I know I said that the delays would probably lengthen soon, but not quite just yet. And you get to enjoy a longer chapter this time around.
I hope no one minds that this entire chapter is going to be flashbacks. We're taking a nice trip back to the past. If you want, you can just imagine Clockwork watching some of his time windows. Hopefully you'll be interested in what this reveals about a few characters, motivations, and other answers. Mostly Sanduleak and Aunt Melinda
I will warn you, Sanduleak is not a nice guy. He never was a nice guy. He wasn't even a nice guy back over a century ago. And thanks to flashbacks, you get to see exactly how bad he really is. Which is also a contributing factor to why this story is rated T.
Did you know that originally "Beetlejuice" was imagined as a straight horror movie? And that the title character was supposed to be a lot worse? Yeah, keep that idea in mind. Since Betelgeuse is, more or less, one of the protagonists in this story and his rough edges have been smoothed out a little from the film by adding a little of the characterization from the cartoon, there needed to someone to demonstrate the other end of the scale.
Sanduleak is kind of the darkest, scariest, and most merciless version of Betelgeuse possible. He's like a dark reflection of him, with all Betelgeuse's flaws enhanced and his few virtues gone. The evil version who you don't want to encounter ever.
Caution should be used when dealing with certain members of the living. Increasingly rare, but still possible, some of the living possess the knowledge or tools to affect the deceased. These effects can include, but are not limited to: summoning, binding of power, compulsion, or exorcism. Some of these can be achieved with the correct knowledge of words or phrases while others require the use of physical objects to enhance the effect.
Even rarer are manufactured or otherwise crafted objects able to directly and strongly affect the deceased. Any knowledge of such an object's location should be reported immediately to a caseworker.
-Excerpt from "Handbook for the Recently Deceased"
Sanduleak stared as his fellow poltergeist with a certain amount of interest. He knew that the ghost in front of him supposed to be very powerful and skilled. There was even talk about recruiting him to work with the caseworkers, though the discussions never agreed whether they wanted him for his power or they hoped it would let them control him. For now, the powerful and chaotic poltergeist did whatever he wanted. And the recent interest in séances was giving him plenty of opportunities to manipulate the living into saying his name. But Sanduleak currently wanted to try something particularly enjoyable and had an idea of how best to use his powers to make it work.
"You want my help haunting them?" the poltergeist asked suspiciously. "I know you are new at this, but are you that unskilled at the task?"
Sanduleak, keeping an eye on the horizon, explained easily, "There are too many to handle alone. And we all know of your abilities. If I am to ask someone to stand by side as a partner in this haunting, it makes sense to choose a fellow poltergeist who knows how to handle himself."
He shrugged, "I suppose I can help. It might be enjoyable. What do you have in mind?"
"The strong and brave men of the household have learned to fear the fall of night since I arrived, a few choosing to arms themselves to guard against what they are beginning to suspect lurks in the shadows," said Sanduleak, feeling mildly dramatic. "I am certain you can teach them the true meaning of fear. They will be gathered downstairs to keep watch. While you handle the men, I shall herd their women and servants together. The two of us should be enough for everyone."
"So you give me the more challenging task?" he asked with a smirk. "Very well. But if you should find one of those women who might be willing to marry someone dead, let me know. I am not expecting Queen Victoria or anything like that, but I would appreciate it."
Sanduleak laughed slightly as the sun slipped below the horizon. Then he and his companion stepped out of the shadows and entered the rest of the manor. He was actually pretty happy about finding this particular household to torment, so far away from the foggy streets of London and isolated. The family had just returned from their home there for the season and was confident that their wealth and position in society would keep them safe from any form of danger. But then strange noises, shadows, glimpses out of the corner of the eye, chills running down their spines, and the feeling of someone always watching began to prey on their minds. He rather liked watching their fear grow over time, become paranoid and starting to leave their oil lamps lit more often. But now it was time to move on to far more familiar activities.
True, there were certainly plenty of differences. The location was far from his hunting grounds during life, the women were of far better reputation than he usually chose, and he wasn't even sure if there would be the wide-spread speculation and fear as a result afterwards, but he could at least enjoy the fun parts.
