Your Ghost or Mine
by Shannon Bickham
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Shannon Bickham
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Prologue
January 23, 1925
"I think this will be the worst production of Macbeth ever." Henry announced pompously as he stood backstage with the new set of stage directions all the players had been handed out.
"Henry!" a woman with dark, waved hair gasped as she looked at him over the top of her own script.
"What..?" he flashed her a charming smile, mischief twinkling in his blue eyes.
"You just said the name! You'll be cursed if you don't perform the ritual!" she looked genuinely horrified as she pressed one slender hand over her heart.
"My dear. It's freezing right now. I'm not going outside, spinning about, spitting, and cursing - just to hope someone will let me back inside where it's warm. Knowing you lot, I'd be left to walk home in the cold." Sardonic, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Besides - there are no such things as curses.
"You shouldn't tempt fate like that... everyone knows the play is cursed. Please go do the ritual!" Pleading, she stepped in closer, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. She knew what effect she had on him, but he refused to give in. It was too cold outside for one - and for another, he genuinely did not believe in curses. Silly superstitions that lingered from his mother's generation of paranormal obsessed ninnies.
Henry smiled down at her before stealing a quick kiss. "Don't worry dear - you'll see. No curses. Now - shall we get started. Looks like there have been some odd changes to the stage directions."
Reluctantly, Helen nodded, but the worry still lingered in her eyes as everyone headed towards the stage to start pacing through the new version of the play. To her relief, nothing went wrong - not even so much as a hangnail or paper cut amongst all of the actors.
Later, after Henry had gone home, he chuckled over the whole thing. Maybe now one more superstition had been laid to rest. After he'd toed off his shoes, he pulled the script back out to study it.
"Exit stage left... why? That makes no sense at all! He never exits stage left during this act..." He grumbled in irritation as he paced back and forth, the somewhat rumpled stack of papers fisted in his hand.
Thoroughly frustrated with the new director, Henry was tempted to quit altogether. He would have, too, had it not been for the fact that Helen would be playing against his male lead. He didn't want to give his rival the chance to swoop down and take his part, and potentially woo his girl. It had been challenging enough to convince her to see him exclusively - he'd be damned if he left an opportunity for her to change her mind.
"Exit stage - " with a choked off gasp of surprise, Henry felt his balance swept out from under him as he stepped on an older version of the Macbeth script. He tried unsuccessfully to catch himself on the doorway to his kitchen. Feeling himself plummet backwards, hands scrabbling for purchase, Henry heard a loud crack, and felt a sharp pain spread out before everything went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
Violet liked it hot. Sweet, creamy, steamy hot. It was the only way to enjoy a chai latte properly. At 29 years of age, she was feeling a bit self conscious over the whole aging process and her lack of a steady boyfriend, but she still made time to enjoy herself. Most nights after work, she'd made a ritual of sitting down to a nice hot pot of chai latte and a steamy (trashy) novel. Tonight was a combination "unwind from work" night, as well as a celebration of her new house. Having moved in 4 days ago, not much was set up yet. The living room was still scattered with a mix of cardboard boxes, laundry baskets piled haphazardly with clothing, and even more ignominiously, large garbage bags, also filled with various household items. Needless to say, Violet wasn't the most discriminating woman when it came to moving accessories.
The kitchen, however, had been the first thing she tackled. It was a very charming, open spaced kitchen that she'd discovered with some delight she could fit her table and chairs into with plenty of room to spare. The floor was polished hardwood, a strange, yet appealing change from the usual linoleum and tile floors she was used to. It seemed to add a certain glow of warmth to the room that begged for attention, human company. A glass paned door led out the back to an enclosed yard, over run for the moment with weeds. She'd already had her kitchen drapes out the first day she moved in, and their deep rusted red set off the wood floors perfectly. Along one of the kitchen counters, Violet had set up her display of teapots and teacups, which were at this moment playing home to a lovely pot of chai latte.
