Chapter 21: Cursed

Joed's form frowned, eyeing the place he had been presented with. It was a bit ironic really, but the location was desolate enough and had spare materials if needed. So, with little complaint, the Demon forced his human flesh-suit to sit inside the stone crypt as he glared out at the bright sunlight that was radiating over the graveyard.

"It will do."

One of the sinisters that had been hiding in the shadows of a nearby tree flinched and pulled down its hood to reveal its eyeless face. His lips parted as if he was afraid to speak, but finally, he was able to drag some words from his dog-like snout, "Does this place not please you, Master? You said that you wanted a base in the human realm so you could always sense where the child was located."

The demon tapped his fingernails against the stonework as if in thought. "Yes, I did, but there is entirely too much sunlight here for a graveyard. Aren't they supposed to be dreary? Right now, all I can think of is Apollo and his stupid smirk."

The Demon stopped tapping his fingers when he heard a wet crack. He looked down at his hand … only to noticed that a finger had snapped off. Immediately, he wrinkled Joed's nose. This body was decaying far too quickly. He needed to feed or risk falling apart further. Maybe he should have been a little more careful with the flesh-suit when he forced out the inhabiting soul. A hole in the chest didn't exactly help in the decaying department.

Growling, the body snatcher picked up his decapitated finger and placed it haphazardly into a pocket. He'd find some staples later.

Standing up, he walked calmly through the sunshine and merry greenery until he was looming over his cowering creation. Despite falling apart, the Demon was smirking, his jagged teeth seeming misplaced in the bright light.

Said creation could only swallow. Whenever his Master had a smile like that it meant some poor fool was going to die. Nonetheless, the sinister asked, "What do you ask of me, my Master?"

The Demon smiled wider, his grin now impossibly big and unsettling, "Have you ever been fishing?"

The sinister nodded his head recalling his quiet hobbies as a human. "Yes … Why?"

The monster turned quickly, billowing the long jacket he was wearing. "We are going fishing for a soul. Now, help me rip a hole into that joke called the Ghost Zone. I can't wait to see how backed up it is. Plus, I need to make sure my fellow inmate is still where I left him. We don't need any competition after all."

…

Troy. That had been his name once but not anymore. He was just the sinister of present and a servant to both his murderer and maker.

"Master? What is happening here?" whimpered once-Troy as he followed his master through the rift. Despite being dead, a soul trapped in a dog suit, he still felt a shiver of fear as he stared at the void of thrashing hands and wailing voices. This place was horrible. He could hear the screams and cries of traveling spirits wanting to pass on. Some nearby blobs even tried to grasp at him, only to phase through his physical form. He knew he shouldn't be afraid of them, they couldn't even touch him ... at least not yet.

"This," stated the demon as he spread his arms wide, "is the Ghost Zone… or at least it used to be. Now its just a backup pit stop of everyone that has died since I awoke. They cannot pass on unless I allow them to and thus, are stuck here. Their decaying half-life is corrupting the whole area."

The sinister shook his doglike head in horror. Not one of the grappling dead had been able to pass since Master awoke? He knew his creator was a monster, but how powerful was he that he could stall the dead from passing on?

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Still shambling about, are we? You were the last one I was planning on seeing, body double," said the demon with a smirk as he walked forward into the pustule earth toward one decaying traveling spirit that still had his form. "Tell me? Can you feel the hunger yet fry cook?"

Joed, the fry cook, stop clawing at the earth of the floating island they were on. He, apparently, was trying to dig his own grave and actually had some physical-like aspects to be able to do it. Immediately, the rusting chains he dragged about jingled as he stumbled to almost dog-like legs, a strange black ooze bubbling from his mouth as he tried to speak, "Give me back my body! Give it to me!"

The demon merely laughed at this, easily pushing Joed back into the gooey earth, his voice almost jolly, "I see that the decay hasn't taken you like most of these poor bastards … but the hunger has set in, hasn't it? Even I can see your sharp claws from here and deforming jaw. Imagine what you would do if you were released on the human realm?"

The Demon then squatted down, smiling into the traveling-spirit's face as he asked, "Just how much flesh would it take to sate you?"

The body snatcher then made a show of waving a hand at Joed's growing disfigurements. The cook was changing and no longer a misty observer. His fog-like disposition had started to turn ashy and doglike disfigurements had started to take over the man's body. It looked like he was in the starting stages of becoming a sinister.

Besides himself, Joed looked down at his misty black hands and then curled them into his chest as if horrified by his own form.

His murderer merely stood up, smirking, "I can't wait until you are done cooking. When all these lost souls are done! What a magnificent army you will be and obedient as well. Fry cook … I think I will make you one of my Generals as a thank you for being my first outfit."

The cook wrinkled his nose at the body snatcher, his words spitting, "I will never obey. Never."

The demon's smile twitched slightly, the monster refusing to look at his four-fingered hand as he stood up, "Well, we'll just see about that, won't we? I'd play with you longer but I have another traveling-spirit I came here for. I'll search you out when you are too hungry to deny me a moment more little cook. Until then, ta-ta for now."

