Ghosts bustled to and fro. Pan had never seen so many in one place. Their twisted bodies lacked parts: eyes, hands, and legs. They appeared skeletal, mummified, spectral, and any combination in between. They moved like puppets and contortionists, above, around, and through old stones.

Pan’s eyes felt wide as she looked at the spirits among the stones. “It’s a city.”

What could make so many ghosts sticky?

The stones could have been from any old graveyard. Ring-shaped and engraved with symbols, the stones represented old ideas about magic. The symbols had been forgotten, and those stones fell out of fashion. Tree-shaped stones, and floral imagery were the new go-to designs. Pan saw a handful among the engraved rings.

A heavy ghost set eyes on Pan, and though the face showed a great deal of decay, it looked full and maybe friendly. Pan set foot on the woman’s grave.

“Get off my property!” The ghost raced forward and managed to push Pan back. “Off. You rotten kids, always on my land.”

Pan backpedaled and landed on her butt, just behind the gravesite of an older man.

Thin, gangly, and skeletal, the man shooed her away. “You can’t stay here! What you think this is public land?”

Pan got up and ran away from both graves, deeper into the yard. “What a bunch of geezers.”

She glanced back. With a sigh, she began to move through the uneven rows. She avoided the plots and stuck to the dedicated paths. Several ghosts strolled or flew through the air, but most laid within the dirt, exposing only their faces, marking their resting places.

“What is this place?” Pan asked one of the faces.

“It’s Prooptik. Biggest city on Scaldigir. Don’t like city living?”

Pan stifled a laugh. “Prooptik?”

The face shot out of the ground and floated towards Pan. “Where are you from girl?”

Pan’s eyes widened. She held up her hands. “Pittura. I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of Prooptik.”

“Pittura – oh nice little city,” the ghost spat, dripping sarcasm. “You look like a Pittura girl.” The ghost turned and sunk back into its grave.

Pan sighed. She didn’t make two steps before an old ghost floated to her side. His long arms dangled. The rest of him looked mummified, especially his tight lips and face. Pan looked closer and noticed alien features from a time when the visitors crashed and settled on Scaldigir. The graveyard might be five hundred years old or more.

“You want an education about Prooptik?” the deceased man asked. He floated lazily along.

“Not really. I don’t have the time. I have to find arcane heroes.”

“Arcane heroes? What do you mean?” The ghost circled Pan. He trailed his tail into a ring and wrapped it around her.

“People with special abilities.” Pan pulled her arms close to her chest.

The ghost took the hint and reclaimed his spiraling tail. “Oh, they don’t get buried. Don’t you know? Their bodies go for genetic and anatomical study.” The ghost floated back to his marker, a tall stone. He wound himself around the top.

Pan narrowed her eyes. “What happens to the bodies after they get studied?”

“I suppose, if anything is left, buried. Mostly destroyed. It depends,” the ghost called.

“Excuse me.” A deep voice spoke above Pan.

She looked up and saw a man with six-foot legs. Her mouth dropped open.

He shrank to match her height though he remained impossibly thin. “Are you looking for arcanes’ bodies? I know of a fortune teller buried in the south of Scaldigir.”

“I...that’s a bit too far.” Pan shook her head.

It would be a long walk over the equator, into the south.

Another spirit floated over. “Traveling is expensive these days.” Her spectral skin flapped as if it had been shredded by a razor. “Get yourself to Kallitech. It’s a quiet place, where some of the visitors still live. They say there’s one buried there who can control time.”

Pan perked up. “Which way is Kallitech?”

The ghost pointed. “Over the hills. You’ll find the town there. The arcane is buried with Kallitech’s Mother Tree. I’ve been. Lovely town, but the visitors aren’t friendly.”

Pan doubted the visitors still lived there. No one on all of Scaldigir could claim pure alien heritage. So, Pan didn’t have to worry. She just needed to find Kallitech and the body.

“What year did you go?” Pan asked, hoping it hadn’t been too long. Things changed.

“1755. It was just fifteen years ago.”

Pan nodded. “Right.” Closer to five hundred. Pan turned away. She couldn’t waste another minute, in search of the five-hundred-year old grave. “Thank you, you’ve really helped me.”

“Sight-seeing?”

“You could say so.” Pan strolled, not looking back.

The whine of a ship’s engine sounded overhead, and Pan found herself somewhat exposed in the scant tree cover.

