by J. C. Hart
Well, almost.
Whoever had done this was a vicious person, someone who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. It was certainly no ghost.
Bloody Angela. It had to be her. That woman was here every day, being mortified at the changes, swearing that Constance would roll over in her grave if she could see what Alyssa was doing to the place. It seemed like she not only wanted Gran's ghost, but her house as well.
Alyssa was never going to let her have either, not now. Not ever. It was time to fight 'ghost' with ghost.
Chapter Nine
After a little digging, Alyssa found all the required items for keeping the ghost contained. She didn't know what their opposites were, but she was pretty sure that if she botched the ritual up badly enough, whatever protections were still left on the house would be torn apart—and then she could make a bargain with the spirit. Whatever reason there had been for keeping it locked up, she would use it to drive Angela away. After the ghost's assurances that it wasn't the one who caused the damage she could only think that it was the lesser evil.
She had nothing to lose, not really. Gran was dead, and if Alyssa really had to leave the house she would. She'd had no time to put down roots, and maybe it was better that way. The idea of having her own home was appealing, but she'd lived without it for years now and she could carry on like that if necessary. Better for it all to explode now than to get settled and then have it happen.
Alyssa chugged back a preparatory glass of wine—she needed all the fortification she could get—and took a deep breath.
First, she laid out a circle in salt, and then she kicked holes in it. She laid the corners out in the wrong places, and then burned everything required for the ritual in the middle in one go. The stench was so bad that she had to swing open the windows and pray that none of the neighbours called the fire department. She could have been burning corpses from the smell of it.
"Come on! If this doesn't work to set you free, I don't know what will. But just know it was me, okay? I did this!"
Nothing stirred for a moment, and then an icy breeze shot through the lounge, forcing the smoke out through the window and cleansing the house of the smell. Alyssa relaxed a little once she was able to see properly again, though no ghosts were present.
"Well I guess it worked. Can you give me some sign that you're here?"
Instantly the room dropped about twenty degrees. Alyssa shuddered, totally unprepared for that level of cold. She reached for the couch blanket, drawing it around her again; the last piece of comfort she had available. "That answers that question…"
The temperature continued to drop until she could feel the moisture wick out of her skin, each breath fogged in front of her. She could hear the breath of another and her heart quickened as icy fingers traced her cheek. She closed her eyes, jaw clenched, waiting.
Droplets of moisture fell on her face and she opened her eyes.
It was snowing.
Inside her house.
Alyssa's jaw dropped and her tongue darted out, catching a flake. Her hands came up, fingers spread wide and she spun, just like a girl in a movie. "Oh. My. God. It's snowing."
"You're welcome."
Alyssa froze at the masculine voice that invaded the living room. She turned, and there, by the tree, was a ghost looking entirely unlike any ghost she'd expected to show up. For starters he appeared solid—none of this wispy, ghoulish shit—and secondly, he was surprisingly good looking.
Obviously, it had been too long since she'd been in the company of men if she was thinking about a ghost that way. Way too long.
"So you're the powerful and scary ghost that's been knocking around my house?" Alyssa put her hands on her hips and tried to look in control.
The ghost tilted his head to one side and stared at her. "Not knocking about. Just…testing my limits." He gave her a mocking grin and shrugged nonchalantly.
"But you didn't knock over my tree. You didn't kill my cat to scare me away?"
"No, but we both know who did." He stood there so calm, so passive, nothing like the raging spirit she'd expected.
"What do you want?" she asked, knowing there had to be a catch.
"Your first born child?" He raised an eyebrow and gave her a wry smile.
"Unfortunately for you I'm infertile, so there won't be any children from me." The bitter words spilled out, but he seemed unfazed.
"All I want is my freedom. The women of your line have kept me trapped for hundreds of years because your ancestor couldn't have what she wanted."
"What did she want?" Alyssa asked, her curiosity outweighing any fear she might have felt.
The ghost drifted across the room until they were inches apart. "Me." His word pushed frigid air past her face and she shivered.
It took a moment to sink in. "You mean my ancestors have been keeping you locked up for hundreds of years because you wouldn't…" She couldn't finish the sentence. It was so petty, so ridiculous. She couldn't believe anyone would do that to begin with, let alone that her relations back through the ages would be complicit in this. Though, perhaps that explained why her family were mostly a pack of jerks. "Was she ugly?"
The ghost laughed, the sound echoed around the frosty room causing the snow to stop. It began to melt, the individual flakes turning to liquid and dripping down her skin. God that was going to be horrible for the carpet and the paint; her new paint! At least she'd only done the undercoat.
"Is that a yes?"
"No, she was not ugly, not on the outside, anyway. I just wasn't interested. Surely you know well enough that not all men will slip into bed with a beautiful woman."
"But she was a witch! And she… God, did she kill you?" Alyssa frowned, incredulous. If this was her legacy, she didn't want any part of it. How had Gran thought this was a good idea?
"It wasn't quite as straightforward as that."
Alyssa felt some of the tension leave her body, but not all. "So she didn't kill you?"
