by Misty Simon
Becker caught the glass vial just before it hit the floor and held it up over his head.
Cherise screamed again. Mel had had about enough of that noise.
Jennifer crashed into the house, whipped off her scarf from around her neck, and tied it tight around the woman’s mouth.
“Thank you,” Mel said—to Jennifer, to Becker, to Mumford, to everyone in the house as their eyes lost the glow of coals and they shook their heads as if waking from a nightmare.
The shooter guy wiggled around on the floor, his eyes wide with fright.
“We’ll deal with you next,” Mel said and started picking up the pieces of the vase. She put them in a basket and apologized to Mrs. Sellers. “I’ll get to this as soon as I can.”
“Oh, sweetie, no worries. I’m only attached to the stamp on the bottom, but I really would like my vase back eventually. I like the room, you understand.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Mrs. Hatchett came flying out of the kitchen. She almost never moved from her cookie jar, and all those assembled in the office took a collective step back.
“Oh, stop it. I’m not going to rap anyone’s knuckles for bad behavior. You all did a magnificent job.” She looked around the room as if trying to find someone. She nodded when her gaze landed on one woman ghost in particular. “Bernice, I think it’s time.”
An older woman, with a big bun on top of her head and wearing a frumpy housedress, shuffled over, her feet not touching the ground but shuffling nonetheless.
“What should we do with her? I know you want her to have a chance. Can you make it happen?”
Mel had absolutely no idea what they were talking about but was fascinated enough to just listen and watch it all unfold. Just like everyone else in the room that seemed to be getting progressively more crowded.
Bernice cradled Cherise in her arms and laid her hand on the woman’s forehead. “I’ll take that back now,” she said with a finality that you wouldn’t be able to say no to.
A wisp of smoke, a breath of breeze, and a long sigh, and Cherise collapsed in the ghost’s arms. Somehow, she was suspended in the air. How had Mel not known how strong this woman was? She’d interacted with Bernice many times over the years, but she was always so sweet and faint. Now she looked almost whole. What the hell was going on?
“It’s a long story, dear,” Bernice answered without being asked. “I thought I was giving Cherise a chance to make something more of herself than her parents had, but I miscalculated, and she used it for evil instead of good. And now I’ve taken it back but left her all the memories of her every deed. It will be enough. She will take her punishment for the cruelty over the years.” A tear leaked out of the old woman’s eye. “I’m sorry to see her go, but it has to be done.”
Mrs. Hatchett handed the vial containing the priestess to Bernice. “You’re sure?” she asked with more compassion than Mel had ever heard from her.
“I am. She made this decision. I can’t save her over and over again if she doesn’t want to be saved.”
Cherise began coughing on the floor. “Grandma?”
“Yes, honey, I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have let her kill herself just to give me power.” She started crying, and her face looked as it if were actually melting, like a candle that had been left burning for far too long.
Before her eyes, Mel watched Cherise go from a small young pixie-like girl to a middle-aged woman and then to a woman of advanced years. Wrinkles appeared and places sagged that hadn’t sagged before. Her hair lost its luster, and some of it fell out, only to dissipate before it hit the ground.
What in the hell was happening?
“Just watch,” Great-Grandpa said. He stood right next to Mel with his hand on her shoulder. “She’s coming apart. There’s nothing we can do to stop it, but we have to be witness to what is happening.”
“And what is happening?”
“She’s far older than she looks and far more powerful than she had realized. But because she used it for evil, she’s aging as if the effects of her crimes are eating away at her. She might not get the standard punishment from your law enforcement, but this will be worse, much worse. And it will take away all that she’s done.”
“Even the bad things she’s done to other people? How can her dissipating erase or rewrite the past?”
“It won’t rewrite it, and those who’ve been wronged will remain wronged, but there will be a certain lightness of spirit, a hope that’s been missing and will now return to their lives. The veil she enshrouded them with is also falling away. They won’t get their stolen objects back, they won’t get their dead loved ones back, but they will get hope back, and that can be a powerful thing.”
Boy, didn’t she know that one.
“Can Becker see you?” she whispered.
“Not yet.”
“I have to tell him. He told me he loves me. I can’t live this lie and still believe that, if you make me continue to keep you a secret. It’s a wall I can’t tear down on my own.”
The hand on her shoulder gave a squeeze as he chuckled. “I’ll be in the library when you’re ready.” He winked at her again. “And make sure you take care of this lunatic you’ve got tied up in the corner. You might have a wild one on your hands right now, but I don’t think he’ll ever go ghostbusting again.”
