by Mac Flynn
We hovered five yards apart, and the form of Lady Violet appeared out of the main body of the mist. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth set in a firm line.
"You dare leave when you are not excused?" she scolded us.
"It was my house, lady," I reminded her.
Her red-colored eyes fell on me and the box in my hands. "I would watch my tongue, Breather. You are no use to me."
"Then release her and take me!" Roland insisted.
The ghost sneered at him. "I believe you both have vexed me enough that I would take what I desire and destroy you both, starting with the Breather." She turned her attention back to me and clenched her hand that was closest to me.
The mist around me tightened. My air was cut off around my neck and I couldn't push my chest out to breathe.
"No!" I heard Roland shout.
A flash of blue light from my arms lit up the night sky. The phantom screamed in anger and her deadly wisps released me. I dropped towards the ground with the bright box still in my arms. A shadow swept beneath me and caught me in his strong, shaky arms. I looked up into Roland's face and saw beads of cold sweat dribble down his temples. He gasped for breath worse than me and his whole body shook like a grass in the wind.
"You okay?" I asked him.
"Only when you're safe," he replied.
He looked past me, and I twisted in his arms to see the mist dive down towards us. Roland flew forward low over the park trees. The mist followed, and the upper body of Violet protruded from the head of the fog. Her eyes were scarlet colored and her hands were fisted at her sides. The strands of her hair whipped about like white snakes. Her face was twisted in hideous anger.
In essence, she was ugly when she was mad.
"Must go faster! Must go faster!" I encouraged Roland.
"I. . .cannot," he gasped.
The tips of the mist licked at Roland's shoes. Roland put on one last burst of speed and then his strength failed both of us. His closed his eyes and grimaced, and we dropped from the sky like two stones with a baby rock in my arms. Roland maneuvered so he was on the bottom, and we crashed down on a grassy surface. We skidded a dozen yards before we came to a stop at the edge of gravel.
I peeked open my eyes and beheld a sign from God. Or of God. It was a sign, and it said 'God's Ministries. All lost souls welcome.' The sign stood a few feet away from us, and the gravel was the driveway to the front doors of the large, stained-glass building beyond the sign. The church was built of red-colored brick and was gracefully toped by a spired belltower. A pair of wooden doors stood open welcoming any lost soul and thief to the pews and silver.
"Roland, I think we found the place for you," I told him.
All I got was a groan in response, and I looked down to find Roland with his face twisted into a horrible grimace. His eyes were closed and his body was tense.
"All right, Roland, enough saving me. It's time for me to save you," I insisted.
I sat up and pulled him up so I could wrap one of his arms over my shoulders. He ground his sharp teeth together and winced.
"Leave. . .me. . ." he gasped.
I snorted and stood onto my shaky feet. "And leave you to her? Don't you know I'd be driven mad with jealousy?"
Roland opened his eyes and blinked at me. "Would you?"
"Maybe, but could we talk about this some other time?" I suggested.
He shook his head and tried to stand on his own. "No. You must. . .get inside. . .the church."
"And leave you out here for here to find for yourself? I don't think so," I insisted.
Roland pulled himself from my grasp and pressed his soul box into my arms. He looked me in the eyes and I felt a welling of five emotions rise up in me. Fear. Regret. Sadness. Happiness. Hunger. Okay, maybe just four emotions.
"So long as you have my soul you will have me with you," he whispered.
A screeching wailing came from the trees behind us. I turned to see the mist slip among the large, ancient oaks that spotted the grounds of the church. Roland took advantage of my distraction. He tucked me under his arm like I was a football and ran for the end zone at the church doors.
"Permission! Remember?" I screamed at him.
We reached the threshold of the doors and he tossed me like he'd just made the winning touchdown. I flew through the doors, through the small foyer, and skidded to a stop a few yards down the carpeted runway between the long wooden pews. The soul box clattered to a stop close beside me.
I whipped my head up and saw the mist wrap around Roland. He smiled at me before he was pulled into the white darkness.
"Roland!" I yelled.
CHAPTER 5
I scrambled to my feet and made for the doors. The tendrils of mist tried to meet me halfway, but they had a little traveling problem. They evaporated the moment they crossed the threshold and fell as sparkles onto the carpeted foyer. I skidded to a stop at the edge of the doors and tried to peer into the mist.
"Roland?" I screamed.
I started back when the woman's face shoved itself out of the mist and only inches from my nose. She sneered at me and gnashed her teeth.
"Give me that soul!" she demanded.
I glared back at her. "Give me Roland!"
"The box!"
"The vampire!"
"Breather!"
"Color deficient!"
"What's the matter here?" a voice spoke up.
The ghost's eyes widened and she receded back into her fat form. I turned and saw a man dressed in black with a white collar walk out of a side door near the altar at the front of the church. He didn't hesitate when he saw me, but smiled and opened his arms wide as he walked down the aisle.
"Good evening, sister," he welcomed me.
"I'm not really-"
He came up to me and patted me on the shoulder. There was a twinkle in his eye and strength in his hand. A silver cross around his neck glistened in the dim lights. "I know, but I must admit you did fool me for a few moments. Where did you get that-"
"Listen, preacher-"
"Father Malone."