"She killed my body, captured my spirit."
"When you put it that way, it sounds even worse than killing you. But then, you're not dead, so… No, I don't know. Do you think it's worse? My head hurts. I need a glass of wine."
"You drink a lot of wine."
"Oh great, you're giving me grief about the amount of wine I drink? No wonder Gran told me to keep you locked up. You've been free for five minutes and you're already making my life more difficult!" Alyssa slumped down onto the couch and buried her face in her hands.
"Would you prefer I smash something? I could slam some doors, or, I don't know, what would you like?"
Alyssa lifted her face and considered the ghost for a moment, remembering the whole reason she had released it in the first place. "I want to get Angela out of this house permanently. I want her to never set foot on the property again. In fact, it would be better if she leave town completely."
"So that vengeful trait does run in the family after all." He quirked an eyebrow.
Alyssa glared at him. "If you help me, I will do everything I can to break this binding for you. Whatever it takes to set you completely free from the curse she placed on you. It's not just for me, you know. Angela wants you. I don't know what she knows, or what she intends to do with you, but she wants you, and if she's going to kill Gran's cat for it, who knows what else she's capable of. Do you really want a woman like that having control over you?"
His jaw clenched and he moved away from her, floating across the room and fading from sight before coming back stronger than before.
"No. I think you and I can work together, but I need you to swear to me that you will fulfil your end of the bargain once this woman is suitably dealt to."
"I will, I promise."
He laughed again, but this time there was no humour in it. "Your line has made me promises in the past. You're not the first to set me loose, only to box me up again when my usefulness passed. I require a blood oath."
"What do you think I am? I don't know how to do that!"
"You're a witch, just like the rest of them." His lip curled in disgust. "I can smell it on you."
"I'm related to a bunch of witches, yes, but if I was any good I'd have kept you locked up, right? You've been gaining power since before I got here. You've seen me flailing every time I tried to open those books and figure out what to do."
He considered her for a moment. "I will guide you. We will do this together, so long as you know that should you cross me, you will never be rid of me."
"Dude, I have no intention of 'crossing' you. I want Angela to pay, and after that, you can do whatever the hell it is that ghosts do when they're free. Move onto the next lifetime or something. I don't know." She held out her hand as if they could shake on it. When he stared at it she blushed and let it drop back to her side. "Sorry. Forgot about that whole 'incorporeal' thing."
"Excellent. It seems that we have a deal then." He gave her a curt nod and then vanished, taking the chill from the room as he went.
Alyssa dragged her fingers across the carpet but not a drop of moisture remained to suggest that earlier it had been snowing. In her living room.
She'd never seen it snow before, and she kind of wished the ghost would make it happen again. After all, it was almost Christmas, and this might be her only chance for a white one.
Hell, she'd just let a ghost loose from hundreds of years of capture, was set on avenging her dead grandmother's dead cat and here she was wishing for snow.
Kelly would smack her over the head if she was here. But of course, she wasn't.
Alyssa poured herself another glass of wine, leaving the mess from the unbinding on the floor, and headed to bed.
Chapter Ten
A chill woke her in the morning, a sharp contrast to the muggy heat of the night which had made her toss and turn. Perhaps she could convince the spirit to sit by her bedside all night and keep her cool.
Yeah, she was really losing it now. She wished Buttons was still here so that she had someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't think she was totally insane. But then, perhaps she was. Maybe she was even imagining the visitation from last night. Yet that chill put paid to that daydream.
"So how are we going to do this?" The ghost's voice made her sit upright, pulling the covers around her. He had a European accent of some sort, and yet he spoke English with ease.
"Where did you come from?"
"I was downstairs."
Alyssa rolled her eyes. "I meant, you know, in history, what country?"
"I was a Viking, once, though it has been many years since I was home."
"And you speak English, like me."
"When you have nothing to do but sit around and rail against your bindings for hundreds of years, you pick up a thing or two." He gave a little shrug.
"And your name?"
He shook his head. "I'll not give you that, not yet."
"Well that's going to make this pretty awkward then." Alyssa shoved off the blankets, grabbing her robe from the chair. "So what should I call you then? Mr Ghost? Viking man?"
"Mr Ghost has a nice ring to it." His words were filled with amusement.
"Nice to meet you, Mr Ghost. My name is Alyssa."
"I have known you since you were a child, Alyssa. Even when I was powerless to act I have been able to watch. Your grandmother had meant to train you to take on her role, but that didn't really work out, did it?"
"No, Mum wasn't too thrilled when she found out. Not that I even knew that was why I stopped being allowed to visit, or what she was showing me…"
"She was not the worst, your grandmother. She meant no harm, to me, or you, or anyone."
"So," Alyssa said, tugging on her earlobe. "If you could watch, you have all the gossip on Angela." She headed for the kitchen, unsurprised to find that the ghost had skipped ahead of her and appeared to be sitting at the table.
She filled the jug and prepared her coffee while it boiled, pondering the ease with which she was adapting to this situation. Witchiness in the blood-line, feuds in the family, ghosts in the house. Yeah, all just a part of life…
"There is more to the woman than you might think, and unlike your grandmother, she is not one of the good ones. She lusts after power, and it was for that reason she seduced Constance."
