Brown Eyed Ghoul

by H. P. Mallory

  “But how is what you’re saying even possible?” Ryan continued, shaking his head just as fiercely as I had. He looked, for all intents and purposes, baffled. “Why would Peter ask you to solve the mystery of Adele’s death if he were the one who did it?”

  “He doesn’t know he did,” I answered brusquely. I returned my eyes to my sweet tea and the mound of sugar at the bottom of the glass, which still hadn’t dissolved.

  “Pey, I know you just went through a harrowing ordeal,” Ryan started as he eyed me with pity, irritating me all the more, “but you still haven’t told us exactly what you did go through. I’m betting it wasn’t good.”

  “No, it wasn’t good!” I scoffed at him before catching my breath. “I can see where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you very seriously: I’m not imagining any of it and I’m not confused.” I withdrew my attention from Ryan’s disbelieving face and looked at Lovie. “Peter doesn’t remember any of the particulars because he was under Guarda’s spell.”

  “Guarda?” they both said in unison.

  Guarda? Drake echoed. The voodoo witch we had the misfortune of dealing with when you had to return to my time in order to defeat the Axeman?

  “Yes, Guarda,” I answered all three of them before taking a deep breath. I fought to forget the memory of seeing her lying underneath Peter and staring at me.

  “What does Guarda have to do with Peter, babydoll?” Lovie asked. She reached forward and took my hand in hers, squeezing it as if to tell me she believed me.

  “I don’t know exactly,” I started as a shudder traveled down my spine once I started to relive the particulars. “All I can say is that when I entered the dream state, I believe I actually inhabited Adele’s body.” I cleared my throat as I remembered the white dress with huge petticoats, something I didn’t own and which looked like it belonged in the 1950s. “I saw and experienced everything I did through her eyes,” I continued. “At least, that’s what I’m fairly convinced of.”

  “Go on,” Lovie encouraged me with one of her compassionate smiles. “Tell us what you saw. Take your time, honey.”

  “Peter and Guarda were in the bedroom having sex,” I started.

  “Disgusting,” Ryan responded with a frown as he shook his head. The look of revulsion was all over his face. “How could anyone willingly engage in … anything with that old goat?”

  “Well, she wasn’t an old goat sixty years ago,” I retorted, shaking my head because I was irritated he’d interrupted me, and also because he wasn’t following along.

  “No, she wasn’t,” Lovie agreed. “And from what I’ve heard, Guarda was quite beautiful in her day.”

  “Yes, she was,” I answered, the memory of her perfect skin and features returning to me. “But getting back to the point, Guarda was somehow controlling Peter.” I paused and remembered how Peter appeared to be on autopilot. “Once I walked into the room, she saw me. She looked right at me.”

  “Is that why you thought you were in Adele’s body?” Ryan asked.

  I nodded as I turned to face him. “Part of the reason. I was also wearing something that would have been fashionable in the 1950s.” I took another stabilizing breath and continued. “Guarda ordered Peter to attack me. I could tell by the vacant expression on his face that he didn’t realize what he was doing. She was mind-steering him somehow.” My heart started racing so I took a few deep breaths to calm down again.

  “When you say he attacked you …” Ryan started.

  “He jumped on me and pushed me onto the floor. Then he wrapped his hands around my throat and started to choke me and … and then I woke up, or came to, or whatever you want to call it.” At that moment, I made a decision. I chose not to mention that Guarda might have recognized me, or might have seen the real me right through Adele. I still wasn’t convinced it was possible, so I decided Guarda’s words should stay with me until their meaning was clearer.

  Ryan started to shake his head and his jaw tightened. “That explains why you were sputtering and couldn’t breathe,” he said with a sigh as he looked away, appearing lost in his thoughts. When he faced me again, I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t happy. “I don’t want you involvin’ yourself in any more of this voodoo stuff. I didn’t trust Guarda before, an’ now I trust her even less. An’ who knows what could have happened to you if you hadn’t woken up?”

