A Girl, a Guy, and a Ghost

by Patricia Mason

  * * * * *

  “You have bunnies,” Giselle said with her head resting on Ry’s chest.

  He breathed deeply in and out as his heartbeat quieted.

  “What?” he asked after a long while.

  “You have dust bunnies under the refrigerator.” Giselle’s own breath slowed to a normal rate.

  Ry chuckled. “You have strange taste in pillow talk.”

  “Get me a pillow and maybe I’ll say something you like better.” She pinched his side.

  Ry stood up, chuckling again, and lifted Giselle to her feet. He retrieved his jeans and hiked them on. At least her dress was still in place, sort of. However, it was terribly crumpled.

  Looking down at herself, she said, “I’m going to have to change before I go to Lester’s.”

  Ry turned away, hiding a self-satisfied smile. The rat, he’d gotten his way about the outfit. She would show him. She’d find an even more—

  A rapid knock on Ry’s front door interrupted Giselle’s thoughts. As Ry zipped his jeans, the knock repeated. It became an insistent and unrelenting pounding as Ry walked out of the kitchen through to the parlor. From the kitchen, Giselle could see him look out the window next to the front door.

  “Oh f@#k!” He didn’t say it in a good way. That could only mean one thing. It was Ry’s mother at the door.

  Panic. Where was her thong? She scoured the floor with her eyes. Nothing. She looked on the kitchen chairs. No. Where could it be? It had to be here somewhere.

  “Ry, I know that you are in there. Open this door. It’s your mama.”

  Like they needed her to tell them that.

  “F@#k!”

  “Yeah!” Giselle still couldn’t find her thong. She gave up. She walked through to the hall and put her hand on Ry’s arm.

  “I’m going to have to open the door or she’ll never leave,” Ry said with a face twisted in a tortured grimace.

  “You’ll have to open it, I guess,” Giselle conceded.

  Ry’s hand went to the bolt lock.

  “Ry?”

  He looked back. He seemed to see the question in Giselle’s eyes. Was this going to be the end of them again? Could they recover and come back together if Ry’s mother broke them apart this time?

  Ry ignored the pounding on the door and dropped a kiss on Giselle’s forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

  Giselle decided she’d have to trust him. What else could she do?

  The door opened a crack and Madam Divinity flew in. Wasn’t that the same broomstick she’d been on earlier?

  She took one look at Giselle and let out a shrill yelp. “Aaahhhh.” Madam’s hand went to her chest as if her heart had attacked her. They couldn’t be that lucky, could they?

  “Good to see you too,” Giselle said dryly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Still not psychic, I see.” Giselle turned and walked back through the parlor to the kitchen. She prayed that Madam would not follow. Giselle’s prayers weren’t answered.

  Well, what did you expect? You haven’t been a good girl lately, Rational Angel said.

  Giselle whispered back, “Shush it.”

  “Mama. If you can’t be civilized, I suggest you leave.”

  “Oh honey, I’ve been very civilized toward that…woman. She’s not bald yet, is she?”

  Giselle refused to reach for her hair. “I don’t need mystical powers to make you bald, Madam. I’ve got two able hands.”

  This disconcerted Madam and she turned away to stroll around the kitchen. “I refuse to engage in any petty bickering. I came here because I’ve had a vision. My son is in danger. I don’t have time to trade insults with a slu—woman like you.” Madam plucked something from a cabinet door handle and held it out to Giselle. “I believe this must be yours.”

  Naturally, Madam had found her lost thong.

  Giselle grabbed it out of her hand, fighting the mortification she felt. “How clever of you. You do have psychic abilities. Oh wait, since I’m the only woman here. Never mind.”

  “You tramp!”

  “Madam, it looks like you’ve graduated from petty bickering to being downright insulting.” Giselle tried to assume her haughtiest air.

  “Mama, I warned you about not being civil. You need to go.”

