"…HELP US!"
Leila woke up with a start, heart pounding, cold sweat dripping down her forehead, plastering her hair to her face. She turned and looked at her digital clock. 5:55. She would have to wake up for school in five minutes. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Sighing, she flopped back on the pillow and stared at her ceiling.
"Lot of help you are," she said to her dreamcatcher. "I had nightmares all night. You aren't doing your job."
"Leila!" her mother called."Time to get up!"
Groaning, the blond tossed aside her covers and slid out of bed. She put on her robe and then groggily walked into the bathroom. As she clicked on the light, she winced, shutting her eyes tightly for a few seconds before opening them again. Vision still blurry, she reached for her toothbrush and applied a liberal amount of paste. After spiting and rinsing she looked up at the mirror.
And screamed.
It wasn't her face reflected in the glass. It was that of a woman--a green woman, with black hair that was every so slightly tinted green as well. Her large, dark eyes stared at Leila imploringly as ruby red lips silently pleaded, "Help us!"
Leila screamed and ran out of the bathroom. She recognized that face! She kept seeing it in her dreams, as well as the mansion. The woman kept begging her to come to the old house.
Well, thought Leila as she dressed, I'm not going to do it! It gives me the creeps! Whatever's in there is probably wanting me to go just so they can eat me or sacrifice me or... She didn't want to think of anything else evil monsters with psychic powers would do to her.
"Are you okay sweetie?" her mother asked as she sat down at the kitchen counter. "You look like you didn't sleep a wink all night." Mrs. Toombs, unlike her daughter, was a brunette with gray eyes and a healthier complexion. Most of her features, Leila knew, came from her father. He too had been pale with light blond hair and had bright green eyes. (The eyes were what she shared from both of them). She had loved her father dearly back when he was alive. The two were not as close as she would have liked to have been because his job made him leave town a lot. He had worked in some business--she had never been sure what it was exactly--and he had to leave for conferences in cities all over the U. S. Sometimes he would be gone for a week or two, come back for three days, and get on a plane and be gone for another two weeks.
Four years ago, when Leila was only twelve, he had left for a flight to Las Vegas that had crashed after an engine burst into flames. She remembered how nervous he had been that morning before leaving for the airport. He kept muttering about how he felt sick and thought it best if he waited a few days for the nausea to die down. All the night before, he had paced anxiously, mumbling worriedly to himself. When it came time to leave, he had adjusted his tie as he had always done, kissed his wife, and gave Leila a big hug, and then got into his waiting cab.
Leila had never told anyone, but she had a nightmare the night before he left. In it, the plane went down in a haze of smoke and flames. Because of that, she always felt secretly guilty. Maybe if she had told her father about her dream he wouldn't have gotten on the plane. He would still be alive.
The rattling of a glass plate jolted her out of her thoughts as her breakfast was placed in front of her. It was a pancake, with chocolate chips on it to make it look like a carved jack-o-lantern. Orange syrup drenched it, but did little to give it a more pumpkin color.
"Are you and Paul going trick-or-treating tomorrow?" asked Mrs. Toombs in an attempt to engage her daughter in a morning conversation.
Leila shook her head. "We're a little old for that, don't you think?"
"Hey, as long as you're in costume, and you say trick-or-treat, and 'thank you', you should get candy."
Leila wished all of the adults in the neighborhood had the same outlook as her mother. By the time she was fourteen, she and Paul had been getting glares and, "You're too old to be doing this" lectures from the neighborhood adults. Of course, the stupid punks who just went around in roller skates with pillow cases got tons of candy. That was because they threatened to egg people's houses though.
After she had finished her pancake, she heard Paul knocking on the door. Sipping her orange juice, she answered the door. He was like clockwork. He always arrived at exactly six-fifty every morning, rain or shine. As usual, his hair was a bit messy, as if he had forgotten to comb it, and his jeans had a wrinkled "picked up off the floor" quality. His X-Men shirt was a bit faded after years of wear and wash.
"Ready to go?" he asked with his quirky, orange and black grin.
"Just about." She grabbed her car keys and waved good bye to her mother before they departed for school.
"No, no, no," Madame Leota hissed to herself. This was not going well at all! The girl was completely ignoring her! Worse, Atticus was beginning his conquest of the mansion.
The warlock sauntered down the hallway, smirking as the eyes in the hanging portaits watched him with fear. "Oh George!" he called out in a sing-song voice. "Where are you, Georgie?" Spying the floating candleabra, he chuckled wickedly. "Hello Prudence!" he gushed with fake sweetness. "You're looking lovely this morning." With a flick of his wrist, he made the candles fly towards him. He grabbed the invisable spirit around where her throat should be. "Tell me, dear, where's the beloved master of the manor?"
She spit on him. "Bite me, Thorn!"
He squeezed her throat a little tighter. "Tell me where Master Gracey is or I'll--" He stopped and looked up as the study door creaked open. Chortling, he dropped the dead woman and glided over to the room just as Master Gracey stepped out. "Hello George!"
George dropped the tall stack of papers--his newly written memoires--he had been carrying. The tiny bit of color draining from his cheeks, he gasped. "You- you can't be...It's impossible!"