So that was what he’d been doing. He’d probably heard of the junkyard in some obscure way and decided to come be a cowboy and get rid of the menaces. Well, she did not need him and his kind around here. She would make sure to be very pointed when she told him that.
Now they just had to deal with the vial of witch and go from there. The pixie was now a crone and moaned from the floor, most of her hair gone, her face sagging, and her eyes dulled.
“Do with me what you will. I know I deserve the punishment. I will take it willingly.”
Mel’s heart still tugged. The sincerity and the surety that there was no saving her did the string pulling. No one was completely bad. Well, some people were, but not always. So what was she going to do? She couldn’t send the woman out into the world, and she couldn’t exactly see calling the police and telling them this fantastic tale. Who would believe her? She was totally calling them on the shooter, but this woman was a different story. Mel just wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“Uncork the vial,” Bernice said.
Mel stretched out her hand to stop Becker, but it was too late.
Cherise found the strength to stand as the spirit of the priestess came flying out of the vial and coalesced to stand as a mirror in front of Cherise.
“It’s time, and it’s done,” Cherise said.
Mel had no idea what she meant, but then both Cherise and the priestess stepped forward, and they melded into one.
“Are you ready to go?” Great-Grandpa stepped forward to hold the women’s hands. The priestess was almost like an aura around the crone.
“Yes.” It came out almost choral. Mel listened in wonder. How many of them were in there?
“Let’s journey.” He dropped through the floor and took the fading image of Cherise and a number of other women and men with him. There was a popping sound, and then all was quiet as they stood staring at the floor.
“What the hell was that?” Jennifer asked.
Becker echoed her question, just before the room exploded in sound with the chatter of almost a thousand voices asking questions and talking about their time under the woman’s control.
It was too much for Mel’s pounding head, and she discreetly stepped back into the kitchen for just a moment’s peace.
“You did a good job out there.” Mrs. Hatchett sat on top of the fridge, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands in her lap. “There’s hope for you yet.”
Mel laughed, because this was the straw and she was the camel’s back. “Thanks for thinking so, but I think I might have a ton more to learn that I knew nothing about. I just rent these guys out and keep them happy. I don’t kno
w the first thing about attacks and trying to thwart bad people. I run to the grocery store, keep my creamer stocked, and keep to myself. And yet now I have madmen running around turning people into statues and men into dogs.”
Mrs. Hatchett gave her a soft smile. “You’re stronger than you think you are. Use it for good, and you’ll do all right.”
With those words of encouragement—from Mrs. Hatchett, no less!—ringing in her ears, Mel went back out to deal with the aftermath of one very busy afternoon and evening.
“What do we do with the shooter?” Becker asked. Mumford sat at his feet with his tongue hanging out. Mel did not resist the impulse to hug first her man and then her dog.
“We call the cops, put him out at the front gate, and say that he was trying to break and enter, and shooting into my place of business. Then we let him tell his fantastic story about ghosts and whatever else he thought he saw, and we’ll lie our asses off if we’re called in for testimony.”
“That won’t be necessary, actually,” Jennifer said. She rose from her crouch over the shooter guy. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell in a natural sleep pattern instead of the bellows he’d appeared to be impersonating earlier.
“Why won’t it be necessary?”
“Because Cherise was the one who sent him here to do his shooting beforehand so you wouldn’t notice her coming in and taking over. He has no memory of why he’s here or why he did this. Since it was a ghost possessing him, and everyone is back up to full power, I really think we should tell him some phony story about finding him sneaking around, not being sure if he was an intruder, and him fighting back, so we tied him up until we could figure out if he was a bad person.”
“Done.” Mel smiled. “Do you think you could take care of that? I have something very important to do right now.”
“Of course.” Jennifer’s smile was that one women share when they can practically see the thoughts swirling in another female mind, and it was good.
“Becker, my love.” Mel turned to the tall, handsome vet she loved.
“Yes, sweets?”
She liked that a lot and hoped that this was just the beginning of the next level.
“Will you do the honors of taking Mumford’s collar off? Let’s see if we can’t separate the two.”
Becker bent down to do just that, but before he could touch the collar, the buckle opened on its own and slipped off the dog’s neck to fall to the ground. A tall man with flaming red hair strode forward from the collar and grabbed Mel’s hand. He kissed her knuckles with a smile that would have charmed the panties off anyone over eighteen.
“Thank you. I can’t thank you enough! You have saved both of us, and my heart is yours forever. I ask for one last request, though.”
“Anything,” Mel breathed.