"Father, my friend's out there-" I half-turned to the open doors and the mist that resided just outside the church, "-and I don't have time to explain, but-"
"Is he injured?" Father Malone asked me.
"To the soul," I confirmed. "But do you have some sort of fan or something we can use to blow away that mist?"
Father Malone furrowed his brow and dropped his hand off my shoulder. "First we shall see what we can do for him." He strode past me, but I caught his arm.
"But there's something else out there," I warned him. "Something that's not exactly-well, kosher."
He smiled. "Then it's good for both of us I'm not Jewish."
Father Malone gently pulled from my grasp and walked to the doors. He didn't hesitate, but walked straight into the mist. Sort of. The mist parted for him, and I heard a faint wail of the banshee ghost as she retreated down the gentle slope atop which sat the church. The father didn't appear to notice his Moses-like ability to part the mist.
"Hello?" the father hollered. "Are you there?"
There was a groan that was distinctly Roland. Father Malone forded further away from the doors and his footsteps revealed Roland's prone body.
"Roland!" I shouted.
I raced to the fallen vampire even as Father Malone knelt by his side. The father pressed his hand against his neck and frowned. "He's deathly cold. We must get him inside."
I neglected to mention that for Roland cold was a feature, not a bug. There was the problem of getting him inside.
"We can't take him inside the church," I informed him.
Father Malone raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
"Because he's Jewish, and crosses scare him," I replied.
A small smile slipped onto his lips. "Very well. I live behind the church in a small cottage. We can see what we can do for him there. I'll need some help, though. He's quite a load."
Father Malone and I each took an arm an
d draped it over our shoulders. I glanced at the open doors and the hint of soul box that sat between the pews.
"You needn't worry about the church. Most nights I forget the doors are open," he assured me.
"So there's no chance someone might walk in there and swipe anything?" I persisted.
He chuckled. "There's nothing worth swiping, but on this night those who would do mischief are in the streets in ghoulish costume asking for candy."
We hefted Roland around the side of the church and to a small cottage behind the imposing building. The interior was small with an open floor plan that connected the kitchen, living room, and dining room. The back wall had two doors that led into the bedroom and bathroom. A few religious paraphernalia lined the walls such as crosses and quotes from scriptures.
The living room was outfitted with old but comfortable furniture centered near a large brick fireplace. We hefted Roland onto the bouncy couch and I plopped myself on the coffee table in front of him.
"I'm afraid the strongest drink I have is cocoa, but you're welcome to it," Father Malone informed me.
"That sounds great," I replied.
He walked over to the kitchen, and I turned my attention to Roland. I leaned forward and grasped one of his hands in mine. He was cold to the touch, but then, he was always cold to the touch. Like a dead fish taken out of a freezer.
"I'm so sorry, Roland," I whispered. "I shouldn't have let you tuck me under your arm like a football. I guess. . .I guess I was scared." I shrugged. "Yeah, I know. We've been through vampires, not-vampires, and were-sheep, and now I'm scared." I paused and my eyes flickered to the kitchen. The priest's back was turned. I leaned down so that my lips nearly touched Roland's pale pair. "Whatever you're in, please snap out of it. I. . .I don't know what I'd do without you getting me into trouble." I snorted. "Live a boring, normal life without fear of death and undeath."
"Would you like marshmallows?" Father Malone called from the kitchen.
I shot up and coughed. "Sure. I feel like living dangerously." He dropped a few of the soft puffs into a mug of cocoa and turned to me. I studied the father's short stature and frowned. "So strange weather we had tonight with that fog, huh?"
Father Malone returned with a steaming mug of cocoa which he handed me. "Quite strange," he agreed
I stirred the spoon, but my eyes were on the father as he took a seat close beside the foot of the couch. "It kind of looked like you made it go away," I commented.
He smiled and gestured to my mug. "The cocoa's my own recipe. I hope you like it," he told me.
I took a sip and smiled. "This is so good it's almost sinful," I teased.
"I pray daily for my waistline," he returned.
We were quiet for a while. The only sound was my stirring my cocoa. Father Malone leaned back in his chair and studied me for so long that I squirmed under his gaze.
"What? Is there something on my face?" I wondered.
"You care for him a great deal, don't you?" he asked me.
I blushed and shook my head. "It's not that. It's-"
"You needn't lie to me, my child. I'll consider it a confession. The truth will go to my grave, if that's what you wish," he assured me with a wink.
I snorted. "I'm starting to believe nobody stays in those things."
"They are only places of grief, and no soul truly wants to remain in their grave for all eternity," he countered.
"I thought someone was supposed to blow a horn or something," I mused.
"Gabriel, but I would prefer to wait for his call in a more comfortable spot," Father Malone commented. He gestured to Roland. "But we stray away from the subject I wish to speak about, and I think you need to talk about. He's very dear to you, isn't it?"
My shoulders drooped and I looked over Roland. "He's-well, he's a pretty nice guy."
"Is that all?" he persisted.
"And he's cute."
"Is there nothing more?"