  I took a deep breath but didn’t respond because I didn’t know the answer either.

  “I can’t even begin to understand this voodoo ghostly stuff, an’ I’m man enough to admit that it scares me,” Ryan continued. He fell quiet for a few seconds as his eyes searched mine. “I don’t want you puttin’ yourself in any situations where you can get hurt, Pey.” He continued looking at me, his large amber eyes filled with compassion and pain. “I’m sorry I got you involved in all of this.”

  “It’s okay, Ryan,” I said in a soft voice. “You didn’t know what would happen.”

  “So the big question now becomes,” Lovie interrupted, reminding me that she was still there, “what do we tell Peter?”

  And on that subject, I had no answer.

  SIX

  After deliberating for nearly three days, we still couldn’t reach a decision regarding whether or not to tell Peter that he was Adele’s killer. It didn’t seem right not to tell him, but at the same time, I couldn’t help considering how old Peter was; the news might wreck him for the remainder of whatever years he had left. I was also afraid that if Peter knew the truth, he’d seek Guarda out, and we all knew what that could mean … Guarda was powerful, far more powerful than Peter. There was no telling what she’d do if Peter confronted her. I preferred not to find out …

  With regards to Guarda and Peter, I decided to find out why Guarda ordered Peter to kill Adele. Of course, on the surface, it merely seemed like the makings of a very ugly affair. I had a feeling though, there was more to it than that. Much, much more. Knowing how manipulative and conniving Guarda could be, I highly doubted her interest in Peter was simply about love or sex. Yes, I could have been wrong, but I was willing to bet my house that I wasn’t.

  “What business was Peter in before he retired?” I asked Ryan as I turned on my side to face him. We were lying on his bed. The early morning sunlight was already peeking through the slats of his white plantation shutters, at times glaring directly into my right pupil. I had to change the direction of my head in order to avoid its harsh brightness.

  Ryan took a few seconds to catch his breath, owing to the lengthy and intense lovemaking session we’d just engaged in. I giggled as I ran my fingers down the side of his face. “Your cheeks are all red,” I said with another laugh.

  “I imagine they are!” he responded and his hearty chuckle seemed to resonate through his entire being. “Considerin’ I was in the process of pleasin’ you for the past hour, plus!”

  “Ahem! I’d say you weren’t just pleasing me.”

  He nodded and his smile deepened. “I’d have to agree with you.”

  “And even if you were completely focused on just pleasing me, what’s to complain about?” I asked, my eyebrows reaching toward the high ceilings.

  He pushed me onto my back and boxed me in with his large, muscular arms. We just looked at one another for a few seconds while I mentally double-checked myself. I wanted to make sure I shut Drake out from all of this merrymaking. Drake and I had an established agreement: whenever I did anything of an intimate nature with Ryan, I first mentally shut Drake out of my mind. That way, he would be spared a “homosexual encounter” as he called it. Since Drake hadn’t made any stink about witnessing Ryan and me thus far, I was pretty sure he was safely on hiatus.

  Ryan brought his face down to mine until barely an inch of air separated us. “I never complain where makin’ love to you is concerned, Peyton Clark.” He slowly enunciated every word, his eyes burning and hungry. A shiver raced down my spine as I started to sting again, from deep down inside me.

  “I never do either,”
I whispered back. With a large gulp, I wondered if he would take me again. We’d been resting for maybe, oh, five minutes. Of course, Ryan was Superman when multiple sessions of sex were involved. I wouldn’t have been too surprised to learn he was ready for round two. I actually expected it.

  He didn’t respond, but that smoldering look in his eyes increased and he brought his lips to my mouth. Seconds later, I felt his tongue lapping around mine. Although I wanted nothing more than another round of multiple orgasms, that little, nagging voice in the back of my head insisted that I focus elsewhere. In particular, on the mystery that was coming to be known as the relationship between Guarda and Peter.

  I pulled away from Ryan and smiled up at him, since what I was about to say was really poorly timed. “You know that I think you’re the sexiest man on earth, right?” I started.