"Oh," Atticus laughed, "it's possible."
Hate blazing in his blue eyes, George snarled, "Atticus, what are you doing here?"
"I've come back to claim what is mine, you arrogant, selfish little weasel."
George pulled back his fist as if to punch the villian, but with a simple snape of his bony fingers, Thorn made him punch himself. "Stop hitting youself!" he chided childishly as Gracey repeatedly smacked his own face. "You are so pathetic, Gracey." A glowing purple noose suddenly appeared in his gnarled hands and he threw it over George's head. Pulling on the rope, he made it tighen around the ghost's neck and dragged him down the hallway on his back.
George clawed at the noose as he slid across the carpet. "You'll never get away with this," he rasped.
"Oh, I think I already have. You know," Thorn added thoughtfully, "I don't think the others have much of a clue I'm here." In a taunting voice, he called out, "Grim, grinnging ghosts! Come out to socialize!"
They began emerging from rooms, appearing out of thin air, and walking out of walls, to see what the commotion was. They gasped in shock when they saw the evil wizard parading through the mansion and immedietly they went back into hiding and ran to tell others.
His cackle almost drowned out the hushed whispers and cries of, "No!" "It can't be!" "Where did he come from?" "RUN!" With George towed behind him like a hated dog on a leash, Atticus strolled onto the balcony over looking the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, making all action cease. A ghostly organist let out one, long sour note from the keys in shock. "Boys and ghouls," he said a bit softer as the room quieted down, "I bring to you your beloved Master Gracey!" He pushed him over the railing, dangling him above the floor for everyone to see.
George's rage was overpowered by his immense embarrassment as the ghosts, the dead denziens he was supposed to protect, stared up in fear. He looked away from them, tears burning in his eyes.
"As you may have guessed by now, you have a new master! And when I get done with you putrid piles of ectoplasm, I will once again reign supreme as the ruler of the dead!" He cackled as the others screamed and shouted, making pointless threats. The sound of cocking guns made him turn.
"You ain't that tough," snarled Sewell. He and Huet had their revolvers aimed at him. At once they fired, shooting Atticus square in the chest. Each bullet knocked him back a few millimeters but otherwise did no harm.
"You simple spirits think you can beat me? I am the most powerful--" He didn't get to finish. With a loud CLANG Gus knocked him out with a blow to the head from his metal ball. George was dropped and landed on the ballroom floor with a groan.
"Get him, Phinny!" a hoarse voice called out. George, still reeling from being hanged, could barely make out the blurry images of two figures as they ran towards him. He was lifted up under his arms by the two ghosts and they hurried off with him in tow.
"Where do we take him?" asked a second voice. George recognized it as his friend, Phineas. If he was Phineas, the other was certainly Phineas's half brother and best friend, Ezra.
"Um..." Ezra muttered frantically. The skeletal spook furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "Let's take him to Leota's room. Maybe she can cast some kind of protection spell."
"Good thinking," agreed Phineas as they ran to the seance chamber. Upon entering, they dropped George, a little roughly, onto a rug. "Leota--"Phineas started.
He and Ezra starred at the crystal ball in stunned silence. It didn't show the usual image of Madame Leota's face; rather, it displayed a scene from what appeared to be a school hallway. Teenagers ran through, lockers slammed, a teacher was breaking up a fight, and somewhere a shrill bell rang.
"What the heck is that?" asked Phineas. The plump phantom watched the goings-on with awe.
The scene suddenly vanished and the dead medium appeared. "That was going to be our ticket to salvation if you hadn't interrupted me!" she snapped.
"Hey, sor-ry!" Ezra griped. "We didn't know...wait," the emaciated man looked confused. He took off his bowler derby and scratched his bald head. "'Ticket to salvation'? What do you mean? Do you know about what's happened?"
With a frustrated sigh, Leota admitted, "Yes. In fact, it's my fault he's here. I opened a portal and released him by mistake."
George suddenly bolted upright, mind clear and eyes focused. "You WHAT!"
"I was conjuring spirits again," she chuckled weakly as he glared at her. "I know you've told me not to, but you can't imagine what it's like being stuck in here and having no powers! October is the only time of the year when my abilities grow to what they had once been."
"Leota..." he began threateningly as he stood up.
"I thought a little portal would do no harm." She smiled sheepishly. "A few hellish wraiths never hurt anyone. But he..." She faltered under the stares of the three men. "He got out. I thought someone was keeping an eye on him, I really did!"
"You of all people should know..." George started.
"You don't think I'm not afraid? I'm terrified of him and what he could do to...Oh my god! My daughter! Little Leota!"
The door swung open, making them all gasp. A floating candleabra, the tell-tale sign of Prudence floated in, along with a small, dainty girl holding her invisible hand. "You need to keep a better eye on her Ms.," drawled the maid.
"Mom!" cried the girl as she ran to the table. She put her thin arms around the crystal ball and hugged it. "What's happening? Why is everyone screaming?"
Leota bit her lower lip, trying to think of an explanation. Saying her father was back would only give the girl the wrong impression. How someone so sweet could have been fathered by something so despicable, Leota had no idea.
