Vixen somersaulted backwards into the hallway and out of range of the ghost. “Holy freakin’ crap,” she muttered, holstering the needle gun on favour of her eleven inch tantō. She blocked the ghost’s next cut with a rising block against the blade and swept in for a perfect beheading stroke.
Except it wasn’t.
She’d never tried beheading a ghost before, but her blade clearly wasn’t suitable, passing through the nebulous form as if it wasn’t there at all. She swore again, backing off and using the tantō as a purely defensive weapon and wracked her brain trying to think of something that would affect the murderous spirit.
She was backed up to the cupola staircase by the time her fingers caressed the pentagram rune. She had bought it months ago and had never used it, enabling it to slip from her conscious mind. She thumbed the on switch and relaxed as the technology aligned molecules of carbon dioxide in a hollow sphere with a six foot radius, preventing the entrance of anything larger than an oxygen atom.
She was safe. Out in the open, in full view of anyone who happened to go for a 3:00 a.m. stroll along the disused third floor hall, but safe. Even a ghost couldn’t affect her through the technological equivalent of a protective circle. It could only be broken from the inside.
Which left her the additional problem of either completing her mission from within an invisible bubble or dropping in and facing the blade-wielding ghost.
At least she had time to think.
© Rachel Green 2007