by J. C. Hart
"Drink it."
"What, now? I don't know about that."
He laughed. "Drink it, and then I'll tell you my name."
Alyssa pursed her lips. She was going to have to drink it anyway, otherwise the ghost wouldn't help her, and who knew what hell he'd wreak if she didn't. At least he was going to give her something for her trouble.
She grabbed the bowl with both hands and lifted it to her mouth, letting the thick, foul tasting liquid slip down her throat.
"Oh god, that was gross." She wiped at her lips, trying to eradicate the taste. "I'm really glad you didn't tell me what was in that."
"My name is Magnus."
"Well, I wouldn't have picked you for a Magnus, but I guess it's not too bad." The tang in her throat was fading and she felt a little woozy. Maybe she should have made him tell her what was in that drink after all. "Are we done here? I think I want to go get cleaned up, and then…"
"Lie down."
"You read my mind."
"I know what you've consumed."
"You didn't poison me did you? I'd be really unhappy about that." The room was spinning now. Alyssa blinked, her eyelids getting heavier each time they closed, and then she was tilting over, her head hitting—a pillow? She forced her eyes open once more and felt a gust of wind as the ghost blew the candles out.
"I didn't poison you. Just rest." He brushed back the strands of her hair from her face and gazed down at her, but her vision blurred and then it was black.
Chapter Eleven
Sunlight streamed through the window and probed the back of her eyes. She raised a hand to cover them before sitting up.
The room was still a mess, though it didn't look as bad as she thought it would. And there was a thumping at the door, which was probably what woke her. God she felt like shit. Her head was killing her, like she'd drunk an entire bottle of vodka or something, though she knew that wasn't the case.
And then that taste hit the back of her throat and she gagged, remembering what she'd ingested.
"Well at least I'm alive!" She dragged herself off the floor and headed for the door, missing the presence of Buttons, who would normally be winding around her feet, meowing for breakfast.
"Wow, you're looking worse for wear," Angela commented, before Alyssa even had a chance to process who was there.
"I'm…not doing so great," Alyssa said carefully. She really wanted to slam the door in the woman's face, or scratch her eyeballs out, but it was as good a time as any to start sowing the seeds of revenge. "I don't know. It's like there's something in the house, something…malevolent. Do you….I mean, there aren't any…ghosts here or anything, are there?" She threw a glance over her shoulder and then looked back at Angela, hoping that the woman would mistake her unkempt appearance for fear.
Well, some of it was fear, but that had been replaced by knowledge and action, and the assistance of a handy dandy ghost. God she needed a shower.
"Well, there were rumours, but Constance was a witch, you know, so, supernatural activity wouldn't have been abnormal. Is there something I can do?"
"I don't know, Angie. I just don't know. I might head back to the city for a few days, clear my head before I decide what to do with the place."
"Oh?"
Alyssa could see that Angela was struggling to hide her glee at this possibility.
"Yeah, it might be for the best."
"I could keep an eye on the place, if you wanted me to. Water the plants, make sure no one breaks in or anything. And the cat, I could feed the cat."
Alyssa's fingers tightened around the door frame and she swallowed bile. "No, it's okay. It seems he got into a fight with something bigger and nastier than him. I buried him in the backyard."
"Oh Alyssa, I'm so sorry to hear that. A second loss, so soon after your gran." Angela laid a hand on her arm in comfort, but Alyssa slipped from her grip.
"I need to go and shower, I'm feeling kind of horrible." Alyssa edged the door partway closed. "I'll give you a call later, before I head out of town. You'll need a key."
"Don't worry about that. I have one from your gran."
Alyssa wasn't surprised, so she just nodded. "Thanks," she said as she closed the door and threw the bolt.
That woman was going to pay.
"I'm having a shower. Don't watch," she called out as she headed for the bathroom. She'd have to ask where he was when he wasn't manifesting, or perhaps he was always around, but only exerted an icy chill when he wanted his presence to be known. Either way, she didn't really care right now, she just wanted to be clean and to begin acting out the lie that would ensure Angela fled this house permanently, and never crossed her path again.
Chapter Twelve
Half an hour later Alyssa was feeling slightly more alive, parked up on the back porch with her phone and a steaming cup of coffee.
She felt the ghost before she saw him, and as she suspected, this time he didn't bring the cold with him. "So what's the plan?" she asked. "I saw Angela this morning."
"I know. I was watching."
Alyssa rolled her eyes. "So you're always watching." She glanced over to him, and he grinned.
"Always. It's not like I need to sleep."
"You're surprisingly pleasant to talk to for an evil ghost that's been locked up for hundreds of years."
"From time to time I have been set loose, but they always crossed me. Always put me back in that box." The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable and he twitched, his form shifting out of focus for a moment. "I had all but given up hope someone would truly free me."
"Well, you're lucky! There won't be any more women of our line trying to keep you captive. I have no intention of perpetuating the stupidity."
"You're not actually leaving are you?"
"No, I'll pack my car and park it somewhere out of the way, then slip back home and help you spook the hell out of her. What are you planning?"
"She'll come, as soon as you leave. She will go straight for my box."
"And what will you do?"
"You'll have to wait and see."