Alyssa snorted coffee out her nose as she spun around. "She what? My grandmother was having sex with that woman?" She fell into a chair at the table, shaking her head in disbelief. "I just… I don't… I can't get my head around the idea. She loved Granddad so much, I guess I never thought she would move on. Wow."
"She was lonely, and Angela gave the appearance of caring for her. They bonded over their magic, and while Constance's was stronger, Angela was manipulative. When she finally revealed her true nature, your grandmother ended things and Angela was banished from the house."
"No wonder it was so familiar to her. Did they live together?"
"Not entirely. Though they spent most of their time here, Angela always maintained her own house. It doesn't bear thinking to consider what she might do there."
"She makes such good muffins. It's really hard to get my head around this."
"Skills in baking make one less likely to be evil natured?" The ghost quirked his eyebrow.
"No, I didn't mean it like that, it's just… Well, she all but had me fooled too. And to think I was going to give her what she wanted. Do you think she ever really loved Gran? I hope so, or at least, I hope Gran believed it. She deserved to be loved." Alyssa shut up and sipped her coffee until it was done, trying to still the flock of thoughts swooping through her brain. None of them were really helping right now, and she had to get her facts straight.
Thankfully, the ghost was blessedly quiet.
"Right. So, Angela is a witch. And a bitch. She used my grandmother and she killed my cat. She knows about you, and she wants your box, and this house. Is there anything else she wants?"
"The house itself is a vessel, years of magic has been performed beneath this roof. It imbeds itself in a place. Angela is newer to town than your grandmother was, and much of her magic was done here too. It would make sense that she wants the house as a power base."
"But what does she want with you? You're just a ghost, right?"
His lips twitched into a smile. "Not 'just' a ghost, not really. I was a witch of sorts also, in my life. A shaman, if you will. I may no longer walk the earth, but I have power of my own—why do you think your ancestors have kept me locked up? For fear that I might take my vengeance against your line. Rightful vengeance."
The air shimmered between them, crystalizing into frost. For the first time since she had set him free, Alyssa knew fear. She swallowed hard, the chill burning her nostrils, her throat.
"But you will not cross me, will you, Alyssa. We have made a deal."
"A deal. Yes. And today we'll seal it in blood." She nodded, reached for her earlobe and tugged it so hard she flinched.
"Now."
"Um, you want to do it right now? I'm not even properly dressed."
"I've seen you in less."
Her cheeks flushed and she tensed up. Goddammit, this ghost was catching her off guard way too often.
"All the same, I'd rather be clothed before I go making incisions and leaking blood everywhere. Why don't you do your ghostly magic and get whatever is needed ready in the lounge, and I'll be there soon." She gave him a pointed look, resisted the urge to poke out her tongue, and headed for the bedroom.
Alyssa dragged her fingers through her limp hair, then pulled on yesterday's clothes. She would shower after this was done, though how she was going to guarantee that Mr Pervy wasn't watching, she had no idea.
It didn't matter. She felt sick to her stomach knowing that Gran had been used—not just by Angela, but by her ancestors as well. What kind of stock were they from that a woman felt she was entitled to rip the life from a man and keep him captive across time, simply for denying her?
Regardless of Angela, Alyssa would have let the ghost free after hea
ring the truth. She only hoped that Gran hadn't known the full story, because surely if she had, she would have done the same.
"Right, better get this over with."
When she entered the lounge the candles were set in their proper places, and the circle of salt was perfect. The ghost was seated on the floor in the middle and beckoned to her.
"You're way better at this than I am," she commented, stepping into the circle and sitting across from him. A knife lay to one side, its sharp edge glinting in the flickering candle light.
"I have more practice, that is all. Under other circumstances you could have been a great witch, but I get the feeling it's not really your thing."
"You're pretty perceptive for a dead guy." Alyssa found herself smiling at him, despite the seriousness of their setting. "Let's get this over with. What do we do?"
"Take the knife, slice your thumb across the pad and let the blood drop into the bowl."
She peered into it, but all she could make out was a dark liquid. "Do I want to know what's in there?"
"Probably not." He gave a slight shake of his head, his lips twitching in amusement. He gestured for her to pick up the knife and closed his eyes, a low hum emanated from him.
She recognized the blade from the box under Gran's bed. It was cool in her hands. For a moment she thought about lying, but then she pushed that thought away and cut into her skin, the edge of the blade piercing her easily. She let out a gasp at the pain—always the little cuts that hurt the most—and dropped the knife so she could squeeze her blood into the bowl below. It wasn't much, but she had done as he asked.
The ghost opened his eyes and looked into the bowl, the liquid mixed together by itself; more of his fancy ghost antics, she guessed.
"Do you, Alyssa, on your word and life agree to free me of all my bonds and ties in exchange for removing Angela from your life?"
"You're not going to kill her, are you?"
"No."
"Then yes. I agree to free you, once our deal is complete."