  “But, honey, I have to warn you. I’ve seen danger for you tonight. You must be careful. There is darkness. There is something hovering over you like a great weight. It wants to crush you.” Madam clutched at her son’s arm. “Now that I know she’s still here, I’m even more concerned for your safety.” She spat it over her shoulder at Giselle.

  Ry appeared unmoved. “You said what you came here to say. You can go now, Mama.”

  Madam stabbed Giselle with an evil eye. “I knew you were lying to me at the hotel.” She stalked out of the kitchen.

  Ry and Giselle looked at one another. Madam’s heavy footsteps echoed as she marched away down the hall. The front door opened and then slammed shut.

  “What was that about the hotel?”

  “Nothing important,” Giselle said. “I hope your mother is not going to appear every time we make love. ’Cause I gotta tell you, if she does, it’s gonna be an incredible turn-off.” Giselle went to Ry and put her arms around his waist. “I don’t want to be insulting or anything, but your mother has got to be the ultimate anti-aphrodisiac,” Giselle joked, hugging him to her forcefully.

  Ry didn’t laugh. His arms hung at his sides for a few seconds before they came up and went around her. Then Ry hugged her to him with equal force. His fingers clutched at her, a pressure so intense it almost hurt. Giselle buried her face in his chest and inhaled his scent as she gloried in the fierceness of his grip.

  She didn’t have a ghost, but at least she wasn’t alone.

  * * * * *

  It was almost precisely 8:00 p.m. when Ry pulled his car to a stop along a side street about half a block from the address the Vampire Lester had provided for the assignation. The address turned out to be a house, or rather a structure that had the appearance of a small castle. The Victorian castle, constructed of rust brick that shown almost blood red in the light of the setting sun, had its own turret. Even from this distance Giselle could see the heavy curtains at the windows. The small garden in front had been allowed to become overgrown and unkempt. It looked gloomy and mysterious. All they needed was a thunderstorm to perfect the horror movie ambiance.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone,” Ry said as he surveyed the vampire lair.

  “Lester proposed this evening as some kind of romantic encounter. Whatever his ulterior motives are, he’s obviously not going to disclose anything if you go in there with me. Besides, I’ll be safe enough. He’s so frail I think I could take him in a fair fight.” She laughed, trying to lighten the somber mood.

  “But will the fight be fair? That’s what I’m afraid of. What if Kopeleski is in there? Even worse, what if those two thugs who abducted you are in there?”

  Giselle ignored the trepidation growing in her stomach. Or maybe it was just indigestion. No definitely fear. False bravado. That’s what she needed.

  “I’ve got your cell number programmed into my phone for a one-touch call. It’ll operate like a panic button.” She could tell he wasn’t reassured. To tell the truth, it didn’t comfort her much either. “If anything gets hinky, I’ll press it, I promise.”

  “Yeah, but will you know if there’s anything hinky? You didn’t have much time to suspect there was something hinky when those two guys threw you into the trunk.”

  Good point.

  “I wasn’t looking for something hinky then. Now I am.” That was a logical argument. Wasn’t it?

  “Why don’t we forget about hinky and just go do something kinky,” Ry said as he leaned from the driver’s to the passenger seat and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. The touch of his warm lips was incredibly arousing. The tendons thrummed like the strings of a guitar.

  He nibbled and then
sucked. She’d probably have a hicky after this. She hadn’t had a hicky since high school.

  Oh yeah. She’d rather go with Ry. She’d like to do something kinky with him. Something decadent. Something terribly naughty.

  His kisses moved up from her neck to her cheek. When his lips were within reach, she pressed her open mouth to his. More guitar strings thrummed, this time in an area quite a bit lower than her neck.

  Giselle cupped the back of his head as their mouths explored each other. He tasted of coffee and the chocolate brownie she’d seen him snag as they were leaving his house earlier.

  Sliding her hand down his back, and then from his back to caress along the front of his jeans, she felt the bulge there had become a little—no a lot—bulgier.

  You musn’t get distracted! Rational Angel Giselle screamed. You’ve got a job to do!

  Giselle knew what kind of job she wanted to do right now... Wanton Vixen Giselle exclaimed enthusiastically, Oh yeah!

