La Dolce Vita
By Seniya
G is for Ghost
Part Three
Ghosts must be all over the country, as thick as the sands of the sea.
Henrik Ibsen
Despite Yan Lin's consistent complaints about the fact that the girls refused to help her and Hay Lin exorcise demons or whatever it was that they did, she was less than appreciative that Irma had volunteered for Halloween.
"So, this is absolutely not because you saw your mother?" Yan Lin, who was covered in at least fifty amulets, including six crucifixes, three rosaries and a long chain made entirely of feathers and beads.
"Wh-what the heck are all of those? Is this an end-of life crisis?" Irma was too distracted by her attire to answer. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to have bathed in incense. At the very least, the Lins seemed to have sanitized the basement, it now smelled significantly less rank, although it was still a long way to go before it could compare to potpourri. The stacks of ingredients had been neatly heaped into several pouches and vials and were scattered across the large wooden table in the centre.
Yan Lin shook her head, causing the crystals and heavy silver medallions to rattle. "Protection, from the millions of evil spirits entering earth tonight."
"But, Hay Lin said ghosts can't hurt me." To which the old woman nodded, then she added, "Ghosts can't. However, a ghost is a rare occurrence. Those things you see are demons and memories."
"Meaning … what exactly."
"Meaning that whatever you saw was not your mother. It was either the memory of her or it was a demon, pretending to be her. So it makes no sense going to look for her."
Irma blinked. "Will told me the first time she transformed she saw ghosts."
But Yan Lin shook her head, "Not ghosts exactly. Spirits. Spirits surround us, because the land of the dead is in a dimension beside Earth. In your guardian form you can see into that dimension once you are here … but those spirits will never trouble you because they can't."
"So you … the woman who hunts boogiemen and zombies is telling me that there is no such thing as ghosts."
"There are. Those are just rare, and they're not the ones you are looking for." Yan Lin met her eyes, "It was not what you saw."
The conversation was interrupted by two pairs of feet, thundering down the basement stairs. Hay Lin, dressed much like her kin, draped in heavy necklaces with extravagant pendants was smiling from ear to ear. Only seconds later, the source of her elation became clear.
"Eric?" Irma frowned, "he helps you, but you're complaining about me? Eric spent the whole of last year cultivating sea-monkeys!"
"It was a science project," the young man hissed, "and almost successful!" Hay Lin nodded eagerly beside him.
"I never said you couldn't help." Yan Li had moved over her ingredients, and started meticulously sorting them into four piles. "I just don't want you getting your hopes up." Her faded brown eyes flicked to Eric and still, "Dammit Eric! You are not carrying the holy water in a Super Soaker!"
"Why not!" Eric puffed out his chest, indignant. For the first time, Irma noticed that he was dressed in a Batman costume. The Adam West. Not the Christian Bale. "You should have seen this baby go last year!"
"Because you will waste it! I only got three gallons from Jerusalem this year!"
"Aw, Nana, let him have it."
"Hay Lin, you need to give Irma some medallions. Did you tell her how to recognize a boogie-man? Or what about how to tell the difference between a poltergeist and a ghoul?"
"Well … no … but …"
Irma watched the bickering group with a sinking heart. No one could dispute what she'd seen. In the pocket of her velour sweat shirt she closed her fingers around a heavy gold locket with a piece of her mother's hair inside. She knew what she had to do.
It was especially chilly this Halloween evening.
There'd be an early snow this year, Will remembered hearing something of the sort over the evening news her mother insisted on watching because she thought the anchorman was sexy.
Will had dressed for it. Mostly by digging up a heavy oversized track jacket that had once belonged to her dad when he'd been a Security Guard – the irony of which must have struck Thomas Vandom as he presently sat in prison – some fluffy boots that she'd borrowed from her mother, and a thick knitted cap, shaped like a frog, that her Grandmother had made for her.
Cornelia frowned in distaste at the ensemble when she opened the door to her much too clean and perfect house. She had asked Will to come around the back (what if the neighbours saw) but as usual, the redhead hadn't listened.