  “Um, I guess so,” Ryan answered. His quizzical frown told me he wasn’t sure where I was going with this.

  “And you know there’s nothing I love more than feeling you inside me, right?”

  “Um, yes?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing deeper.

  “Okay, good, then you won’t take this the wrong way when I say that my mind is currently consumed by Peter and Guarda?”

  He stopped frowning and a small smile stole across his lips. “Ordinarily, I would be pretty ticked off when my girlfriend starts talkin’ ’bout another man while I’m tryin’ to make love to her,” he started.

  “But this situation is anything but ordinary, right, you big … love tiger!” I said with a huge smile as I pretended to rake him with my tigress claws. “Grrr!”

  “Okay, you don’t have to go that far to prove you’re still attracted to me and want me,” he said with a chuckle. Pulling away, he sat beside me, looking at me with one eyebrow cocked. “Love tiger? Really, Pey?”

  The smile on my face widened. “Or maybe I should call you a love lion? Or is that too many l’s? I think the powers that be call that assonance or alliteration or something that starts with an a.”

  “How about you just call me,” he started.

  “I know!” I interrupted him with anxious zest. I raked his chiseled pecs and muscular abdomen with my eyes. “You hunk of burning man flesh?”

  “This is rapidly going from bad to worse,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You studly …” I started, but he lurched forward and placed his enormous palm over my mouth. All I could do was garble the rest of my words.

  “I will release you if you promise not to continue attempt to make the situation better,” he said, all the while trying to maintain an expression of austere sincerity although the smile on his mouth was a few seconds away from total victory.

  I held up two fingers on my right hand to gesture “scout’s honor” as I nodded. He studied me for a few seconds before releasing my mouth and pulling back. He kept watching me as if worried that another awkward sexual phrase was merely seconds from rearing its ugly head.

  “So what were we talking about?” I asked with a big smile.

  Ryan smiled back at me in that boyish, lopsided way. Naturally, it drove me absolutely crazy. I had to restrain myself from jumping on him and throwing my arms around his neck before kissing him with all the passion that was steadily boiling up inside me.

  “You just asked me what business Peter was in before he retired,” Ryan supplied. His eyes were still dancing with the hungry need they exhibited earlier. I had to admit that I loved the intense desire we both harbored for one another. It was something I’d never experienced in a relationship before. I found it completely, utterly delicious in its addictiveness.

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said, bringing my index finger to my mouth and trying to look like I was lost in thought. “So, do you have an answer for me?” I asked when it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond.

  He chuckled before replying, “Peter made his fortune in real estate.” His gaze started to drift from my face and landed on my breasts, where it remained for the next few seconds. “Buyin’ an’ sellin’ homes mostly, but he also rented out several properties.”

  “I see,” I said, chewing on my lower lip. I wondered if any of his real estate investments might have interested Guarda. “Hey, I’m up here!” I playfully reprimanded Ryan. It was fairly obvious he had no intention of shifting his attention from my breasts.

  “You are all over,” he answered seductively. His eyes dropped to the “V” of my thighs and then he looked down at my legs before returning to my eyes again. His jaw was clenched tight and his cheeks were flushed. My gaze traveled from his chest, further south, and I noticed he was also flushed and stirring in other places.

  “Patience,” I started.

  “Is not one of the virtues I possess,” he interrupted. Diving for my arms, he pinned them beside my head, planting his lips instantly on mine again.

  ***

  The next day, I found myself visiting the Louisiana Division of the New Orleans Public Library. It housed all the city records going back to 1927. My hope was to find some connection between Guarda and Peter, possibly having to do with a real estate transaction. Of course, I could have just approached Peter and asked him about the nature of his relationship with her, but I was leery to do so for a few reasons. First, I still couldn’t make up my mind about whether or not to be fully honest with Peter about the nature of Adele’s murder, and so I wanted to wait and reach out to him after I made a decision. Second, I figured if he were aware of an affair between Guarda and him, (or at least that one-nighter), he might not exactly be thrilled to tell me about it. And third, I didn’t want to mention Guarda’s name if I didn’t have to. I readily recalled how he’d bristled at Guarda’s name when I’d first made his acquaintance. Something which now took on new meaning … maybe he was aware of their affair?