He heard shouts, crashes, and breaking glass from downstairs, giving clear evidence to the other poltergeist's efforts. Sanduleak ignored him as he moved to arrange his own entertainment. It didn't take long, though. His appearance in their home made herding them especially easy. A strange man with a knife in his chest who seemed intent on something awful tended to make scared women run.
By the time he was ready to get started, the mother, the two older daughters, and three of the servant girls were locked in one of the larger bedrooms with absolutely no escape. All of them were completely frightened and helpless. And no one would be able to interrupt.
That was perhaps the best part. Usually he was forced to choose between his two preferred methods of fun, never having time for both. Sometimes he didn't even get to finish one of them. He remembered how he barely got to start with Long Liz before he was forced to run off. But now that he was dead, he could play all night long.
Trapping the others in the corner, bound tightly enough not to interfere while ensuring they would have a nice view at what their future would be, he selected one of the pretty daughters and dragged her to the bed. He preferred his victims a little older, but he intended to work his way up. The screams and cries from the women were certainly terrified, but the desperation and horror as they realized what he intended added a different sound to their shrieks than what a mere haunting would produce. Sanduleak considered himself a bit of an expert when it came to fear, pain, and despair.
Pulling out the knife from his chest, he pressed it against his first victim's throat and her struggles ceased. The living feared death enough to do anything to avoid it. Even as she shook and tears continued to fall, she didn't move because she feared his knife more. The others screamed, but her terror was too great now. She just stayed there in her nightgown, unable to do anything as he pinned her in place with his dead body. Perhaps she was hoping her cooperation would keep her alive.
The amusing part was that it wouldn't change anything. Sanduleak fully intended to slash her throat twice, stab and slice her body, and tear out her organs when he was ready. Usually he'd already have started that part, but there was no hurry this time. Unlike the past, killing her was only half the fun. He had all night with her, the other screaming women, and his knife. No one could stop him from doing anything he wanted to all of them.
So absorbed in her lovely terror and the wonderful ideas of what he was just about to do, Sanduleak didn't notice the slight change in the screams until a rather firm hand pulled him and his knife away from his victim. With more strength than he expected, he found himself ripped off the woman and the bed before being abruptly pinned against the wall. It didn't hurt, but it certainly interrupted the mood. Sanduleak found himself looking directly at his fellow poltergeist, a strange and unreadable expression on his face.
"Now, I am the last ghost to say you should not appreciate a nice-looking woman," he said in a casual tone that seemed at odds with the tight grip on Sanduleak's wrist. "A little peek and even an overly-familiar touch, I understand. A fellow can grow lonely and temptation is hard to ignore. But when she must be forced by a sharp blade to lay with you, it might mean you are not as charming as you believe. Why not find someone who is a little more willing to enjoy your company without the threat? I can recommend a few lovely choices."
"Common streetwalkers can grow dull over time. I spent a lot of coin on them when I was alive and was in the mood to pay. Whitechapel is filled with them. I wanted to try something new," he answered, glancing briefly at where his intended victim had jumped off the bed and was huddled back in the corner. "If you want one to marry still, you can have one of them. The others should be enough for me to have fun with. I am not that greedy."
"I would have to disagree on that. You are also not that impressive as a poltergeist and you did not tell me the truth when you asked me here. I did not agree to help you with this. This is a waste of my talents and my time."
Sanduleak scoffed, "You simply do not appreciate my skills. You think that what you did to scare the men downstairs was effective? That was second-rate compared to what I did in life. Just wait to see the terror of the women after I am finished with her. Once I slice open her throat and cut her to pieces, they will scream all the louder once I move on to them."
The other poltergeist released his grip on Sanduleak, but the wallpaper sprang around him and bound him tight. He watched as the older ghost perched himself on the edge of the bed and stared at him with an unreadable expression.
"Do you truly think that murdering the entire household's women is the most effective way to haunt the living? Attracting too much attention can be dangerous. Not to mention they can return as ghosts and want revenge for your actions."
