CHAPTER SIX

Ghosts of Christmas Pasts

Deeply resenting not having torn his phone from the wall four months previous, Seth woke and dressed in an irritated manner. Without even looking at what he as throwing on – knowing that it didn't particularly matter – the youth reminded himself that it was one of the few days of the year he had to meet up with his family. After this, the next wouldn't be for months.

This notion thoroughly lightening his mood, Seth threw on his jacket and picking up a bulky, and sharp-edged garbage bag, he headed briskly for the door. The walk to his mother's house was a ways off, and Seth was already running late for the social family gathering. He personally hated appearing at the reunions – hardly recognizing the people posing as his relatives.

At least, on this widely celebrated holiday, Seth could temporarily forget his problems and the Cloning case. After the mysterious man's death, he was less confident and even a bit intimidated now, by this unknown, manipulative killer. What had begun as the homicide of over-obsessive gaming fans had turned into something much, much more.

Don't worry about it, Seth reminded himself, pushing these notions away. At least, no today.

The streets were less crowded on the cold, brightly lit Christmas morning. The clock tower rang eleven times as the afternoon began to roll around. Seth was officially two hours late, which somehow brought a pleasing smile to his face. He knew exactly what would happen when he arrived – it was always the same.

Walking through the door, Seth would be facing the living room with mounds of shimmering wrapping paper and already discarded toys. His young cousins would be comparing presents as parents argued over useless matters. The first thing his mother would do was look him over, report her criticism, and then usher him into the traditional family chaos and homemade eggnog. His drunken uncles would tell him about their businesses while his older cousins would compare lifestyles and finances. Somewhere in the mix of all this, Seth's lifestyle would come up and his relatives would debate about it and then leave it alone until dinner – where he would be forced to walk out, and his mother would claim that he had 'ruined' another family Christmas.

Once again, Seth didn't know why he had hadn't smashed his phone, or why he had even brought one for that matter. No one ever called his number, and he didn't give it out. His mother had gone to every one of his old co-workers, demanding it from them until someone finally yielded.

Probably Karse.

"You're my baby, I worry about you," she would always say.

Supposing that he could understand this, Seth relieved a great sigh as he reached the top of the steep slope he'd been walking diligently up. Pausing there, the man gazed fondly down on the quiet, glistening and alight city. For a moment, he looked past the dirty streets, the homeless lying restlessly, and even past the concrete walls to the happy families and smiling faces, and for that moment, Seth felt truly at peace.

However, there can never be an ever-lasting peace, and sure enough, the deep rumbling of a large engine broke Seth's perceptive fantasy. A screeching rent the air until Seth was grinding his teeth together. A large, bulky silver form came flying over the slope towards him, and the man had to dart out of the way to avoid being hit as the motorcycle shot past.

A brief glimpse of white-blonde made Seth double take, but the motorcycle and its rider were already out of sight. A small prickling arose on the back of Seth's neck, but then he shrugged it off with a shake of his head. It was Christmas – it was an excuse not to worry, and not to work.

Karse had been calling Seth every morning, night, and anywhere in between to propose preposterous ideas and concepts concerning the Cloning case. When Seth had kept his phone off the hook, it had only prompted Karse to worry more and rush over – breaking down the door onto one hinge.

Yelling at the aging man did little good. He was petrified, and Seth understood that, but he did enjoy some peace and time to himself. Despite the common belief amongst his family members, Seth did have a job to do so he could buy them the damn presents he was walking an hour in the cold to give them this merry-fricken-Christmas morning.

Feeling disgruntled once more, the man continued – reminding himself of the topics to avoid and what relatives to say the least to. Maybe if he was lucky, Seth could get himself out of this situation early and avoid any conflict.

Knowing this unlikely, Seth turned from the crosswalk to steps leading up to the lawn where the three-story Victorian rested. The driveway to one side was packed with angled cars that filtered in a parting line into the street. The beat and chipped walkway curved to the white, wooden porch and the looming door. The only light came from the large, lit Christmas tree in one corner – the mismatched colors casting a rainbow through the window and onto the sleek back of the Pomeranian resting in her bed outside.