And with that, the Demon waved goodbye like this was all a friendly chat, his smile growing wider when the sobbing started a few seconds later.

He did enjoy breaking his toys, but it was only his nature he supposed. Being the victor generally came with blood-stains.

…

It could have been hours or minutes later. Time had always been distorted in the Ghost Zone and was even more so as of late as the dimension shivered on its foundation. It was hard to know where to look, the plane shifting even as he stood there, but it seemed that luck was on his side … and he found a Ghost Zone island covered in ash. A giant 'F' sticking out of the rubble.

Walking through the ghostly ruins, the zone's impersonation of the death site slightly less horrific than the Demon would have preferred, the body snatcher finally found what he was looking for. There, in the middle of the charred home, was the traveling-spirit of a young girl. She was running her charred fingers through what remained of her crispy hair, mumbling something over and over again as if she was stuck on repeat. She was much further along than Joed when it came to the hunger.

The demon wondered if she had eaten any ghosts yet.

"I'm sorry. So, sorry. Please … I was so hungry," whispered Sam to herself as she continued to stare at her reflection in the burned glass before her, her form gaunt-looking even in all of its burnt glory. For being dead, she looked half-starved.

The girl's whimpering stalled almost immediately though when she noticed a second reflection in the glass, her neck physically cracking like dry wood as she turned her head to look at her murderer. Her face was blackened, ruined, but those eyes. Those eyes had been spared in death and how full of hate they were ... And oh so ravenous.

Nonetheless, despite her starvation, Sam's rage won out, her lip rising in a sneer, "What have you done to me?! To all of us?!"

The murderer scratched his chin as if he trying to remember what she was talking about before he snapped his finger, "I killed you … if I remember correctly. I thought it was a rather spectacular display. Not everyone gets to go out in such a fantastic display. It really is a shame you don't remember."

The girl merely bore her growing fangs at him like an angry dog. Joed's body merely chuckled at this, reaching down and grabbing a fist full of hair to force her to look up at him, "But no worries dear, I'll make sure you never forget me again, because you are coming with me. You'd like that, right? A trip to the living world. A place of warm bodies ... a place to feed?"

Though she tried to pull away, tried to kick out, the demon knew she would give in the second there was something alive around to eat. Sinisters always were hungry.

…

It had been a few hours for his first day of school and nothing weird had happened. Well, ghost weird, because rich people and apparently their kids were their own brand of crazy. Nothing made that more apparent than gym class.

Danny stood meekly next to the Mystery Cheese Gang, all of them in their gym clothes as they held varying expressions of excitement. Overall, Danny could honestly say he wasn't regretting teaming up with the strange club. They were all a little weird in their own ways, but he never sat alone in any of his classes and Drake's bulky mass probably detoured a lot of bullying already.

Then again, Danny had a feeling that bullies weren't quite the same at a rich school. Power and blood ruled here, but apparently money still didn't change the gym teachers because the unison groan when a cart of balls came out spoke volumes.

"Not dodge ball again!" whined a thin boy with slicked-back hair, a bulky goon at his side. "I thought my father had that game banned. I will not have my beautiful face bruised again."

"You're just sore cause you can't dodge," joked a sporty girl, her ponytail bobbing.

A colorful barrage of pros and cons arguments were thrown around the gym until the coach finally took up his whistle and silenced them all, "Hey, I'll have none of that. No verbal degradation until the game starts. As for banning dodge ball, that's a real American sin, Damian."

The pretty boy merely raised a brow as if unaffected.

"Luckily, we have throwball," said Coach Lawrence, his muscly and hairy arm raising into the air with a ball in hand. "The rules are simple. Stay on your side of the line and throw balls at the enemy team. If a ball hits you, you are out and stuck in gym prison."

At this point, all the teens turned to look at the area called Gym Prison. It was a part of the gym cordoned off with old track and field equipment, pole vaults standing up every few feet like flexible bars. It even had crying drama masks hanging everywhere for atmosphere. It was obvious that the drama kids had put it up to make some kind of statement about sports being the death of art. The gym teacher either didn't care or was oblivious of the statement and merely took advantage of the situation. Thus, creating Gym Prison.

Danny sighed at this. He could already see where this was going.

Damien already had a scowl on his face, the boy complaining, "But these rules are exactly like dodge ball. You can't get away with this."

The coach raised a brow and was about to speak his peace when the sporty girl and her two sporty friends interrupted, "Stop hating on dodgeball, I mean throwball, Damien Hatethorn!"

"It's obviously different," continued one of the other girls with a pink pixie cut. "Dodgeball doesn't have a gym prison."

The short, dark-haired boy looked insulted before waving at the monstrosity that was Gym Prison, "It's Hawthorn! And I'm pretty sure that ours is the only school in the country with a gym prison, Macy. So that hardly counts."

The two little groups were about to continue their earlier argument when the coach blew his whistle, quieting everyone back down.