  Either way, in this case, I decided it was just better to do the research all by myself.

  The Louisiana Division of the public library boasted incredibly shiny floors, overhead fluorescent lights and row upon row of bookshelves and book stacks.

  I must confess having not visited the library much in my time; therefore, I have no comment as to whether it changed much over the ensuing years, Drake announced. Whenever we ventured out of the house, he made it his business to inform me about how our destinations formerly appeared when he was still alive. He was better than a walking history tour, and no earbud necessary!

  Maybe this library isn’t that old? I asked. Heading down one of the aisles of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, I prayed the paranormal librarian from Ghostbusters wouldn’t be waiting for me at the other end. Luckily, having blocked my sixth sense after the harrowing situation in Peter’s house, I couldn’t see or interact with the spirit world at the moment. Which was just as well. I really didn’t need any more frightening distractions at the moment.

  Come, now, ma minette, Drake scoffed at me, this library has been in operation since the late eighteen hundreds!

  Imagine that! I responded absentmindedly as I decided I had no idea where to find the information I was after. I turned around and strolled back toward the front desk to ask for help. As soon as I approached the elderly woman sitting behind the desk, who looked remarkably like the librarian ghost, she peered up through the overly thick spectacles that rested on the bony ridge of her nose.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a nasal tone.

  “I hope so,” I answered, pasting on a pleasant smile. “I’m trying to find some real estate transactions from the late 1950s recording the sales of both houses and land.”

  She nodded immediately, as if my request weren’t an unusual one. Then she craned her head to the right and motioned to a line of computers that were set up as independent study stations, all in a row. “You’ll have to access the vertical file for that information. Click on the ‘Homes and Land’ tab and you’ll see lists of dates on the next screen. Click on the date you wish to review, and that will lead you to a list of the home sales.”

  “Great, thanks,”
I said eagerly. Without responding, she dropped her nose back into the book she was reading. It looked suspiciously like a romance novel, at least judging by the glimpse I caught, and the words “the apex of her thighs.”

  Smiling, I ventured over to one of the computers and pulled out the chair. I sat down and reached for the mouse.

  What does “the apex of her thighs” even mean? Drake inquired from inside my head.

  Ah, you caught it too?

  Of course, mon chaton, I see everything you see, he reminded me.

  Right! How could I forget? I asked. Shaking my head, I searched for the “Homes and Land” tab. As soon as I found it and clicked on it, I was presented with a list of dates. I wasn’t sure what year I should look for, so I started with the year of Adele’s death, 1959. A long list of names and addresses instantly appeared, but they were not in any sort of chronological or alphabetical order. Great, just great!

  Ma minette, you have not responded to my question, Drake persisted.

  Ugh, I’m sort of busy here, Drake, I replied while trying to ignore the irritation edging up my spine.

  Oui, I apologize, mon amour. He sounded disappointed and a few seconds later even added a sigh. Yes, it was absolutely histrionic in nature, but nonetheless, I started to feel guilty for not being in a talkative mood.

  What was your question? I asked begrudgingly.

  Je ne sais pas, I do not understand the nature of the passage the elderly woman was reading, he reminded me. What is this “apex of her thighs”?

  Ha! I laughed as I shook my head. I wondered if this man possessed even the slightest bit of humility. You must think I’m really naive if you expect me to answer such a ridiculous question! You, Drake Montague, are the foremost authority on the apex of a woman’s thighs!

  I am not amused, he responded in a tone of voice that suggested his ennui.

  And I’m not going to play your silly game! You have had more than your fair share of dalliances with the fairer sex! I continued, actually enjoying putting him in his place. So, I’m sorry, Casanova, but I refuse to fall for your silly flirtations.