Episode 28: Freelancer

Narrator: Welcome to Ghost Wax, a Far and Tall Tales Production. The following story may contain graphic content. Listener discretion is advised. 

[Intro Music]

Episode 28, Freelancer

Rugen: Clears throat See this?  It’s recording you.

Kat: This is a new one.

Rugen: I’m not trying to pick you up.

Kat: Well that’s good. You’re old enough to be my grandfather.

Rugen: Undershot it by a mile.

Kat: Huh?

Rugen: I’m going to ask you a few questions.  It's very important you answer me honestly.

Kat: Anything I say can and will be used against me.

Rugen: Yes but, I’m not a police officer, if that’s what you’re saying.

Kat: In that case, would you kindly fuck off?  I’m busy.

Rugen: That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. See, I’m hunting too.  The man with the smokey eyes and the dreamy smile. The one you’ve been watching. I’m watching him too.  Then I’ve been watching you watch him.  I don’t think he’s noticed you yet, hasn’t caught on that you’re hunting him, which is good, I’d be pretty mad if you had spooked him. Who are you with?

Kat: With?  I’m not with anyone. I just… 

Rugen: Ok, so a civilian.

Kat: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Rugen:  That’s fine. All I need from you is you to tell me what exactly you’re doing here, following that man. Then we’ll figure out what happens next. I’m hunting something very dangerous. Something that itself, hunts around through cables and wires. The internet is the new savannah for an old predator and from the look in your eyes I feel like you might have an idea of what I’m talking about and how very, deadly, serious this is. 

Trying to make a connection is terrifying enough when everyone involved is human.

Kat: People are ready to take risks. Ready for the vulnerability of opening up, letting someone close enough to hurt you, it’s expected.  You’re showing your soft underbelly right? Putting your heart on your sleeve?  But there are plenty out there that take advantage of that exposure… Of course, the pain is usually metaphorical, but it isn’t always, is it?

Rugen: I don’t pretend to understand this… digital age, but the old ways predation among those looking for connection, that’s a tale as old as man.

Kat: Once I knew to look… once I started looking, I found more of them than I thought I would.  A lot of them on Grindr, obviously. People volunteering for mindless sex with strangers? No need to pretend, to manipulate someone into being alone with them? It’s like it was designed just for them.

Rugen: Keep talking, I’ve got an eye on him, he’s not going anywhere.

Kat:  But that’s not where they do their real hunting, though is it? One hookup won’t keep them going for long. Those are just snacks or, I don’t know, a tasting. Figuring out what they like. Who they want to keep. They use the other apps to find it. 

Rugen: And you’ve been able to find them?  How do you spot them?

Kat:  There’s no one giveaway. Nothing specific that sets them apart from all the normal creeps out there. I just know. I get this feeling. Maybe because I’ve spent so much time with what they leave behind. Here, I’ll show you. 

I found him earlier this week. 

John. 28, 6 foot one, master’s degree in business, leads with a picture of him with his family. First of all, they’re never 6’ 1’’. Red flag number one. But him, his eyes are off. See, right there? We’re getting dinner tomorrow. 

You meet any of them out on a date and they’ll charm the pants off you, literally, then suck you dry. The thing is, they’re smart. They don’t kill you, not usually. Every once in a while one of them will get too excited and won’t be able to stop but, most of the time they’ll just take enough to keep them going. I don’t know what exactly it is that they eat–your soul? Spirit? Mind? Everything that makes you, you. Your interests, passions, pain, and sadness, and joy. The things that make you really, truly alive.

You’re probably fine if it’s just once. You don’t remember much, wake up the next morning with what feels like an awful hangover, and go about your life. Maybe things are a little duller, a touch less enjoyable, but who’s to say that’s not just getting older? In a few weeks it’s either better or you just don’t notice it anymore. 

If they like you, that’s when it gets dangerous. They’ll get you hooked on them, string you along, keep you coming back and begging for more until they get bored. Or until you don’t have enough left to keep them going. They’ll usually keep someone for two, maybe three months. Much longer and they risk killing the host. Not that they really care about that, but they’re trying not to draw attention to themselves. They leave when their hosts are empty, but not dead. You can survive physically without your soul. It’s a lot less conspicuous than a pile of corpses. Sadder too. 

It means they’re only out hunting every three months or so, when you need a fresh host. A lot of them will move pretty regularly, find a new spot to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves, and to vary the menu. Makes them damn hard to catch.   