"As I was saying," continued Mr. Lawrence as the whistle dropped back around his neck, the man pulling out a smaller golden ball. "The rules are simple. Now you can get a fellow teammate out of Gym Prison by catching one of the enemy's balls mid-flight. Unless it is the Golden Switch Ball. If you catch the Golden Switch Ball mid-flight; you get to chose someone from the enemy team to be on your team. This includes Gym Prison. The winner of the game is when one side is completely out or when the bell rings and one side has more people than the other. Now, pick your teams."

Danny ran a hand down his face knowing all to well how this as going to go, especially now that he didn't have any powers and a lame arm. But just when he was contemplating what corner he was going to hide in for the whole game, the coach was suddenly pulling him to the side.

"Hey, Danny," said Mr. Lawrence, apparently completely oblivious that the game had started without him even saying go. "I understand that you have some medical reasons if you don't want to play today. It's a rough crowd out there."

Danny raised a brow and was about to ask what he meant by a rough crowd when a scream echoed over the gym.

"My face! My beautiful face!" came from Damien which was promptly followed by another kid screaming, "Ah my spleen! The pain! The pain," and, "Aghhhgggh! My manly bits!"

At this, the coach finally looked up, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted, "Hey! What did I say about aiming for vital organs and reproductive bits! You and you, head over to Gym Prison!"

There was some grumbling as the sporty girls made their way to Gym Prison, one of them smiling at Danny as if promising he would be next. Suddenly, his excuse that he could play died before it even escaped his lips.

Quickly looking up at Mr. Lawrence, Danny stated, "I'm good with sitting this one out."

Grunting in acceptance, the large man patted him on the shoulder, "Goodman. We need someone to guard Gym Prison anyway. I'll get you a pole to poke the other students with. I swear they are more like a pack of hyenas then teenagers."

Standing there Danny couldn't help but think that Casper High looked downright normal compared to what he had seen of this school so far … ghosts included.

…

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Vlad resisted the urge to run as he slipped away from Linx Nikolli. The blond man had finally looked away long enough to become enticed by a piece of art that was being used to cover a hole in the wall. It was the distraction Vlad needed. Vladco was important to him, but he had ghostly duties right now as well.

Linx would hardly notice if he was gone for a few minutes.

"Hey Vlad, I think this priceless piece of art is being used to cover a hole … in the wall," said Linx, his words dropping off when he realized that the company's owner was no longer behind him. "Hey, Vlad … where did you go?"

The billionaire cursed internally and quickly turned the corner, looking for a door he could slip into. Pulling open a door, he was immediately greeted by, "I'm the Box Gho-"

"Silence," hissed Vlad as he placed a hand over the spirit's mouth, sliding into what was apparently a broom closet. "I need to hide for a moment."

When the Box Ghost continued to speak behind Vlad's hand, the halfa promptly opened a box label 'cheese trophies' and stuffed the irritating little loudmouth into it. With that done, Vlad leaned against the door waiting for the telltale sound of Linx's leaving footsteps. He sometimes wondered why he hired such a driven man to be the figurehead of Vladco, but Linx could be a shark in the water. And the business world called for sharks sometimes.

Vlad listened to the footsteps outside the door for a few moments, until they seemed to wander away. Hopefully, he was off to bother the repair crews throughout the castle, but just when he sighed and turned to open the door handle – said door was suddenly torn open, Nikolli smiling at him as if he had just accidentally run into him.

"Oh hey, Vlad. I was wondering where I lost you," said Linx almost warmly, a brow raising as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You aren't trying to hide from me, are you?"

Straightening his tie, trying to keep a straight face even though he had literally been hiding in a broom closet (and yes he was more than aware of how many closet jokes Nikolli could choose from), Vlad merely murmured, "I merely got distracted by a ... rummaging sound."

"A rummaging, huh?" said the beefy blond man, obviously not believing his employer. "And what pray tell was rummaging in this here closet beside the media questioning your sexuality? Come on Vlad, just get a wife already or claim to be gay. In fact, most celebrities do one or the other before adopting a kid."

Vlad gave the man a deadpan look. Linx had been dropping hints like this all day. Vlad wouldn't be surprised to get his own wedding invitation in the mail at this rate. The man really did like good media, and now that Vlad was a family man, apparently he had an image for Vladco he had to uphold.

Waving to a box labeled cheese trophies, Vlad took a step to the side, "It's coming from that box. Perhaps you can reveal the answer for both of us."

The ex-military ghost hunter still held an amused glint in his eyes but strolled forward if only to entertain his employer's rather bad ploy to get out of work. Yet, the second his hands touched the cardboard … something horrible and supernatural popped up into the man's face:

"I am the Box Ghost! Fear all things of cubical quality … as well as cheese-themed trophies," said the ghost almost proudly, especially as the human stared at him dumbfoundedly.

Linx's surprise only lasted for a moment before he suddenly pulled a ghost gun out of seemingly nowhere, a glint in his eyes, "Don't worry Vlad. I'll deal with this for you."

