by Dan Dillard
Chapter 19
Ethan pulled into the burger joint drive-thru and picked up an extra drink and a cheeseburger for Max, as a thanks in advance for her time, and then rolled around the corner to park on the street. The non-drowsy cold formula was really working.
Max’s place was in the older section of downtown. If you didn’t pay attention to the vehicles, it might have felt like you’d been whisked away to some 1950s town square. It was full of Mom-n-Pop shops in old brick buildings. Most of them still had little cardboard open/closed signs that hung in the front door glass.
‘The Olde Scroll’ was painted on a wooden sign and suspended from a wrought-iron hanger. The script was fitting for the name, but not the rest of the shop. Max’s sign actually had a slide on it that covered either the word ‘Open’ or ‘Closed': more advanced than some, but still behind the curve for the digital age.
Opening the door jingled a tiny bell to alert the shop keeper that someone was entering. Max popped up from behind a cart full of books like a prairie dog that had just caught a whiff of a predator.
“Hello and welcome, dear,” she said, on the bell’s cue.
Her expression changed when she recognized his face. She looked more like a grandmother who had opened the door and was surprised to see her grandchildren.
“Well hello there, Mr. Ethan Jacobs! How are you feeling? Better, I hope.”
“A bit; I took some medicine. I brought lunch. Do you like cheeseburgers?”
“Oh, I’m a vegetarian, honey, but I appreciate the offer.”
She wrinkled her nose at the grease stained bag he was holding and then raised her left eyebrow.
“Are you going to drink both of those? I am a little dry.”
Max glanced at the drinks he was holding and he shook his head handing her one.
“Couple of quick questions, though,” he said, smiling.
Max stopped walking and turned, waiting for him to ask.
He said, “Do you own this place?”
“I do—well, I own the business. Have for about 28 years now, but I rent the building. I know the owner well, and I’ve been here forever, so it’s practically free. What’s your second question?”
“Why ‘The Olde Scroll’ and not ‘Ye Olde Scroll’?”
He was sure this had come up before.
“Strangely enough, the thought never occurred to me,” she said, smirking.
She’d probably heard that question daily for the past 28 years.
Given Max’s appearance, maybe he should’ve seen the vegetarian thing coming. She had long, salt-and-pepper hair that was pulled into a ponytail, and was dressed in colorful flowing frocks like you might buy in a head shop that also sold incense and posters of The Doors. Of course she didn’t eat animals.
She wasn’t thin or fat, but comfortably in between. Round purple spectacles sat on her wrinkled face. Her beaded necklace had a crystal at the end. He couldn’t precisely place her accent, but he was pretty sure it was southern.
“Come on back, hon. We’ll sit down and have a chat.”
She led him to the back of the store where there were some reading tables and motioned for him to have a seat. The shop wasn’t dusty or dark, as one might expect for a rare book store. The original picture that had formed in Ethan’s head was set in ancient times, where a wizardly looking old man sat in a candlelit alcove, writing in a large tome with a quill pen. Everything inside was covered in dust and spider webs.
In reality, it was a brightly lit shop, painted in pinks and greens like the bedroom of a pre-teen princess. The shelves were clean and the books sat neatly; many were lying flat against the back of the shelf so you could see the cover art, but most were showing only their binding and title. He thought about Kay’s story and how the books in her room were turned with the pages facing outward.
Even with the bright, colorful façade, Ethan felt much information could be found there, and that wizardly man with his quill pen in his imagination had nothing on old Max.
They sat below a row of windows at an old wooden table that was shiny and smelled of Pledge. Rows of desk lamps ran down the center, and four chairs sat on either side. A bit optimistic, he thought, as he’d never seen more than one or two people in there, but it was inviting. Max moved one of the lamps aside and set down a stack of books that all appeared to be on the subject at hand. Then she took a seat, and a long pull from her drink while she looked at him for a moment.
“What is it?” he asked.
She sat for another few seconds with her lips pulled to the side and pursed, one eyebrow raised in question.