George decided to come to her rescue. "There's a very bad man in the house."
She stared at him with big, green innocent eyes. After a short moment of silence she asked, "Why are you wearing a rope around your neck?"
He glanced down at the glowing purple rope that dangled down to his chest. "Oh, right."
"Looks better than your tie," joked Ezra with a snicker.
George took off the noose and flung it at him. "Well," he asked Leota, "what can we do about this?"
"I'm working on it," she replied. She closed her eyes in concetration. "But first..." The door closed and a glowing, pulsating green light covered it. "That should stop him...for a few minutes, I'm afraid."
"What about the others?" asked Phineas, clutching his tophat worriedly.
She turned to the chubby ghost. "We'll just have to hope for the best." Once again, her face vanished and was replaced with the image of the hallway...
"I had the freakiest dream last night!" said Leila as she turned the lock for her locker. She got the wrong combination for the third time. "God!" She hit the door with her fist.
"Was it about the house?" asked Paul.
"Yeah, and some weird woman that kept repeating, 'Help us!' over and over. I feel like I didn't get any sleep, and there's that history test today..." A fourth try opened the door. "Finally!" she grumbled. When she looked into the metal cabinet, she screamed. On the inside of the door was the woman's face. "Come to the house," she begged faintly.
"What?" asked Paul. He peered in, but didn't see anything.
"Don't touch!" screamed Leota.
George took his finger off the glass. "But I didn't even..."
"You tapped it! It's not your stupid fish tank! The slightest interruption could ruin my contact," she hissed. "I'd expect something like that from those two," she nodded to Ezra and Phineas, who were playing Texas Hold 'Em with Little Leota. The three were floating in the air, sitting cross-legged, cards in front of their faces.
"You lose," the girl said to Ezra after they showed their cards. "Give it!"
Grumbling, he took off his bowler derby and handed it to her.
"Sorry," Gracey apologized ashamedly.
With a frustrated sigh, and a "Why me?", she once again closed her eyes. "If we don't get through to her, we're going to have to take drastic measures." She opened one eye and smirked at him. "Part of me hopes we'll have too." She chuckled, sending a shiver down George's spine.
He gulped nervously. "Leota" and "drastic" we're never a good combination. "What-what did you have in mind?"
"Shh! Let me work!"
The crystal ball swirled and showed the girl and her friend sitting at a cafeteria table. "I hate peas," she muttered as she smooshed the green veggies on her tray.
"At least they gave us a cookie," said Paul cheerfully. "Granted, they're the leftovers from last Halloween, but it's the thought that counts." He was suddenly shoved from behind by a burly twelfth grader and his face was shoved into his mashed potatoes. As the senior and his friends walked away laughing, Paul lifted his head. "I hate jocks," he muttered as he wiped off his glasses.
"Duke!" shouted Leila, frowning. She stood up, her pale hands clenched into fists.
"Don't get his attention!" squeaked Paul. The bully kept walking, ignoring her.
"Why do the seniors think they have the right to push us around?" she asked as she sat back down.
"Because they do," said Paul. "It's the Circle of High School Life." He did a very poor James Earl Jones impression. "Besides," he continued in his normal voice, "it's no big deal. So what if I have gravy on my bangs? Best just to leave it alone."
That was the only thing Paul did that really annoyed Leila. The boy had no backbone. Scowling, she stared back at her peas. "What the...?" The were moving by themselves, forming letters. "Paul, Paul look!" She grabbed his collar and yanked him closer to her plate. At once, the two read the now formed message out loud. "Peas help us."
"Cryptic," muttered Paul with arched eyebrows. "Not to mention cheesy."
"This is just too weird!" She picked up the tray and ran to the nearest garbage can and dumped out the food. "I've had it with this!"
"What? The cafeteria food? I know it lacks flavor and any sort of nutritional value, but neither of us has Burger King cash."
She glared at him, her multicolored eyes fierce. "Don't joke! That creepy lady has nearly driven me insane."
"She's made you cranky, too." He smiled, hoping to calm her down. "Maybe you should go to the mansion," he suggested. "What harm could it do?"
Madame Leota did her own head happy dance in her crystal ball. "Listen to the boy!"
She shook her head. "That place scares me! What if this is like in that one horror movie, you know, where you think the hero is being summoned to help some innocent spirit, but then the ghost just kills him." The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.
"Great, we have that history test next period," grumbled Paul. "I don't know anything."
They grabbed their backpacks and filed out with the other students. "Who knows?" said Leila teasingly with a grin, "Maybe you'll suddenly get sick and won't have to take it."
Paul crossed his fingers. "Maybe if I puke peas everywhere I can skip." He pretended to dry heave. "Who am I kidding? I don't have that kind of luck."
"What now?" asked George.
Behind him, Little Leota was wearing Ezra's derby, coat, and bowtie. "One more game!" the skinny specter cried, flinging down his cards.
Fists suddenly pounded on the door. "I know you're in here, George!" shouted Atticus. "Leota, open the door this instant!" He furiously turned the glowing handle, but the entrance remained shut.
"Now," said Madame Leota as she turned her face towards her spell book, "we take drastic measures."