The blade was the same shade of the blue at the center of a flame. It easily went through Walker’s bounty-hunter and the massive oak behind him. The ghost clutched at his chest and wordlessly choked as it melted into a pile of ectoplasm like hot wax. Dan yanked the sword free from the tree, snuffed the blade out, and belted the hilt to his side.
He’d ducked into this corner of the Ghost Zone to dodge the heat. Now, he was lost in a thick jungle being hunted by Walker’s goons and the local fauna. Every few feet he was confronted by drooling Venus flytraps, flowers shooting poison barbs, or trees that tried to beat him with their branches.
Oh well, nothing some well placed energy blasts couldn’t solve.
A girl’s voice hissed through the branches and leaves. “You are not welcome here, little boy.”