The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run

by Matthew S. Cox

  “I think I get a couple months maternity leave. We’re going to need the money, so I’m planning to go back to work as soon as I’m out of time.”

  “My parents will be thrilled. Hell, we have the space now. They might insist on staying with us for a couple months after you return to work to help out.”

  She sneered off to the side, thinking about her parents. Part of her felt guilty for not wanting to tell them about a baby at all, but after the way they treated Timothy—and her—she’d washed her hands of them. “That’ll be nice. And there’s always asking Wilhelmina to babysit.”

  “Hah.” He kissed her cheek.

  Mia sat up. “Before I get too excited, there’s one more person I need to bounce this crazy idea off.”

  He looked confused for a moment before realization set in. “Oh… right.”

  “Yeah. We’re not going to do this against her will. None of the girls said anything specific, but I got the feeling that would have… bad consequences.”

  “No doubt. I’ve read Pet Sematary.”

  Mia gasped. “Don’t even joke about that.” Sudden worry at the coven’s warning of what could happen if Robin turned out to be a dark entity impersonating a little girl made her cling to Adam’s arm as though it were the child she so desperately needed to help. If she told him she had a good chance of death should the spirit be malign, he’d certainly refuse to allow the ritual to proceed—at least, not without total proof of the spirit’s innocence. That could take years to establish if at all, and she couldn’t wait that long.

  Robin needed her now.

  “Are you okay?” asked Adam.

  “Yeah. Just worried, freaked out, and excited all at the same time. I can’t believe I’m honestly thinking a crazy ‘magic’ ritual might really do something. It’s so far-fetched, yet at the same time, the way she explained everything kinda makes sense.”

  He brushed a hand repetitively over her hair. “Well, either way, we’ll have a baby.”

  “Oh, wow… what if it’s a boy and she’s stuck inside?”

  “Think that might explain people with gender dysphoria?” asked Adam. “Wrong soul for the body?”

  “I have no idea and I really don’t want to waste the hundreds of hours we could possibly spend debating why some people’s insides don’t match their outsides.”

  He chuckled.

  “All right.” Mia stood, shivering. “I shouldn’t be this nervous. She’s only a kid. Not like I have to give a presentation to the board of trustees.”

  “Let’s go…”

  Adam held her hand as she led the way upstairs to Robin’s bedroom.

  “Sweetie?” Mia knocked. “Are you here?” She waited a moment, listening to silence before nudging the door open more and peering in. “Robin? Can I talk to you? It’s important.”

  The room appeared empty.

  “Be right back,” whispered Adam. He ran off down the hall.

  “Please, honey… It’s got nothing to do with what may or may not have happened to that annoying pastor.”

  “You’re not mad at me?” asked a whisper from beyond the foot of the bed.

  “No, not at all.” Mia smiled, hope surging. She stepped into the bedroom. “I have something to ask you.”

  Robin faded into view, standing on the spot where her body had been found. She regarded Mia with a neutral expression that carried a hint of curiosity. When Adam returned to the doorway holding his video camera and a digital audio recorder, she shied away.

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” Mia sank to kneel, sat back on her heels, and raised her arms.

  The child tentatively approached, stopping inches from arms’ reach.

  “Do you see her?” whispered Adam. “There’s a light ball floating right in front of you.”

  Mia nodded. “Yes. I see her like a normal person, only a little transparent.”

  Robin stuck out her tongue.

  The urge to grab and hug the girl for the rest of time grew to the point Mia almost couldn’t resist it. She gripped her knees to keep her hands busy and stared down at the girl’s bare feet.

  “Robin, I promised you I’d do everything I could to protect you. And one of the things I want to protect you from is being lonely, cold, and scared.”

  The girl tilted her head slightly to the side.

  “I think I know why you don’t want us to make the bad spirit go away. He’s the reason you haven’t gone back to the Pool of Life.” Assuming that it exists.