“I know you got questions. I get the feeling you’ve been digging in places you shouldn’t've . Either that, or you want results faster than they're willin' to come. Which is it?” Her gaze lightened and she rested her chin on one liver-spotted fist, waiting for a reply.
Ethan chose his next words carefully. He figured she could read a lie, and he really wanted to know how to do this right. “The first thing I want to know is why no electronics, no radio, no computer…not even a calculator, Max?”
“Well,” she began, “none of that stuff is necessary. If I had a boomin' business with hundreds of customers each day, I might use some technology, but I don’t, so there’s no point in wastin' energy. Besides, you're the thinker here. If you believe spirits are electrical, what better way for them to travel?”
The old woman smiled as if she had just won the argument.
When he had originally told her his theory about death and passing on, she hadn’t shown any shock or emotion. The revelation that humans leave behind traces of electricity when they pass on was not a new idea. As he recalled, her response was “We‘re all part of nature; like water turns to ice and then back to water, people change too, Ethan.”
“I was reading about summoning on the internet and I wanted to ask you some questions.”
He told her about Kay’s ghostly visitor and of his thoughts on the subject. He told her about the drawer opening and the recorded noise. His voice faltered a bit when he told her about the dreams, but she looked on without so much as a flinch. After saying everything he had to say, she spoke.
“You had somethin' follow you home, shug. You were lookin' for it and maybe this Kay was ignorin' it. What I don’t like is that this one has been followin' her around for all this time and she claims she hasn’t seen it since years ago.”
“You think I caught Kay’s ghost?” Ethan was insulted at the thought.
“No. You have Ethan’s ghost. Why d'you think she mentioned it to you, honey—because of your charm? She hadn’t spoken about it since Reagan, and just decided to bring it up to…well, some strangers? That dog won’t hunt, shug.”
Ethan’s eyes widened as he came to understand what she was saying.
“It could sense your interest. It made her tell the story. Hell, it might’ve shaped her entire life.”
Strangely, this all made sense to him. He wasn’t sure he believed any of it, but it made sense.
“So now I have a ghost living with me that’s going to rearrange my books?”
She leaned into her next words.
“These beings attach themselves to things—sometimes people. Kay lied to you. She's definitely seen this thing again. If she doesn’t wanna talk about it, it’s 'cause she’s scared.”
She looked off in the distance beyond him, and then excused herself. The little bell rang and a customer came in. Ethan worried about what she had told him and had a million questions, but when Max came back, she did all the talking.
“A spirit can’t manipulate objects without a portal into this world. If it opened your drawer, it was already here. Very powerful spirits can achieve this on their own, but I would assume it did this through Kay when she was a child, and somehow it’s transferred to you.”
Max grabbed Ethan’s hand.
“I don’t like the fact that it’s been quiet all these years, hon
. I really don’t like the fact that it’s in your head and controllin' your dreams. Ability like that comes from an ancient power. You need to close your contact with this being before it takes hold of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It'll take your life apart piece by piece until it has you completely alone, and then it will drain your body and soul until they give out. Do you read those books I give ya—or just set 'em on the table?”
“Max, I don't understand.”
Max sighed at the statement. She shifted her position and then took a more direct approach, spelling things out for him.
“Energy, shug. These creatures don't live in our world. They live in between planes of existence. They need energy to come back; energy to move on. I imagine they draw that energy from the person they're hauntin'. When that energy's gone, they must find another source.”
“So I need to remove the source?”
Max nodded but continued her stare, absently rolling the crystal pendant on her necklace between her thumb and index finger.
“How do I do that?”
He was on the literal and figurative edge of his seat. He wanted to call her a lunatic, but he also believed every word.
“I’m almost scared to help you, shug. I don’t want any enemies. These books can point you in the right direction. Read them, then close that portal, stop whatever else you're doin' and make a life with your Emily.”
She sat back for a moment, studying him.
“I have to get back to my customers now, dear. Please take care.” Max patted his hand and thanked him for the soda, and then she was gone. He stopped at the register to pay for the books and she just smiled.
“No charge, hon. Keep them as long as you need, bring 'em back when you sort things out.”
He pulled the door open, jingling the bell again, and walked out.