Really, the boots, jacket and hat would have each been tacky enough on their own, but combined – Cornelia shuddered. Quickly, she pulled Will inside.
"Don't track any mud! We've just had the floors waxed."
Will blinked, once, twice and the shuffled to remove the guitar case from her back. "Do you have a basement? I'll let them in there."
Cornelia nodded, knowing that she should feel grateful that Will was doing this for her – being keeper of the Heart of Kandrakar didn't include ferrying party guests after all – but as per usual, she couldn't feel anything towards the red head but mild resentment.
"Fine, fine," She looked over her shoulder for Matilda, the helper slash Nanny slash chef that her Mother had paid extra to work for the entire weekend so that she and her husband could go to Raleigh on a "business trip".
More like Daddy wanted to see his mistress and Mom decided to tag along, Cornelia huffed, but regardless, at least they were all out of the house.
For the party, Cornelia had chosen to wear a simple white halter dress, and curl her long blonde hair as tightly as she could. She was supposed to be Marilyn Monroe, however, she lacked the – assets – to pull it off convincingly. Nevertheless, she did look very pretty.
Will silently trailed Cornelia, who had purposefully chosen the scenic route to the basement (meaning the part of the house with the most expensive knick knacks) before she quickly descended a narrow corridor.
The basement was clean, gray and filled with old toys, clothes and exercise equipment. Will frowned at the normalcy of it all. She'd never had a basement.
"I'll just open it here, go in for a second and then bring them back out." Will had a husky sort of voice, Cornelia paid more attention to that than the explanation, it was the kind singers have, and would have been nice if everything else weren't so dismal.
"All right," the blonde nodded before sparing another glance at the basement door. She'd locked it, but her sister was, after all … a spirited child prone to bouts of mischief.
There was a sudden flash of bright light before Will shed her hat, then jacket and slipped into the fold she'd created. Cornelia had counted to ten before the redhead returned, Caleb in tow (her heart leapt) and then with fourteen or so tiny chattering … things (her heart sank).
"Is this booman world?" A cat-eyed girl with whiskers nearly screamed. The children clung to each other in a small group, while those on the outside clung to Caleb. If she weren't so mortified, Cornelia would have found it cute.
"It is hoo-man," said a little boy, who almost resembled a normal person – expect that he had a tail and some scales.
Will, stoic as ever, closed the portal. "I'll be back around eleven to re-open it."
"That's fine." Cornelia, wringing her hands, tried to smile and ease into the role of hostess. "Let me … um, help you out."
"I remember the way." Will said as she pulled on her jacket and hat. Cornelia watched as the redhead met Caleb's gaze, and the two stared each other down for a mere second. Then, Will shut her guitar case and rushed up the stairs.
Caleb stared at that basement door much longer than the blonde thought he had to. "So," she forced some cheer into her voice, "who wants some human food?"
Demon hunting was not as fun as it should be. Yan Lin had separated the four into two groups, one with herself and Eric and the other with Hay Lin and Irma. Hay Lin was clearly upset by the choice, and whimpered pathetically for five minutes before she'd finally gathered up her powders and leaves and moved to cover "the south-zone".
The sun was already setting by the time they hit the street leading to the Heatherfield Hospital. Irma could imagine what she must look like, walking around with a paper bag filled with foul leaves and chicken parts, covered in amulets – but the only persons on the street tonight were sugar-high eight year olds, who were more interested in potential Snickers bars than anything else.
"You may see a lot of different things tonight. You don't have to get rid of all of them, just the ones trying to hurt humans." Hay Lin led the way with a black wax candle, whose flame (apparently) turned blue around an evil presence. It was windy and cold tonight, and every three minutes she had to relight – which impeded progress severely.
"So we're checking the hospital first?"
"Yep, anywhere that a lot of people have died has a high spiritual energy. So we can start there, before it gets too crowded." Hay Lin mumbled, clearly still depressed that Eric wasn't the one beside her, "by midnight tonight we'll never be able to sort through the good and the bad ones."
