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  “Can you, you know?” Rohan whispered. “Go and see what’s going on?”

  Corinne nodded and flew out of the car. He watched as she trailed through the sky, growing smaller and smaller until she hovered over the front entrance to the airport. Then she flew back and landed in the taxi, shaking her head.

  “We’re too late,” she said. “Police are all over the airport, and I’d bet they’re after you. No one’s getting in there, especially you.”

  “So we’re out of options?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  She gestured nearby to a large box truck coming from the opposite direction, where the road was more open. The driver, a dark-skinned man in a t-shirt, was attempting to maneuver himself out of traffic and onto the shoulder so he could go around. A sedan blocked his way, so he started shouted at the sedan’s driver.

  “I passed through that truck on the way back to you. He’s carrying a shipment of rugs headed for Uzbekistan. He also has a passport hanging from his rearview mirror. It’s a risk, but—”

  “Isn’t Uzbekistan like two days’ drive from here? That’s a long drive. What if he stops?”

  “It’s not a foolproof plan, Rohan. But it seems like we’d have a shot. You’d rather see what the authorities have in mind for you?”

  He had to act quickly. The truck wasn’t moving fast, but it was moving.

  “Okay,” he decided. “Especially since I don’t have much time. Altemus is out there trying to open another portal, if I know him at all….”

  “You’re considering going after him?” she said, her voice rising with hope.

  “I can’t let him keep killing people, and tricking people into insanity. I was a part of this, and I can stop him. He lied and told me that he could revive my fiancée, Senna. And I was stupid enough to believe him.” He sighed, deeply. “So yeah, I’m going after him.”

  “Great!” she said, then appeared outside the taxi, motioning him to hurry. “The truck’s not waiting around for you.”

  Rohan handed the taxi driver a few bills and thanked him. Ignoring the honking cars, he hopped the median onto the other side of the road.

  Traffic was starting to flow again, and he had to sprint to catch up with the truck. He reached out and grabbed the sides of the open door, heaving himself up and into the back as Corinne flashed over to him. When he had caught his breath, he secured the canvas flap over the back opening, to ensure no one noticed him.

  The truck jolted forward, causing Rohan to fall over and land hard on the rugs. They were coarse and thick, but still Rohan managed to find a place where he could rest. Corinne went back and forth between floating up to the top of the truck to see where they were going, to sinking back through the roof to check on Rohan. He was exhausted, and soon found himself nodding off.

  Chapter 8: Spiritual Magnetism

  The trip in the box truck had been rough. Rohan had cramped legs, and even worse cramps in his stomach from hunger. Still, sleeping on the pyramid of rugs had been one of more restful nights he'd had lately.

  They made it across the border to Uzbekistan easily enough, thanks to lax security at this part of the Turkmenistan border. Rohan struggled to communicate with the locals, but he eventually found a taxi and took it to a train station, catching the last train to Samarkand just before it left.

  He and Corinne worked their way through the crowded train as it pulled away from the station. Desert sand billowed behind the train as it chugged down the tracks. Ahead, the mountains of Uzbekistan lay in the distance, a pleasant sight after being in the desert so long.

  The train was old and rickety, and looked like it had been built in the early twentieth century. A faint scent of cigarettes lingered in the seats. The halls of each car were filled with people speaking both Turkemeni and Uzbek. Rohan thought he heard some French and Russian, too, and many other languages he didn’t recognize.

  Rohan attempted to push his way through the crowd, but it was bustling and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

  “You sure this is the best idea?” Rohan asked Corinne, muttering quietly so no one would notice him talking to himself.

  “The next stop is Samarkand,” Corinne said. She floated alongside Rohan as he navigated between people. “From there we can figure out where to go next."

  A thought struck Rohan. “Mahkmuhd, he said he was from Uzbekistan!”

  He remembered the vivacious taxi driver and told Corinne about him. He still had the driver’s business card in his wallet.

  “But he’s in Russia,” she said.

  “Maybe he has family or friends in the area? Can’t hurt to call.”

  She nodded, and then motioned at a group of people looking his way. “Careful. They’re looking at you talking to yourself.”

  He turned away from the group and headed toward his seat. Being in a crowd had its risks, but they needed to take the train. A bus would have been slow-moving and subject to searches if authorities saw anything unusual, while a train was less likely to be stopped once they made it far enough from the border.

  Rohan recognized his quarters just a little farther up the aisle.

  “It’ll be nice to have some quiet,” Corinne said.

  As she floated through a woman, the woman pulled her blue shawl tighter with a frightened glance around the car.

  Rohan opened the door to their quarters and saw a family already inside. He nodded to the family, stuffed his backpack under the seat, and plopped down.

  “Well, I’m getting some sleep.”

  The family looked up at him and asked him something in Uzbek.

  Rohan flushed and smiled, shaking his head in apology. They smiled back and returned to their conversation. Rohan glanced at Corinne and tilted his head towards the family.

  “Until we’re alone,” Corinne said, with a look of understanding, “looks like we can’t talk to each other for a while.”

  Through the big square windows, the desert landscape slowly gave way to brown mountains rising into the sky.