The small dog raised her light brown and white muffed head at the sound of soft boot-steps, and wagged her tail happily at the sight of life – having been cast out when she couldn't calm down. Now on her leash, the Pomeranian rose to her feet and tugged towards Seth with soft whining sounds, trembling slightly in the nippy air.

Smiling to himself, Seth rested the garbage bag down and dropped to his knees to pet at the small dog, saying softly, "Hey there, Cara," – using the short version of the dog's name, Caramel. The dog persisted to lick at his hands and resting her paws on his knee, attempted to stretch her plastic-coated chain long enough to climb into Seth's lap.

With a light chuckle, Seth placed the dog down – holding her still with one hand – while attempting to release her with the other. Finally, the metal clasp came free and Cara broke from her liberator's grasp and began running circles around him. The Pomeranian paused only to sniff at the garbage bag suspiciously, and quickly darted to one side as Seth pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. It was just past eleven, and already it felt like such a long day.

Patting his leg side with a kissing sound, Seth addressed the perky Cara, "Come on, girl, let's go in."

Picking the garbage bag of presents back up again and swinging it over his shoulder, Seth clasped the cold knob with his free hand. A brief flash passed before his eyes, and a heat flash passed over him. A moment later, it passed and Seth found himself standing, staring dumbfounded at the royal green painted front door.

With a small shake of his head to clear it from the building fuzziness, Seth pushed against the door. It gave a light creak as it opened, and Seth called out in a merry, booming voice, "Ho ho ho!!"

Dozens of aged faces turned his way as the late guest stepped into the small hallway before the staircase. Through the doorway, Seth's appearance brought many calls and hollers. Cara pushed her way into the house and through the man's legs to bound at the nearest child and start licking him in greeting. The boy laughed, giving soft protests as he tumbled back and the other young children gathered around the pair.

A distinct, sharp voice called from the kitchen, "Is that Seth? You know, it's about time that he—"

On high heels that much have been killing her, a woman with gray in her tussle of billowy, black hair swayed through the dining room to peer at her youngest son. Her sharp eyes took in his ragged and blatantly thrown-together attire in a single glance. In her hand, she held a wooden spoon – wet from stirring soup.

Turning towards his mother, Seth smiled broadly at her, offering, "Sorry, you know how the streets are on the holidays."

Snorting and waving the spoon at her son threateningly, Bernice warned him, "Don't try that, mister. That may have worked last year, but I've seen those streets myself today. They're dang near empty, and if you think—"

Interjecting his mother's ranting with a laugh, Seth dropped the garbage bag and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the woman as he said good-heartedly, "All right, all right Ma…I'm sorry."

Pulling away from the embrace, Seth's mother noted, "No you're not." A smile lit Bernice's face and faltered as she tried to hide it, but it eventually stayed. With a sigh, she tapped the spoon against Seth's chest, saying, "You know, you're lucky I love you." Turning on heel with a wide smile, she returned to the kitchen.

With a small shake of his head, Seth turned an amused expression to the patiently waiting relatives sitting clustered together on the floor and furniture of the living room. Children were gathered beside the tree on bobbing knees as they anxiously awaited the gift giving. Seth was surprised to find that the family had waited for him this year.

Resting the black, sleek bag back down – making Cara dart aside playfully – Seth began tugging out multi-wrapped boxes. Placing them beneath the tree, he noted their contrast to the nicely packaged gifts. He supposed it should bother him, but this year it didn't, and no one said anything. The roaming eyes and expressions showed Seth all the disparagement he could handle.

Resting the now empty bag to one side – feeling thoroughly pleased with his high stack of gifts taking up a whole corner – Seth motioned his way through the small children to sit in a small space between an uncle and cousin. The two watched him for a moment, shifting slightly as they attempted to stay clear of his long, glistening hair.

A large and lazy-looking aunt turned her head and frizzy hair towards the back open doorway of the living room, calling in a loud voice, "Bernice, bring the eggnog!"

Sure enough, Bernice's hourglass form appeared a moment later in a long, flower dress with a white apron thrown around her waist. In her long fingers' strong grip she bore several bottles and glasses filled to the brim with the sweet, white foam of homemade eggnog.