But I know what they like. 

In a slightly breathless, higher voice

“Brand new to the city!! Looking for tour guides, friends, and maybe more, winky face.”

Young, naive, alone. Little desperate. Can’t resist. 

I came here for that one, over there by the bar. Keenan. He takes it even further than most, thinks it’s funny to see what he can get them to do. He takes everything. Money, friends, family. Hell, he got one girl to give him her cat. It’s not enough for him just to feed. He ruins them along the way. 

I keep finding them too late. After he’s done. 

I didn’t know what he was at first. Didn’t know they existed. That any of that existed. 

That one, he got my sister. Julie. Almost two years ago now. 

I thought at first that I was just being cynical, maybe even a little jealous that my baby sister had found someone and I hadn’t. Things were just moving so fast. But she sounded happy. In love. So I tried to be supportive. To be excited for her when she told me he was “the one” after two weeks, that he was moving into her apartment after four. Tried to ignore that every time we talked she sounded just a little, I don’t know, smaller? Less like herself. That more and more of our conversations were about him. 

I only met him once. I was in town for a conference and got dinner with them one evening. I hated him. Like, I could feel him trying to charm me. But to me, he was just, I don’t know, slimy? Maybe it was seeing Julie with him. She’d always been the outgoing one, the one who went skydiving and who could make friends with anyone. Once, when her flight got canceled, she rounded up a group of strangers to split a rental car for six hours drive up the coast. Of Peru. I’m pretty sure she went to one of their weddings. I know it’s super cheesy to say that someone “lit up the room”, but she did. You noticed when she walked in. She made you smile, made everything around her just a little brighter. 

But not that night. Julie was somehow dim. She and Keenan sat next to each other, across the table from me, close enough to touch. And he was constantly touching her. Holding her hand while we waited for our food. Pressing his leg against hers while we ate. Putting his hand on her thigh, sliding it high enough for the waitress to raise her eyebrow while she collected our plates. He always started it, but she never pulled away. 

It was infuriating. She looked to him before speaking, let him order for both of them, even when he got her a fucking salad. She paid for their meals. Didn’t even offer to pay for mine, which is fine, obviously not the point, but I noticed it.

Rugen: Don’t worry about the bartender, he can’t notice us.  If you want anything else to drink just reach over the bar.  Beat  Yeah don’t dwell on that, just keep on with the story, your sister was just making a huge mistake and then…

Kat: Not long after we got in a massive fight. We have a tradition, a sister weekend at the beach. We’ve been doing it since college. And she bailed at the last minute, way too late for me to get the deposit on the house back. Which, again, not the point, especially now, but at the time I was pissed. She said that she didn’t want to be away from Keenan for that long. I said fine. Told her to go fuck herself. Or get Keenan to do it since he was obviously more important to her. Hung up the phone before she could answer.  That was the last time I talked to Julie. Or at least the last time she talked to me.  

I’d been trying to call her to apologize, but she never answered. At first I thought she was just mad at me, which, fair. I’d said some awful things to her. I backed off, texted her that I was sorry and wanted to talk when she was ready, and waited. But days went by with nothing. Not just to me but anywhere. No social media posts or likes or comments or anything. I texted a couple mutual friends to see if they’d heard from her, but they were worried too. 

After another week I decided I was just going to show up. Make her tell me in person that she didn’t want to talk. At least I’d be able to see her. To make sure she was ok. 

She wasn’t. 

I left straight from work and got to her apartment right after dark. Her car was parked out front, but the lights were off. I rang the doorbell, pounded on the door again, and again, and again. Nothing. I got scared and started screaming for her to open the door. I promised I’d leave, drive straight back home, I just needed to see her. I made myself stop, breathe, think. Julie was notorious for locking herself out. She’d have a key hidden somewhere. I found it pretty quickly–a fake rock next to the steps. It was so obvious I would have scolded her for it if I wasn’t so relieved. 

I let myself in, tripping over a pair of shoes before I could find a light switch. Julie always left her shoes by the door when she came home. 

I found Julie in her bed. Not sleeping, though. She was lying on top of the covers, eyes open, but unfocused, staring blankly in the shadowy room. She was still in her work clothes, rumpled. They matched the shoes by the door. 