  Robin shook her head, staring at her. “I’m waiting for Mommy, but she went away. If you make bad Daddy go away, I’ll have to go, too.”

  “You aren’t the same spirit as him, are you?”

  “No. Don’t be silly.”

  Mia smiled. Of course, a malicious haunt wouldn’t hesitate to lie, but she didn’t feel deceit. “Do you remember Wilhelmina?”

  “Yeah. She was sad when Daddy hit me.”

  “Do you understand that you’re a spirit now?”

  Robin nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t walk through walls before.”

  “How would you feel about a way so you wouldn’t have to be a spirit anymore?”

  She stepped back. “I don’t wanna go away.”

  “No.” Mia reached for her. “You won’t have to go away. I want to help you have the life that should never have been taken away from you.” She rested her hands on her stomach. “Every baby has a soul. Wilhelmina told me that those souls all come from a place deep inside the Earth, where everything goes when they’re done living. She’s found a way to make a bridge so you can be the soul for our baby.”

  Robin’s mouth opened, eyes widening.

  “You wouldn’t have to be a ghost anymore… and we could hold you for real.”

  The spirit’s eyes brimmed with glimmering tears.

  “I…” Mia looked down. “Can’t promise it will work, but do you want to try?”

  “Even after I played all those bad games, an’ tried to make you a ghost, you still wanna do that for me?”

  Mia scooted forward, wrapping her arms around a patch of cold air filled with the intangible shape of a small girl. “I do. Is that okay?”

  Robin wiped her eyes and nodded, too emotional to speak. After a moment, she looked up into Mia’s eyes. Her tears ceased, and a broad smile formed. “Mommy!”

  “Whoa,” whispered Adam. “I heard that.”

  28

  The Circle

  Friday, September 7, 2012

  The day dragged at work.

  Mia had trouble getting into the zone. Color-matching for the enormous painting frustrated her with the tedium. Her perfectionism collided with her impatience to be home. Normally, she adored this part of the process since it came closest to letting her feel like she made a living as an actual artist. The little portrait of Robin she’d painted did match the newspaper photo Adam found. It had been enough to prove to him that her gift was real, but any skeptic could dismiss it as she could easily have painted it after seeing an old picture.

  She’d called Wilhelmina last night after Robin had calmed down, and they had agreed to give the ritual an attempt on Saturday night. When Mia asked if they should wait to sync it up with her cycle, the woman told her not to worry about that as she had ways to help the body along in that regard.

  Janet, her boss, came in to ask after the project, since she’d been behind her usual schedule. Mia mentioned that she and Adam had decided to try for a baby and her excitement had her distracted. Janet erupted in a fit of congratulatory cheering, and seemed pleased to hear that Mia had no plans on quitting—only taking enough time off to deal with the delivery and settling in afterward.

  She returned home with shaking hands, mostly out of anticipation. Despite the girl’s assurance that she was, in fact, an innocent murder victim and not a demonic entity pretending to be a child to mess with the living, Mia couldn’t help but feel a little dread that she could have only a day and a half left to live. However, in order for her to be afraid that a magic
al ritual gone awry could give her a heart attack, she’d have to believe that the magical ritual could actually do something. She’d seen nothing at all to give her the least bit of hope that it would work. If she were honest with herself, it sounded as ridiculous as her parents praying for things. They’d spent at least a half hour every night after learning Timothy was gay praying for ‘God to make him normal.’ For all she knew, they still did… Of course, that didn’t necessarily prove no god existed or that prayer didn’t work… only that perhaps God considered him already normal and didn’t need to change anything. She still thought prayer a contradiction for people who believed in a god who already had a plan. If they trusted in His plan so much, why ask Him to change it?

  Adam handed her a sachet of herbs when he walked in the door. “Wilhelmina gave this to me at work today… said you should brew it into a single cup of tea and drink it around nine or ten tonight. Also, sugar won’t affect it if you want to add some.”