"Do you think I fear them? I am already dead. I am invincible," said Sanduleak. "I can do anything I wish. They say you are a powerful poltergeist, one that no one can control or predict. I am beginning to think they exaggerate. You do not seem like the kind of ghost they describe. You are too timid to be truly great. Already those who live here fear me more than they do you. If I had your power, I would return to Whitechapel and finish what my death interrupted. If they could not catch me in life, why should I worry in death?"
The poltergeist's expression changed. It was no longer unreadable. Sanduleak could definitely tell he was angry. Perhaps taunting the older ghost with the knowledge he was upstaging him was not the wisest. Something warned Sanduleak that he should get rid of him quickly.
"Be—"
"No," he snapped.
The wallpaper abruptly covered Sanduleak's mouth, silencing him. The older and more powerful poltergeist crossed his arms and glared. Then after a moment, a flicker of recognition appeared in his agitated features.
"I assume that you were the one that was causing all that trouble about a decade ago. I suppose you believe that it made you powerful to sneak attack and slice them apart, right? I might be more impressed if they did not use that as part of the justice system in my day. You merely chose to disembowel helpless women instead of men accused of treason. In life or in death, it is not that extraordinary." His voice filled with bored disdain, he continued, "Honestly, trying to scare the living with the exact same methods you used when you were alive is the work of an amateur. And provoking someone more powerful than you is the work of a fool. Perhaps you need a practical lesson in why you should not do anything like this ever again."
The wallpaper moved again, wrapping completely around Sanduleak's face and body. It left him blinded and feeling like he was wearing a strange burial shroud. He felt himself moving and he heard the whimpering from the women fading, but Sanduleak didn't know what was happening. He reached out with his power, trying to do anything about the situation, but he lacked the experience and flexibility to combat the other poltergeist's actions. He was left frustrated and unable to escape.
Finally he came to a stop somewhere. Sanduleak could hear the other ghost whistle in surprise, but couldn't detect anything else.
"Near the edge of the property, half covered by the collapsing rocks, and completely dried up. This should do nicely. No one should bother you for a while," commented the older poltergeist. "I suggest you get comfortable and think carefully about your future decisions when it comes to haunting the living and calling someone like me 'second-rate.' You will have plenty of time to do so since you will not be getting free for quite some time. Especially with your particular issues. Have you been keeping up with the times? That Bram Stoker fellow just wrote a rather hilarious story that sort of reminds me of you."
Sanduleak heard the other poltergeist chuckle slightly and then he was falling. He was falling and he could feel a lot of power being used. Then he landed with an unpleasant crunch that would have hurt a lot if he was still alive. The only good thing was that the wallpaper bindings were finally loosening enough for him to rip his way out with his knife.
"You are not getting out of there without someone's help," the other poltergeist continued, his voice having a slight echo now. "I made sure of that. And thanks to your behavior towards the women of their household, I highly doubt you shall be able to convince any of the living around here to let you out. They might be gullible sometimes, but they are at least intelligent enough to avoid you for a couple of generations. Perhaps more if I scared the others enough before I had to stop to deal with your mess."
Getting his head free, Sanduleak took a look around his new surroundings. The darkness and small space took a moment for him to recognize, but looking up the stone walls towards the narrow opening at the top made him realize that he was at the bottom of a deep well. The other poltergeist was staring down at him from above, a merciless look on his face.
"You will not be getting out of there for a long time, so it is best to get used to your new home. Because unlike you, I am a professional and I know how to do things the right way. When I haunt someone, they are haunted properly. And when I trap a rude amateur at the bottom of a well, he stays trapped in that well. Have fun. Maybe you can learn something from all of this."
The stones at the top of the well shifted, blocking out even that tiny glimpse of the sky and his betrayer. There was power, a lot of power, in every inch of the well and the sealed opening. He could feel it. Nothing could get out.
"I certainly have," snarled Sanduleak before banishing the other poltergeist by yelling the cursed name thrice.
He'd get out someday. He was dead. Time was on his side. And when he did, he would make the older poltergeist suffer. Sanduleak would find a way.