I thought at first that it was her depression. She’d had a major episode once before, right after college when she couldn’t find a job. Turned out she hadn’t gotten around to switching her prescription from campus health and had run out of antidepressants. It was bad enough that I stayed with her for a couple of weeks, helped her to find a new doctor and transfer her meds, get set up a therapist. She’d had it under control since then, but there’s nothing like a breakup to bring back past demons. And I could tell she hadn’t been taking her meds. The little orange bottle in her medicine cabinet was full, even though it had been filled months earlier. Right when she started dating Keenan. 

Maybe he didn’t like the taste.

After a few days though, when nothing changed, I was more and more convinced that something else was going on. 

So I started researching. It had always been my strategy when I was scared of something–to learn everything about it. Try to find some semblance of control. I didn’t know what to search at first. “Soul sucking boyfriend” got a lot of results about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which wasn’t not it, but there was definitely more going on. Adding “supernatural” to the search just turned up a bunch of sexy vampire novels. 

I couldn’t find a name for what had happened to Julie, but I did find a bunch of posts about using crystals to heal your psychic energy and was getting desperate enough to try pretty much anything. I wasn’t leaving Julie alone at that point so the two of us went downtown to a little bookshop that sold crystals and did tarot readings and soul reclaimings. 

They’d really leaned into the woo-woo vibe. The beaded curtain in the doorway, dim lights shrouded in smoke from the incense and candles. I felt so stupid. So out of place. Where Julie was adventurous I’d always been practical. We’d balanced each other out. What the hell was I doing here with a list of crystals with healing properties clutched in my hand?

I realized we’d just been standing there, right in front of the door, for too long. The woman at the register was staring at us. I grabbed Julie’s elbow and started to apologize, turning us both to leave, but something in the woman’s eyes stopped me. She wasn’t looking at us. She was looking at Julie. Her eyes were kind of sad, the weight of understanding deepening the creases across her forehead and cheeks. 

I lost it, started crying right there in the store. I’d been trying to convince everyone that something had happened to my sister for so long. Julie didn’t react, which made me think of the time I’d been pickpocketed on vacation and she’d yelled at me in the middle of a coffee shop that crying wasn’t going to fix it and to call the goddamn bank. Which made me cry even harder that that Julie was gone. 

The woman took us to a back room, probably because some lady sobbing in front of a shelf full of quartz isn’t great for business. She sat us down in some ancient wingback chairs around a table that looked like it was made for holding a crystal ball. Made us tea. Gave me a stack of tissues. She introduced herself as Madge.  

I’d calmed down by that point, enough to be incredibly embarrassed. Not embarrassed enough to keep me from launching into a stream of questions. 

“What happened? What is he?”

Madge handed me a photo, black and white in a simple silver frame. It was a picture of her, years younger, long before age and grief had written themselves across her face. Another woman stood next to her, both of them smiling at the camera. I didn’t need to ask. It was obvious, not just because of the resemblance which was striking, but in the way their heads tilted towards each other, arms around each other’s waist. Sisters. 

Madge couldn’t say what would happen with Julie. If it was something she could come back from. I didn’t ask specifics about what had happened to her sister and she didn’t tell me. I guess I didn’t really want to know. 

She gave me this. I’d never used a knife outside of the kitchen, don’t even like cutting meat but, the weight of the dagger in my hand felt right. Warm, almost. Like it was meant for my hand. Like I knew what to do with it.   

The blade is obsidian, edged with silver. Which, I have learned, protects against evil. So many things I never thought I’d need to know. 

My first time was a few months later. It took a long time with Madge, reading what she’d found over the years. Trying to come up with a plan of how to find them, what we would do with them once we did.

She calls them succubi, but I got the sense that’s a general description rather than a title. Like a “germ” is a microscopic thing that makes you sick. A succubus is a thing that drains your soul. Almost every culture has some version of them. I don’t know if there are species? Or classes? Honestly I still don’t know exactly what you’d call them. I like “fuckers”. Because they fuck you in every sense of the word. You have to find the humor where you can. 

She said her name was Kate. I was swiping through the apps, starting to lose hope that I’d ever find one. Something about her smile made me pause. It looked like Keenan’s. A little too sharp, almost mocking, not quite reaching her eyes. I swiped right. She messaged right away and we made plans to meet later that night. I guess she was hungry. 

I had no idea what I was doing, what to expect. I don’t know if I was more scared of being right, of actually confronting one of the monsters that took my sister, or of being wrong, and stabbing some innocent girl. Of going back to Julie knowing that there really wasn’t anything I could do. 

