CHAPTER ONE
BRING ME THE BODY OF DENNIS RAFKIN
Calista Drover stood in the basement of a familiar glass mansion, which now lay in ruins, gazing down at the lifeless body of a young man, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Her face held a blank expression, as she knelt down beside him, picking up a pair of obscure, clear-framed glasses--glasses which were used to see the dead. She put the glasses in her vest pocket, then frowned as she glanced back down at the limp body. He appeared as if he had been dead for several hours, and his face was still twisted in fear--his eyes still wide open, dried blood smeared across his temples and down to his chin.
"Dennis..." She whispered, mournfully. Her eyes grew dim as she placed her hand gently on top of his left shoulder blade. Suddenly, horrible visons began flashing before her very eyes, and her body twitched and shook, violently, just as Dennis' had when ever people touched him. She saw what had happened--All of it. She saw back into the very first day when Cyrus Kriticos had called Dennis on the telephone, persuading him to help him on his little "ghost hunt", which landed Dennis into loads upon loads of misery. She saw how Dennis was deceived by his "friend", Cyrus, and how he was cheated out of his money--"Soul Money" as Calista referred to it as. More and more visions flew past in her mind; Visions of the twelve ghosts; Visions of the Kriticos family: Arthur, Kathy, Bobby, and their nanny, Maggie; Visions of Dennis nobly agreeing to help them get out alive, and him sacrificing himself for another man. A tear ran down Calista's face, as the pain she had endured through the visions caused her to jerk back. She had seen a side of Dennis that she had never seen before. She had seen into his memory, his soul, his caring and heroic nature, which he hid through his seemingly troubled, pessimistic, morose demeanor.
Another tear hurried down her cheek as she unsteadily rose to her feet. She wiped her face, trembling, fighting back the intense emotion that would surely follow if she didn't pull herself together. iI've got to stop/i, she thought. iI'll just do what I came here to do, and that's all./i Just then, a static voice rang out through her radio, which was tucked snugly inside its leather hold.
"Calista? You there? What the hell's going on?" The voice asked, sounding slightly temperamental. "Did you find Rafkin?" Calista reached down, pulling her radio out of its case, and held it up to her trembling lips.
"Affirmative." She replied.
Outside, two men were waiting by a blue Toyota, as Calista could be seen approaching them from a distance. One of the men (Emanuel) looked around the age of thirty. He wore all black, and had messy, dark-brown hair up to his shoulders, and beautiful, dark green eyes, which glistened beneath the silver moonlight. The other man was black, and stood about 6'3" with short, scruffy black hair, a gray jean vest, and black pants which went down to his enormous, black steel-toed boots.
"Calista!" The black man, Tray, shouted. "Where's Rafkin? I thought you said you found him!"
"Yes, I did." Calista said. "He's dead..."
"What?! So we came all this fuckin' way--"
"You're going to take him out of there." Calista interrupted, sternly. Both men looked at eachother.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry!" Tray laughed in disbelief. "I thought you said that you wanted us to go in there and take him out of--"
"I did."
"What?!" Tray exclaimed. "There is no fuckin' way in hell I'm going in there, Cal! iEspecially/i to risk my neck for some motherfucker who's already dead!"
Calista's eyes narrowed on Tray, furiously.
Moments later, Calista, Tray, and Emanuel are inside the ruin, down in the basement where Calista had found Dennis Rafkin's dead body. The glass--that were once the walls which held the barrier spells--were now shattered pieces that hailed the ground. iSuch a waste of money/i, Calista thought, leading her two partners around a corner and directly to the body. At the first glance, Tray became hysterical.
"Oh, fuck nah!" He shouted. "That motherfucker's long dead! I think we should just leave him here. Look at him!"
"No!" Calista snapped. "We are going to get him out of here."
"What?! Are you crazy?! Look at him, Cal!"
"I see him..." Calista replied. "Now pick him up. Both of you!" Emanuel let out a sigh, and obediently followed her command. Emanuel had been in love with Calista ever since he first laid eyes on her. She was intelligent, unique, artistic, fun, and so much more. He just didn't understand why she cared so much about taking a dead man from his grave. What ever happened to "Rest in pieces"?
Tray rubbed the back of his neck and moaned. "Aw, Alright..." He agreed. "Let's lift this son-of-a-bitch." Reluctantly, he bent down and wrapped his arms around Rafkin, slowly lifting him. Emanuel took Rafkin's feet, and together they made their way through the basement, up to the first story, and outside to the truck. From there, they placed his body in the back of the truck, and drove off into the night.