"How long have you been doing this?" Irma asked.
"Forever," the Asian sighed, "I've always had to help Nana …" she looked wistfully at a passing lady bird girl with a plastic pumpkin container, "I've never been trick or treating."
Irma's heart squeezed a little, she'd been trick or treating a dozen times – hadn't thought much of it. Briefly, she considered Hay Lin, who didn't have any friends (besides her and … Will … to an extent), didn't go to school and spent most of her time either writing essays for her mother or going over potions ingredients with her grandmother. Irma cleared her throat, "So, tell me a little about Eric. I see you've got a crush on him."
Although you could do so much better. "Who me?" The candle shook precariously, "no, no … I-I … Oh my gosh … is it obvious?"
Hay Lin looked beet red, and as though she might cry. "A little bit … yeah."
"He doesn't know I exist." Hay Lin's pigtails seemed to droop at the confession. "I've known him for years, and all he says to me is," she deepened her voice and actually sounded much more masculine than Eric when she said, "What's the reading on your energy compass?"
"Hmm," Irma shook her head, not understanding the appeal, charm or charisma of nose-picking Eric, who had been teased mercilessly by even the nerdiest nerd since the second grade. "You know what you need to do," Irma said, "play hard to get. Men love the chase. But once they know you like them, you'll never get 'em."
"That doesn't make sense."
"That's men though. Look at Corny, she's bending herself over backwards for Caleb, who pays more attention to Will, who pretends like she doesn't care if he exists."
"I don't think Will's pretending."
"Not the point." Hay Lin sighed, outing the candle, "I just … every time I see him I get so nervous … and I can't think or breathe … and I just talk … about nothing. He must think I'm so stupid."
"Happens to the best of us –" And she was about to give Hay Lin some advice (involving push-up bras and fragrance mists) when a nearby noise ended the conversation.
"What was that?" Hay Lin turned towards the rustling bushes beside her, Irma, a few steps behind, balked at the strange smell.
"Goblins," Hay Lin said before she even saw the first clubbed foot. She reached into her pouch for her powders but it was too late, the two spindly creatures had already deserted the bushes and were racing along the sidewalk towards the houses, pushing scores of children aside as they went. "Goblins are attracted to houses with food and children! That could be anywhere tonight!" Hay Lin didn't waste another second, she gave chase, never noticing that Irma had turned and run in the other direction – towards the Heatherfield Cemetery.
"Your friends are gross!" said Lillian to her sister, a mere fifteen minutes into the party. For once, Cornelia couldn't fault her. They were gross. They hated the "human food". And spat out everything they tasted. Anything they didn't spit they threw at each other.
Matilda was particularly distressed. She'd hidden all of the crystal and china before yanking Lillian outside to carry her trick or treating. Caleb was no help. He seemed to find their antics hilarious, and even encouraged them when they began using the DVDs as Frisbees.
It was more than a relief when Elyon showed up. Cornelia had encouraged her to go as Audrey Hepburn, and she had readily listened, although she was less than comfortable in the wide brimmed hat and tight black dress (Breakfast at Tiffany's, was Cornelia's favourite movie). Her mother had hated the get-up and had been sober enough, long enough, to tell her just that.
"Oh Elyon, thank God!" Cornelia's pretty white dress was covered in cupcake stains and her bright red lipstick was smeared across her cheek. "I cannot handle this!"
She pulled the smaller girl inside, not offering an explanation for the small – animal people in her now icing covered foyer. "Umm, C-Cornelia …"
"So the guy I like …" Cornelia finally stopped pulling when they reached the kitchen, it was so far untouched, "he um, works at this orphanage. So I decided to invite some of the kids. But Jesus, Lord in Heaven! I cannot handle them!"