I frowned at him. "You're not going to leave me alone until I admit I like him, are you?"
"Until you admit you care for him a great deal," he corrected me. "Don't try to hide it. Your eyes tell me what your lips refuse to admit. They are a window into your soul that cannot lie."
I glanced down at Roland. "Maybe you don't need a window to know they have a good soul."
Father Malone furrowed his brow. "You seem very troubled, my child. Won't you-" A groan from Roland interrupted the man's request.
Roland's eyes fluttered open. He blinked at me a few times before I came into focus, and then a smile slipped onto his lips.
"Good evening," he greeted me.
"I thought you were going to sleep through the night, too," I teased. Roland tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down on the couch. "I think you should take a break for a while. It's not everybody a normal human like you gets that scared," I loudly commented. My eyes flicked to Father Malone.
Roland gave a slight nod and lay back down. Father Malone stood and moved to stand beside me. Roland winced and turned away from him. I noticed the problem that dangled from Father Malone's neck. The cross.
"Could you put the cross away? Jewish and all," I reminded him.
Father Malone bowed his head. "Of course." He pocketed the cross and took a seat on the couch beside Roland. The father took a hold of Roland's wrist and frowned. "Your pulse is very weak. I can't feel a thing," he commented. "Whatever gave you a shock must have been quite bad."
"Let's just say that mist you made go away was had a little spirit to it," I quipped.
Father Malone set Roland's arm on the couch and raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you have a problem that may fall under my expertise."
"I don't think you'd quite believe it," I warned him.
"To paraphrase Shakespeare, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy," he countered.
"Meaning?" I returned.
He moved back to his chair and clasped his hands together with his elbows on his knees. A smile graced his lips as he gazed between Roland and me. "Try me."
CHAPTER 6
I glanced at Roland. He gave a nod, and I sighed.
"We were being chased by a ghost," I revealed.
The priest leaned back and furrowed his brow. "I know this is Halloween, but you don't mean this to be a trick, do you?"
"Or a treat," I added. "We really were being chased by a ghost."
"Then it was a spirit not chained to a specific point on earth?" he asked us.
"The only chains were the ones she was wanting to wrap around our necks," I quipped.
"For what reason does she haunt you? Did you know her in life?" he asked us.
"Only the stories about her. She's Lady Violet," I told him.
The priest frowned. "I know the stories, but Lady Violet has never been known to leave the highway nor harass anyone."
"She's taken up a different occupation, and a different haunt. Us," I returned.
"This is most serious. An evil spirit is not a small trifle," he commented.
I studied the old priest. "So you really believe us?"
Father Malone smiled and gave a nod. "I do, and I'm also open to the idea of aliens."
I snorted. "Fortunately the only ones around here are three feet tall and asking for candy right now."
The father chuckled. "Yes, but what do you intend to do? Has she made demands of you?"
"We need to reach the library and find out what we can of the ghost," Roland spoke up. "Is there any way you could drive us to the library?"
The man shook his head. "I wish I could offer you such assistance, but I don't own a car."
I glanced at Roland. "You think our supernatural stalker will leave when the sun comes up?"
"Ghosts are normally called to the otherworld by the sun, but the ghost that follows us is no longer a mere specter," he pointed out as his eyes flickered to the box in my hands.
The priest raised an eyebrow. "The spirit that follows you sounds very unusual."
"Let's just say it's a little more soul-er powered than the usual spirit," I told him. I turned to Roland. "So do we wait here or take our chances that she might trip over her dress?"
The priest leaned back and rubbed his chin. A smile slowly spread across his lips. "I may be able to help you there."
Father Malone stood and walked over to his bookcase. He pulled out a book and opened the pages to the center. I noticed the book was gutted to create a small hiding hole. He removed two vials from the pages and handed them to me.
I held the vials up in each hand. One had specks of white, and the other had a thick, blue liquid inside. "Holy water and ashes of a saint?" I guessed.
He turned the cover so I could read the title. 'Hidden Helpings.'
"Blackberry syrup and salt," he told me. He put the book back and chuckled. "I must admit that was my secret emergency rations for when the matrons of the church demand I go on a diet, but I believe you two need it more than I."
"An interesting choice," Roland spoke up.
The priest took his seat and bowed his head. "I thank you for the compliment. It's rather an archaic method, but under these unusual circumstances it may be the most effective."
"Guys? Could you include me in on the reason why I was handed a small jar of blackberry juice?" I asked them.
"The blackberry plant and its fruit is a strong deterrent against spirits, and salt purifies almost as effectively as fire, but with less mess," the priest explained.
"So do we douse ourselves with these?" I guessed.
"We would do better to cover the spirit in the juice, but the salt might be used to surround us in a barrer," Roland told me. "That may bide us the time we need to escape to the library and find out what we can of her situation."
I glanced between the vials in my hand and Roland. "These don't happen to be effective against vampires, do they?"
"The salt can act as a barrier, but the blackberry syrup is more effective against spirits," Roland told me.
Father Malone raised an eyebrow. "Are there other burdens you wish to relieve from your shoulders?"
I stood and pocketed the vials. "Only if you want to hear about non-vampires and were-sheep."