One of the reasons Seth even bothered with family gatherings was to drink his mother's eggnog. It seemed to grow more delicious with each passing year, as if Bernice worked all twelve months on perfecting it for her fans. Setting down the tray, the woman began to hand out the drink with a forced smile. Bernice knew what would happen; the family would get drunk, resulting in being loud and boisterous. Something would be broken, which is why she moved the valuables to the attic where no one was likely to go.

Seth noted his mother's grimness, but she only offered him a slight shrug and walked back into the kitchen with the empty tray before he could say anything. Giving a sigh as he sipped at his eggnog, Seth went through the list of presents in his head – wondering if he had left anyone out.

With such a large family, it was easy to overlook some distant relatives. Seth had tried to get everyone this year – partly because he wanted to prove to them that he was doing just fine. Maybe they wouldn't banter him this Christmas about his work or lack of. His mother had disapproved of his detective job, especially because it didn't pay much. Now the whole family had a habit of remarking on his new career as a video game tester. Said he was too obsessive and needed some growing up.

Personally, it didn't bother Seth too much what relatives he saw maybe twice a year at most, thought about him. Except for his mother and his younger cousins who were young and accepting – looking up to him and thinking his job cool – Seth didn't care for his family at all. If it wasn't for them, he wouldn't show up at these get-togethers.

Clapping her hands together to gain attention as she swayed back into the room, Bernice took her guests in with a radiant smile, saying, "Shall we get started, then?"

Seth made a motion to point something out, but a stout look from the large, frizzy-haired Aunt Elanna caused him to shut his mouth and fold his hands together between his knees. He leaned forward away from his quiet relatives to watch with a smile as the children gathered eagerly – looking for the best and closest spot near Bernice to snatch their presents.

The mingled talk happening around the room kept to a dull roar as the host began calling out names – raising her head with the gift held up like a trophy for the winner to receive their prize. Mumbled thanks were returned by welcomes as adults exchanged clothes they would either return or keep locked away in the closet. The real joy Seth found came from watching his little cousins opening presents – seeing the happy gleams passing over their excited faces.

The man's own measly pile of half-glanced clothes and small tokens didn't bother him any. Seth came to give gifts – not get them. The present pile beneath the tree began to slowly diminish, and more wrapping paper accumulated the small room. Cara shifted through the sea of bright colors with an echo of rips and tearing as she whimpered for help. The house cat, Butters – named for his soft, golden fur – darted from around furniture to snatch at bits of wrapping paper. At one point, Butters attempted to steal a piece of flimsy, foil paper, but ended up taking the present still taped to it, and Seth's Uncle Ben had to chase the cat through the flap door.

The rest of the morning passed in humor and small talk. When about a third of the presents were left – and it was just the small, back ones sitting there – was when things went wrong. Seth had been thoroughly pleased to find no one questioningly him about his life this year, though weary looks were sent his way. After a while, they made him become uneasy, and Seth shifted where he sat until he thought his legs would burst from their sockets, and get up and walk around on their own.

Then the question came.

Bernice – who was still busy handing out gifts, didn't look up as she called to her only son present, "Are you working on that Cloning case again?"

Seth nearly dropped his warmed, water-downed eggnog as he choked on the statement. Silence from the adults fell over the room as they all turned wide, attentive eyes on him. The children paid the question no mind – it meant nothing to them. The news was boring after all.

Lowering his hand and wiping his mouth consciously with the back of his sleeve as he gazed around the room, Seth was lost for words. His mother had always kept track of which cases he worked on, if she decided it was time to call his cellphone and find out if he was all right. It was the main reason that Seth had ditched the cellphone in the first place.

Looking up from the drink he now held with both hands in his lap, Seth told Bernice in a distracted voice, "Ma, I think now isn't the time."

Throwing a small box at him rather forcefully, Bernice gazed sternly at him as she said with pursed lips, "No, I suppose not."

Sighing, the rest of the gift meeting went by in mild talk – none of which contained Seth's viewpoints. It was fine that his relatives were ignoring him like an annoying housefly. It just meant that there was less talk this year about his lifestyle. Maybe the reports about the Cloning case had given them a new perspective about why Seth left the force – even if it wasn't the right perspective.