A second later, the ex-ghost hunter was sliding out into the hall, chasing a screeching Box Ghost down the hall. Vlad merely took time to straighten his tie again as he watched the two forms disappeared, phasing through the floor a second later. It wasn't the distraction he asked for, but he'd take it.

...

Kristie and the rest of the kitchen staff stood at the kitchen windows … watching the madness as the roar of an overpowered lawnmower engine filled their ears.

"How did he even get the keys?" asked Hank, the server.

"The real question is what is he chasing?" asked Rolando, the head chef.

"Doesn't look like the Dairy King," replied the aging head maid, the woman wiping her hands on her apron. "We've all encountered him and that blue guy is the wrong kind of fat."

There was a hum of agreement from all four of them standing there, watching as the overpowered Lawn Muncher 3000 went passed the window, chasing a screaming little blue flying man. A ghost to be more accurate.

"I always knew all rich people were crazy," said Hank, the young man suddenly regretting his employment. He had heard the castle was weird but this was a bit much.

"I just feel bad for poor Danny," said Kristie. "Kid's bound to get corrupted."

"He'll either adapt and be better for it, or he'll go rich-crazy," said the head maid, Martha. "We'll just have to wait and see."

Still sipping their tea and coffee, the house staff watched as Linx's goggles glinted in the sunlight, the man chasing the ghost around to the other side of the castle, killing all the petunias as he went.

"Alright, finish your caffeine and then back to work everyone. The crazy is still going to be there when you're done. We have a supper to plan for," added the head maid, everyone guzzling down their designated drink.

...

"Well, the Box Ghost is dead … or redead I suppose," said Vlad calmly as he phased into the attic, a small collection of the ghostly council members turning to look at him as he fixed his cuff links.

"If only it was that easy. I've tried more than once," groused Skulker, the ghost looking up from a worn table where plans were scattered about. "We've been waiting all morning for you, by the way. Recon into a natural ghost portal did not go well. Just in case you wanted to know. Now that guy is probably redead."

"Unfortunate but informative," said Vlad blandly, turning into Plasmius a second later, his wounds reminding him that they were still healing. "And have we found any other information on this marked child?"

Skulker and Walker shared a look that Vlad promptly ignored. Their theories held no bases. None at all.

"Nothing new. Just the theories we've already given you," said Skulker carefully, ignoring the look that he got from Fright Knight, Sparx, and Clock Work.

"And have any of the ghostly scouts come back with the Demon's location?" continued Vlad, like this was a board meeting and not something more akin to a war meeting.

"No one has reported back any findings of our enemy or his ghastly followers. He has to be close though. His vendetta against you is obvious," said Fright Knight, the knight having been put in charge of the search parties. His next words were careful though, his ghostly mane flaring for a moment, "But I think the bigger concern should be what to do when we find him."

Plasmius raised a brow at this, stating simply, "We destroy him, of course."

"With what?" continued Fright Knight, the ancient spirit crossing his arms over his chest. "Those dog-creatures barely took damage during the council. They are made of older stuff. Dark magics. Things that likely came from before the Ghost Zone."

Vlad raised a brow at this but it was Walker that picked up on the knight's thoughts, stating simply, "The Soul Shredder is in the Ghost Zone and unreachable to us, you fool. And what if your old Master decided to team up with the Demon?"

Fright Knight looked insulted, but Sparx interrupted, "What of the ones that ruled before the Ghost Zone's creation? They were basically gods. So maybe we could find one of their weapons and end the beast. The Righteous Spear might even be-"

"Athena's spear is a myth and so are all of the old earthbound spirit-gods weapons," said Walker, ill amused. "We can't be chasing legends at a time like this. We need to gather more powerful spirits if we can't handle the Demon on our own. And as much as it pains me to say this, but perhaps we should try asking the spirits of the Wastes."

There were a few moans and groans about territorial nightmares, but Vlad's question interrupted it all. Thought he had gotten his hands on a fair number of spirit books, his collection didn't even compare to the Ghost Writer's legendary library. There were bound to be some gaps in his knowledge of ghostly things. He was still a mortal after all and required some sleep.

"Athena's spear? The earthbound spirit-gods? Are you talking about the Roman Gods? They were really real?" asked Vlad, immediately feeling dimwitted when the older spirits at the table turned to look at him.

"Yes, they were. In a way," said Clockwork, finally adding to the discussion, "They were not great creators as the mortals liked to believe. They were ancient spirits that were so powerful, so old, and so bound to the earth that they could steal human bodies. And how they liked to manipulate the mortals and their beliefs."

Clockwork's next words seemed to hang in the air like an old warning, "There is no greater power than belief … and what power it gave them. Until it didn't anymore. Their fall was great and heralded by one of their own."

All the older spirits at the table frowned knowing the tale all too well. None of them were willing to interrupt as the time spirit continued.

"We should look for the tools of Hades if we must find an ancient weapon. He did create the Ghost Zone after all," added Clock Work, a feeling of loss forming in his chest for a moment.

