Ghost recognized the slight look of awe in Amber’s eyes as she tried to picture the places in her mind. He smiled to himself. They really were amazing places. The trick was keeping your wits about and not looking like a gawping tourist when you were there. Tourist, now that was a word he hadn’t used in a long time. The idea of just visiting a place for no other reason than to see it. He shook his head.
“So I figure we wait until the snow’s melted a bit. Then head back. I need to make some enquiries about getting you a passable id and that’s going to take some time anyway,” he suggested.
Amber nodded her agreement.
***
A few week’s later and they set out. The snow still fell in occasional flurries, but underfoot it was turning into icy slush. They were still careful as they walked, but it was much easier than trudging through several feet of snow. There had been no word or sign of the Necromancer. Ghost wasn’t surprised. If they’d continued to explore the Mall, then they probably would have run into each other again, or been able to determine if he actually was dead this time. Ghost doubted it.
He’d sent the Harlequins to Chorus and the Capital to make discrete enquiries. Now he found himself looking forward to seeing Gideon again. He liked the warmth and comfort of the Theatre and in his heart, their place at the graveyard wasn’t really home. But it was familiar and in a changing world, that meant a lot.
It was mid afternoon when they finally walked into the old Church. As Ghost had expected, Gideon was standing off to one side, quietly adjusting some flowers in a vase. As Ghost and Amber walked over to him, he turned and greeted them, speaking softly.
“Welcome back. It’s good to see you both.”
“Hi Gideon,” Amber smiled.
Ghost shook his hand warmly and looked around the church. There were a few people kneeling quietly in the old pews, lost in prayer. The faint smell of incense lingered in the air. “All is well here?” he asked.
Gideon smiled, “Always. He looked up reverently at the wooden cross suspended from the middle of the ceiling.”
Ghost carefully didn’t follow his gaze. He’d seen to much death in his time and the carefully sculpted image of a man dying a painful death was not something he found any peace in. Instead he looked at the flowers Gideon had been arranging.
“So is there anything I can help you with?” Gideon asked.
“We’re heading back out to the old school again. Any thoughts?” Ghost asked simply.
“Sounds like a good idea. I haven’t heard anything unusual going on in the wastelands.” Gideon replied. “As to the place itself, my advice is just use it to get clearer recollections of memories further back in time. At least for now.”
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