"Home sweet home..." she trailed off on a sigh of contentment. True, talking to oneself usually did not bode well for mental sanity, but she figured she'd worry about that later - translated to: when others were around to hear. Grabbing the tea pot and a cup, she migrated over to the table where she'd left a fresh stack of books to rifle through. It was a very bizarre mix of new age books and cheap romance novels guaranteed to throw a person off from reading for good. On the plus side, the covers were usually quite intriguing. She'd narrowed down her choice of books between one with a cover featuring a muscled yet effeminate man groping a half clothed woman in what was supposed to be historical scottish highland garb (it didn't quite make the list of authentic though... and was that a wedding garter on her exposed thigh?). The other cover featured some artistic rendition of a sexed up priestess standing before an altar, holding up a rather phallic looking dagger... apparently it was a book of solitary pagan rituals.
Violet wavered between the two - on one hand, cheap trashy romance novels were always fun - but on the other, she really did need to keep up to date on the latest new age book releases so she could assist customers at the store. They seemed to expect all the employees to be well versed in everything "new age". The job wasn't bad though - she worked at a combination new age book store and cafe. All of her coworkers seemed to be new age spiritualists, and the customers ranged from hard core Wiccans to run of the mill fluffy bunny new agers. She thought it was great that so many people could get together and believe what they would, regardless of what doctrine, and in some cases, logic dictated. True spiritual freedom. Magic, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, space aliens, angels, demons - any given category was all within the realm of belief for the customers who shopped there.
Why think of work though, when she was home? She took a sip of her tea, one hand reaching for the groping couple cover when a loud crash startled her. With a less than lady like curse, she spilled hot tea all over her lap.
Putting her cup down, she jumped to her feet, heart pounding from the adrenaline rush as well as the scorched lap. A tea cup from the counter now lay in a dejected scattering of broken shards across the floor.
"What the hell...?" she muttered, her brows drawn together, confusion tinging dark eyes. "I could have sworn none of the cups were on the edge..." A chill ran up her spine, and she fought unsuccessfully not to shiver from it. As she walked towards the counter, another crash had her squeaking with surprise, spinning to face the new disaster. The stack of books she'd had on the table now lay in a messy pile by the chair, some of the covers bent, pulling away from spines due to an awkward landing. Her groping couple cover was now distorted, half of it bent inwards on itself.
She stood there, half way between the counter and the table, not sure what to do. Her mind insisted there was no way those items should have fallen on their own, and there seemed to be a rather large "do not disturb" sign in her brain, refusing to contemplate what else could have been the cause. Glancing up at the clock above the doorway, she realized it was past 10pm. Maybe she had clumsily left things on the edge - that was the only logical possibility. Or maybe it had been all that kava kava tea she'd consumed at work - her mind playing tricks on her. It was late, she was tired, she had no grace. No big deal - problem solved. She quickly cleaned up the messes on the floor before edging her way to the door, eyes cautiously taking glimpses of both sides of the kitchen. It was definitely time for bed.
A short trip through the living room and one stubbed toe later, she was closing the bedroom door behind her. The bed looked rather out of place amidst all her boxed stuff (the boxes from the living room also overflowed into the bedroom and other rooms - Violet was terrible about unpacking). There was flowing chiffon from the ceiling, cascading down about the bed in silken folds - and coupled with the rich purples and cream satin of the bedspread, all puffed up with tasseled pillows - the kindest thing to be said was that some naughty sultan had taken up decorating her room.
Having stripped out of her tea stained work clothes - which consisted of a long beaded sheer peasant tunic over a tank top, and an ankle length flowing paisley skirt (new-agers were very particular about looking like neo-hippies who raided an Indian wardrobe - they wouldn't respect an employee who showed up in jeans and a polo t-shirt), she slipped into an empire waist night gown, that on a good day (translation: slender-non-bloated day) reached about mid-thigh. She flipped the light switch off, and slipped into bed, burrowing her way beneath the opulent purple and cream comforter.
She tried calming her mind for sleep - the last thing she needed was to be dragging on her feet with tomorrow's events. It would be a very hectic day, as there was to be a book signing in the afternoon. In preparation for the event, her store had stocked up on the best seller My Demons Told Me To, by Carol Stevens. Apparently it was the true life story of how creatures from hell had convinced the author to do all sorts of negative karma impacting things - but now that she'd found the Light of the Universe, and the Angels of the Karmic Garden, her life had been turned around. Instead of hearing and seeing little red creatures in leather coats telling her what to do, now she saw beautiful creatures in long flowing gowns telling her what to do. (There was even a part in the book about how the angels helped her pick winning lottery numbers, and find a working love spell to enchant men to her).
