Phaedra Weldon - Geist: A Zoë Martinique Investigation (Volume 5)

GEIST

A Zo Martinique Investigation

PHAEDRA WELDON

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Copyright 2011 by Phaedra Weldon

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

This work and everything in it is the sole property of Phaedra M. Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.

Cover Art Design By Trapdoor

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

A Caldwell Press Publication.

www.phaedraweldon.com

www.zoemartinique.com

Books In The Zo Martinique Series

Wraith

Out Of The Dark

Spectre

Phantasm

Revenant

Beyond The Door

Geist

To my husband and daughter for supporting me in my decision to finish the books no matter what. You could have given up on me, but you didn't.

To my mom and her unbelievable gardening stamina in the Southern Atlanta heat! Without her, I'd have never found my back yard again.

To Michael Romano and his incredible love for story. Dude, you have been an inspiration to me and to my enjoyment of Second Life.

To the Oregon Writers Network, for without you and Kris and Dean, there would be no Abysmal Universe in this world.

And to my father,

Dream the Dream Within, Daddy.

I miss you.

People are fragile.

We love, we laugh, we crave intimacy, and we blossom in relationships.

But these same things can also break our hearts, and thus, we die.

My fathera man I barely remembered since he disappeared when I was fourbroke my heart. He betrayed his wife. And the funny thing about him?

He's what you might callin some circlesan Angel .

Just goes to prove...we don't always know what we know.

Where I Stand

(The Story So Far)

My name is Zo Adiran Martinique and I am a Wraith.

I am also the Phantasm. I rule over the Abysmal Plane.

It's not as cool as it sounds.

Especially not in my present condition. The last time I looked, I was folded up in a fetal position slowly floating around in what appeared to be a giant egg made of murky green glass. This is actually the epicenter of the Abysmal Plane.

Some people call this Hell. The Abysmal, I mean.

I am the nexus; the central point which all things within this plane turn around. And after nearly four months like this, I still don't have a damn clue what that means.

How did I get here? Ask my father. It was his idea. Apparently having his daughter in the Phantasm's seat was supposed to make it easier for the Ethereal Plane to control the borders between the Outer Planes , the Ethereal and the Abysmal; and the Inner Planes , the Physical, the Mental, and the Astral.

Onlythings didn't quite work out the way he'd hoped.

Newp.

Wasn't gonna happen.

Cause what do you get when you take a twenty-something, hot on the heels of love and sex with a beautiful man who loves her back and lock her away from him? Not to mention fuck him up enough so that he can't come after her?

You get one pissed off daughter who is not going to cooperate. And what ticks my father and those other damn Ethereals off the most? Something they can't control. And by setting me up as the Phantasm, they really couldn't touch me.

It works the same way in reverse. No Abysmal creature, including myself, can touch the Seraphim, the one that sits in the throne of the Ethereal plane.

They gave me a "grace period" so that I could acclimate to being the-center-of-all-things. That's how they worded it. Not true. I was one half of this nightmare called the Outer Planes. I was the center of the Abysmal Plane. And somewhere in the Ethereal side there was an egg like mine, and inside of it was the Seraphim.

I wondered if it had a prisoner trapped inside like me. Sealed away from home. Growing more and more bitter.

Every now and then I would get a visit from the Ethereals in a theater that surrounded my throne. That's what they called it; a throne. It's a damn egg two sizes bigger than me for crying out loud. They would all sit around me in their damn white suits and stereotypical pristine wings and stare at me like some sort of plaything on display. Everywhere I turned I could see them through the murky glass. I pounded on the walls, yelled at them, screamed at them. I demanded they let me out.

All I got in reply was, "Seal the borders and we'll talk."

What they got back from me was, "Screw you."

That's when the same schmuck, dressed in an iridescent gray suit, would come up onstage where my prison floated and remind me about the greater good and how I needed to cooperate and be a gracious girl for the honor my dad had bestowed on me.

Honor, huh? So where was my father then? How come he never attended these functions?

I raised the middle finger of my right hand.

Childish I know, but can you blame me?

Every time they came I demanded to see my father. And every time they left me alone without another word.

Days would pass. And no one would come.

I slept a lot. Actually it felt more like I was drifting. Floating in space and just...nothing. And it was quiet.

So. Damned. Quiet.

When I would wake up and see the theater outside of my prison, I realized that this was a nightmare I couldn't wake from. So I did what any normal twenty something Wraith in my shoes would do. I got angry. I banged on the glass. I kicked at it. I yelled and screamed for my dad. Be he never came.

He never was the sort to show up when I needed him.

They came over and over again. I felt like one of those display eggs.

Wraithby Faberg.

Shit .

I knew I was falling into a heavy depression.

As the time passed, I did notice a repeating visitor. He looked like he belonged in the Abysmalcast of shadow and ashbut he had the feel of an Ethereal. What I mean is...he didn't feel kin to me. He had the same odd intenseness my dad had. That soft outer glow that Ethereals seemed to generate.

And yet, there seemed to be a shadow around him.

He was small. I thought he was a kid at first, until one time he came up on the stage when no one else was around and stood just outside the glass. I straightened up as best as I could and made faces at him. That's when I noticed his face. He lookedordinary. Like a store mannequin. Nothing except the frame work and skin with little characterization.

It was just after that visit I started dreaming about the others. My friends.

And thinking... Sophia , the First Born (child of the first Phantasm) they'd put in this thing before me, learned to travel outside of it's walls. Somehow she'd either moved outside of it mentally, or maybe astrally.

Sophia learned to manipulate the planes to her will. She'd commanded all sorts of creatures to manipulate people and things in the Physical plane, spy on those in the Mental and Ethereal. She had been the one to put bounties on the heads of her siblings, forcing them to bond with physical creatures where they could hide from their sister's wrath. She'd even trapped her youngest brother, Azrael (also known to me as T.C., Trench Coat and Archer) into obeying a symbiont-controlled human named Reverend Rollins.