The silence that hung in the air was almost deafening at this point… which was why when the alarm on Vlad's phone went off, almost everyone twitched. It was almost 3:30 PM and the school day was done.

Transforming back into his human persona, looking at his phone, Vlad sighed through his nose, "We will discuss this in more detail later. I want to make sure Daniel gets home safely."

None of the spirits stopped him as he walked out of the attic though Walker and Skulker both shared a knowing glance. Clockwork also turned his head to them, letting them know he had questions of his own. He might not be all-knowing anymore, but he was wise enough to know when to go searching for knowledge.

…

Danny felt a smile tug at his lips again even as he rubbed at this aching arm. It was strained, pitiful even compared to how he used to smile in Amity Park, but it was still there. He wanted to feel bad about being happy, for betraying Sam and Tucker, but the Mystery Cheese Gang were all but entertainers. They currently were reenacting their favorite moments of throwball.

Who didn't love a slow-motion montage?

"And the best part was when you had to poke him with that stick in gym prison. That … that just made my afternoon, Danny. I literally wiped a tear away in pride," said Drake, the talkative teen wiping a fake tear away.

Wakata rolled her eyes at this, Trevor snicker and Lisa smiled warmly. The conversation might have continued, Danny finally feeling like just another teen again … if a painful reminder didn't just roll up in a limo.

Oh right, he was the heir of Vladco and a half-ghost. Or at least he had been a half-ghost. He wasn't sure what he was any more right now, but it wasn't just a teen making new friends at his new ritzy school.

Quickly, the driver exited and it wasn't the usual weird guy. The … strange guy from the bridge? Huh? Why couldn't he remember the guy's face all of a sudden? He had saved Vlad after all.

Yet, before Danny could question the strange feeling of mental loss, the driver opened the door for Danny. Vlad was waiting for him and the teenager didn't miss the way the billionaire's brow raised when he realized Danny was actually talking to kids his own age.

"See you guys tomorrow," said Danny quickly, sliding into the seat opposite of the billionaire before Vlad could do something embarrassing like lean forward and get the Mystery Cheese Gang's credentials or something.

Vlad was not blind to this as Daniel slammed the door shut before the driver could close it for him. So, despite himself, the older halfa put down his digital organizer, trying not to smile too much like a cat that had caught the canary. He knew sending Daniel to school would be good for him. It at least would get the youth's mind off of things that were out of his control.

"So, did you make some new friends on your first day of school?" asked Vlad, a smile tugging viciously at his lips. He took a special type of enjoyment out of being right, especially since they couldn't really battle to decide a victor anymore.

"You don't make friends on the first day," said Danny, still trying to angst like a normal teenager while crossing his arms over his uniform. "Those kids outside of the car were ... associates."

Vlad hummed, the smile still there.

Danny sat up straight, a horrible thought suddenly occurring to him. The Mystery Cheese Gang had been awfully chatty for meeting someone the first day, two days if you counted the hospital incident.

Before he knew it, the words spilled out of him, "You didn't pay them to be my friends, did you?!"

At this, Vlad picked his scheduler back up and laughed dryly, "If I was going to pay someone to be your friend Daniel, I would have picked a family of notoriety. Perhaps the Hawthorn family's heir. I believe he is the same age as you. It would give you lots of social connections for the future."

Danny looked horrified, his lips blurting out his first thoughts, "Please don't make me be friends with Damien Hawthorn."

Vlad's smile was still there and he even took the time to note something on his digital planner before he completely changed the subject, "So, how did the rest of your day go? It went well, from the look of you."

Slightly paranoid about the whole Damien thing now, Danny leaned back into the limo seat and shrugged, "Okay, I guess. I got lost once or twice; nearly fell asleep in history because history teachers are apparently boring everywhere; the art teacher's weird, which really isn't a surprise; and gym class has a gym prison."

At this Vlad's stylus stalled, his brow going up into his hairline, "There's a gym prison?"

"Yes and I got to play guard for the day," said Danny, beaming slightly.

"Walker would be proud, I'm sure," added Vlad dryly, making a note to look into that. "Now, unless you want to hear about my day and the joys of running Vladco, I wanted to switch gears to something … a little more unpleasant."

Danny felt his stomach sink, the timid happy feeling he had gained all day seeming to flutter away like so many birds. He swallowed nervously, stating, "How unpleasant?"

"It has to do with the Demon, Daniel," said Vlad carefully, putting down his scheduler completely. "I was speaking with some of the council members today and there were some concerns I wanted to address with you. For one, I wanted to speak about your powers."

"My powers?" asked Danny, feeling sick all of a sudden. The throb in his arm didn't help anything.

Vlad slowly nodded, his tone tired, "Yes, Daniel. Many of the members believe that the Demon is siphoning them off. In fact, he might be permanently stealing them. I'm sorry, little badger. If we can defeat him in battle, we might be able to do something, but if we don't find him in time ... it might cause irreparable damage to your abilities."