Alyssa rolled her eyes. "What am I meant to do? It's not going to be easy to pull this off if you won't tell me what's going on."
"There is a crawl space under the house. My suggestion would be for you to get under there and scrape things against the floor, make knocking noises. You know ghostly stuff. Leave the rest to me."
"Not sure how I feel about being left out." She scrunched up her nose. "I'm just going to do a few things before I pack."
The ghost nodded and vanished as Alyssa turned and headed back into the kitchen. Dumping the dregs of her coffee into the sink she grabbed some salt and random spices and headed for Gran's room and the magical supplies where she mixed and matched the items, hoping that should Angela try any of her witchy business, her spells would go terribly wrong. The woman deserved whatever she had coming to her.
That task complete, she set about loading her car with several boxes from the shed and all the vintage clothing she'd found in the cupboard, and for a second, considered actually leaving instead of just pretending. The ghost could take care of Angela, but then, of course, he'd come for her—they'd made a deal.
Oh well. She grinned. She kind of wanted to be here to see what happened anyway.
She stuck her head into the hallway and called out. "I'm leaving now!" Then shut the door and headed for the car, quickly calling Angela as she went. It took only a couple of minutes to find a secluded spot to hide it, and being that Angela's house was just down the street, she was sure to have seen Alyssa leave. This was going to be so much fun!
It took her a bit longer than she thought it would, but eventually she broke free of the bush behind Gran's house and crept to the back door. Peering inside she couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean a lot. She hadn't seen Angela come into the house any of the times she'd been playing ghost. Well, now it was her turn.
Alyssa found the little door leading under the house and crawled in. It was room
ier than she'd expected but she quickly got confused. She knew the layout of the house well, but it was harder than she thought it would be to align herself. Thankfully the lounge was right by the front so she pushed herself along as far as she could and took a rough guess. It was good enough.
And she could hear footsteps on the veranda. Her hand shot to her mouth to suppress a giggle. Angela's key slid into the lock and she pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind her.
Alyssa took a deep breath and waited, but she could only hear the faintest tread of feet against the carpet. Dammit this was not going to work. She strained hard, trying to figure out where the woman was heading and scuttled along under the house, following.
Angela stopped, and Alyssa reached up to drag her nails against the wood. It was barely audible here beneath the house, so the chances it was getting to Angela were slim. She lay back and kicked her feet up against the floor, the dull thud echoing around her as she listened.
No, still no sign that it had been heard. Magnus's idea was stupid, totally stupid. She wasn't going to be able to do anything from under here and it didn't sound like anything was happening in the lounge—she'd expected screaming by now, or something; any sign that the ghost was doing his job.
And then she did hear something, but it wasn't a scream. Angela was chanting, the sound was low at first and then rose, filling the space above her, pressing down on Alyssa.
"Crap," she whispered as she got to her knees and crawled as quickly as she could from under the house. Where the hell was Magnus? And why was he not scaring the hell out of the old lady? Something had gone wrong and if she didn't get in there soon, Angela was going to get what she wanted.
Alyssa didn't stop to brush the dirt off her clothes as she edged the kitchen door open, sending a prayer of thanks heavenward that Gran had kept all her doors oiled. Gosh that must have pissed Angela off, not having any creaks to play up on when she was acting the ghost.
The chanting was louder in here, not that it made any sense to Alyssa—some ancient language by the sound of it, alien to her ears despite its rhythmic tone. She grabbed the first thing that came to hand—Gran's heavy iron frying pan; how clichéd—and snuck down the hallway toward the lounge.
When she peered around the door frame she saw Angela, her eyes shut tightly, sitting in a salt circle with the ghost's box in front of her. The ghost was nowhere to be seen. It must have been contained by the circle. Hopefully that was all it could contain.
Before she could contemplate the wisdom of her actions she sprang forward and raised her skillet, bringing it down on the back of Angela's head. Or she would have, with force, had the circle not cushioned the blow. The frying pan bounced out of her hand without making contact with the other woman, whose eyes shot open.
Angela's pupils were wide and black and that chant kept flowing from her mouth as if outside her will. Alyssa shivered, suddenly afraid. She wasn't just dealing with a kitchen witch here but someone much more powerful, and far scarier than she knew could truly exist.
"You dare to break my circle?" Angela sneered. "Wasn't the dead cat warning enough?"
"You're an evil bitch, Angie," Alyssa muttered, grinding her teeth together. She kicked out with her foot, breaking the physical aspect of the circle, but Angela just cackled.
"It will take more than that to breach my space, girl. You're not the witch your gran was, and even she was no match for me."
"What do you want?"
"I want the ghost. I want all his power, stored up and wasted for centuries. It's time for it to be put to use."
Alyssa turned and ran from the room as fast as she could, heading for Gran's bedroom and the box beneath the bed. She tore the lid off and grabbed some sachets and the athame, slicing it across her thumb the same way she'd done with the ghost and smearing her blood on the blade. "I don't know what I'm meant to do, but give me the strength to overcome this woman for she means nothing but trouble." She kissed the blade and then charged back to the lounge. It felt as though Gran was there with her, guiding her movements, and perhaps she was.