Dammit Sotir.

Pan searched the area and saw a number of sepulchers just ahead. She drew a portal and stepped from the exposed gravesites to the steps of a small mausoleum. She peered inside. Pan bypassed the lock and drew herself a portal into the interior.

The ship’s whine quieted, muffled by a foot of stone. Dust covered everything, and Pan disturbed some of it, sending clouds across her vision. She waved the dust away and counted six sarcophagi. All decorated with elaborate carvings of men and women.

She couldn’t stay here. Aria would see the colors of Pan, clearly painted on the doorstep. Sotir would find her too. Pan needed to be somewhere hard to reach and unseen. Somewhere lacking any measure of uniqueness. Then, she could hide from Aria and Sotir’s eyes.

Pan ran to the mausoleum window and looked out. The other sepulchers pressed close, and to Pan’s joy, she saw right into the next one. She could hide from Aria by portaling from interior to interior.

Before Pan drew her portal, she looked through the window and read a sign: Pian Family Mausoleum: 1809. The sign looked new.

Pan put a hand to her head. She found herself in a famous graveyard – a damned tourist attraction. No wonder Sotir found her.

The only five-hundred-year-old graveyard she knew of was Koptik. At first a grave for victims of a powerful bomb, it became a place where well to do Scaldin sent their dead. Pan bet the twisted spirits in the earlier part of the graveyard were older and also bomb victims. The mausoleums should be newer the further she traveled. Still, Pan would only be able to get so far. She’d go from mausoleum to mausoleum, heading for some kind of welcome center and likely a ton of police vehicles and arcanes.

How do I get out of this one?

 

The ship touched down, and Aria stood. She and Sotir kept well ahead of Alban as they ran for the gangway. Sotir tapped the release switch, and before the gangway touched the ground, Aria ran off. Sotir followed. Casimir joined them at a run, and Gavain brought up the rear. All of them were determined to beat Alban to Pan, but Alban, an experienced military officer in the best shape of his life, ran past. He carried the awful gun, and his aura showed only base colors of red and blue.

Aria wanted to catch up to him and tear the gun from his heartless hands. Instead, she searched the graveyard. She saw Pan’s meandering trail and because she had no choice, she pointed it out.

 “This way.” She glanced at Sotir.

He nodded his agreement.

Aria ran in the new direction, finding herself again ahead of Alban. She smiled and even outpaced Sotir. He held his staff in hand. If visions of the future captured his sight, he didn’t show it. His control had improved so much in the years she knew him.

Again, Alban ran past Aria.

“You aren’t going anywhere without our help,” Sotir said.

Alban slowed his pace and ran alongside Aria. She struggled to keep up. Alban seemed like a demigod out for a morning jog.

Slowly, Aria fell back. She stopped and doubled over. Aria breathed hard and tried to catch her breath.

Sotir stopped too and searched the horizon. “She’s not nearby. She’s too far to catch on foot.”

“Maybe, we should get some kind of vehicle.” Gavain’s hands rested on Aria’s back.

Beep Beep! Chirped a perky little device.

“Done,” Alban said. “Unfortunately, one of us will get left behind. I’ve only got four seats. I vote you.” Alban pointed to Gavain.

The roar of two engines approached. Aria raised her head just in time to see two motorcycles stop beside their group.

Alban latched his gun to one and gestured for Aria to get on behind. “You and me. Casimir and Sotir. Gavain, go back to the ship and follow us around. You can fly a ship, right?”

“I have the basic skills.”

Alban tossed Gavain a keyring. “Good luck. Aura Reader, come on.”

Aria straightened and walked towards Alban. Before she climbed onto the back of his motorcycle, she faced the graveyard.

“Pan!” she screamed.

The men jumped, with the exception of Sotir. Aria hadn’t meant her scream to sound so desperate and shrill, but she couldn’t help it. Thanks to Alban, she now had little chance to speak to Pan face to face.

 

Inside the sepulchers, Pan jumped from building to building, invading the resting places of well-to-do individuals.

Only twice did she encounter spirits. The first time she saw a strange shadow woman. As Pan crossed to the window, the shadow woman awoke from her coffin and demonstrated her flexibility. The second time Pan found a gargoyle-like young man. He remained atop his coffin, moving only his eyes. Pan left those sepulchers. She chose the easiest routes to safety.