The billionaire let the truth hang there in the air, his blue eyes shifting over the teenager as if looking for a crack. All he got was Danny repeatedly swallowing before the boy quietly answered, "O-oh."

Danny wanted to add something cheeky, like an inside joke about changing his future occupation to something besides Dan Phantom, but he just ended up swallowing again. He both loved and hated his powers, but to suddenly be told by Vlad of all people that they were probably gone … it hurt. Yet, at the same time, another part of him knew that it was probably for the best. Dan would never come into being, and if Danny had to give up his powers to save the world, he supposed it was a price worth paying.

The godfather, as if sensing the boy's inner conflict, leaned forward and squeezed the teenager's knee in an awkward trying-to-comfort-you kind of way before he added, "It'll be okay. I'm sure we'll find him in time. It's just … I wanted to prepare you. I know how frustrated you get about being left in the dark. So, after dwelling on it, I decided I would share what I can … as long as you try to act like a normal teenager. That includes eating your meals, studying, going to school, and complaining about getting up on weekend mornings."

At the last part, Danny offered a wobbly smile. It didn't reach his eyes, but at least he could tell Vlad was trying.

"Now, I have one more thing I'd like to discuss with you, Daniel. A disturbing theory has come to light and I want to make sure it's unwarranted," said Vlad, leaning forward so that Danny was forced to look at him. "After the fire … did you notice any strange marks? Things that weren't there before? Or maybe strange thoughts that weren't yours? Thoughts that were dark and opposite of your nature?"

Marks? Thoughts?

Danny blinked a few times, confused before his stomach fell even further. His tone was slightly terrified as he resisted the urge to squeeze his injured arm, "What kind of mark? What does it look like? It's related to the Demon, isn't it? What do you mean by thoughts that aren't mine? Vlad … is he going to turn me evil? I can't handle that. I won't be evil. I can't be evil. You don't understand. Its … I … it terrifies me."

Hands going up in a placating manner, Danny jumping to conclusions faster than the billionaire could connect the dots, Vlad quickly came to the conclusion that he just stepped on some kind of trauma-related fear of the teenager's. This especially became apparent when the kid leaned forward in his seat like he was going to hyperventilate. Vlad barely could tell what the teenager was muttering now, but it sounded something like Dan.

Who is Dan?

"Hey, hey. It's okay, little badger. No ones turning you evil, okay? You're fine," said Vlad, sliding over to Danny's side so he could rub the boy's back … because the kid was freaking out. This was a panic attack, wasn't it? And here he thought communication would calm the boy's spitfire personality a little.

Rolling down the barrier so that he could meet gazes with the driver, said driver's eyes glowing in a ghost manner, Vlad stated simply, "Park the car in the garage. If anyone asks for us, tell them we went for a walk or something. We're going to go to the medical bay in the basement lab."

Tipping his hat, the ghostly driver acknowledged this as Vlad transformed next to his godson, Plasmius' voice echoing throughout the car, "It's okay. The White Lady will get you something to calm you right down, alright little badger."

Danny tried to nod in understanding but his chest was so tight and his breaths felt sharp and too fast. He was drowning … he was drowning in Dan Phantom's laughs. He could hear them echoing in his head.

"I can't … I can't g-go bad. Vlad, please," choked Danny.

"Shh, shh. No ones saying that. Just try to control your breathing. It's just a panic attack," said Vlad calmly, the older halfa grabbing his godson before phasing through the car, ground, and finally into the lab.

Danny barely could take two more wheezing breaths before he was put on one of the lab beds and ghost nurse in the 1920's garb coming up to them. She tilted her head in a quizzical manner as if asking what they would like done.

"I believe the boy is having a panic attack after some unsavory news. Calm him down," said Plasmius simply, moving so the ghost nurse had room.

For a moment, Danny was sure she was going to come back with something like a collection of needles and felt himself wheeze a little harder as his anxiety skyrocketed, but instead, he felt a chill fill the area like would happen before ghosts used their powers. The next thing he knew, her fingers were fluttering over his eyes like pale butteries, a cold hand combing through this hair, and a cool set of fingers on his wrist as if counting his pulse … or controlling it in this case.

Every time her fingers ran through his hair, like a mother calming a child, he felt his heart grow slower and slower. His mind quickly started going quiet. It was as if she was taking something from him. Part of him panicked immediately thinking about Spectra but his movements were so slow now. He even blinked slow. He tried to open his mouth, tried to tell Plasmius that she was stealing something from him, but Plasmius just patted his shoulder, his voice tired, "Its okay, Daniel. That empty feeling is normal for the White Lady. She'll make you feel better."

Empty? What did he mean by empty?!

"I'm going to go get some of the ghostly council members and we'll check for any marks right now just to be sure. Alright," said Plasmius, the man struggling to smile. "Just let the White Lady calm you down and everything will be fine."

And then, as if everything was moving faster than he could shake his head, Vlad was gone.