  Rational Angel Giselle shouted, For goodness sake you’re in a parked car, it’s not even completely dark. Anyone can see you!

  Oh yeah, Wanton Vixen Giselle sighed, and retreated with reluctance.

  Giselle removed her hands from dangerous territory and pushed at Ry’s shoulders. “We can’t.” Her breath quickened and her voice went hoarse. “As much as I’d like to continue, we can’t.”

  Ry sounded like he’d been running, if not the marathon, at least a sprint. It took a moment for the glaze in his gorgeous green eyes to clear. He looked around. “You’re right. I wish you weren’t. Let’s go back to my place. We can be there in five minutes. Maybe less. I drive fast.”

  Giselle laughed. “You’re fast all right. At least in some things. And you’re slow at some important things. But, I’ve got to meet Lester,” she said, pointing to the mini castle.

  “Are you sure?” Ry asked with a silken tone. “If you want someone to suck you, I can accommodate. I just don’t go for blood.”

  Maybe distraction wasn’t such a bad thing.

  No. She had to focus. She had to find out what Lester was up to. He might be trying to kill her.

  “I’ll keep that in mind for later… After I see the vampire.”

  She gave his lips a quick peck and opened the car door. Before he could protest, she got out of the car and trotted along the sidewalk toward her date with Lester.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Trick or treat,” Giselle called as the door to Lester’s castle opened. But it wasn’t Lester who greeted her. Instead, a colossus of a man filled the doorframe, making the entry look like it belonged on a dollhouse.

  The colossus wore all white. He dwarfed Giselle, at more than six and a half feet tall and almost as wide with muscle, not fat. His head had a shiny bald sheen. Not one hair marred its surface, almost as if the muscles of his head had forced out the hair by the follicles. His eyes, small and pinched, had an indeterminate color. Were they blue? Hard to tell with such small slits lost in a broad face.

  He didn’t seem amused by Giselle’s comment. The giant scowled. “The master is expecting you.” The giant spoke in a deep baritone, as if the voice had a hard time fighting its way out of his massive body.

  He stepped back. Should she go inside? Giselle could feel the fear clutching at her feet.

  What was that Shakespeare quotation regarding fear? Something about fear being good. No, that was greed, and that wasn’t Shakespeare. Or did the bard say something about fear being bad? Why couldn’t she remember? Her parents had been right. Her degree was worthless.

  Aha! She could remember now. “The only thing to fear is fear itself.” Dammit. That wasn’t Shakespeare. And besides, it seemed like she did have something to fear besides fear, namely this big brute. Oh forget it. What did Shakespeare know anyway? She wouldn’t let one brawny guy keep her from her mission.

  Giselle stepped over the threshold and the giant closed the door behind her with a snap. Just then another figure emerged from the shadows of the hallway before her. He could almost have been the twin of the giant who’d opened the door, except that he wore all black.

  Omigod. There were two of them. Two brawny, huge, gianty, fearsome guys. Probably the two who had trunked her. So now she had two guys to fear more than fear itself. And forget about Shakespeare. She would go with intuition and get out of here. However, giant one now stood behind her, blocking the door.

  She clutched the small handbag containing her phone and the panic button. Should she signal Ry? No. She straightened. Neither giant had made a threatening move. She needed to get a hold of herself and not panic too soon. She might get information from Lester. She had to be brave.

  “Come this way to the master,” giant number two said in his own baritone. He opened a door from the hall to an interior room.

  Giselle escaped around giant two through an archway and into the bowels of the house. She found herself in a windowless room she would have imagined as a courtesan’s boudoir direct from another century. Only this boudoir had been set up as a dining room.

  Velvet and silk covered every conceivable soft surface, and the hard ones were slathered with gilding. The room had been lit entirely by candles. A large candelabra placed at the center of the small table illuminated the china, silverware and crystal settings for two.