Now, Pan found herself at the end of the line, not because the sepulchers ended but because she couldn’t see out the damn window. Pan tried to clean the view. She rubbed her shirt against black specks and a brown coating. The window wouldn’t clear. Instead, Pan got a shade of rust on her garment and hands.

With disgust, Pan stared at her hands and longed for the clean clothes that probably held tracking devices. She huffed and turned away from the window. She needed to go back. Or, she could try to enter a new sepulcher from outside. Neither option thrilled her. Pan wouldn’t run back into the arms of those spirits, or the arms of Sotir.

Then again, how close could he be?

Pan used her portals to jump ahead. Her pursuit had to be on foot. They couldn’t fly a spaceship into the forested gravesite.

Pan ran to the door, threw the lock bar, and pulled it open. The door budged only a crack, but through that crack, Pan heard the whine of engines.

“They took a spaceship into a graveyard?” she said.

The engine zipped and revved. At times it grew loud, and others soft. It didn’t make Pan think of a spaceship. Instead, she thought of…a motorcycle. Pan slammed the door, but it wouldn’t close fully. She threw the latch down. It just fit into place.

“Pan!” Sotir called from somewhere nearby. “We’re trying to help you. This is…”

Pan didn’t hear the rest of his words. She ran back to the window and reexamined the centuries old grime. She held her hands aloft, wishing that an arcane cleaning power existed. Pan’s heart beat fast. She struggled to think.

“Pan, I know exactly where you are.” Sotir’s voice seemed just outside the door.

Eep, thought Pan.

She searched the mausoleum. If she couldn’t see through the window, she would get rid of it. Pan saw no lose stone, so she pulled a sarcophagus lid from its perch and threw it at the window. Pan ducked her own telekinetic toss and covered her head. Amid the grind of stone and shatter of glass, sparkling pieces rained down, looking so much cleaner in their separated state.

Pan looked out the new hole. To her dismay, she saw no windows. Instead, she gazed over a valley. Pan could only see her way to a rooftop.

Good enough.

Pan drew her portal and stepped onto the roof. She glanced at the damaged sepulcher and saw Sotir come around the side.

A dart whizzed into the stone. It just missed Pan. Above her perch, Pan spotted Detective Casimir. He fired again, and Pan telekinetically pushed the dart away.

“Pan, you either cooperate or take a nap. This is for your own good.” Casimir shot again.

Pan pushed it away.

“Dammit. I really thought you’d go for the food,” Casimir complained.

Sotir sought his way down the hill, using his staff for aid. “Pan, if you don’t come with us, you’ll run into Aria and Alban. Alban is a navy officer, and we can’t keep you safe from him forever. He has a gun, filled with experimental arcane suppressant. If you get hit with that, then your life really will be over.”

Sotir said ‘if.’ Pan just wouldn’t get hit.

She drew a portal and hopped to the next roof. She couldn’t afford to take a nap with Brynn still free.

 

Aria clung to Alban’s waist. Though he seemed the epitome of the masculine physique, she held him as little as she could. She might hate this man, but Pan hated Brynn and look where that got her. So, Aria just focused on sending Alban in the wrong direction. She found it easy. Pan had left no trail.

“I’ll bet she’s moving towards the welcome center.” Alban raised his voice over the roar of the cycle.

Aria just hummed a non-committal answer.

“I’ll head in that direction.”

You do that. Aria studied his aura.

Alban’s base colors of blue and red glowed with no emotional interference. At least, he didn’t relish the chase. His blue suggested a thoughtful, calculating nature. His red hinted at a bit of a temper but more so determination. Running through his aura, Aria glimpsed a hint of gold. Alban thought he did right.

“Please don’t shoot Pan with the suppressant,” Aria said into his ear.

“No? What do you want me to do instead?” A short thrill of yellow amusement invaded his aura and then dissipated.

“Tranquilize her?” Aria said. “Just please don’t prove her right.”

Alban’s aura turned red. “What do mean ‘prove her right?’”

“Pan is angry because Brynn killed all those reapers, people just like Pan, without giving them a chance to do better than those that came before. Both Brynn and Pan have proved that reapers don’t have to be mass murderers or scavengers.” Aria watched Alban’s aura.

It swirled calmly. No colors changed.

“If you shoot Pan with suppressant, she’ll believe she’s bad. She’ll believe we don’t see her any other way, and she’ll become what we fear.” Aria blinked and watched Alban’s colors, hovering so close to her eyes.