Danny wanted to panic, wanted to jump off the table or kick and scream like a terrified child getting their first round of shots, but that ghostly hand just ran through his hair again, seemingly stealing all those painful thoughts away. It then occurred to him. She was taking his pain, wasn't she? He couldn't even feel the familiar throb of his arm anymore or his fear of Dan.

That was okay, right? It was okay not to feel bad? Yes? He didn't even feel bad about mom or dad right now. Not even for Jazz. And Tucker and Sam were just idle thoughts.

"You've taken enough. Humans need their pain to remind them they are alive," suddenly interrupted a familiar voice, the cracked staff of Clockwork suddenly between Danny and the ghost nurse. Walker, Skulker, and Vlad not far behind.

Huh? When had they all gotten down here? His head was fuzzy, but at least Clockwork was here. The time ghost always seemed to disappear when Danny need to speak to him and the teenager absolutely hated that. Honestly, he wanted to blame Clockwork for not warning him about the Demon. The time spirit had told him more than once: he could only meddle so much.

"You should be more careful, Plasmius. Young Danny is almost comatose," said Clockwork, the ancient spirit surprisingly taking Danny's head into his gloved hands and forcing him to meet his gaze. Time seemed to be escaping the teenager like he had been drugged, but for some reason, his hearing was starting to come back, the wrist watches ticking on Clockwork's arms pulling his consciousness forward.

"Now, Danny … are there any marks you don't remember? That don't belong? Or perhaps a place on your body where your mind tells you not to look?" asked Clockwork, his eyes strangely sad. Then, as if on a personal note, given that the others were still a little ways back, he added, "I'm sorry you couldn't have more time with your family."

Danny licked his lips as if trying to form words before he said in almost a drugged tone, "It's my fault, but at least my powers are gone. Dan can't exist now, right?"

Clockwork frowned deeply and might have said something more on the matter but Walker was now up next to him. The warden still had an arm in a sling but at least he didn't look like redeath warmed over.

"Did the punk mention any markings?" asked Walker, his tone already irritated. "I would presume it has to be like a traditional witch-marking. I had some witches escape to the mortal realm once and let me tell you, that was an irritating endeavor. They kept binding themselves to living souls in the human realm and escaping the Ghost Zone as soon as I threw them in solitary. I had to find every human they witch-marked before I could keep them in place. Almost started a modern-day witch trial, especially those three idiot Sanderson sisters."

"I recall," said Clockwork knowingly to Walker as he let go of Danny's face. "And though the spells may change with the millennia, most types of curses remain the same. I take it you know how to search for them and shall help me search?"

"Well Skulker sure doesn't know a lick about cursed marks. So, I suppose," grouse Walker before waving at the kid. "Strip down to your skivvies, kid. This shouldn't take long."

Skulker snickered in the background and Walker immediately growled at him. Not that that stopped Skulker from laughing harder.

Danny, his mind knowing no embarrassment right now, shrugged off his uniform jacket and kicked off his shoes. Vlad and Skulker both dodged the flying shoes with ease. The teenager then peeled off his socks and kicked off his pants in a lazy teenager kind of way. His shirt promptly ended up on Walker's head as the boy threw it off and Clockwork caught the boy's wallet before it was lost forever. None of the ghosts made any comment about the literally cheesy boxers the boy wore. Cheese print everywhere. But Plasmius' dry laugh into his hand was like admitting a private joke. They had all seen the teen's PJ collection so it was of little surprise honestly. The kid was just lucky that he got to wear a uniform to school and not whatever Vlad filled his closets with.

Walker then cracked his neck like this was literally a chore while Clockwork offered a hand out. Danny gave him a limp noodle-arm only to immediately start giggling as the two spirits ran ghostly fingers over his skin.

"Your fingers are cold," chuckled the teenager, squirming away as Clockwork moved to his scalp and Walker to the boy's back, little trails of ghostly energy following their fingertips. It was the easiest way to find cursed marks, especially if the witch-mark was disguised as a simple mole or blemish.

"And your skin's warm," grumbled Walker, the warden bitterly adding. "It's unsettling."

Clockwork hummed, still searching through inky black hair, "Why? Because it reminds you of life?"

"No, because teenagers are sweaty," groused the warden, lifting up the teenager's arm to check his armpit. The teenager, obviously ticklish, nearly wiggled off the medical bed as he laughed.

Clockwork stalled for a moment, his eyes seeming to bore into the younger spirit as he added simply, "We all regret something from our lives Walker or we wouldn't be here. The dead are meant to remember."

The warden gave him a sour look as if telling him not to say another word.

And so the awkward tickle-search continued, Danny giggling like a toddler as the two ghosts searched. It wasn't until Clockwork started on the boy's injured arm that he stalled, the energy from his fingertips seeming to flee from the bandage. Both Clockwork and Walker shared a glance.

Clockwork waved the nurse over to take off the bandaged properly, the warden grumbling, "It makes the most sense that a mark would be there, where the Demon touched him, but is it the mark we are looking for?"