“Let me go to the Bad Place. It is where I belong for my crimes, but I need assistance crossing. I was told you could provide this assistance. I want this. I want the endless eternity. I do not want this plane anymore. I have caused too much pain, too much discord here, to remain and be able to face this bleak existence.”
Mel’s heart broke for him. “But you could stay with me and Mumford. No one holds you responsible for what the woman made you do. I promise. And we have plenty of people here who are atoning. It's why a lot of them remain for so long. That and they like Bingo on Thursday nights.”
He chuckled, as she’d meant him to, but it was a sad sound. “No, I have done too much to remain in a happy place when I’ve created so many bad ones. The witch made sure of that when she dubbed me Douglas. I’m Dougal now, but as Douglas I was nothing less than a monster.”
“But you saved Mumford. What will he do without you?”
As if the dog knew they were talking about him, he trotted over on his short legs, his butt waddling.
He licked Dougal, but his tongue went right through him.
“He’ll be lost without you, you know.” Becker stepped up behind the trio. “He might be happy with us, but you were a part of his soul, and he’ll miss you terribly.”
Was that true? Mel shot a look at Becker, but he just smiled. Cheeky bastard.
“So you would help me atone?” Dougal didn’t look up from Mumford. She knew he was talking to her, though.
“Of course. I have a job right down the lane to clean out the negativity. It’s a yearly job because it’s a big one. Lots of nastiness in that family, and it lingers. We’ll get you set up, and then you can go atone away and come home to your buddy here.” An idea hit her so hard she almost fell over. “In fact, if you and Mumford want to work together, then I could put his collar on him when we go out, and you could clean as we walk. We could make visits to old people’s homes and help them. There are any number of awesome things we could do with a guy and his dog.”
A quick glance up with a flash of a smile and the beginnings of a blush were all the answer she needed. She bent down and put Mumford’s collar back on. “Why don’t you go get some water? Maybe Mrs. Hatchett will get you a doggy bone from Becker’s stash.”
The dog trotted after the gliding ghost. They were quite a pair. She was so thankful they’d remain that way.
And now to Becker’s great-grandfather. How was she going o explain this? How was she going to explain away the fact that she should have told him months ago and was only now getting around to it?
Jennifer caught her on her way back to Becker. “Do you know what you have in your presence?”
“Can we talk about this later? I know I have a lot of strange things, but right now I have to go find my man and explain that he carries his great-grandfather around in his pocket with him all the time.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, good luck with that. We’ll talk later. I got a bad feeling, and that’s why I rushed over, but I don’t think I’m needed anymore.”
“Thank you so much.” Mel hugged her friend and offered to let her stay the night. She declined, saying she had things to do and people to see.
And so that left Mel with Becker and Great-Grandpa.
She could do this. Hell, she’d just conquered a priestess and taken down a gun-toting ghost hunter. She could do nearly anything in this frame of mind.
When she entered the library, Becker was standing looking at the bookshelves with no idea that his great-grandfather was standing right behind him.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, wild night, but that’s not the weird thing about it. I saw a ghost I don’t know. Not that I know them all, but I feel like I should know him, and I don’t. It’s this pull. It’s weird and unsettling.”
Stepping into Becker’s embrace, she put her arms around his waist and used her hands to create a few of her own hand gestures that Great-Grandpa better take heed to. He sighed deeply, then nodded and sat on the couch and waved her on like a traffic cop.
“Becker, there is a particular ghost I’d like you to meet. Someone I think you’ll want to meet. Someone who will maybe be able to explain things better than I can.”
“And who the heck is going to do all that if they’ve lived at your junkyard the whole time?”
“Yeah, about that. He actually lives in your pocket watch, but he’s sitting over on the couch now to talk to you. He’s your great-grandfather.”
Becker stiffened in her arms before bending to kiss her on the head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Hear him out. I’ll be in the kitchen rattling Mrs. Hatchett’s cookie jar, if you need me, and handing milk bones to my new dog, Mumford.”
Ten minutes later, she peeked around the corner, with Mumford at her heels, and was pleased to see Becker laughing with his great-grandfather. That was a good sign.
It was also a good sign that Becker had essentially agreed to move in with her. They’d get to that in good time. For now, it was enough that the secret of the watch was out and Becker was smiling.
A word about the author…
Misty Simon loves a good story
and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. There’s nothing better in the world than making someone laugh, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books.
She lives with her husband, daughter, and three insane dogs in Central Pennsylvania, where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers, so drop her a line at:
[email protected]
www.mistysimon.com
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