Melinda never expected to be contacted to take guardianship of her niece. It just never occurred to her. Cathy was long dead and she barely knew about Lydia's existence. She never expected to meet the girl, but she intended to be the best guardian possible. She and her husband would make sure Lydia was protected and raised correctly. She would do anything and everything possible. And it would all be the girl's own good.
The first hint that Lydia was being led down a dangerous path was when the woman arrived in Winter River. The heart-broken girl wasn't alone in the house. Melinda pretended not to see them just as most humans wouldn't be able to, biding her time to study them. Two ghosts haunted the house. Two weak and dull ghosts with very limited range. And the darling, naïve child acted like they were real people. Even if they weren't as powerful or aggressive as some, they weren't harmless. She didn't see that their comfort and words were a mockery of true emotion. They were dangerous things.
Cathy died when Lydia was young. She never taught the child about her family and their heritage. The girl never learned all she needed to. She wasn't warned about ghosts until it was too late.
Melinda, wondering how much damage she would have to repair in order to prepare Lydia for what was to come, took steps to study the situation. She sought out the grieving child's secrets while assisting with her packing. In her search, the woman learned of a far more horrifying threat to the girl. Written in her diary, Lydia described a near marriage to a vile creature who sought the freedom to cause true havoc to the world. When the ghost failed the first time, it returned and tried to beguile her with a pathetic farce. It tricked and lied, acting as if they possessed a shred of humanity. Melinda could see the girl falling under its spell, writing about a "friendship" with the dangerous poltergeist.
It was clever. It did everything possible to win the poor, unsuspecting, innocent child's trust. Spending time with her, showing off its powers, and even somehow taking her to the Netherworld... Lydia didn't realize how truly dangerous it was. In fact, Melinda didn't realize what she was facing either until she read enough of the diary and compared it to her family's records.
A powerful poltergeist who could manipulate reality around it to an extent, sought a living bride, and required its name to be spoken three times. There couldn't be more than one such ghost.
The diary told her everything she needed to know. It told Melinda the name to use, the existence of "The Living and the Dead" and of all the knowledge it contained, and where to find the ring that it gave the child. Combined with her portion of her family's inheritance, Melinda knew exactly how to deal with the poltergeist.
She waited until the day before the move. It would be easier that way, giving Lydia the least amount of time to become distressed before starting her new life. The poor darling already suffered enough. She should at least be separated from all the corruptive ghosts in one smooth transition.
The preparations were easy enough to arrange. Roger was competent, obedient, and efficient. If she told him to get everything ready, he would ensure it was perfect. Even when she told him where she wanted him to set it up, he didn't argue or question her decision. That was one of the main reasons she married the man in the first place.
It was near sunset when the car reached the cemetery. The funeral was a few days before and a proper gravestone for the married couple was finished. Cathy, who wished to be cremated and her ashes long since spread to the wind, was at least mentioned on Charles's side of the marker. Melinda's suggestion to leave flowers on the grave before leaving the town in the morning was thankfully accepted without suspicion and Lydia offered no resistance as they stepped out of the vehicle to approach the rest of the way on foot.
They must have made an interesting pair should anyone have been around to witness them. One in complete black, both for mourning and from personal preference. The other in white, a reminder that she must remain pure and uncorrupted in her understanding of the truth. A reminder that she couldn't waver and forget they aren't real people like her parents. Or how Freddy saw them as harmless tools and minions. She and Lydia looked like polar opposites, light and darkness. But they weren't so different. The child was merely misinformed and misguided. She would understand soon enough.
"I doubt Dad would care what flowers ended up on his grave, even if he was around to actually notice them," muttered Lydia. "Delia, on the other hand, would start rolling in her grave if any flower arrangements aren't perfect. They'd probably have to be color-coordinated with her gravestone in order to get her approval."
"Don't worry, darling," Melinda assured, shifting her bundle slightly in her arms. "White goes with everything. These flowers should do nicely."
"I don't see why we waited so late in the evening," she said, frowning slightly. "I mean I don't have a problem wandering around a graveyard in the dark, but most people don't like it."