  She took the innocent little cloth bag. “This is her workaround for my cycle? She thinks tea is going to help ensure I get pregnant?”

  “If the woman believes tickling you with paintbrushes for a little while and saying some words is going to let Robin slip into a baby, a fertility treatment via herbal tea seems downright sane.”

  Mia laughed. “Fair point.”

  “Hey, if this works, we’re not going to have a haunted house for much longer. Do you think you could ask Robin to do me a little favor for scientific purposes?” He ducked into the fridge.

  The girl appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the little hall to the dining room.

  Mia smiled at her. “You can ask her yourself, she’s right here.”

  Adam leaned back from collecting supplies for dinner. “Hey, hon. Remember the footprints in the pancake mix? How about you help me out with some evidence?”

  Robin folded her arms. “I’m not a guinea pig.”

  “He’s not experimenting on you,” said Mia. “He’s trying to show the world that death isn’t the end.”

  “It’s not the end, it’s just lonely.” Robin frowned. “Okay. I’ll help.”

  Adam cooked a batch of shrimp pasta as well as got started on a massive pot of soup, which he planned on serving as dinner for everyone tomorrow night. He maintained that soup always tasted better after it sat for a day.

  While they ate, Robin hovered beside Mia, peppering her with questions she couldn’t answer about what everything would feel like if the ritual worked, was she scared, and so on. When she asked what would happen if it didn’t work, Mia cringed at a pang of heartbreak as strong as if she’d had her child taken away from her.

  “Well, if it doesn’t work, then Adam and I will have two kids. And… not working once doesn’t mean we won’t stop trying.”

  Robin smiled. “Okay.”

  At seeing no trace of envy on the girl’s face, Mia relaxed. Her present worries consisted of: not being able to help Robin, dropping dead in the middle of the ritual, and having to deal with a jealous spirit child who might harm a defenseless baby. Upon realizing she dreaded Wilhelmina’s plan not working more than dying in the attempt, she swished her fork around the shrimp pasta, questioning her sanity.

  While Mia loaded the dishwasher, Adam ran to get his video camera. He returned to the kitchen with it, set it on the counter, and squatted in front of it, recording himself describing he was about to demonstrate interaction with a fully intelligent actual spirit. That done, he picked up the camera and narrated while dusting the floor with flour.

  “Is she still here?”

  Mia tried unsuccessfully to pat the girl on the head. “Yes. She’s standing right next to me.”

  “Great. Sweetie, will you please walk over this flour like you did with the pancake mix?”

  She gave a little huff of annoyance, but obliged. Adam focused the video camera on the white patch, not reacting at all to her approach until she reached the flour and left a trail of footprints across it.

  “Okay, now to further prove the spirit is an actual intelligent being… Hon, would you please write your name?”

  The girl squatted at the edge of the powder and traced ‘Robin’ with her finger in a childlike scrawl… then dotted the ‘i’ with a little heart.

  Mia choked up at the cuteness, then remembered the tea sachet and got up to boil water.

  Tomorrow night couldn’t get there fast enough.

  Saturday, September 8, 2012

  Murmuring voices and the occasional stifled sob came from the crowd seated around her.

  She gazed down at the shiny pastel blue purse in her lap. The judge had given her an odd look for sitting behind the defense table, as had her parents who remained behind the prosecutor. No one else seemed to care. When they’d brought Vic in, dressed in a prisoner’s jumpsuit and handcuffs, he’d had a far-off stare in his eyes. Upon noticing her, his blank affect broke to a sneering grin.

  He muttered, “Bye bye, Mommy” when he passed.

  Mia had been so heartbroken so long, hearing that phrase only sent a single tear running down her cheek. Soon, nothing would matter.

  His parents had thus far avoided her, almost implying they somehow blamed her for the situation their son faced. Never mind a child had been killed, the tragedy in their eyes was that their son might go to prison for the rest of his life—or be executed. Whatever they thought about her wouldn’t matter either. They’d soon think even less about her.

