The Ynnchis Siblings

2

Ren

I didn't tell them how much worse it was than they could have thought. We might have to abandon the house, and exorcism would be extremely risky if the ghost decided to move on from whatever its current link to this world was to a person. If it did that, its original link would be so much harder to find.

Essentially, a Spirit is from the other side of the Veil. We know this as the Veiled World. It doesn't need to be an unhappy Spirit or an unfulfilled one. If their Earthly Needs are fulfilled but they still come back, they are known as Poltergeists. There are many more divisions of spirits depending on their behaviour and needs. This one was unhappy and unfulfilled. It was a common Phantom. It seemed to have some influence of a Spectre. A Spectre is the ghost of one who had a large influence while alive; so much so that there are memories of them, usually visual. Sometimes they are audible and-slash-or fragrant or pungent. They can't be interacted with, like a lonely puppet show. The Spectre doesn't need to be human. The blood was a Spectre, if they couldn't remove it. Spectres were common with unhappy and unfulfilled Spirits, since they helped represent and express their Desires. Here, obviously, someone died by falling down the stairs, on the exact spot where the bottom step was.

The danger was, of course, shown in the intensity of the activities. As far as I could figure, the Spirit was tired of the family not helping it. Threatening hadn't worked either, and now it was probably downright hostile. You can't talk sense into a ghost, now, can you? Our only option was to Cleanse it thoroughly, which essentially isn't even referring to the Spirit. Cleansing is referring to the haunt. Once a Cleansing happens, the Spirit ceases to exist. It's extremely depressing for emotionally-unhinged Ghost Detectors. There's a high suicide rate amongst the depressed ones, the schizophrenic ones, the bipolar ones... another reason I have to look out for Roqen. Also, another reason most Ghost Detectors are psychopathic, sociopathic or have Superiority and God complexes. As long as they don't feel blame, or at the very most, pity for others, Cleansing does not hurt them.

Roqen doesn't let me Cleanse them the way the others do, and I don't wish to, either, for her sake. The way she taught me to 'Cleanse' Spirits is the purest one: fulfilling their Desires and Needs. Unlike any other method, Spirits never return after the use of this Cleansing.

Unfortunately, this family hadn't called us in time for research. All I was aware was that in the ten Ghostly Grades or Classes, this one was most likely a Class six. Rare, and usually requiring five to seven Cleansers by the official standards– if it was their methods being used, of course. With what we, the Ynnchis siblings do, we are enough, as long as the Spirit isn't very hostile. All we do is interact after we have enough knowledge about its problem, which is usually a highly publicized accident.

So, on a mental checklist:

Identity. Unknown.

Cause of death. Known.

Source. Unknown, not suspected.

Hostility. High.

Class. Six.

Motives for appearance. Unknown.

Details of method of haunting: Known, but not enough.

Thanks, I bitterly sent a mental message to the family for all the knowledge they provided. It would not reach them, obviously, but it was gratifying imagining their expressions.

Unfortunately, there was no solace for me. A sudden, piercing scream emanated from Roqen. I turned to her in the greatest alarm. She hadn't screamed since her first few times, and when the Spirits were destroyed. We had had almost eighty cases now, and the scream was unwelcome. Looking at her face, I saw her focus. It was at the top of where the staircase should have been, and she scrambled away on her back, falling on the floor, but her focus still at the same place. Taking the rucksack from her and keeping it open looped on my left arm for the ready, I looked at the place. There was an option available for now, to buy more time.

We could draw a salt circle, with some iron around it, and perhaps I could sacrifice my iron whip for tonight to strengthen the Barrier. Contrary to what people believe, crosses themselves have very few uses against ghosts, because most ghosts aren't Unholy. They're just people with desires. Unholy ghosts are usually Spirits killed in a religiously Unholy way, and even then, to destroy them, you need the Holy signs of the very same religion. That means one of the few chances to use crosses are heretics and 'witches' burnt at the cross. The only other time crosses can be useful is when they're sprinkled with salt or iron or something, which is a waste of salt and iron when you could use them as the longer and more practical chains and weapons, and just as salt.

But deviating from the problem at hand wouldn't make it go away, I scolded myself. I ran up the stairs. It was not as dark as it could have been, but the atmosphere was heavy and shadows ruled at the stair landing. Feeling weight appear on my shoulder from nowhere, turning colder as I took two steps at a time, checking a glimmering pocket watch which I tied around my wrist. I was rather proud of it, it was given to me by my father. He was a Cleanser like I was, partnered with my mother.

My mother committed suicide. She had depression.

The little gold pocket watch said forty-five minutes since ten. Taking out the salt, I sprinkled a little randomly, to determine the position of the thing. If I didn't have Roqen, it was triply harder to do anything. Once I found it, it might do anything, attack me, or flee, if I was too slow. I heard a shriek, and quickly whipping out my weapon with my right hand, excuse the pun, slashing it around the point where I heard it. Iron dissipates them for a few seconds, paralysing them. Enough time for me to run around the area, spreading a wide circle of salt and laying down things of iron from the rucksack hanging on my left arm.

I was, however, only halfway done when the blind screams of the Spirits started echoing. I couldn't determine where from in the dark, but with small thumps right before them, I concluded it had discovered the restraining properties of salt and iron, and was methodically hitting the Barrier while moving sideways to find where a sloppily done job could become its exit. The thumps and screams that I felt were feminine came closer and closer to where I was. There was a gap between us, but also a gap in the circle. Its rage was almost tangible now, and with a shudder, I realised its hostility, sorrow and anger tinged with sadness was the heavy atmosphere. Running faster from it now, it still crept closer, I could hear another thump, thump, thump, and I knew it was the footsteps because it knew where I was and was running for me now. Its emotions circled me, going inside me and my lungs, circulating with the pumping of my heart, slowing me down. I was not a Ghost Detector, but I knew this was what they felt empathetically every time they went for a case. Pity, along with the other feelings threatened to burst my heart. Pity for the Detectors, all the insane, for my mother, my sister, and all the Spirits in the world.

I was almost there to close the circle. Turning my head back at the last step, I finally saw something more than an unsubstantial mist. I saw two grey hands appear from a whitish mist, thin and long, with yellow and brown nails, or more accurately, claws. It swiped at me, and got my right shoulder. I dropped everything from my right hand, salt, and iron and all. A cold numbness spread through my body, emanating from that point. The hands were now trying to push the two sides of the Barrier apart, making a bigger hole, and the hands steamed and smoked from the touch, but the gap widened nevertheless. I had grossly misclassed it. Weakly, I swiped at the salt and iron with my foot, closing the Barrier, earning a resounding and dull crash, and the longest scream of hate, rage, and agony I'd hope never to hear again. It faded away slowly, along with the horrible things it had made me feel and infected me with. Today, at least, we were safe. The Spirit was obviously Unholy, and had probably just Evolved to a Class Seven. Class Sixes required just five people at the most to vanquish. A Seven would take that up to ten. The amount of negative passion it would need to Evolve was enormous, and I'd felt a fragment of it. My arm was still numb; I'd been subject to a powerful Ghost Touch.