As Violet drifted off to sleep, images of falling books, tea cups, and rabid new ager Carol Stevens fans dancing in her head, she thought she heard the distant echo of laughter - something her sleep fogged brain dismissed as being a weird trick of the mind.
The next morning, when she woke up and noticed a tea cup of half drunken chai latte on her nightstand, she uneasily shrugged it off, telling herself she must have brought the cup in with her the night before.
~~~
He'd roused himself up from a nap when he realized someone new was bumping about his space. Over the past few days he watched in silent curiosity, determining the nature of his new roommate. Despite the girl's appalling taste in reading literature and beverages, he could find no serious fault with her - but that didn't mean he had to completely approve. In fact, he had decided to have a bit of fun at her expense, so to speak - see how she reacted. From getting a look at what she considered quality reading, he'd actually been hoping she'd immediately scream "ghost" and try to communicate with him. It would definitely be nice to have someone to chat with again - it had been months since his last set of roommates, and they had remained willfully obstinate about not acknowledging his presence. The most he got from them was a nice supply of movies to watch and a much nicer reading selection. That and the coffee. He truly missed the coffee, and was a bit put out by the new girl's tea obsession. Maybe once she started talking to him, he could do something about that, as well as her idea of a complete reading library.
Last night had been mildly amusing, yet puzzling all at once. When the girl had gone to sit down with her silly tea cup and books, he'd casually wandered over to the counter and knocked a bit of the porcelain off with a decidedly mischievous grin. Would she cry "ghost", though? Of course not. So when she started towards the counter with that ridiculous look of puzzlement on her face, he'd drifted over to the table. As he'd expected, it was covered with some fairly atrocious books - though the groping couple covers were fun. Minus the girly looking men, it reminded him of some of his good ol' days. Garbage though, in the end - the books, that was . He gave a decisive shove to the stack, watching with satisfaction as they tumbled off the table. Maybe she'd get the hint.
When she reacted to the second crash, he'd seen the cogs in her head start to turn before she quickly shut them down. Interesting that - a new age spiritualist who refused to contemplate the fact there could be a ghost in her kitchen. He'd followed her out, a teacup half filled with chai in hand, gleefully watching as she stubbed her toe on one of the boxes in the living room. Maybe she'd finish unpacking if she kept doing that. He'd contemplated following her into the room right away, but decided even mortals deserved some privacy.
Waiting until the lights switched off, he materialized in her room, teacup still in hand, as he chuckled. The next few weeks would be very entertaining. He'd be damned if he'd let one more resident ignore him. He had rights and needs to - foremost the need to alleviate this horrid boredom. Setting the teacup down on her nightstand, he materialized back into the living room. A plan was starting to formulate in his head.
The next morning he watched as she raced out the door, muttering something about being late to work. Let the games begin.
~~~
So far the day was going about how she'd expected it to. They'd sold 18 copies of My Demon Told Me To and Carol Stevens was due to arrive at any moment now. Right now the medium sized bookstore/cafe was filled to capacity with an array of unique yet uniform looking people. There seemed to be no middle ground between the colorful, Maid Marian-esque new agers (many of whom were under the impression that one can still pull off the dainty, fey, damsel-in-distress garb while being at least 70 pounds overweight, in addition to sporting what appeared to be unwashed hair), and the strictly black clothing and chains accessorizing goths/emos (ranging from teens skipping school, to women who should have outgrown that phase 15 years prior and now just look like metal band rejects). The Maid Marianers were usually easy enough to spot as the fluffy bunnies - all about enlightenment and spiritual freedom and the goddess. The goth/emo group were usually the ones who went in for the vampire lore and werewolf theories. The occasional ratty guy in the plaid, with military issue reading glasses was usually the type to tend towards alien abductions and/or alien enlightenment. The truly unique thing about their customers was that the vast majority of them were all women - with a slightly more evened out ratio of man to woman in the goth/emo groups and alien abduction groups. But only slightly. Despite the new age acceptance of just about every belief conceived of by man or "womyn" kind (barring, apparently anything Christian or Jewish), she hardly at all, if ever, saw the more traditional Buddhists and Taoists in the store. Probably didn't like all the attention.