"Um … th-their costumes a-are r-really nice." Damned nice for orphanages actually, Elyon thought as a very realistic moth-child scampered past the kitchen door. Cornelia looked perfectly ready to burst into tears before the object of her affection sauntered into the kitchen. Elyon didn't need an introduction, or reassurance, he was just Cornelia's type. He was tall, tanned, and toned with thick dark hair that fell messily across his face.
When he looked at her, Elyon felt a shudder as the clearest green eyes she'd ever seen, glanced over Cornelia's beautiful face, and then shifted to hers – and kept searching. "With whom do you speak, Cornelia?"
"Um … my friend … Elyon." Cornelia, clearly transfixed, made a slight indication to her side. Elyon gulped. But Caleb's eyes never met hers, instead he focused on the cupboards behind her quite strangely. She felt her stomach knot and then drop. Naturally, the beautiful boy would never look at her.
"I came to thank you – formally, once more, for your kindness in allowing the children here. I have not seen them so elated in a great many months." He smiled warmly at her, and then, to Cornelia's utmost delight, he took her hands into his and dropped a single kiss across her knuckles.
Elyon was surprised to see Cornelia snort, yes snort, and blush right up to the roots of her hair. She watched the interaction between the two. They were both so beautiful together. There was no room for her here. Mother was right, she was too ugly, too poor – what was she doing? She could run outside right now and no one would even notice! She could –!
"Ouch!" Suddenly, the couple pulled away. Cornelia stared at her hands, watching her knuckles with an absolutely fascinated expression. "D-Did you feel that?" Caleb nodded, although he didn't look quite as love struck. In anycase, the conversation ended abruptly when four of the costumed children ran into the kitchen.
Cornelia cooed immediately, "Now, remember what Aunty Cornelia said – no, no to the kitchen! Especially no to Aunty's new, expensive oven."
"It is Hay Lin!" One child yelled, his face a grotesque leathery mask that must have cost hundreds of dollars. But it couldn't have … it couldn't have.
"What is Hay Lin doing here?" Caleb asked. Without waiting for an answer, he followed the squealing children into the foyer.
"Um … Elyon," Cornelia looked suddenly pale, "maybe you should go for right now. This party … is honestly … not going how I'd hoped."
"B-But … I-I …j-just got here." To which Cornelia threw a troubled look at the door. "I'll make it up to you," she gave her a weak smile. "I promise." And before Elyon could even fathom a reply, she was shoved along the back passage to the rear entrance.
"I've got some bad news …" Caleb had let HayLin into the house, and she had taken more than her share of liberties by opening every closet, drawer and hiding place and spilling the contents onto the floors. "Goblins!" She breathed, while Caleb patted her awkwardly on the back.
"Are these another kind of earth female?" He asked with all seriousness. "What?" Hay Lin looked at him, her eyes were bright and frantic, "No! Look Caleb, you have to help me find them! They break everything in sight!"
She shuddered as a heavy crash came from upstairs, and then both she and Caleb, and the sticky faced Meridian children watched as a massive oak chest of drawers rattled down the stairs.
"W-what … was that!" Cornelia rushed into the foyer, clumsily jumping over children in a pretty white dress before watching, paled faced as her mother's furniture tumbled down the stairs. "Jesus. Joseph. Mary." She gasped, "That's … two hundred years old!" Hay Lin flinched, and then scampered upstairs after Cornelia, in a voice that lingered between God and Margaret Thatcher, screamed, "FIX THIS HAY LIN!"
In the end, Cornelia, with Caleb behind her, had to eventually go help Hay Lin "fix it". The Goblins, short, green tinged, knobby kneed things, flinched a little when Hay Lin had tossed salt in their faces – but had recovered long enough to string the teenager up like Christmas lights along the banister.
Cornelia was not having it. As Caleb, distracted by a dozen little hands that just wanted to help, tried to pull Hay Lin down, the smaller girl explained rapidly that Cornelia needed to throw salt at the little things until they exploded. She wasn't having that either. Instead, the blonde took a heavy bronze candlestick from off of one of the side-tables, and showed those nasty little things just why Cornelia Hale was ranked third in the state in Under-16 lawn tennis. With a single solid swing she sent the first goblin sliding across the hallway, unconscious. The next one, noting trouble, tried to run – but she was faster, and only seconds later, a second thud heralded its defeat as well.
