See, This Is Why My Brain Weirds Me Out Sometimes

Listening: Apology - Charlotte Martin

I'm imperfect
And uncertain
I can't make this work if you
Don't take the call.
We get colder
Now that we're much older
But we're also bolder
And I'm sorry for it all.

~*~

Tuomas leaped on me and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently. "Come on, Julia! You have to help us solve this murder! We won't be your friends anymore if you don't!"

"This is the best vacation of my entire life," I thought.

The next thing I knew, I was back in the van with the band. It is entirely possible that someone had painted "Mystery Machine" on its side (in red, gothic-style letters), but I might have been mistaken about that. Not sure.

"Look for clues," Tuomas said. Once again, I was riding shotgun.

"Where?" I asked in exasperation, pointing back the way we'd come. "The hotel's back there."

He looked at me as though I was being stupid on purpose. "You're the writer," he told me. "You figure something out."

"I don't write crime dramas."

"Just try it, would you?"

"God, fine. Dick."

He grinned at me when I said that. It was not a nice grin, in the best possible way. Kind of like how a wolf would grin if it chanced upon a sleeping lamb. My toes didn't uncurl for hours, even after I woke up.

"Um, okay," I said. "What about the library?"

"Perfect!" Anette said from the backseat.

Only after it was out of my mouth did I realize how retarded that suggestion was. The library? Right. We will follow the murderer's paper trail, and then we will crush him to death with our enormous brains of knowledge. Nice job, Julia. You are a spectacular investigator.

Tuomas drove us to the damn library. It looked more like it should have been some sort of government building--big and austere and made entirely out of dark gray stone. Twin lions, bigger than I was tall, sat on either side of the entrance. It was spooky and simultaneously really, really cool.

The inside of the library was just as intimidating as the outside. Books lined not only the shelves, but every wall, every column. The ceilings were high and vaulted, stretching at least a dozen feet over my head. The center of the building was open to the roof, which sported a glass dome, letting in the pale winter light. Tuomas rounded on the lot of us. "Okay," he said. "Marco, you come with me, we're going to go look for clues in the periodicals. Emppu, Jukka, you guys take non-fiction. Julia, you go to fiction with Anette."

"Oh great," I said. "We're not going to find anything through the Stephen King novels."

We went. Things were weirdly quiet. I didn't see many other people around, aside from the doddering little librarian who'd been sitting behind the desk when we came in. Pages blew down the aisles, spurred on by wayward breezes. I was standing up on one of those sliding shelf-ladders, browsing the spines for hints. Anette was crouched on the floor, flipping through covers.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done," I mumbled.

"Not really," Anette said, pulling out a novel and flipping the pages absently. "What about that time you jumped over a shark on water skis?"

"I never jumped over a shark on water skis."

"Oh." A pause. "Never mind, then. Forget it."

Before I could ask what the hell she was talking about, the lights in the library guttered sharply, flicked once or twice, and dimmed to near-darkness. They brightened slowly, but by that time the two of us were already on edge. We frowned up the aisle, watching the errant pages blow to and fro.

At that moment, something white and glowing came shrieking down from the ceiling, prompting me to snap my head up. The instant I did, that screeching thing connected solidly with my body, and I was flung off the ladder and hit the floor on my back with enough force to pop something. I skidded along the hard floor on my back, trying in vain to fight off the thing that was on top of me.

A sound suddenly penetrated the veil of the creature's snarls. It was Anette, but she wasn't shouting. Whatever it was, the thing on top of me recoiled with a howl of pain and vaulted away, back up onto the bookshelves. I could hear it skittering away, croaking to itself.

"What the hell?" I exploded from the floor.

Anette muttered only a grim "I thought so" before crouching down to help me to my feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What the hell was that?"

"A ghost."

"I'm sorry?"

At that moment, we heard footsteps, and we turned to find Tuomas and the rest of the collection rounding the corner. Tuomas asked, "What happened?"

"Ghost," said Anette, as though this explained everything.

It appeared to explain everything for Tuomas, at least. He nodded as though something very significant had just happened. "How big?"

"'Bout yay-high," said Anette, holding her hand to about my shoulder to communicate size.

"Ah," said Tuomas. "So we'll need the keyboard, then."

"Yeah, probably."

I was too confused to do anything but stare at them very hard. Tuomas seemed to understand, because he looked at me. "Something the matter?"

"What the hell is going on?"

"That ghost was summoned by our murderer."

What? The murderer from the hotel? "You have to be joking."

"Look into your heart, Julia," Tuomas told me. "You know it to be true."

What.

Before I could unhinge my jaw any farther, Tuomas looked back at his companions and said, "Okay, let's go get the stuff. You stay here," he told me. "We'll be right back."

"What?" I could still hear the ghost skittering around on top of the bookshelves, yawling. "You are not leaving me here alone."