With careful precision, the wrappings came off, the skin mostly healed over the last few weeks thanks to the skin graphs and top quality medical care. But it was ugly, the burn marks stretched over the entire forearm. The handprint was undeniable and it would likely be a prominent scar for the rest of his life.

"It's definitely the source of the punk's power loss," agreed the warden, running a hand over the burn as well to watch his ghostly energy flee much like Clockwork's. "But is it merely a curse or the mark?"

"Ummm, not to interrupt," said Danny, the teenager's eyes no longer glassy as he looked around in embarrassment. "But can I put some pants on? And maybe a shirt? Also, I think I need an adult … and obviously none of you count."

Skulker laughed at this and nearly fell over while Vlad sighed, pinching his nose bridge.

...

The night air nipped at her flesh making Carmen pull her light jacket a little closer. It was her own fault she was out here in the dark though. She had tried to sneak back in without the door squeaking since she was up past curfew and like all house cats, Meowy-Tron thought he was a wild kitty.

"Meowy-Tron, come home! Here kitty," she whisper-yelled out into the neighborhood, the stillness and lack of lights on showing just how late it was.

She turned her head in the direction of the cemetery which was just a few houses over. All the neighborhood cats like to go there in search of rats and mice. Carmen was about to head in that direction as well when she thought she saw a shadow shift near one of the headstones. She had always heard rumors about it being haunted … and she didn't want to test that theory tonight.

Swallowing, shame filling her gut as she contemplated abandoning her cat to the elements for the night, the teenage girl nearly tripped over her own flipflop when a meow sounded, almost predictably, from the graveyard.

It was deep, pathetic, and sounded just like her dramatic cat.

Staring at the grounds for a moment more, part of her mind cursing up a storm, Carmen was about to leave the cat to his own devices out of spite, but then her cat cried again.

Sighing, telling herself she walked through the graveyard all the time to get to school, she headed into Oakfork's Graveyard.

"Meowy-Tron? Concentrated evil kitty?" asked the girl almost sarcastically, her voice suddenly softening as she passed some older headstones. "I'll give you tuna if you get over her right bloody now. If I get haunted, I'm saving off your whiskers."

Wandering further still, the girl pulled her light jacket closer, a chill suddenly in the air. Why was it so cold out? This was wrong. She should leave. The cat could take care of itself.

"MeeOWWW!

Carmen's jumped as the horrific cat scream echoed from inside one of the mausoleums nearby. The teenager felt her gut sink especially as she drew nearer, noticing that the heavy door was open … and there was a wet crunching noise coming from inside.

She stalled about two yards from the darkened entrance, her voice laced with fear, "Meowy-Tron. Baby? Is that you. Did you catch a rat?"

The crunching stalled for a second, but then promptly continued like something was afraid of its meal being taken from it.

"Kitty-jerk? Is that you?" asked the teenager, finally taking out her nearly dead cellphone, the light of the screen barely enough to illuminate anything … until it did. At first, it looked like a puddle, but it soon became apparent that that was blood and it was leading up to the open mausoleum door. Inside, she could just make out a dog-like head that was tearing the innards out of something fuzzy.

Something orange and very familiar, a little bell on a collar jingling forlornly.

The girl threw a hand over her mouth, her eyes immediately wet. Some dog was eating her cat!

And then, just like that, she wasn't scared anymore. She was angry! Some street dog had killed her baby kitty!

Carmen generally wasn't one to give into violence against animals, but at that moment she didn't care. She grabbed a spade that was leaning against a nearby little gate, took a few angry steps forward, and then slammed it into the head of the beast. She expected the dog to yip or fly back or at worst bark at her.

Instead … its neck made a horrible cracking noise, it's head turning the wrong way.

The teenager gasped, dropping her phone into the grass along with the shovel. She hadn't meant to kill it!

Yet, instead of falling to the ground with a broken neck, a … chuckle escaped the dog. Then, slowly it started to rise up off of four legs, and then it was on two, and finally, it was towering over her, its head still oddly tilted.

The teenager stood there frozen in horror, tears streaming down her face as she looked up. She was too scared to even run for that matter scream. All she could do was watch as the great beast with the face of a dog lifted his furry hands, black claws glinting, as it cracked its neck back into place.

After that, the two just stared at each, the sinister creature seeming to smile down at her before its dripping jaw gurgled, "Such a pretty kitty."

It was too late when Carmen finally decided to scream.

XXX

Paw07: First off … I sometimes feel like this story was a love letter to horror when I originally wrote it.

Also, this chapter was kind of … terrible. I kind of trashed the school-bully scenes and traded it up for the Throwball scene, which I personally find hilarious. And the Linx scenes got trimmed and revamped as well. Basically, I rewrote a lot of this chapter which was probably why it took so long.

As for the title, it used to be called Lust. Which literally made no sense after all the changes I made. The word count also used to be 16,500 (whhyyyyyy) and is now around 9,000. Yeah, a lot got deleted, but I feel like this is more cohesive now.