It was a graceful thing to watch this demure, southern belle suddenly transform in a warrior princess. It was a sight that Caleb, still swatting away hands and detangling Hay Lin, couldn't help but stare at.
It was late by the time Irma had darted into the cemetery. By now, all of the children had returned home, while some of the teenagers had started to trickle outside for a night of boozing and trouble. She would have been one of those teens tonight. If she hadn't seen her mother, she would have been cuddled up on the back seat of Andrew Hornby's pickup truck, trying (but not too hard) to keep his hands from wandering under her skirt.
This was more important. The ice cold chill that still ran along her skin and trickled along her spine into pools of trepidation told her so. Maybe it was nerves – she was (and had been for the last few minutes) seated on her mother's grave, Indian style. She didn't know what to do, besides that. She'd seen on TV (and read in a couple tacky paranormal romances) that you needed to bring some personal effects to the graveside to summon the deceased. That's why she'd brought the locket and a few old photographs. However, there seemed to be more to it than that. And Irma, seated in the frosty night breeze, couldn't figure out what that would be.
Her heart plummeted suddenly as she realized that this was hopeless. Yan Lin wasn't going to help her. No one could.
That was what triggered the first tranche of tears to her eyes. Irma brushed them away quickly, the friction causing her face to redden almost immediately but she didn't care. It had been years since she'd cried. It had been right here actually, watching, somber faced, as her mother was taken away from her.
That broke away the shield across her battered heart, and sob after empty sob leapt from her raw throat, creating an empty, bark-like sorrow, only heard in people un-used to the feeling of sadness.
"Mama," she whispered, digging her fingers in the dried flowers her Dad had brought there just last week, "Mama, I miss you." The tears dropped freely along her face now, clouding her words, lightening her heart but doing nothing for her spirit.
"I miss you so much." Irma gasped, taking the quiet emptiness around her as an insult, nothing else. "I need you, Mama."
And then there was something; a spark of energy, like cobwebs draped against her skin. It pulled her forward, right above her mother's headstone. It was her.
"Mama!" Irma jumped to her feet, the heavy locket still clutched in her ice cold hands. She found that she was frozen stiff. Her muscles felt as though they were glued to the spot with heavy duty cement. "Mama, I'm so glad to see you! I knew it was you!"
The vision didn't say anything for a long time. She simply hovered above the hard October earth, dressed in a flowery purple gown that Mr Lair had picked out for her. It was her, more shadow than woman, but it was her. Irma recognized her curly honey hair and wide green eyes. They looked so much alike. It wasn't her imagination. The rush of pure excitement in Irma's chest wouldn't fade.
She opened her mouth to call to the figure again, but stopped when a voice – more man than woman, more demon than man – whispered, "danger."
Irma was speechless then. She'd felt the words more than she'd heard them. Felt the pain and fear as it echoed through her distressed mind. Before she could decide on what to do next, it came again, stronger now, and with a sense of vigor and urgency.
"Danger. Nerissa."
AUTHOR: Naturally, Caleb cannot see Elyon because of the spell on her. Elyon, with her already fragile self-esteem is devastated by what she considers him ignoring her. So was that actually Irma's mother? Hmmm … who can tell?
I was going to put another scene at the end, but I felt that warning was the perfect place to end off on.
Well, I have heard the calls for more action. I know the plot has been lagging but there were several things I desperately needed to set up before I could get into the whole Phobos/Elyon saga. First, I needed to build up Elyon's fragility, setting the stage for Cedric to prey. I also worked a little with Phobos' vanity and madness. Also this entire Will/Nerissa bit is a little more important for when I actually do my Nerissa part, but the planned conclusion for the Phobos segment cannot do without it. But now it's plot time! Next H is for Heir. The Phobos saga ends at M, so just six more sections.