  Rohan settled down in his booth and used his backpack as a pillow. Corinne sat next to him, floating a few inches above.

  A child stared at him—a young Uzbek girl with brilliant brown eyes. Rohan gave her a smile, but her gaze wandered to where Corinne was. With an unsettled look, Corrine simply stared back.

  The father, a man in a button-up shirt with cropped grey hair, said something stern to the girl and she looked away, but then stole a glance back to Corinne's location.

  Rohan looked over at Corinne and gestured slightly with his head, motioning toward the hallway outside the car. You should go.

  She looked like she was about to protest, but then folded her arms and drifted through the door, giving Rohan an annoyed glance before disappearing down the hallway.

  Outside, the sunset painted the sky in orange and purple, and soon Rohan found himself drifting off to sleep.

  Several hours passed before Rohan stirred. A gentle brush of wind against his ear gave him a slight chill, and Corinne whispered, “Wake up.”

  Rohan startled. “Wha—?”

  The family was still asleep, illuminated by the faint starlight that leaked in through the edges of the windows.

  “Something’s happened,” Corinne said.

  “Police?” Rohan asked.

  “No, something… else.”

  Rohan grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. He slipped into the hallway, where several people had already gathered, murmuring and whispering.

  Corinne floated over the hustle and pointed downward.

  Rohan pushed his way through the crowd and saw a man on the ground. He was older, with a pointy, triangular beard and a velvet rug cap. His hands were on his chest, as if he had grabbed it just before falling down, and his lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide open.

  “A heart attack,” Corinne said. Her eyes grew wide with worry. “Quick, into the bathroom.”

  Swirling light began radiating from the man’s bod
y. It lifted into the air, manifesting itself into a human form. Rohan looked around the crowd, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

  Rohan gave Corinne a confused glance, then did as she said and stepped into the small bathroom.

  “Close the door,” Corinne said as the spirit turned, seeming to notice them.

  Rohan did, but a moment later the door glowed and the form of the man came through. He hovered before Rohan. The silver light within the man raged like a storm, then settled into an expression of fright. The spirit turned and tried to fly away, but a tendril of light reached out from Rohan and yanked the spirit back.

  “Release me!” the spirit shouted. He lifted his hands as if to strike Rohan, but Rohan flinched. The act made the spirit whimper in pain.

  “Why am I here?” the spirit asked.

  “I….” Rohan looked nervously to Corinne. She gave him a go ahead gesture. “I guess it’s because you died.”

  The spirit hung his head, considering. His eyes were full of anger when he looked back up. “If I died, why are you pulling me to you? Let me go.”

  Corinne floated forward, eyes inquisitive. “Rohan, try something. Will him to do something he wouldn’t normally do.”

  Rohan imagined the spirit doing a twirl, like a tiny ballerina on a music box. Indeed, the spirit did just that, cursing the entire time.

  “This is the power you have,” Corinne said, staring at Rohan with a mixture of awe and terror. “You can control him—”

  “Enslave, you mean,” the spirit said. “As he’s done with you.”

  “To… me?” She blinked at this, but bit her lip before turning to Rohan. “Send him off, Rohan. Release him.”

  “Corinne, do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” Rohan asked. “My Senna…. If there’s even still a chance—”

  “I thought this was about stopping Altemus now?” she said, horrified. “You’re still thinking about your fiancée? She’s dead!”

  “So are you, but look at you! You’re here, aren’t you?”

  She stared at him, then her anger melted to a look of pity and she motioned at her translucent form. “This is how you’d have it?”

  “It… I…. We’ll need all the help we can, if we hope to stop Altemus,” Rohan said, grasping. Yes, he’d take Senna in any form he could get. But, if Corinne wasn’t happy as a spirit, or whatever the hell she was, how would Senna feel? Could she ever be happy in such a state? Rohan cursed, confusion clouding his mind.

  “You can’t really be considering this?” Corinne said.

  Rohan looked at the man’s spirit, now standing before him with a terrified expression. Corinne was right, this wasn’t the man he was. If he did this, he’d be no better than Altemus.

  “I release you,” he said.

  But nothing happened.

  “Focus,” Corinne said.

  The spirit nodded vigorously.

  Rohan held out his hands, as if warding off the spirit, and focused. Closing his eyes, he saw a thin, golden ribbon reaching between him and the spirit. He concentrated, and then felt a sudden release. At the same time, the train floor opened, revealing a swirling portal. A river of light flowed under the train, exactly like the river he had seen at the Door to Hell.

  The spirit sighed with relief. “Thank you.” Then he entered the river, and the portal quickly closed behind him.

  “I’m proud of you,” Corinne said. “When you were in the hotel, you would have never dreamed of controlling a spirit. Now you’re moving along. Baby steps.”

  Rohan ran a hand through his hair. “Why should I have such power?”

  “We don’t always have a choice of what our destiny is. It seems spirits are drawn to you, so maybe it’s part of some greater purpose?”

  “Or it’s just the result of a botched blood ritual.”

  “Or both.”

  “The ritual in the desert, it changed me in more ways than I would have thought.” He was quiet for a moment, then considered Corinne. “Do you think I could dismiss you?”