  Mia didn’t care.

  She sat there, head down, hands clasped atop her purse, not really listening to anything the lawyer, the prosecutor, or the judge said… until the word ‘recess’ broke through her mental fog with the slam of a gavel.

  Again, the horrible image of her mangled daughter appeared in her mind.

  She had no hesitation.

  She had plenty of regret, but not for what she prepared to do.

  Mia slipped her right hand into the purse and grasped the handle of the .38 revolver. People around her stood and shuffled away, but she remained. Two deputies approached Vic to pull him out of the chair, but paused, giving her the look.

  I’m sorry, Robin.

  She stood and pulled the gun out, raising her arm to point it at the back of Vic’s head, not quite ten feet away.

  “Gun!” shouted the judge, panic in his eyes.

  Neither deputy moved. Vic twisted toward her, his dead-eyed expression challenging her to do it.

  Bang!

  Her first shot clipped Vic in the shoulder. He flinched, tugging at the handcuffs secured to a restraint belt around his waist.

  She fired again and again, as emotionless inside as the look on his face. He almost seemed to welcome it. Her third and fifth bullets struck him in the face, blowing pieces out the back of his head. The sixth round caught him in the chest at the base of the neck.

  Click.

  The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  Indistinct screams came from behind her. People dove to the floor or ran for the exits. The judge froze like a deer in the headlights, his face a mask of abject shock. Screaming, the defense attorney curled up under the table like a terrified child. Vic emitted a gurgle and slumped over sideways, his face mashed into the floor, ass in the air.

  Mia tossed the revolver at him and offered no resistance as the two deputies who had come to collect Vic grasped her arms. She held her head high as they walked her out of the courtroom, as gently as young men guiding an elderly mother. Mia appreciated their kindness, but didn’t really care if their suggestion she had a good chance of pleading temporary insanity or simply being acquitted for justifiable homicide might hold true.

  She had no interest in living long enough to find out.

  Mia lurched upright in bed and hugged her knees to her chest.

  The son of a bitch wanted to die. Not the least bit of fear in him. He even tried to take her revenge away from her.

  She let off a long, hard sigh. That she wanted to shoot Vic all over again herself distu
rbed her less than the sight of his shot-open skull.

  “Hey, kiddo,” said Mia. “How about pancakes? Gonna be a while after today before you’ll be able to enjoy them.”

  Robin faded into view beside the bed, grinning. “Pancakes!”

  Smiling, Mia hopped out of bed.

  She headed out to the backyard with Adam, continuing the task of cleaning up the aftereffects of the house standing empty so long. While she had no tremendous love of outdoor work, it needed to be done and also gave her something to focus on instead of rattling around the house paying attention to the slow creep of time.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Adam dragged a large branch out of a tangle and took a hand saw to it. “The other day in the basement, I got a couple still images of a shadow figure.”

  Mia shuddered. “You should check that bar, Johnny’s. If Vic is haunting anywhere, it would be that place.”

  “Hah, yeah. Attic was blank. Still haven’t seen any sign of Evelyn’s ghost. You’d think she’d be haunting this place as well… to be with Robin.”

  “Yeah, you’d think.” Mia stuffed mulch handful after handful into a giant lawn and garden bag. “If she died of a broken heart, maybe she gave up too much and simply let the forces of nature take her wherever. Maybe she didn’t even think about ghosts or hauntings? If she killed herself on purpose, waking up as a ghost wouldn’t have offered the escape from grief she’d been hoping for, so maybe she let herself ‘go away’ as Robin keeps saying, just to stop existing.”

  Adam tossed the last fragments of the branch in another bag. “Could be. What feels the most right to you?”

  Mia stared at her white gloves. Except for the little rubber grip dots on the palms and fingers, they looked like they belonged to Mickey Mouse. Despite their silly appearance, they worked well to protect her hands. “I think she was so devastated she just let herself go. Vic’s parents blamed her for their little boy getting in legal trouble.”