+18 - GHOST of ME 1 - Alex and Claire Corban lead ordinary lives in their small town. Until their family past catches up, forcing them to face supernatural events that will change their lives forever. -- draft UNDER **HEAVY** REVISION --Please let m...
Alex marked the page and closed the book, placing it on top of the others she'd set aside at a corner of the table. She crossed the workshop with the lamp to a wood shelf full of small jars, reading the labels. Old Bootter used to have little crates to move his jars around. There, on the lower shelf. She filled one with half a dozen jars and put it with the books she'd set aside.
The last thing she felt like doing was tidying up, but those books had been Old Bootter's most precious possession, and he'd taught her to cherish them too. Twenty minutes later, she was able to close the safe, turn the lamp off and leave the workshop with three fat old books and the crate of jars.
She almost enjoyed the way back home, down the old road through the dark woods, her fingers drumming on the wheel to the music.
The ambulance swerved out of Main Street onto the lakefront road and rocketed away. Alex stopped to give it way as she produced her phone and turned onto Main Street in no hurry, heading him. Claire took her sweet time to pick up.
"He alive?" Alex asked.
"Barely. I'm afraid he's got hypothermia."
"Keep him warm and sit tight, the ambulance will be there in ten."
"Okay."
"Go back to the hospital with Rob, kiddo. I need a little sample of his blood."
"What? And how on earth am I supposed to get it?"
"Don't come whining now. You proved you're full of tricks. Bring it home asap."
Alex chuckled when Claire disconnected, grumbling under her breath.
Back home, Alex took books and the crate to the kitchen table. She opened the books on it, placed a small wooden bowl by each and opened the jars from the crate. Following the recipes required all of her attention. Half a pitch more or less than any ingredient would change the whole mix.
Her lips curled up as she worked. Old Bootter had been a relentless teacher, but he'd never demanded anything she couldn't do, and his knowledge always proved right. That was why she'd grown to appreciate his laconic grunts as his only compliment when she did things right, as well as his sarcastic remarks when she didn't.
Fifteen years later, she could feel him glancing over her shoulder to check her progress, and hear his dry voice. "The day you learn to do exactly what the recipes say, you'll find out whether a garthling is riding your dog instead of healing its warts."
She shook her head, chuckling. Damn old man. He'd been right, of course. And the farm dog was actually controlled by a garthling.
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Claire pursed her nose the moment she walked into the house.
"Jeez! What's that stench?" she cried, going to the kitchen.
Alex waited for her at the ground zero of that weird mix of sweet, rotten, cool smells like she was standing in a field of flowers.
"You got it?" she asked.
The girl gave her a small test tube containing a finger of blood, grunting, "Don't ask."
"Fine, I won't."
Alex opened the tube and let a few drops of blood fall into the first bowl.
"Why d'you need Rob's blood, if the one infected is Lila?" asked Claire, approaching the table.
Alex kept her eyes on the phone's chronometer. "Parasites never come alone. If she took him from the hospital, it means he's infected too."
"Oh." Claire's glance moved over the old books and her tone was the epitome of casual. "You've been to the farm. We could've gone together."
"And Rob would be dead."
Claire was about to reply, but Alex raised a finger to keep her quiet. A moment later, Alex closed the first book with a tight smile.
"One down, two to go, and we can be grateful we're not dealing with this thing." She looked up at Claire and softened her voice. "C'mon, kiddo, we're only doing what each does best. You used your empathy to find Rob in time, and I'm applying what Grandpa taught me to cure him. Switching shoes wouldn't help."
Claire shrugged and looked away, because Alex was right. The engraving on the second book caught her attention. She circled the table to take a look at it while Alex added some drops of Rob's blood to the second mix.
"Sku— Skutim— I can't even read the name of this thing!" Claire read a few lines and frowned. "Does it really eat people from the inside?"
Alex stared down at the chronometer again, and replied like commenting on the weather.
"The name's skutentach and yeah, it eats you up inside. It's usually mistaken for a tumor, but it doesn't kill your cell: it eats them. And wherever you find a skutentach, a goret is lying in wait. They're symbiotic. The skutentach feeds on you until you're nearly dead, and then a goret moves in to take over and wear you like a glove."
"Yuck!"
"Whenever you hear about somebody who miraculously defeated cancer, but they seem a different person, remember these two." Alex sighed, relieved. "And they're not our guys, either."
Claire closed the second book while Alex repeated the test on the last bowl. The girl studied the illustration on the third book. It showed a beautiful tree like an oak, covered in flowers like lilies. Something about the roots made her take a closer look.
"Are these—?"
Alex glanced up to see what Claire was talking about.
"Human bodies, yes. The Moonflower needs to feed on human flesh to go from worm to tree. Living flesh, if possible."
"Oh, boys, this is just so..."
The girl trailed off when Alex showed her the third bowl. The mix fumed with little cracking noises, looking about to boil.
"And the winner is," Alex said, grimacing.
"Cannibal tree?"
"We wish. A fuel can would be the end of it." Alex turned the page, showing Claire the sketch of a fat worm full of budges, a cluster of spiderish eyes and a nasty pair of jagged pincers. "The Moonflower embryo. This is what's inside Rob and the girl."
"You mean this ugly thing becomes that big tree?"
"It takes two to tango. One of the embryos finds a female host and the other takes over a male host, and they make the hosts mate. In a few weeks, the female host turns into the Moonflower. Like a caterpillar, you see? But instead of a butterfly, you get a killer tree. Once it's fully grown, it doesn't only produce more worms. Its roots spread to strangle those of the trees around, making room for the new trees the embryos are making."
"Oh, Lord!"
Alex turned a few more pages. "I need an hypodermic."
Claire hurried to the bathroom. Back to the kitchen, she found Alex grinding something that stunk even worse than the other mixes. Alex took the hypodermic from the girl's hand and filled it with the juice of the mix. Claire gawked when Alex handed it to her.
"Careful. We need every drop," Alex warmed.
Claire frowned down at the hypodermic in her hand, not noticing Alex headed out of the kitchen until her voice startled her from the living room.