  “I—I don’t know. I hadn’t really considered it, at the time. It’s true though, that I tried to leave and couldn’t.”

  He closed his eyes and held out his hands, but nothing happened. She shrugged with a smile.

  “I couldn’t really abandon you now, anyway,” she said. “You need me if you hope to have a chance against Altemus.”

  Rohan knew it was true. Still, he felt bad for her.

  “What’s down there, waiting for you?”

  “I still don’t know, exactly.” She turned to the window, looking lost. “All I can remember is a wonderful time in the afterlife. I remember the emotions, but not the details. They’re slowly coming back, but in small pieces.”

  As the train charged ahead, Rohan stared out at the mountains and wondered what memories Senna would have as a spirit. He settled back into his booth and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t stop staring at the stars.

  ***

  The station in Samarkand was modern, with beige walls and arched windows that stretched fifty feet into the air. When the train pulled in, Rohan made his way through a crowd of people to the nearest payphone. He pulled out Mahkmuhd’s business card and waited for almost twenty rings before he heard a voice on the other end of the line.

  “Rohan!” Mahkmuhd said through staticky reception. “My friend, how are you?”

  “I’m stranded.”

  “Where?”

  “Samarkand.”

  “What in heavens are you doing there?” Mahkmuhd asked. “I thought you were going back home to California when the job was finished.”

  “We experienced some… setbacks. Listen, I need your help.”

  “Say no more, Mr. Evans. You can count on me.” Mahkmuhd gave him an address, and then they reminisced about their time at the bar. When Rohan hung up the phone, he was feeling much better about the journey. He was ready for another adventure.

  Chapter 9: Uzbekistan

  The roads through the Uzbekistan cities were well kept in some places, but crumbling in others. The taxi jerked about suddenly, whenever Rohan least expected it.

  Despite the rough ride, he was captivated by the scenery. He admired the way fences had been fashioned from large stones, forming patterns with the different colors of rock. Back home, in the U.S., all the houses were the same. Here, each home had its own distinct feel and history. He stared out at the muted colors of polished stone and clay, tall wrought iron gates painted white, and people sitting in their doorways smoking and talking and staring as they passed by.

  “Ever been here?” he asked Corinne.

  She shook her head, then motioned to the driver, who was looking back at him and grinning.

  “Of course,” the driver said. “I live here many years.”

  “Ah, yes.” Rohan felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he made a mental note to stop doing that.

  They pulled up to the address that Mahkmuhd had given them, and saw a small complex of houses connected to each other. The compound’s clay exterior was accented with a long, tall double door, and wooden-frame windows were open here and there.

  After letting them out, the taxi driver drove away quickly.

  "This is the spot?” Corinne asked.

  “That’s what he said,” Rohan replied. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, then looked up to watch the wind playing with the leaves. "I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up here." He paused, turning to her. “Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t remember much.”

  “Actually, I’m feeling different now, though I’m not sure stronger is the right word. Like I can sense more, and some memories are returning. For example, I know I had a family, though I can’t remember what they looked like yet.”

  She stared into the sky, lost in thought for a moment. “I’m not sure which is worse, not remembering you had a family, or remembering that you did but not being able to remember anything about them.”

  “Or remembering everything, but knowing you’ll never
see them again.”

  “Yes,” Corinne said. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

  “I’d have done anything for Senna.”

  “Judging from what you’ve attempted so far, I don’t doubt it.”

  “Yeah, well, look where it got us.” He stared up at the house, hating himself, hating the fact that his whole life right now was devoted to stopping Altemus. But it was his fault for putting his trust in the old man, so he could only blame himself.

  Rohan looked around again, wondering if they should try knocking on one of the doors. None of them had numbers or names.

  “Our actions have consequences,” Corinne said.

  “Are you telling me I should have somehow known Altemus was going to try to kill me? That he would open a portal and make a ghost haunt me?”

  “I’m not haunting you. I’m helping you.”

  “Call it what you want, but—”

  A cloud of dust rose from the street nearby and a black car pulled around the corner, interrupting them. The car stopped, and two large men in dark grey suits got out. They looked at Rohan, then said something in what seemed like a mixture of Uzbek and Russian.

  “Mahkmuhd’s friends?” Rohan asked.

  “Get in the car,” the larger of the two said. He wore a pair of sunglasses, and lowered them so Rohan could see his eyes. “We’ll ask the questions.”

  Rohan considered running. These guys looked too daunting, even if they were Mahkmuhd’s connections.

  “One has a gun,” Corinne said.

  “As if I wasn’t nervous enough,” Rohan replied.

  The big man looked at him, eyes narrowing. Then he said, “No need to be nervous. Get in.”

  “Seriously, stop talking to me in front of other people,” Corinne said. “And be careful.”

  Inside the car, the big man jumped into the driver's seat, while the other man sat next to Rohan in the back seat. Rohan saw the gun on his hip. There was no chance of escape, even if he dared to try.

  The big man in the sunglasses drove. They rode in silence for half a mile, and then the man next to Rohan turned and asked, "How do you know Mahkmuhd?”