Alban’s blue worked in a pattern. “If you ask me, Brynn hasn’t really proved herself. She’s not a mass murderer, but she’s a serial killer through and through. As for Pan, she already has a revenge scheme. She’s probably going to kill Brynn – if she can. That’s step one on the road to traditional reaperhood.”

“She says she wants to be the very best reaper. Killing Brynn I think is not Pan’s real goal. She wants Brynn’s praise more than Brynn’s death,” Aria said.

“Well, speak of the reaper.” Alban looked up.

Aria followed the tilt of his head. Pan jumped from roof to roof, and Alban turned the cycle in pursuit.

 

Atop a large sepulcher, Pan gazed at the horizon. A flurry of lights approached, probably police cars. They parked near a new building and set up a barrier. A giant truck arrived, and Pan thought it might house a swat team. As if on cue, the team trotted out. She searched for arcanes among the small army but saw none. Maybe, they all chased after Brynn.

Pan could be thankful for the lack of arcanes, but she didn’t know how she would pass the barrier of law enforcement.

Far in the distance, Pan thought she saw Kallitech. A spire reached high over low buildings. Pan thought it might signify the church of the Mother Tree – the place where she could find the time controlling arcane and an extra power to aid her eventual face off against Brynn.

First, Pan needed to hide. She portaled to the ground and took shelter behind a large iron fence. An enormous sepulcher rose from the center of the gated area, and mature trees shaded the space. Evergreens and shrubs blocked much of the outer graveyard from view.

Pan knew this kind of place: private, a bit sinister, and dark, even at daybreak. She would bet her new healing power that this place was haunted.

“I have to do this.” Pan set her shoulders and walked. “I’ll find the way out and sneak away.”

Pan approached the sepulcher. Rings and symbols covered the doors and surrounded the windows. On the building’s corner, she found a sign. It read: Children, elderly, infirm, and pregnant individuals should skip this part of the tour.

Definitely haunted.

“Pan!” Aria cried. Her voice sounded nearby the gate.

Pan hugged the building’s exterior and looked back. The iron fence possessed spikes and some modern barbed wire. Pan could hide for a time, but she still needed to get away. She hurried for the back of the fence and stepped on a rattling hunk of metal. She startled and moved off what appeared to be a small sewer grate.

The sewer! Would it take Pan all the way to Kallitech? Close-set Scaldin settlements often shared a sewer system, and Kallitech looked close enough. At the very least, the sewer could take Pan out of Koptik or Prooptik. Whatever this place was.

Unfortunately, Pan couldn’t fit in this small grate. She saw a pipe inside not even big enough for her head. She couldn’t see a way down to the bottom, so she couldn’t draw a portal. Pan needed a bigger entrance.

“Pan, please listen?” Aria begged. The sound of footsteps rounded the fence. Aria crunched over dead leaves and padded across soil. “I just want to talk.”

Pan sighed. While she searched for her sewer grate, she might as well. “Go ahead. Talk. I can hear you fine.”

“Can I see you?” Aria asked.

“I’m a bit busy.” Pan stalked the back of the fence.

Bushes and trees shaded her figure from view. They also hid the graveyard, beyond the fence. She listened for Aria’s movement. The whine of a motorcycle sounded in the distance.

“What are you going to do?” Aria sounded close.

Pan froze and searched the fence. “Well, Aria, I have plans to do something pretty criminal, and I don’t want anyone to stop me. But, why don’t you think of it as me getting free.”

“Pan, you don’t have to go after Brynn. If you fight her, she’ll kill you. You have no idea what she’s capable of. You have no idea what she’s done to try to reach you. Someone else will make her answer for the murders.” A shadow moved at the fence’s edge and stopped before Pan.

Pan could just see the blue eyes and black curls of Aria through a smattering of leaves. No doubt Aria could see her, at least her aura.

“Pan, this won’t make you free. It’ll make things worse.”

“I can’t just let her get away with it.” Pan looked into Aria’s blue eyes.

“Someone else will punish her. It doesn’t have to be you. Why do you think only you will be punished for being a reaper?” Aria reached into the foliage and grabbed an iron rung.

Pan’s eyes darted to Aria’s hand. She started to back away and move along the fence. “I don’t know. Brynn will…she might talk her way out of it. She’s done it for years. She’ll just do it again.”