"Don't be such a pansy, Julia."

"I'll be a pansy if I want to be, Holopainen. You are not leaving me alone in a haunted library, you shut the hell up."

Tuomas heaved a theatrical sigh. "Very well." He looked at Anette and the others. "Go get the stuff. I'll stay here with her." I blinked, but Anette only saluted and lead the troops away. A few long minutes of silence passed. I stood there, looking very hard at the bookshelves, twiddling my thumbs.

Abruptly, Tuomas slung one arm around me and leaned his chin on my shoulder. "What's up, pup?"

"I feel bad about that police officer," I blurted abruptly.

Tuomas frowned. "The one who almost gave us a ticket?" I nodded. "Why?"

"He must waste a lot of gas."

Tuomas started laughing at me. He wrapped his arm around neck and shoulders and hugged me fiercely, jostling me. "You're a good kid," he chuckled, ruffling my hair. It was very friendly, and I relaxed. Then he pinched me, and it was more than just "friendly". I glanced at him in mingled outrage and surprise (and a little bit of interest), and he grinned back at me.

At that moment, Anette and the rest of the band returned, bringing with them a pile of instruments. Tuomas detached himself, and went to help with things. I followed him, confused. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." He lifted an electric keyboard in one arm and waved one arm at me. "Go stand over there and make a sound like bait."

Sulking, I obeyed. In retrospect, that was kind of stupid of me. I stood near one of the bookcases and, after looking around for a minute, I started chanting, "Bait. Bait."

"Perfect," said Anette, straightening the stand for a microphone.

Marco gave me the thumbs up. "Keep it up."

"Bait. Bait. Bait."

At that moment, that screeching form descended upon me again, and I instinctively recoiled. However, a sound exploded from behind me, and the ghost fell to the hard floor, writhing and twisting, screaming in agony. The sound I heard was that of symphonic, epic metal. I looked back over my shoulder. The band was playing.

And I do mean playing.

I stood there, entranced by the sound. It took a minute for me to realize that the ghost was still screeching and twisting on the floor. It seemed to be steaming, wispy vapor rising from its translucent body. As I watched, it began to grow progressively smaller, its shrieks becoming thinner and softer. Finally it brittled away into nothing, and its screaming evaporated entirely. The band ended their song from behind me with sounds of satisfaction.

I stared at the spot where the ghost had been before I turned to look at them. "What the Osama just happened?"

"We exorcised the ghost," said Anette, again as though this explained everything. And perhaps it did.

They rocked a ghost to [second] death.

I love Nightwish.

"So," Tuomas said as I stuttered unintelligibly in the corner. "Did anyone find anything?"

"We found a secret passage," said Jukka.

Tuomas looked psyched about this. "A real one? Or one of those faux move-a-tapestry ones?"

"No, a real one."

"Kickass." The songwriter beamed at me. "I knew you'd help us find the murderer, Julia."

"What makes you think the murderer is even in that secret passage?" I exploded, my mind numbed by the awesomeness I had narrowly avoided.

Tuomas gave me that look of his. You know, the 'I know because I'm in Nightwish' look. I decided to take him for his word.

"So do you have any advice about dealing with crazy criminals?" Anette asked me.

"No. Hang on. Let me go make a phone call."

So I went to a payphone and made a collect call to Mississauga. The voice that finally picked up said, "Hello, and this had better be good."

"Hi, Steph," I said with gleeful obliviousness.

"Kit?"

"Hi."

"What the hell do you want, it's like three in the morning here."

"Oh right. Um, I'm in Finland with Nightwish. They just exorcised a ghost with the power of rock and roll, and now we're standing around the library about to go into a secret passage after a mass-murderer."

Tuomas leaned over my shoulder and said, "Who's that?"

"It's my friend Steph. She's a forensic anthropologist."

"Can I talk to her?"

"No."

"Who was that?" Steph asked.

"That was Tuomas. Shut up, he's not important. Do you have any advice?"

"Can I talk to him?"

"Fuck you, tell me what to do about the mass murderer who escaped the haunted library through the secret passageway, goddammit Steph!"

"Alright alright. God. Do you have any fireworks?"

What.

"What?"

"You're going to need fireworks. Also power cables and flamethrowers, but mostly fireworks."

"Steph."

"What?"

"Fireworks will make everything 'plode."

"Oh I know. There will be 'plosions. Oh, the 'plosions."

"Let me talk to your friend, goddammit," said Tuomas from the sidelines.

Then I woke up.

*~*

Did I ever mention that my dreams never recur, but occasionally have sequels? Yeah, it's pretty messed up. And at the same time, I would never trade it.

At least this one didn't roll credits at the end. Or have large text preceding it, which read "Starring the Unconscious as Herself". Both of those have happened before. You can't make this shit up, people.

Icarus really wants Nightwish to release a song or album called "Exorcism" now.