  Lester stood amidst the gaudy finery, still and silent. He had dressed to match the décor of the room in a ruffled blood-red shirt over black velveteen pants. In this setting, Lester had a beautifully handsome ethereal quality. His paleness worried her however. She hoped she wasn’t on the menu to add color to his anemically sallow complexion. But then he wasn’t a real vampire, was he?

  “Giselle.” Lester seemed to float toward her. Instead of kissing each cheek as he had done last night, he took her hands into his own. He brought the right one to his lips to kiss its palm. His mouth went to the wrist of her left hand and sucked a bit. Ewww.

  If it had been Ry, she might have found it seductive. With Lester, it was just plain weird. Giselle had a hard time not pulling her hands away to wipe the faint traces of saliva onto her dress.

  “It is so good to see you, my love,” Lester said, still holding her hands in his. He stared into her eyes with his own soulfully large ones, their pupils dilated into saucer shapes. In silence, he stared as if he tried to psychically communicate something to her. But since she had no telepathic talents, she didn’t get the message. No surprise there.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “I could not wait for you to arrive.”

  She tugged hard to remove her hands from his surprisingly firm grasp. Who would have thought someone anorexic would be so strong. “Lester. You’re speaking again. What happened to the protest?”

  “You were the only one who noticed. So there didn’t seem to be much point to it,” he commented with chagrin. Lester spoke softly, with just a hint of British accent that seemed to come and go, sometimes there and sometimes not. Kind of like that pop singer who’d moved to England.

  His gaze fixed on her neck.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked, both hand flew up to cover her throat.

  “The urge to suck is strong.”

  “What suck?” she said. “I didn’t suck anything.”

  “Not you, my love. I have a strong urge to suck your blood.”

  “Oh is that all!” Relief rushed through her and her hands fell from her neck.

  “Won’t you have a seat, my dear?” Lester swept a hand in a flourish to the plush loveseat nearby. As he sat down, Giselle noticed he seemed to make no impression in the fabric. Giselle followed but sat perched on the edge, as far from Lester as possible.

  “Can I get you a glass of wine?” Lester indicated the bottle that stood, along with two glasses, on the table beside the loveseat.

  Giselle hesitated. “All right.” The bottle had already been opened. She wondered if anything been added to the wine.

  Lester poured the dark red liquid into one glass and handed it to Giselle before p
ouring a glass for himself.

  “I thought you wouldn’t drink…wine,” Giselle joked.

  Lester stared at her with a blank look. No glimmer of understanding lit his dark eyes.

  “You know. The vampire thing?”

  He still appeared at a loss but then responded, “Ah yes. But I do drink wine.”

  “No, you know. Dracula. ‘I don’t drink…wine.’ Remember?” Giselle prompted.

  “You don’t drink wine?” Lester eyed the glass he had given her. “I’m sorry. I thought you said you wanted a glass of wine.”

  “No, no. That’s a quote from Dracula.”

  Lester continued to look confused but still then spoke, seeming to believe she expected it. “Ah yes.”

  Giselle twirled the glass by its stem. No way would she drink it. They sat in an awkward silence. Then she remembered her mission to get information.

  “The guy who opened the door and his twin. Do they work for you?”

  “You mean Ren and Field? Yes, they have been my human servants for many years.”

  “Their names are Ren and Field? Are those their first names or their last names?”

  “Those are their only names.” Lester shook his head as if confused again.

  Silence. Then Giselle giggled. “Oh, I get it. It’s a joke, right? Ren and Field. Renfield. Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  Lester shook his head, his brow furrowed. “There is no joke. I find nothing funny about my human servants and their names. Why do you think there is a joke?”

  Giselle spoke without thinking. “You know, Renfield, the servant to the vampire in the Bram Stoker novel?”

  Lester vaulted to his feet. “Are you telling me another author has written a book using details of my life? Are you saying this author has used the names of my human servants? That some author, in addition to that New Orleans woman, has plagiarized my life?” By the time he finished, he was puffing in distress. Giselle became concerned that he would be frothing at the mouth any second now. “I cannot believe it has happened again. I will have to contact my lawyer.”