by Lucy Banks
“Then why did you come to England?” Kester asked with interest, tripping over a fallen branch in the process.
Dr Ribero scratched his nose, pondering the question. “I had a bit of trouble in Argentina.”
“Gosh, what sort?”
“Some people, they thought I was dangerous, because I saw spirits,” Ribero explained, waiting for Kester to catch up with him. “So they threatened to chase me out of the country. My mama, she was so ashamed. It was a bad time, Kester, a bad time.”
“So why come to England?”
“I came here because it was famous, right? The celebrated home of the world’s best ghost hunters. I couldn’t think of anywhere I would rather have headed. So I begged my papa to lend me the money to get here, and I came. That is all there is to it.”
Kester sucked in his cheeks and let out a low whistle. “Weren’t you terrified, leaving your home country and coming somewhere new, all by yourself?” Kester asked. He couldn’t imagine doing the same. He liked things to be as familiar as possible.
Dr Ribero shrugged. “Perhaps a little. But I got lucky. I got into university, then met Jennifer.”
“And then you fell in love with each other?” Kester said, without thinking. Dr Ribero blanched.
“Love . . . it is always a complicated thing,” he said, after a brief silence. “I know you probably think I am bad, that I used your mother and did not treat her with respect. But that is not how it is, Kester. I thought very highly of your mother, and still do.”
“I know,” Kester answered. He looked up at the surrounding woodland, at the sun, glinting over the treetops. “I know you do.”
“You miss her very badly, right?” Dr Ribero said quietly.
Kester sighed. “I sometimes feel like she’s the only person who ever believed I wasn’t completely useless,” he said, shaking his head.
“I don’t think you are useless, if that counts for anything,” Ribero replied. “I know we don’t know each other so well, but I certainly don’t think you are useless.”
“Isn’t that just because you believe I can see this door into the spirit world?” Kester asked, unable to stop cynicism from creeping into his voice.
Dr Ribero rubbed his moustache. “Perhaps it was, at one point,” he said. “But now . . . now I have gotten to know you, I think differently. I like that you are positive about things. I like that you are caring, that you are respectful of people around you. These are admirable qualities, and you should be pleased to have them.”
“But I’m a complete coward,” Kester added. “And I’ve disappointed you on a number of occasions. I can tell.”
The doctor shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, with a little more honesty than Kester would have liked, “but it is not really my place to judge you.”
Kester took a deep breath, and tapped his father on the arm. “I want to go back to Coleton Crescent with you tonight.”
Ribero stopped beside a tumbledown fence. He leant against the splintered wood, wiping his brow. “Why?”
“I think I’ve got an idea about how to deal with the Green Lady . . . and, I want to show you that I’m not a coward.”
Dr Ribero paused, licking his lips. His eyes narrowed, scanning Kester’s face like a lizard surveying a wandering fly.
“Well,” he said eventually, placing his hands on his hips. “Of all the things I expected you to say, that was not one of them. What made you change your mind?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about all along,” Kester continued. “I know that you’re all feeling desperate about this case, and I want to help.”
Dr Ribero scratched his chin, looking up at the deep blue sky. “But Kester,” he muttered, “we know that you can’t help. The Green Lady, she latches on to you, she controls you, and it is not good, it is not healthy. I don’t think you can help, not really.”
Kester felt himself slump inside, the air rushing out of him like a deflating balloon. So he really doesn’t have any faith in me, does he? he realised. In spite of all his kind words a moment ago, he does just believe I’m useless.
“Will you just let me try?” he asked, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. “Please?”
Dr Ribero frowned. “I do not understand you,” he said. “One minute, you are telling me that you will never go on a ghost observation again. Then, just a day or so later, you’re telling me that you must. It is strange, isn’t it?”
“My idea . . . it might not work,” Kester said. “But I think it’s worth a go. If I mess it up again, then that’ll be it. I won’t do any more ghost observations again. But if I don’t try, then I’ll never know if I can do it, will I?”
Dr Ribero smiled, his lips stretching into an expression of pure delight, like a child. “You know,” he said quietly, “you looked just like Gretchen then. That determination. That strength. And now you make me miss her.” He wiped his eye, reaching for his immaculately pressed handkerchief. “Good for you, boy,” he concluded.
Kester beamed. It felt good to be told he was determined and strong, even if it wasn’t true. “However,” he went on, as they continued along the path, “It’ll need all of us to make it work.” Quickly, he filled the doctor in on what he’d found out so far, particularly about the Bloody Mary myth and the mirrors. Ribero said nothing throughout, only nodded occasionally, looking at the ground.
“What do you think?”
“That would be quite something, if it was a Bloody Mary.” Ribero frowned, rifling in his pocket for a cigarette. “But that is impossible. The Bloody Mary spirits are extinct. No one has seen one for decades. Centuries perhaps.”
“What do you mean, a Bloody Mary? Don’t you mean the Bloody Mary?” Kester asked. “Isn’t it just a single ghost?”
Dr Ribero laughed, slapping him on the back. “Goodness me, no,” he said, flicking his lighter open with a metallic click. “The Bloody Mary, or Bloodied Marié, as we supernatural experts like to call them, were just a class of spirit. But I do not think this spirit can be one. Surely not.”