Leading the girl around a large and rather dead-looking tree, the woman said, "We didn't want anyone to foolishly try to interfere with what needs to happen."
Melinda watched Lydia gain a mildly confused expression at her words, but there was only a moment before the girl caught sight of the preparations and the look intensified. The woman could understand her niece's befuddlement at the scene. It looked like something out of a supernatural horror movie right before everyone began to die horribly from a monster.
Three circles were formed on the ground out of freshly-dug graveyard dirt mixed with salt and oak wood shavings; the figures arranged as an equilateral triangle with a large red candle in the center. White candles lined the area, encircling the entire proceedings and illuminating the space as the sun began to set. There were certainly less complex methods with simpler or fewer necessary materials, but Melinda wanted the most effective ones possible when facing the powerful poltergeist.
"What's going on?" Lydia asked in a tight, stunned voice.
"You've been playing with dangerous forces and you don't even realize it," said Melinda calmly as Roger stepped out of his hiding spot near the tree and grabbed the child.
The woman ignored the startled scream, the shouts of frustration, and the wild thrashing from her niece as she set her bag down on the ground. Melinda tossed away the plastic flowers to pull out her more important materials. She handed her husband the short pieces of rope and the gag, which he obediently started tying on the struggling girl.
"I know you don't understand what you're dealing with, darling," the woman continued as she pulled out the diary, the book with the required information, and the ring from the horrible near-wedding. "No one was there to teach you properly. You were left vulnerable to the manipulations of treacherous creatures. You have fallen into the common misconception of thinking ghosts such as the two in your attic are actual people."
Melinda noticed that the girl stopped moving, a look of shock and a hint of fear staring past the gag. Not that Lydia could move much now that ankles were bound together and her hands were tied behind her back. Roger was very effective at whatever task she asked of him. As Lydia stared at the woman in confused surprise, he carefully dragged their niece towards one of the circles.
"Those things are dangerous, untrustworthy, unnatural creatures that don't belong among the living," said Melinda, taking her place in a second empty circle. "The world is far better off with them gone. The only good thing about the pair in the house is that they are trapped and can be dealt with at our convenience. Until then, you'll be safe in another state. But they are not the only ghosts haunting you. The poltergeist is far more dangerous and can't be ignored, darling. It might follow you."
Lydia's brow furrowed as Roger carried the girl into the circle and held her in place, an arm wrapped around her body while pinning her against his chest. Another child might not understand what her aunt meant, but Melinda could see a glimmer of comprehension and dread in her gaze. She didn't know for certain, but she clearly suspected and feared the woman's intentions. It didn't matter. Someday Lydia would understand her aunt was doing this for her own good.
Simply summoning the poltergeist was easier than summoning most ghosts. Unfortunately, the straight forward method of speaking its name three times would bring it and give it free rein. They needed to do more than summon it; they needed to contain it and keep it from using its powers against them. That was why they were using the more elaborate method that gave far more control over what was summoned.
To have any chance at making it work, Melinda knew she needed three components. She needed the circle meant to contain its arrival and powers, crafted by a mixture of protective materials to ensure they could hold the poltergeist completely. She needed the right words, provided by "The Living and the Dead" while the diary provided the necessary name. She took a moment to double-check, wanting to ensure she didn't forget the name at a key moment. And she needed a physical object of significant or symbolic meaning to the ghost, preferably something from their life or an important event, which was fulfilled by the ring it used when trying to marry Lydia.
There was, however, a fourth component that she'd brought. While Freddy, as the male heir to the family, inherited most of the more interesting artifacts, Melinda did have a few to work with. Reaching into her bag, the woman pulled out her necklace and put it on. The green gem, passed down for generations, wouldn't automatically enthrall all ghosts she might encounter. It wasn't that powerful. But any influence that she might have on a specific ghost, the gem would strengthen it. If she could summon, bind, banish, or exorcise a ghost, the power of the gem would simply make it easier or more effective. When facing an especially powerful poltergeist, Melinda wanted all the precautions and advantages possible.