Either way, she had to stop Angela.
The woman's eyes were closed again and the air vibrated, thick with magic. Alyssa held the blade in front of her, cutting her way through invisible barriers to get to the woman. She paused at the edge of the circle and took a deep breath before cutting a door and stepping through.
The smell was rank and Alyssa gagged, covering her nose and mouth with one hand while she held the blade shakily in front of her.
Angela laughed, her head thrown right back, the sound coming from the core of her. Alyssa just stood there not knowing what to do. She couldn't kill the woman, but what was she meant to do? She needed a sign, something.
And then she spotted it. The concoction on the floor in front of Angela. Quickly, she dumped the contents of the sachet into it and poured it into Angela's still open mouth. The foul liquid spilled over her lips and down her chest, and the woman coughed and spluttered, her laughter dying instantly.
Angela retched, more vicious smelling bile pouring from her body than what Alyssa had put in. Alyssa stood dumbfounded for a moment, and then snatched the ghost's box from the floor and kicked at the salt, slashing at the air around her in a wild attempt to dispel the circle.
The box felt warm in her hands and she turned her attention to it. It should feel cold. The ghost was cold. But there were silver chains binding it closed. She pulled at them and when they wouldn't come free used the athame to pry them loose.
The ghost appeared with a rush of cold. Alyssa's breath frosted on the air and she shuddered.
Magnus knelt before Angela, who had finally stopped retching and was staring at the ghost, her face as pale as the snow that had begun to fall around them.
"You have done terrible things," the ghost said.
Angela nodded dumbly, her jaw slack. The ghost reached out to touch her and then his hand went into her head and Angela screamed, the sound ringing through the room, piercing Alyssa's ears.
She dropped the box, clutching her head in her hands, unable to turn away. Angela went paler, if that was possible, and then she slumped to the floor.
"What the hell did you do?" Alyssa asked, her voice ringing in the silence.
"I scared her senseless." The ghost's voice was firm, as though he felt no remorse for his actions. "She will wake eventually, and she won't be able to hurt anyone anymore."
"But will she be okay? I mean, like, be able to live a normal life?" Alyssa edged away from the ghost, who was still kneeling in front of the other woman.
"She won't remember this, nor will she ever bother you again. That was what you wanted, right? I didn't kill her, though that was what she deserved." He seemed completely unfazed by his actions, but Alyssa was less than comfortable.
"I guess I better tidy up a bit, or maybe drag her outside and say she had a seizure or something?"
"Whatever works best for you." He nodded and then scanned the room. "I'll return when it's safe." And just like that he was gone and Alyssa was left in the wreckage of her living room with Angela on the floor in a pool of vomit.
So gross.
Alyssa dragged the other woman out to the hallway and propped her in the corner by the door before flicking her phone open and calling 111. It didn't appear to connect though so she dug through the phone book to call the local emergency services.
"Hey, um, my neighbour stopped by and she had some kind of seizure or something. She's passed out in my doorway." Alyssa waited for their response and then gave her address before hanging up. Angela was going to be sore when she woke, but Alyssa didn't give a crap. At least it was done now, and she hadn't been the bad guy.
She left the older woman there and went into the lounge with the rubbish bin and broom, sweeping everything into it; athame, bowl, puke, anything she could get up. She'd just finished vacuuming the rest of the mess off the floor when there was a knock at the door.
"We're here for your neighbour?"
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"Yeah, sure. She's just here." Alyssa pointed to the corner. Angela didn't even stir as the guy picked her up and carried her out to the ambulance. Totally weird. No stretcher or anything, just a big guy lifting an old lady. Oh well, maybe that was how they did it here in the Bay; she was going to have to get used to it.
She closed and locked the door behind her and leaned against it, remembering the first day she had claimed the place as her own. It felt like a whole lot had happened in such a short space of time, and she'd barely even had time to grieve the loss of Gran.
Or the loss of life as she knew it.
Yet she could feel a little excitement building at the beginning of a whole new adventure.
Chapter Thirteen
It was hours later and the light was just beginning to fade. Alyssa was bone tired, but she couldn't go to bed yet because things weren't quite over.
So she sat in the lounge, on her couch, under the Christmas tree. The lights twinkled, and though she hadn't quite managed to get it to stand as tall or as pretty as before Angela had trashed it, all in all it looked okay.
Of course, there were no gifts beneath it, and she was probably going to spend Christmas alone. Strangely that thought didn't bother her quite as much as it should have.
Alyssa felt the ghost before she saw him, the chill of his presence wafting through the room and playing in her hair.
"It's time."
"What happens to you, after I do this?" Alyssa turned to face him. Enough time had passed that the tinge of fear she'd felt in the circle earlier had dissipated. After all, it wasn't like he'd done anything bad to her, and he had held up his end of the deal. "I mean, you're not a genie or anything, so you can't just waft off and do whatever you like. Can you?"
"No. I'll be gone." A smile crossed his lips, the most genuine she'd ever seen on him. "Perhaps we'll meet in some other lifetime." He gave her a wink and she couldn't help but laugh.
"Are you sure you want to go? You could just, you know, kick around here with me for a bit. You're not bad company."