“There is no way she can talk her way out of this.” Aria’s hand retreated from the bar, and she followed Pan along the fence.

By the mausoleum, Pan heard a rustling. She tucked herself against a tree, waited, and watched. Aria’s shadow caught up and stopped. A small nocturnal animal ran around the sepulcher, bunching up with each gallop.

A Porza. Squish flat, squish flat. That’s how they run. First, they’re flat. Then, they squish.

Pan thought that the Porza looked late, galloping in its uneven gait. Dawn approached. It probably had to get home before curfew, but it would be later still.

“Sorry, Aria.” Pan sighted through the leaves and glimpsed grass. She drew a quick portal and caught the Porza.

“Sorry?” Aria choked off a squeal. “Oh, Pan!”

Pan smiled. She grabbed the iron rungs and peered through the fence and the bushes. Several sepulchers away, the police got ready to face her. Their lights flashed between structures. They seemed like a distant problem, especially since Pan saw a sewer grate so close. It rested in a valley, well below her position, and out of Aria’s reach.

“It’s awful…” Aria mourned. She didn’t mean the reaper situation.

Pan sighted through the fence and drew her portal beneath her. She fell through and tumbled free.

The grate rested mere steps away. Pan rose to her feet and stared up at Aria.

Aria held her hands out from her body. The Porza wiggled along the fence and popped through, finally finding a way back home.

“There you are,” said a nearby voice.

Pan turned and faced a man in navy dress. He aimed a large gun at her. Alban.

“Don’t make me do it.” Alban shook his head. “You can take the cuffs instead.”

Pan glanced at his waist where a pair of shock cuffs dangled. Her eyes moved to his hands. He held the gun firm. A device blinked from his wrist – anti-telekinetic measures. He wore boots with the same technology. They attracted strongly to a mineral in Scaldigir’s soil. Boots would keep him on the ground. The wrist brace would keep the gun in his hands.

Shouts crossed the graveyard. Reinforcements for Alban. Aria picked her way down the hill. Reinforcements for Pan? With that stench, maybe – at least, unintentionally.

“Shock cuffs?” Alban asked.

“I’d rather not.” Pan stepped back.

She could still reach the grate. She didn’t look at it.

“Tranquilizer? If you wait for our friends, they can provide it.” Alban nodded towards the police.

Pan shook her head.

“Alright.” Alban pulled the trigger.

Pan raised her hand and turned up the mouth of his gun. The twisted gun sputtered and popped. It leaked fluid. Alban swore and dropped it. Pan smiled. He pulled a small gun from his hip, ready to fire again.

Police arrived. One took a shot with a tranquilizer.

Pan created a telekinetic shield and pushed everything, in all directions, away. Stones broke, and trees bent.

Then, with a flick of her hand, Pan levitated everything.

The police and their weapons went up. Alban went up. Far off, the police cars went up, and nearby, stones floated through the air. Pan made a conscious effort to leave only Aria on the ground.

Pan surrounded herself with a tight tornado of stones. They overlapped each other in rows, clicked and whooshed, and made generally a lot of noise. But, Pan could still hear the shouts of the police. Just on the other side of the wall, she heard the shouts of Aria, possibly even Sotir and the detective. Pan pushed the storm outwards, hoping to find the grate.

She did. She kept her storm in motion and ran for it. As she focused some of her energy on reaching her escape, the storm of stones grew sloppy. Holes formed.

Pan reached the grate and, with her telekinesis, flung it aside. It banged free. Then, Pan fell into the hole, slowing herself only at the bottom.

Her feet touched ground inside a puddle of water. She climbed onto a walkway’s edge. It formed a path through the tunnels. She shined a flashlight forward. It stank and was dark. Pan felt she deserved both.

She looked up through the hole and let the storm of stones die. Gently, though she couldn’t see them, she set the people down.

With her mess above handled, Pan traced a portal and stepped through, leaping from one point of sewer to the next. She kept going: portal, step, portal, step.

Pan’s stomach growled. She wished she brought more food, but it didn’t matter. Pan could eat later. Maybe, she could even eat Brynn.

What would it be like to reap a reaper? Would she get the sum total of all Brynn’s power? Pan couldn’t handle that. She would let Brynn be lost to time. Speaking of which, she had a date with a dead time traveler, and Sotir would know it. Pan had to get there fast.