With the ring in her left hand, the handbook in her right, and the green gem around her neck, the woman took a final glance around the area. All the candles were lit. The circles were intact. Roger was holding onto Lydia tightly. Everything was ready.
While mildly surprised by how short and simple the summoning incantation was, Melinda began to recite faithfully, "Even though I should be wary…"
Startled croaks from a flock of crows taking flight into the night erupted briefly somewhere above. The animals knew what was coming, even if there was nothing to see yet. They could sense the potential starting to build.
"Still I conjure something scary…"
The candles flickered for a moment before the flames strengthened and intensified into a constant glow. The fires burned bright, illuminating the surroundings with an orange light. The stars above were barely visible, clouds rolling in.
"Ghostly hauntings I turn loose…"
Melinda could feel the power she was commanding, the green gem around her neck humming pleasantly against her skin. The potential was present, waiting for the final command of who to summon. Anyone could command such power if they knew the right words and had the will power to match it. The only thing missing now was the name of the ghost being called forth. And, thanks to Lydia's diary, she could say it.
"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse."
The third circle, previous empty and untouched, was abruptly occupied. She'd expected something flashy, like a bolt of lightning, something crawling out of the ground, a puff of smoke, or even just a bright light. But it was far more straightforward and simple than that. One moment the space was empty and the next… there was a poltergeist.
It— no, he. Melinda mentally corrected herself. The creature tried to marry the young girl. The ghost would have undoubtedly stolen the child's innocence once he claimed the title of her husband, uncaring how cruel it would be. He was certainly male-shaped. So it was a he, not an it. That didn't make him a person, however.
He looked like a corpse dressed in a black-and-white striped suit. He was a vile creature that Melinda was revolted to be near. The ghost stood in the middle of the circle, staring at a small black book in his hand and not paying attention to those around him. If she didn't know how dangerous he was already, it would be easy to underestimate him.
"Sorry, but I'm busy with personal business and don't have time for a haunting at the moment," he remarked in a severely distracted manner. "Maybe I can book you an appointment for about three months from now, but you're out of luck if you need something sooner."
Lydia's muffled voice trying to call out in warning resulted in the poltergeist's head snapping up and actually taking notice of the situation. His gaze shifted swiftly between the circles on the ground, the ring in the woman's grip, and finally landing on the girl. His expression darkened significantly as he looked at Lydia, his focus lingering on the gag, the ropes, and Roger's firm grip on her. The ghost slipped the book into his pocket, his body language practically shrieking that he was about to attack someone.
"Nod or shake your head, Lyds. Did they hurt you?" he asked in a low, gravelly, rough, dangerous voice.
As the girl managed a slight shake, Melinda said, "Unlike the ghosts that plague this world, I would never let my niece come to harm. I just want what is best for her."
"Then maybe, I don't know, untie her!" he snarled. "Before I show you why I'm the Ghost With The Most."
Ignoring his bluster, the woman turned briefly towards the tied-up child. She intended to properly educate Lydia anyway. She might as well turn this info into a learning experience.
"I wish it was possible to do this without first summoning the poltergeist, darling," she said. "He is even more disgusting than I feared."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, you ugly old broad," he shouted.
"But it is necessary for him to be in our world," continued Melinda. "It won't work if he's in the Netherworld."
The ghost frowned briefly in confusion at her words, but the woman could tell the moment he realized what she had in mind. If the abrupt outburst of colorful curses and creative threats didn't announce that fact, the increased humming from her necklace as he fought against the power trapping him. He knew what was coming, but the circles, her willpower, and the gem were meant to prevent escape and they were holding so far.
"Hands vermillion," Melinda recited firmly, "start of five."
The humming from the gem intensified, the poltergeist fighting harder to escape. He even tried to physically slip out of the circle, his hands slamming against the air in front of him as if he was striking a glass wall. She could see the fury in his eyes, but there was also a hint of fear. It was rather satisfying to witness.
"Bright cotillion," continued the woman, "raven's dive."
Slightly more distracting was Lydia's reaction. The way her muffled shrieks and struggles intensified once again, demonstrating that the girl recognized an exorcism when she heard it.
