would have hated such gestures, but this unique individual didn't even resist. — You love your parents more than they deserve, — Vlad sighed, folding the ectoplasm-soaked napkin into a ziplock bag to keep his clothes clean. — But maybe at least Madeline will appreciate your efforts. The embrace of the teenager came as a great surprise to Masters. He stood motionless, awkwardly leaning over the boy, who was almost two heads shorter than he was. Danny was too small for his age. Too thin, angular, and nervous. — Thank you, — Danny breathed happily in his ear. — You're welcome, ― Masters patted the boy with an awkward smile and straightened up to his full height, cracking his spine, which had already ached from an uncomfortable position. With his huge blue eyes, Danny reminded him of a very small child, but not a teenager of fifteen. ― You got out of this mess almost on your own. But don't go to the Ghost Zone without me anymore, okay? — Deal, — boy said with a genuine smile. He probably wouldn't even try to lie to him and venture into the spirit world alone again. Especially after everything that had happened today. Although his ghostly self had not only remarkable strength, but also was an annoying pain in the ass. When Jess returned home, Masters drove brother and sister to the airport in a rental car. According to the story, he happened to be in Amity Park on business. If anyone had asked him any further questions, Danny could have shrugged and said, "I don't know, I'm not involved in his work." Vlad put them on a plane and told the boy to call him as soon as they arrived in Arkansas, if he had the opportunity. Back in the car, Masters massaged his neck with his fingers and took a deep breath and say to himself: — No more hugs. The smartphone flashed, reminding him of a missed call from a user named Diana Breckley. He should have called back a long time ago, which Vlad did by connecting a wireless headset to the phone. — I hope this guy is valuable enough sample, if your postponing our meeting with the investors for, Vlad, — a female voice in the headphones said instead of a greeting. She sounded annoyed, if not angry. — He's a good investment, Miss Brackley, — Vlad turned on the glove compartment's cooling system and placed a bag with an ectoplasm―soaked handkerchief in it. In the absence of a refrigerator, it will do for a short time. — I hope so, — connection was wheezed. In the damned world of the Dead, the network was better than in Amity Park. — Has my intuition ever let us down? — In the background of Diana's voice, the man could hear distant shouts. — Are those the sounds of a frenzied mob? — It looks like we've got a rat in our midst. Our competitors have somehow discovered that we're using a damned rare lichen for our research, and they've enlisted the help of Seattle's most insane eco-activists, — the woman scoffed into the phone. There was a distant sound of breaking glass. — You'd better get a move on, or you'll be synthesizing New serum samples by yourself. — Stay away from the windows and get the portable cooler ready. I'll be there in a couple of hours. — There was a lot of work to be done. It wasn't how he had planned to spend the evening, but it was what it was. His life had never been particularly stable.