Read Online Ghostly Echoes by William Ritter - Free Book Online Page A

what happens when his kind walks down the wrong street—so why don’t you two just keep walkin’ before we teach you the same lesson?”
    â€œThe thing about the legend,” Jackaby went on, seemingly oblivious of the scene before him, “is that monsters like the Chilean Cherufe are never satisfied. You can keep sacrificing young maidens until you’ve burned through them all, but the monster will still be there, will still be waiting, will still be a monster. I’ve ceased appeasing monsters. Young lady? Shall we?”
    A face peered up in the darkness, eyes rimmed with red and full of fear and anger. The woman glanced between her attackers, and then pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. She left the shoe behind and limped forward on torn stockings. Her hands were shaking and she glared daggers at the big man. She was larger than I had expected, tall enough to look her attacker in the eye. I half expected her to lash out and strike him, but she gritted her teeth and walked away as steadily as she was able. Jackaby held out a hand as she approached, but she shied away and stepped past him.
    As she reached me, I saw her face in the light at last. Tears had streaked down her dark cheeks, and her lip was bloodied. She had a strong jaw and broad shoulders for a girl. She looked at me with suspicion as she drew near. I offered her a sympathetic smile. “It’s all right,” I said. “You can lean on me.”
    Her lips shook and fresh tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded and put an arm around my shoulder. She was a foot taller than I was, so I don’t know how much support I actually provided, but she seemed to rally a fraction as she turned back to watch Jackaby and the other men.
    â€œSo you’re a freak, too, huh?” sneered the big man.
    I couldn’t see Jackaby’s face, but I could almost hear the broad grin in his answer. “I’m not generally one for titles, but that is one I’ll embrace with pride.”
    â€œWhatever,” the man spat. “You can have him. That sick bastard ain’t the innocent virgin from your fairy tale, Mr. Detective Man. And we ain’t the monsters here.”
    â€œOh, you seem to have gotten the wrong impression,” Jackaby replied. “The metaphor may be appropriate—but I wasn’t simply speaking figuratively.” He held up one of the little red rocks. “I was explaining what you’re up against. Cherufe’s tears are rare relics, and more than I care to waste tonight. When I packed I was anticipating more menacing monsters than the likes of you. I think we are both fortunate we could conclude our little encounter on reasonable terms. Good day, gentlemen.”
    Jackaby turned and walked away.
    â€œYou
are
a freak!” the man yelled after him.
    Jackaby kept walking.
    â€œBetter not let me see that sicko around here again!” the man hollered. “His kind don’t deserve to walk free! You should’ve let us finish teaching him a lesson! It was for his own good!”
    Jackaby stopped. His fists were clenched.
    â€œIf I ever see him again, I’ll—” The man never finished his taunt.
    The first red rock hit the ground with an ardent blast. The cobblestones liquefied on contact, and, with a splash of flame, the alleyway in front of the thugs was suddenly glowing with heat, bubbles of bright orange spattering and sizzling as they popped.
    The men fell backward, but Jackaby let fly another stone before they could rally. It arced over their heads and erupted on the other side of the thin alleyway, locking them between two glowing pools of magma. Terror danced across their faces in flickering reds and yellows.
    â€œIf you ever see
her
again,” my employer growled, “you will remember that monsters pick on the weak and the harmless because it is the monsters who are afraid.” He held the final stone in his fingers and stepped to the edge of the