"Nightshade's promise, spirit's strive"
The poltergeist's shouts were dying away, though not due to his choice. His mouth continued to move, but the sounds were fading towards silence. The anger remained, but the fear and desperation was growing. He also no longer seemed to be standing on the ground firmly on the ground.
"To the living," stated Melinda, "let now the dead… come alive."
Lydia, on the other hand, was growing louder. She fought against Roger's grip, trying to slam her head against his face hard enough to make him let go. The gag kept her from saying anything, but the frantic noises were clearly meant to be the ghost's name. She wanted to free him in time.
"As sudden thunder," said Melinda solemnly, "pierces the night."
The girl finally managed to hit Roger hard enough to break free of his grip, causing her to fall to the ground. There was obviously no way she would be able to move farther while tied up, but she was still trying. She was screaming past the gag desperately, terrified and in tears as the ghost's struggles slowed.
"As magic wonder," Melinda said, "mad affright."
He was withering away, drying up out like a mummy. His previously focused and angry gaze was growing dull and blank. The humming of her necklace was growing quieter as he lost the strength to fight against what was happening, but he was still trying for the moment. He was stubborn, but it wouldn't be long. Soon the ghost would be gone and the world would be a better place.
"Rives asunder," she continued, "man's delight."
The trapped poltergeist managed to give her a sharp glare, one that suggested he would strangle her the minute he was free. Not that there was a chance he would survive to try it. He also somehow turned his head towards the horrified and sobbing girl and gave Lydia what looked like a reassuring smirk. It was certainly a testament of the ghost's strength, but it only seemed to upset the girl more rather than calm her.
"Our ghost, our corpse, we rise to be."
The woman prepared to say the last third of the long exorcism, but felt herself hesitate momentarily. She knew that the gem was strong enough to help exorcise one poltergeist, but she intended to someday use it for something much bigger. She wasn't sure if the gem was strong enough for what she wanted later on. While she had a powerful ghost ensnared and unable to escape, it might be wise to test the limits a little.
Exorcisms, while longer than some processes, were relatively simple and straightforward. An idiot could perform one to a haunted house on accident if they knew the words. Even the strongest and most stubborn ghosts could fall with just a little human willpower and planning. Binding ghosts was harder. It took more power and stronger intent. Binding the poltergeist would be a better demonstration of the gem's capabilities.
Besides, Lydia had already suffered a difficult few days due to her parents' deaths. And though the ghost didn't deserve her sympathy, it was clearly causing the child distress. Even as Roger pulled her to her feet once more, Lydia was sobbing as the ghost faded in strength before her eyes. He didn't even bother looking up or trying to move at that point. Until she learned and accepted the truth, the child would be heart-broken by the necessary destruction. Perhaps she shouldn't watch this quite yet. After all, the poltergeist did so much to sneakily gain the child's affection, such as the trip listed in her diary…
He took her to the Netherworld. The knowledge sparked an idea, a way to truly test the gem's potential while ensuring the poltergeist would never intrude in her life again. Between the near marriage to the dead creature, with the wedding ring already in Melinda's hand, and her brief time in the one place that the living never set foot, there might be enough influence to affect her and make Lydia safe. She might not like it, but it would be for the girl's own good. It was worth a try.
"I have a better idea," said Melinda, interrupting the exorcism by breaking away from the proper words in time.
The floating poltergeist collapsed on the ground roughly, still contained by the circle. Lydia slumped in Roger's arms, her desperate tears shifting to those of relief. It took a moment for the ghost to recover his strength enough to start moving, muttering curses, and saying something about knowing how the Maitlands felt, but Melinda was already flipping through the book for the proper section.
"Did you know, Lydia darling, that you can bind a ghost, their powers, their actions, or other attributes?" the woman remarked. "You would need a physical object to make it work just as you would need one to summon them or exorcise them. The ring that he gave you, one meant to bind you as husband and wife, serves that role quite effectively."
"You think you can pull it off, you witch?" the ghost growled, stumbling to his feet. 'That's a tougher trick to pull off. And I'm getting my second wind."