The talk of finances, cars, and old cuts and wounds was moved into the dining room. Bernice attempted to pile up the wrapping paper to throw into garbage bags, but the trotting feet shifting from one ritual to the next made her give up and shuffle through the archway herself.

At the back of the crowd, Seth felt suddenly distant from the faces he knew, but the people behind them he didn't. For a brief moment, Seth glimpsed the familiar faces as stricken victims of his case. Every investigator shared the same fear – that those they cared about could suffer because of the enemies they make.

Pulling out a seat near the beautifully decorated, thirty-foot long table – white candles lit delicately in a snowflake pattern, silverware gleaming softly beneath the warm, overhead light, white linen table cloth embroidered with the change of seasons – Seth took his place beside his mother. Bernice sat at the head of the table, while the other end remained bare save for the goblet placed respectively where the plate would have been. Seth's family drank red wine to his father's memory, and no one ever took the seat across from his mother. It had always remained an unspoken tradition.

The cushioned, sycamore seat place opposite Seth remained empty. His older brother hadn't shown up for Christmas this year, but no reason was offered. Thinking it best to leave well enough alone, Seth instead directed his attention with his other relatives towards Bernice – their eyes lingering on the smoldering meats and nostrils inhaling the sweet smells of baked potatoes and fruit – as she rose to her feet.

Tapping a spoon delicately against her wine glass, Bernice stood with straining lips and a proud face. Again, the image of his mother's still form appeared in his mind's eye, and Seth had to push it down thoroughly hard this time in order to take in her words.

With a strong, unfaltering voice, Bernice lowered her arms halfway before meeting her relatives' eyes, both blood and marriage, and stated proudly, "We gather today, like every year, to bathe in one another's warm light…"

Tuning his ears out, Seth rolled his eyes. His mother believed that everyone had an aura, and when auras came close together, they created a warmth and serenity. Bernice gave the same speech every year, and her relatives seemed to just soak it up. Seth redirected his gaze to his mother as she paused to glare at him thoughtfully. As she continued, he dazed out instead, and suddenly the images of his dream flashed before his eyes. A sharp pulse hit his temples, making the youth wince.

If Bernice noticed her son's strange behavior, she paid it no mind this time. The pain was gone in a moment anyways, leaving Seth to rub at the memory of it. Now his mother was talking about ghosts, and her late husband sitting at the far end of the table. Seth, as a child, had always thought the notion humorous, because there was no chair there.

Everyone directed their gaze as Bernice held her hand out towards the empty spot. Just like every year, nobody saw anything. A distant look entered the widow's eyes, and Seth turned his gaze worriedly to her. His mother's sanity had always been a question in the household, and ever more since Hugh's death.

When the speech ended, the family bowed their heads in respect, each with the same thoughts – about the hope Hugh had once brought to each member's life. Despite the man's clear drinking problem, he had remained the beacon of light for them each. Seth wished for a brief moment that his brother had come, but a flare of anger suppressed this thought quickly. Cara moved silently beneath people's feet, pausing to whine for scraps of the delicious smelling meal.

Bernice was the last to raise her head, and stood watching her family quietly dig into their meals. No one wanted to say anything until their host relaxed herself. The tension building in the room wasn't enough to kill appetites, and as Bernice began to realize this, she took her seat carefully. Seth eyed his mother with an uncertainty, but she just gave him a small smile before helping herself to some potatoes. With a sigh, Seth didn't feel like eating anymore, and sat back to observe the rest of his family as they engaged in small talk.

No one paid the youth much mind, and for once Seth was thankful that he took up the Cloning case again. His mother must have spoken to Karse and whittled the information out of the man. Bernice was a very persistent person. Seth was thankful for this for once. He didn't think he could handle another interrogation of his life. However, that didn't stop the disapproving looks his mother threw his way.