BRING ME THE BODY OF DENNIS RAFKIN
Calista Drover stood in the basement of a familiar glass mansion, which now lay in ruins, gazing down at the lifeless body of a young man, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Her face held a blank expression, as she knelt down beside him, picking up a pair of obscure, clear-framed glasses--glasses which were used to see the dead. She put the glasses in her vest pocket, then frowned as she glanced back down at the limp body. He appeared as if he had been dead for several hours, and his face was still twisted in fear--his eyes still wide open, dried blood smeared across his temples and down to his chin.
"Dennis..." She whispered, mournfully. Her eyes grew dim as she placed her hand gently on top of his left shoulder blade. Suddenly, horrible visons began flashing before her very eyes, and her body twitched and shook, violently, just as Dennis' had when ever people touched him. She saw what had happened--All of it. She saw back into the very first day when Cyrus Kriticos had called Dennis on the telephone, persuading him to help him on his little "ghost hunt", which landed Dennis into loads upon loads of misery. She saw how Dennis was deceived by his "friend", Cyrus, and how he was cheated out of his money--"Soul Money" as Calista referred to it as. More and more visions flew past in her mind; Visions of the twelve ghosts; Visions of the Kriticos family: Arthur, Kathy, Bobby, and their nanny, Maggie; Visions of Dennis nobly agreeing to help them get out alive, and him sacrificing himself for another man. A tear ran down Calista's face, as the pain she had endured through the visions caused her to jerk back. She had seen a side of Dennis that she had never seen before. She had seen into his memory, his soul, his caring and heroic nature, which he hid through his seemingly troubled, pessimistic, morose demeanor.
Another tear hurried down her cheek as she unsteadily rose to her feet. She wiped her face, trembling, fighting back the intense emotion that would surely follow if she didn't pull herself together. iI've got to stop/i, she thought. iI'll just do what I came here to do, and that's all./i Just then, a static voice rang out through her radio, which was tucked snugly inside its leather hold.
"Calista? You there? What the hell's going on?" The voice asked, sounding slightly temperamental. "Did you find Rafkin?" Calista reached down, pulling her radio out of its case, and held it up to her trembling lips.
"Affirmative." She replied.
Outside, two men were waiting by a blue Toyota, as Calista could be seen approaching them from a distance. One of the men (Emanuel) looked around the age of thirty. He wore all black, and had messy, dark-brown hair up to his shoulders, and beautiful, dark green eyes, which glistened beneath the silver moonlight. The other man was black, and stood about 6'3" with short, scruffy black hair, a gray jean vest, and black pants which went down to his enormous, black steel-toed boots.
"Calista!" The black man, Tray, shouted. "Where's Rafkin? I thought you said you found him!"
"Yes, I did." Calista said. "He's dead..."
"What?! So we came all this fuckin' way--"
"You're going to take him out of there." Calista interrupted, sternly. Both men looked at eachother.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry!" Tray laughed in disbelief. "I thought you said that you wanted us to go in there and take him out of--"
"I did."
"What?!" Tray exclaimed. "There is no fuckin' way in hell I'm going in there, Cal! iEspecially/i to risk my neck for some motherfucker who's already dead!"
Calista's eyes narrowed on Tray, furiously.
Moments later, Calista, Tray, and Emanuel are inside the ruin, down in the basement where Calista had found Dennis Rafkin's dead body. The glass--that were once the walls which held the barrier spells--were now shattered pieces that hailed the ground. iSuch a waste of money/i, Calista thought, leading her two partners around a corner and directly to the body. At the first glance, Tray became hysterical.
"Oh, fuck nah!" He shouted. "That motherfucker's long dead! I think we should just leave him here. Look at him!"
"No!" Calista snapped. "We are going to get him out of here."
"What?! Are you crazy?! Look at him, Cal!"
"I see him..." Calista replied. "Now pick him up. Both of you!" Emanuel let out a sigh, and obediently followed her command. Emanuel had been in love with Calista ever since he first laid eyes on her. She was intelligent, unique, artistic, fun, and so much more. He just didn't understand why she cared so much about taking a dead man from his grave. What ever happened to "Rest in pieces"?
Tray rubbed the back of his neck and moaned. "Aw, Alright..." He agreed. "Let's lift this son-of-a-bitch." Reluctantly, he bent down and wrapped his arms around Rafkin, slowly lifting him. Emanuel took Rafkin's feet, and together they made their way through the basement, up to the first story, and outside to the truck. From there, they placed his body in the back of the truck, and drove off into the night.