He was right. The green gem around her neck was starting to hum again as the poltergeist diverted his returning power towards breaking free. Melinda took that as her signal to proceed.
Binding a ghost, unlike summons and exorcisms, involved more flexible incantations since such methods were intended for more individual purposes. But they all began the same way.
Focusing her attention on the ring in her hand, the woman said, "Grave's silence and dawn's light, mortal will and the living's might, memory echoes from distant past, the dead's chains shall firmly last, with knowledge that is fresh and raw, what is spoken shall now be…law."
The necklace hummed and vibrated, the woman's willpower fighting against the ghost's determination not to be bound. Melinda could tell it was working, though. His frustration as he tried to remain standing was proof of that.
"The poltergeist, Betelgeuse, shall not see Lydia Deetz in a mirror nor in water nor in a reflection of any kind," she said, her words forging metaphorical chains that linked him to the ring. "He shall not be seen nor heard through the reflection by the living."
"You're really getting on my last nerve," he said through gritted teeth, looking less dried out even as he sought to force his power against her gem-enhanced commands. "You can't stop me."
Her focus remained on the ring, but Melinda looked briefly towards her niece. This was the difficult part. She wasn't sure it would work very well, but it was important. She needed this to work to ensure the girl didn't do anything foolish like try to bring him back or free him. The woman needed to do this. It was the key to keeping them apart.
"The girl corrupted by the malicious dead, Lydia Deetz, shall not remember the name 'Betelgeuse' in any manner," said Melinda, the words not flowing as smoothly as the power she commanded struggled to obey. "Neither the sound, the written image, nor any other form of the name shall appear in her memory." Then, recognizing a potential flaw in her plan, she added, "And her memory of the ring's role this night shall also be forgotten."
"No," snarled the poltergeist.
The ghost threw enough stubborn power at breaking free and stopping the woman that Melinda felt the necklace jerk. The effort made him collapse on the ground, panting and even more furious than before.
"Mess with me all you want. I can handle it. I'll get out and I'll make you pay later," he growled in an increasingly exhausted voice. "But leave her alone. She's off limits. Don't you dare mess with Lyds."
"Don't speak her name ever again," ordered the woman, giving him a brief glare before looking towards the girl.
Lydia looked vaguely dazed, her eyes not focusing on anything in particular. It was probably a side effect of either messing with her memories or having a binding intended for ghosts used on her. The poltergeist himself looked rather out of it by now. He appeared like he was losing consciousness even as his powers fought uselessly against Melinda's efforts. Her necklace thrummed loudly like an entire hive of bees.
"He shall not teach others his name by any method," she continued, not knowing or caring if he was awake to hear. The bindings would work regardless. "By neither voice nor writing nor any other technique that is known shall he teach another to say 'Betelgeuse.'"
As the final metaphorical chain latched on, Melinda spoke his name the third time to banish him from the world. The candles instantly extinguished and the green gem grew silent and still around her neck. She couldn't help smiling at the success. The gemstone might be powerful enough for what she wanted after all. It would take time to gather supplies and make preparations for the larger scale attempts, but it suddenly seemed more likely to work.
"Melinda?" Roger called from the darkness. "Did it work?"
"Perfectly," she replied. "We better take Lydia back to the hotel room. Tomorrow we start heading towards Amity Park."
And now you know why Sanduleak wants to make Betelgeuse suffer and how Aunt Melinda started this mess in the first place. Not to mention there were some hints about the two in the chapter that you might find interesting. You're welcome to start making predictions/guesses if you like.
The summoning incantation was inspired by the "Beetlejuice" cartoon (it seemed appropriate), the exorcism was from the "Beetlejuice" movie (which Otho didn't recognize for what it was), and the binding incantation I made up (because I needed one and it sounded halfway reasonable). All other aspects of Aunt Melinda's proceedings were made up to sound semi-plausible.
Don't try to summon a ghost at home. It should only be attempted by an expert insane person like Aunt Melinda.
Remember, reviews are always welcome and appreciated. I love feedback.