Darkest Hour by Rob Cornell

and into the room. The man standing before her looked like a green hologram. She had seen another man just like him once before.
    A ghost.
    One who had pushed himself into her body and possessed her.
    Kate screamed, thrashed, kicked. The chair should have toppled, but it was somehow fastened to the floor. Her struggles only coaxed soft creaks from the chair’s wooden frame.
    The ghost with her now held his hands out. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Kate stopped kicking, but nothing could stop her trembling. Hot tears streamed down her face. Her stomach turned as she remember the feel of that foreign presence slipping into her, forcing her own consciousness into a backseat as inescapable as a police car’s. No handles on the doors. An iron mesh separating back from front. A position so untenable, it had driven her mad.
    Only Jessie had managed to bring Kate back to sanity.
    “Please,” the ghost said, “I promise. I have no intention of harming you in any way.”
    A ridiculous claim. Why else would he have her naked and tied to a chair? Fear kept her from being able to say as much.
    “You’re probably wondering why I have you restrained.” He folded his spectral arms. The ghostly suit and tie he wore wrinkled and shifted like real fabric. “This is all a precaution. My people can never be too safe.”
    Safe? From her? He could walk through walls. He could possess bodies. What in hell did he have to fear from her ?
    He studied her a moment, focusing on her eyes, maybe reading her thoughts for all she knew. “You’ve seen a ghost before, haven’t you?”
    Kate tamped down her fear enough to nod. The fear came swelling back before she could gather any words, though.
    “Despite the fiction, there aren’t many of us out there. And most aren’t very well behaved. On behalf of whoever he or she was, I apologize. It’s a hard transition, going from corporeal to spectral. People like me don’t belong on the mortal plane. We’re not meant to face the things in death we once faced in life.”
    Kate ground her teeth to hold back the scream that wanted to burst out. His words reached her, but they meant nothing. All she could think about was how to get away from this thing before it hurt her like the last ghost she’d encountered.
    “Please,” the ghost said. “Please try to relax.”
    “Let me go.” Her voice sounded guttural and ragged.
    “I will. I promise. But you must answer a few questions for me. I have to be sure you aren’t…tainted.”
    The air had dropped at least six degrees since the ghost entered the room. Her shivers from the cold were indistinguishable from those caused by fright. She would have killed for a little warmth. A blanket. Better yet—her clothes.
    “I’m not answering anything,” she said in that low and grinding voice—if she’d heard it on a recording, she never would have recognized it as her own. “Not until you untie me and give me back my clothes.”
    The ghost sighed, the sound like wind through a crack. “I’m afraid we’ve destroyed your clothes. I apologize.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Our mystics attempted a ritual to track your daughter and her father. It appears you’ve had no contact with them in a while, though. The ritual failed.”
    “I could have told you I haven’t seen them in months. I have no idea where they are.”
    He nodded. “We needed to be sure. Again, I apol—”
    “Don’t.”
    He held out his hands again. Looked like a politician when he did. “Fair enough.”
    “I’m freezing. I’m not talking to you like this. I need clothes.”
    “That’s me. Ghostly presence tends to drain heat from an enclosed area. I should have thought of that. I’ll have some fresh clothes brought right away.” He looked over Kate’s shoulder, toward an upper corner of the room, and nodded.
    A few seconds later, Kate heard the sound of a door opening behind her. Footsteps came in and around to Kate’s side. Mica, the pixie with the skunk stripe, stepped