Seth sighed and leaned forward in his chair. Folding his hands on the table and pushing his empty, thoroughly cleaned plate to one side, he looked his mother dead in the eye. In a quiet tone, the youth stated firmly, "Look, I know that you don't want me to be working on this case, but—"

In a crisp voice, Bernice responded with mock interest, "Why wouldn't I want you go to back to work?" A few aunts and uncles were eyeing them now as their sentences slurred. At this, Bernice watched her family as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Tensing a little, Seth kept his voice to an almost whisper, saying softly, "Ma, I dohave a job."

Raising an eyebrow at him with fork paused halfway to her mouth, Bernice prompted, "Oh? Then why are you working on that freak-show case again?"

Sighing as the conversation across the table came to slow stop, Seth ignored his relatives' watchful gazes, saying in an irritated tone, "I'm helping a friend – that's all." Cara leapt into a small cousin's lap and began nibbling at the half-eaten food there.

Setting her fork down now, Bernice leaned a bit forward, asking her son directly, "Why can't you go back to steady work?"

With a scoff, Seth noted, "You never liked my work!" At this, the Pomeranian gave an alerted yip and scuffled off of her host's lap and onto the floor with a soft thump.

Hesitating, Bernice added in a soft voice as color drained from her face, "That may be so, but at least it was steady income."

Shaking his head, Seth leaned back in his chair now, saying clearly for all listening ears, "I have steady income, and I'm doing just fine." He sent a glare towards one of his older cousins who gave a scoff at this statement. Maurice cleared his throat at Seth's hard glare, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

With a shake of his head, Seth pushed his chair back and took the napkin from his lap, stating in a clear voice, "I'm gonna head out. I have real work to do, after all." He spat at the word, meeting his mother's strict face with a dark look before turning and heading out of the room.

Seth didn't glance back, but instead went into the living room and gathered up his unwrapped presents. Gazing around for his garbage bag, he decided instead to empty one out of wrapping paper and boxes in the middle of the floor, before filling it up with his belongings. Coming back into the hallway, he met his mother's eyes from where she stood leaning in the doorway to the dining room.

In a quiet voice, she told her youngest son sternly, "If you walk out that door, don't think about coming back. You don't talk to me like that."

With hand paused on the doorknob, Seth considered this statement. If he left, he would lose what's left of his deranged, intrusive family. His father's death had already taken its toll. Then his brother's disappearance and now his mother's threat.

Estimating that he was staying, Bernice gave a cut nod of her head before straightening with arms crossed over her chest, and turned to walk back into the dining room. Anxious faces watched the pair hesitantly, waiting for the next move. Seeing his mother's retreating back sparked a flame of anger in Seth, and he clasped the warm doorknob more firmly now.

Swinging the door open with a wining creak and a gust of wind that blew snow into his hair, Seth told his mother in a firm tone as she paused at the sound, "Then you have no one left," before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind him.

-

-

The walk didn't calm him down. The streets remained exceptionally empty, and the town clock rang three times clearly through the quiet air. The garbage bag hit repeatedly against Seth's leg, making his walking unstable and clumsy. Tripping over the bottom of the bag, he cursed loudly as it ripped open and various trinkets spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Crouching down to gather them up again – mumbling incoherently to himself – Seth paused as he was overshadowed. Glancing up a bit nervously, Seth blinked as the shadow passed and the sun beat down unshielded against his eyes. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in warning, and gathering his things and the ripped bag in his arms, Seth hurried down the street and around the corner towards his apartment complex.

-

-

The hours passed in silence. The small apartment remained dark, and vacant of anything resembling life. Seth lay in his bed with the blankets pulled over his head in an attempt of early sleep. The alarm clock on his headboard showed 7:30 in bright red lights. Pulling his comforter down, the youth groaned at the sight of the time, and pulled the blankets down to his side with a contempt sigh. Thoughts of the day's happenings filled his mind, and regret whittled its way into Seth's mindset.

After a couple of more minutes, the youth finally gave into guilt and dressed quickly. He would head over to his mother's house and apologize – set things right. Perhaps he would even spend the night there and give Bernice some company outside Cara. The rest of the nosy family would be gone by now.

-

-

By the time that Seth jogged up the steps to his mother's porch, it had started snowing. Cara's bed beneath the window remained empty. The only light came from the flickering Christmas orbs sprayed around the living room. Their fluorescent colors spilled rainbows out through the window and onto the wooden planks.

