I counted seven ghosts.
Some drifted along the dark corridor. Others simply appeared and disappeared, popping in and out of existence. Still others approached us, curious. Most were in their fuzzy energetic state and composed of tens of thousands of shimmering particles of light. Some spirits were brighter than others, and still others were more fully formed. Most, however, were just faint blobs of light drifting down the dark passageway.
Sherbet said, "I keep seeing movement out of the corner of my eye."
"You're catching sight of them, Detective."
"Them?"
"Spirits."
"We're still on that subject?"
"They're still here, Detective."
He aimed his flashlight down the long corridor. The light disappeared without hitting anything. A lesser man might have been scared shitless. Sherbet only said, "Again, I don't think I needed to know that. Which way?"
The tunnel led in both directions. I followed the scent of blood and pointed to the left.
"To the left it is, then," he said, and led the way, sweeping his light before him.
The corridor was composed of dank wooden panels. I had no doubt that we were following something built a century or more ago, walled off and hidden, and used by only those with secrets to hide.
As we walked along, I slid a hand along the rough paneled walls, risking splinters. I did this not for balance, but rather to receive psychic hits. I'd discovered that energy is stored in a location - in its walls, for instance. For me, all I had to do was touch such a wall to unlock a location's memory. Weird stuff, I know, but it works.
And what I was seeing now wasn't pretty.
Men and women being forcibly dragged along this very hallway. Kicking and screaming and fighting. Horrific scenes and sounds forever recorded - embedded - within these very walls.
I shivered and, with a procession of ghosts trailing behind us, continued down the narrow corridor.
In the hallway before us, a partially materialized ghost - a fragment that looked barely humanoid - drifted toward me, unbeknownst to Sherbet.
It swept through Sherbet, who was leading the way and shivered noticeably, and headed straight for me. As it did so, it took on a little more shape and soon I could see that it was a young woman. Or had been a young woman. Like the others, there was a massive gash along her neck.
As I attempted to step around her - stepping through just seemed a little rude - she drifted to one side and blocked my path. She raised a hand. I tried stepping around her again and again she blocked my path.
"Jesus, Sam. You dancing back there?" said Sherbet, turning and shining his flashlight over me. The light went straight through the girl and even caused some of her form to scatter like frightened fish.
"I'm being blocked by a spirit."
"Of course you are. I should have realized."
The wound in the girl's neck was ghastly. Faint but ghastly. She drifted before me, rising and falling on the supernatural currents.
I said, "She's warning us."
Sherbet was about to say something, then stopped himself. I was giving him a glimpse into my thoughts, allowing him to see what I was seeing, through my eyes. I heard him gasp a little. He backed into the wall behind him.
As the old detective was working through his issues, I reached out a hand and touched the girl's hand. A cold shiver rippled through me, followed by something akin to an electric jolt. I whispered to her, "We'll be careful, I promise."
She was weeping now, into her other hand, and as I held her ethereal hand, which glowed in mine, I closed my eyes and wished very hard for her to leave this dark place, to leave and never return. When I opened them again, she was gone.
"Jesus, Sam," said Sherbet, holding his heart. "You've got to warn a guy before you pull a stunt like that. I damn near wet myself."
"Sorry," I said absently. "Let's go."
He led the way forward and soon we came upon the same wooden stairs I had seen in my vision.
"I guess we go down," said Sherbet.
"Would be my guess," I said.
"And away we go," he said, and led the way down.