“But it does kind of make sense, doesn’t it?” Kester pressed on. “I mean, everything I’ve found out points towards it. Perhaps people were mistaken. Perhaps they’re not extinct after all.”
His father mused for a little while, surveying the dense congregation of trees that surrounded them, as though seeking the answer there. “It is possible,” he said finally. “Anything is possible, I suppose.” Slowly, he started to chuckle, his dark eyes twinkling with merriment. “It never would have occurred to me to think our Green Lady might be a Bloodied Marié. That is excellent detective work, yes!”
“Why are they called the Bloodied Marié?” Kester asked. “It didn’t say anything about a different name on the websites I was looking at.”
“No, it wouldn’t, would it?” Ribero said with a frown. “The less the public know, the better. It’s better to give this type of spirit a spooky name, turn them into a myth, a story, something not to be believed, yes?”
“Why the name then?”
“Bloodied Marié, it comes from the French word ‘to marry’. This type of spirit, they fall in love with human men. So it kind of makes sense that our spirit is one of them. Kester, you are a genius, right? If, of course, you are right. It still seems a little crazy.”
Kester blushed, burrowing his hands in his trouser pockets. “Oh, I don’t think I’m a genius,” he said. “I think I just got lucky, stumbling on some good information.”
“Some people think that the name also comes from the French word for ‘tide’,” Ribero continued, “making her name literally ‘the blood tide’, you see?”
Kester blanched. “I know which version of the name I prefer,” he said. “I don’t really fancy the idea of a sea of blood.”
“Well, some experts believe it’s related to menstruation too. The Bloodied Marié, they apparently had
a nasty habit of causing women to miscarry if they are pregnant, because they are jealous, you see?”
“I’m not sure I wanted to know that,” Kester replied, cringing. Perhaps that explains why Serena gets so ratty around the Green Lady, he thought uncharitably.
“So, what is your plan?” Dr Ribero asked. “Do you really think you’ve got a way of getting rid of this nuisance spirit? To be honest, she is threatening the entire business. If we don’t get her out of that painting and back in the spirit realm, we will become a laughing stock. No one will want to hire us. I’m willing to try anything.”
“I know, I heard about the problems from the others,” Kester said. “That puts a bit of pressure on us to get it right, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” Dr Ribero said with a sigh. He scooped up a branch from the floor, and started swiping it through the tall blades of grass, still puffing at his cigarette. “I do not mind so much for myself. It is Jennifer I do not want to let down. It is her family’s business, you see.”
Kester nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Let’s act quickly then.” Before I change my mind, he added silently, thinking back to the eerie house, the swinging chandeliers, those horrible eyes, boring into his. Revisiting the property wasn’t an appealing thought. Still less appealing was the thought of revisiting the kitchen table where he’d managed to humiliate himself by vomiting all over it.
“Well, you will have my help, plus all the rest of the team, except not Serena,” Dr Ribero said. “But I am sure we can manage.”
“Why not Serena?” Kester asked. “Is it just because she stormed out of the office earlier?”
Ribero shook his head, giving the grass one last cursory swipe before flinging the stick into the air. “No,” he said. “She cannot handle this job. She is too unmanageable. I have lost my trust in her.”
Kester stopped. “But we need her there,” he said, grabbing Ribero by the arm. “If she’s not there, I don’t think my plan will work.”
Dr Ribero looked down at Kester’s hand, then patted it with his own, a lion’s paw resting briefly on his chubby fingers. “Good luck convincing her,” he muttered. “Because I do not think she will want to return to that house either.”
Kester gulped. “You’d better give me her address then.”
Dr Ribero grinned wolfishly. “Now you’re being brave,” he concluded.
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Kester said, gulping. His father strode on ahead with a laugh.
I’m not sure which prospect is scarier, he thought with a frown, watching Ribero’s back heading into the distance, dwarfed by the surrounding hills and trees. Facing the Green Lady again, or facing Serena.
Chapter 14: Serena’s House
“No.” Serena folded her arms over her chest and glared in his direction. Kester fidgeted on the small leather sofa, trying not to look too uncomfortable.
“Is that a no, as in, ‘I might consider it when I’m in a better frame of mind,’ or is it a definite no as in, ‘I absolutely won’t do it in a million years’?” Kester asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s a no,” she replied, ice dripping from every syllable.
Kester coughed, looking around the room. Serena’s flat, situated right in the heart of the city centre, was small, sleek, and fairly unwelcoming—much like the owner herself. Although the lounge was only just big enough to swing a moderately sized mammal in it, the ceilings were high, and a large sash-window looked out onto the busy street below.
“Can I ask why not?” he ventured, averting his eyes from her ferocious glare.
“No, you bloody can’t,” she said.
Kester nodded. Then shook his head. Then nodded again, feeling a little confused about what message he was trying to convey.
“Shall I leave then?” he said eventually. The sofa squeaked under his bottom, sounding horrendously as though he’d accidentally passed wind. He repeated the movement swiftly, to try to emphasise that he hadn’t, but frustratingly, couldn’t get the sound to occur again. Serena rolled her eyes.