I knew as soon as I saw her that I wasn’t wrong. I’d found one. She was standing at the bar, waiting for me. The way she smiled when she saw me, like I was more than she’d expected, hugged me just a second too long, like she didn’t want to let go. Lies. Beautiful, flattering, dangerous lies.

I don’t know how I made it through the date. I could feel her trying to entrance me. Like, literally, physically feel her trying to worm her way under my skin, tendrils of charm crawling through her fingers as she reached across the table to brush my hand. I was practically vibrating with hatred for what she was and fear of what came next. I made myself smile, laugh at her jokes. Let her think she had me.

I cocked my head as we left the bar. Smiled.

“Walk me to my car?”

I could play games, too. 

I’d parked on a little side street a few blocks away. 

I turned to face her when we got to my car. 

“I had a nice time tonight.” 

She smiled, leaned close to push a strand of hair out of my face. “Who says it has to end?”

When they kiss you, you feel this, I don’t know pressure? Deep in your chest. It feels good, like being touched somewhere no one else has ever been able to reach. It makes you want to lean in, to push everything you have into the connection just to keep it going for a single, second more. And when they stop, you feel so empty it hurts. Like they filled a part of yourself you didn’t even know was there and now that you do, all you want is to feel it again. 

I felt myself getting sucked in, how easy it would be to just let go. 

It hurt like hell to pull away. 

I put my hands on her shoulders, shoved her back. There were these, tendrils? Threads of glowing mist and, I don’t know, it looked like some kind of fluid, like blood, but thinner, hanging in the air between us, twined together in the space where our lips had been. I could see them going into her mouth, snaking their way down into her chest, shining faintly through her skin. They met in her chest, twining together in a gleaming knot where her heart would have been. I stabbed it. Stabbed her.  

For an instant I thought I’d been wrong. Her mouth opened in this tiny gasp of surprise and pain. She looked so human. Then she crumpled, her body like… slicked apart, her skin slid off and there was something else, spiky and shiny underneath and then fell apart and that ran away too… she melted and ran down the gutter.

I vomited, cried the whole way back to Julie’s. 

I’ve killed seven since then. 

Julie and I moved in with Madge. It’s tight, the three of us in her little one-bedroom apartment above the bookstore, but we make it work. 

Julie’s better, I think. Needs less prompting to eat and shower. Seems like she’s listening sometimes. I try to find fun things for us to do, things that will remind her of who she was, drag her back from wherever she’s gone. We went to a cat cafe last weekend and this little fluffy tuxedo curled up on her lap and started purring. Just for a second, I swear she smiled. I need to find out how Madge feels about cats.

I found Keenan last week. I knew he was still here; he’s cocky enough that he hasn’t moved on. I’d seen him a few times on the apps over the months, but I was always too late. We’d match, I’d message him, his profile would vanish. He had someone. I lost track of him again. 

But tonight, I have finally got him.  

I doubt he remembers me. And if he does he’s probably just excited for the opportunity to get the set.

So are you going to help me? Or are you going to get the fuck out of my way?

Recorder clicks off

Recorder clicks on

[Phone ringing]

Rugen:  Yeah, I’ve got a freelancer… yeah.  She’s been working with an un-sanctioned reader too, named Madge. Yeah. Oh there’s a girl too, been hollowed out by one of the Feeders. Yeah, her name’s Julie. No, no evidence they are linked to the Cypher yet… No. No I’m not going to call it Mr. Media… because it’s stupid.

Listen, I’m going to bring all three into the DC office tomorrow, then we can move them up to the Ardent for full debrief… hmm?  No. Tomorrow. 

Tonight? Tonight I’m going to get the fuck out of her way.

Recorder clicks off

Narrator: Thank you for listening to Ghost Wax, a production of Far and Tall Tales. Find us at farandtalltales.squarespace.com. Ghost Wax is an independent podcast so, if you liked this show, please rate and review, and consider joining us on Patreon at Patreon.com/farandtalltales

Also give a listen to our fantasy role play show Could've Been Heroes for something completely different. 

Ghost Wax is written and directed by Robert Knutson 

Production and editing by Aaron Schoenrock

Our theme song is by Beau Hoover.

This episode was written by Sarah lineberry and features Mark Garkusha as Rugen and Gail Estelle as Kat.