Knocking sharply on the door, Seth waited impatiently on bobbing feet. Releasing a deep breath, he watched it curl in the cold air. When a minute passed and silence continued to creep through the night, he rang the doorbell. Still nothing. Trying the knob revealed that it was locked.

Giving a soft curse, Seth made his way off the porch and jumped onto the driveway from the raised lawn. Making his way up the tar pathway, he headed for the small doorway. The overhead light came on instinctively as he approached. Here the door was locked as well. Neither knocking or holding the doorbell got him any results.

Maybe she went with Aunt Elanna for the night.

The thought was discouraging, and Seth knew the day's events would disturb him all night. With a sigh, he kicked at the recent snowfall, and dug his hands into his trench coat fore-pockets before turning to head back down the driveway. The light from the doorway went off halfway down. However, as Seth came towards the end of the tar pathway, yellow light blazed past his feet to spill out onto the street.

With a relieved sigh, Seth came to a stop – thinking that his mother must have come to the door at last. Opening his mouth to say something, Seth half turned as a voice called out distinctly, "Cold night, huh?"

Immediately tensing up at the unfamiliar tone, Seth eyed the dark figure as it strode into the light. At first, he thought it a plump man, but the soft folds of the puff jacket were the first to make a distinct appearance. A crafty smirk appeared on a youthful face, and a warm glow passed over shoulder-length, platinum hair. Seth recognized him immediately from Karse's description, and resisted the urge to turn and run.

Digging in his heels as his brow narrowed, Seth demanded flatly, "Who are you?"

Giving a light shrug as he stepped closer, the stranger replied evenly, "Just a passing walker is all."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Seth stated accusingly, "Up a stranger's driveway?"

The man paused at this as if to consider the thought, and then with another shrug he strode towards him. Seth stepped back as the youth walked down the driveway, and turned onto the sidewalk. The light from the doorway dimmed out, and darkness swallowed the stranger into nothingness.

It was another minute before Seth forced his stiff legs to take him onto the sidewalk. Turning down the opposite way with eyes cast on the ground, he went through the small scenario in his mind. Heart beating hard against his chest, he resolved to call Karse in the morning to report the encounter.

As a lamppost's light passed into view, Seth raised his gaze instinctively to pass his eyes up and down the normally busy street. A few cars drifted away in the distance, but the street remained empty. The youth came to a sudden halt at the dim figure standing on the street corner facing him – waiting.

The full face and slumped cheeks – the thick lips and droop eyes – all clicked off a name in Seth's mind, and his heartbeat stopped for a moment. His eyes widened at the sight in disbelief, and his arms shook as the urge to pinch himself arose. The figure waited another moment before turning and heading slowly and steadily down the sidewalk – passing out of view behind a house's structure.

Shaking his suddenly heavy arms from their pockets, Seth ran to the end of the sidewalk, and came to a skidding halt. The familiar form was already more than halfway down the street. Urging his feet onwards, Seth ran at top speed down after him.

It can't be, he thought desperately. No, it's been years…his body, I saw it there…in the casket that day…

The tall, stocky figure stepped over into the road towards the other sidewalk. Seth continued after the man around various turns and down cascading streets – always half a street length behind. When at last the figure disappeared onto a walkway through two rows of planted bushes, Seth came to a slow stop. The familiar sound of a broken lamppost light caught his attention, and he raised his gaze to the worn buildings standing off to the side.

Stepping slowly onto the path, Seth was faced with a parking lot he'd seen every day – always a third of the way filled with cars. Even less now, since it was Christmas evening. Sure enough, there was the familiar face standing at the foot of the staircase leading up to his apartment.

Seth hesitated before walking slowly forward. This time however, the aging man didn't turn and continue on – watching his follower with a prestige, solemn expression. Seth came to a subtle halt ten feet away. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a choked, "D-Dad?"

A smile spread widely over Hugh's face – showing part of his craggily teeth – before the figure dispersed. The faint sounds of descending footsteps made Seth raised his disheartened expression, and he met the vivid blue eyes haunting his dreams.