“Why did you even come here?” she demanded. “I suppose Ribero sent you, now that you’re his favourite little lapdog?”
“Steady on, that’s a bit harsh,” Kester said, offended by her tone. “I didn’t come here to have a fight. I really would like you to join us at Coleton Crescent tonight.”
“Who died and left you in charge?” she spat, slamming her mug down on the coffee table. “Since when did you get to ask me to join you on a job? Last I remember, you completely screwed things up by going all soppy over a spirit then puking all over the table!”
Is she ever going to stop going on about that incident? he thought crossly. However, he knew that getting into a fight would get them nowhere. He took a deep breath and subsided back into the brick-like wedge of the sofa cushion.
“You’re right,” he agreed.
Serena looked surprised, then muffled the expression with a frown. “I know,” she retorted. “You screwed up good and proper.”
Kester twiddled his thumbs in his lap, feeling rather like he was in a cage with a somewhat unpredictable animal.
“I did screw up,” he continued, “because I’m not very good at this spirit-catching lark.” He leant forwards. “The truth is,” he said, “I watch all of you, doing what you do, and I’m just in awe. When you caught that Japanese spirit in the wood, I thought it was incredible. I realised I could never be that brave.”
Serena snorted, though she looked vaguely mollified.
“The truth is,” he carried on, getting into his stride, “I’ve realised that we all have a talent. You’re remarkable at what you do. The rest of the team are great at what they do. And I believe I’m pretty good at detective work. But that’s why we need you there tonight, Serena. Detective work isn’t enough to sort this Green Lady out. We need your skills to pull her out.”
She stared at him, eyes wide as a cat’s in headlights, then shook her head. “I can’t do it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and gazing out of the window. The sunlight hit her cheekbones, making her look like a Grecian statue, all angles and smooth, strokeable surfaces. “I tried and I failed. Don’t you see? I’m not that good at what I do after all. So there’s no point asking for my help.”
“But you are,” Kester insisted, edging forward. “You’re exceptionally good. You know you are, you told me so yourself . . . quite a few times.”
Serena shook her head. “The others are angry at me,” she mumbled. “And I can’t blame them. I messed up earlier today. I lost my rag. And now I’ve made things worse. Your dad is probably going to sack me, I should think.”
“He’s definitely not,” Kester reassured her.
“Well, Mike hates me anyway,” she sniffed, before adding, “not that I care about that, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
“So there’s really no point me being there,” Serena concluded, pressing her lips together. “Okay? I’m sorry that you came all this way, but I’ve already shown I’m unable to stuff that spirit in a water bottle, so I can’t help you, alright?”
Kester took a deep breath. “What if I told you that you didn’t need to stuff her in a bottle?” he said, letting the words hang in the air. “What if there was another way to get rid of her?”
Serena shook her head. “There’s no other way. We need to store them in something, to take to the official spirit drop-off at Infinite Enterprises.”
“What if I could get the spirit door open again?”
Serena snorted, her nostrils flaring. “You can’t though, can you? I mean, it only happens every so often. It’s not like you have any control over it.” She sighed theatrically, grabbing a red cushion and pressing it against her narrow stomach. “I really don’t know why you’re bothering to pursue this. Just give up. I know I have.”
“You haven’t really though
, have you?” Kester stated, meeting her eye with a level gaze. I’ve had enough of this nonsense, he thought. I know you’re not the mega-bitch you pretend to be, and I know you desperately want to get this Green Lady out as much as the rest of us.
“Well, you can think what you like,” she replied, fiddling with a bit of fluff on her leather leggings. “It doesn’t really make a difference. We can’t get her out of that painting, and that’s that. I’ve never seen a spirit that’s so good at keeping itself hidden.”
“I think I know a way we can extract her, and we’re going to try tonight. In an hour or so, in fact,” Kester announced, rapping his watch.
Serena groaned, slapping her forehead. “Oh dear lord!” she exclaimed. “One week working at the agency, and you think you’re an expert!” She leaned forward, eyeing him dangerously. “Go on then,” she goaded. “Tell me how it’s done.”
Kester leaned forward too, feeling a little like a chess player, about to move his queen into a supremely clever position. He smiled, perhaps a little smugly, but he couldn’t help himself. “It’s all about the mirrors,” he said.
“Oh I see,” Serena said with a sigh. “And there was me, thinking you were going to say something to completely waste my time. Well, I’m ever so glad you proved me wrong.”
“Hear me out!” Kester said, holding a hand out to pacify her. “She can be summoned. She’s a Bloody Mary spirit. Or a Bloodied Marié. Whatever. I’m not sure which. But she can be summoned using a mirror.”
Serena started to laugh. The laughter bubbled up until she was nearly hysterical, and had to go and get a tissue to dab her eyes. In fact, she seemed to be hamming it up to a certain degree, just to emphasise the sheer comedy of it all. Kester waited, feeling a little bit silly, which was probably her intention.
“That’s utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed eventually, clutching at her stomach to calm herself. “Oh Kester, you really are funny. Don’t you realise those spirits are long gone? They don’t exist anymore. It’s like saying that a dinosaur is roaming around outside.”