She still found it amazing that the store could fill up like this in the middle of a weekday. Clearly these people had no jobs or so little regard for them that getting some charlatan's book signed was of greater importance. Needless to say, Violet didn't buy in to the mentality perpetuated by her place of business. She put on a good show, wore her long skirts and her crystal amulets, discussed the latest books - she wasn't even sure if her coworkers were doing the same as her, or if they genuinely believed. They all did share the passionate view, however, that everyone should be allowed to believe what they wanted, regardless of what anyone else said - which she felt was the true heart of the new age movement. Once in a blue moon, Violet would begin to question herself - wondering if perhaps she was walking the line of hypocrisy just for the sake of staying employed. It never lasted though, because she'd just as quickly switch her attention to something else. For instance, at this moment, she was watching one of the Rubenesque customers in a tie back patchwork dress elbow someone she'd been politely chatting with earlier, on "accident" of course, in her attempt to get to the front of the now forming line of Carol Stevens fans. Sisterhood be damned, if there was a way for her to get ahead of the others, apparently.
A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of Violet's mouth. The people-watching was probably what kept her quite happy with her current job. For lack of any other way to describe it, it was like watching an active social experiment gone wrong.
"Brightest blessings! I'm so happy and blessed to see the turn out here! I can't wait to meet each and every one of you, without whom my book would not be the success it is today!" The over syrupy, penny bright voice shouted out to the store in general, as the owner of its voice began wading through the sea of immoveable women. She wore an earthy sage green peasant blouse, belted over a 3 tiered, frilly brown skirt. The belt had to be as wide as her forearm and was slung low on her nearly non-existent hips. It was etched with gold scrolling that resembled somewhat generic Celtic knot work. Her neck dripped with an array of vaguely Native American beaded jewelry, and she'd artfully braided a pair of long feathers into her light brown shoulder length hair. She stood out from the crowd, and didn't, all at once. She was dressed how many of the women here would dress, yet there was something just a touch different to call one's attention to her in the crowd. Maybe it was just the overly cheery, loud greeting. Or, Violet thought, a touch on the uncharitable side, maybe it was because she wasn't 70 pounds overweight.
"Who's got crowd management for this? You know we don't have sensors on the books... I'd hate to be accountable for any thefts going on today, with all this ruckus..." This said from the shift manager, Julie, ever the sensible one. She had a pained smile pasted to her face while she glared out at the line of women, as well as the back of Ms. Stevens' head as the author made her way to the signing desk.
Violet gave a puzzled frown. "I thought Amy had that section of the room - hey... where IS Amy?"
Julie turned her cracked glare on to Violet. "You're joking, right...? Please tell me you're joking."
"Umm... why would I be joking? What's wro - oh shit - er.. poop! Excuse me - I have to go retrieve something the dog collar wearing blonde just pocketed..." Violet darted off, eyes fixed on a willowy blond with black tipped hair. She'd watched the young woman stuff a small canister of something in to the pocket of her leather trench coat. Julie was left by herself, eyes frantically searching for other employees to help. Amy was over on that side of the store, alright - but she stood to the front of the line, clutching a copy of My Demons Made Me Do It to her chest, staring with starry eyed adoration at Carol Stevens as the other woman took her seat and extended her hand to shake Amy's in greeting.
Four hours later the majority of the women had left the store, clutching their signed books with looks of rapturous bliss painted on their faces. Violet stole a glance to the table where Ms. Stevens was cleaning up, noting with some curiosity touched with amusement, that quite a lot of the syrupy happy go lucky brightness seemed to have rubbed away. Ms. Stevens, while not putting on a show, looked much like any average customer, right down to the gleam of avarice in her grey eyes as she looked over the mailing list sheet left out for the customers to put their names on. Julie approached her, wiping her hands on the cafe apron tied around her waist.
"Thank you so much for coming today, Ms. Stevens. It was an absolute pleasure having you here, and I know our loyal customers were absolutely tickled to be able to meet you in person." Unsaid, of course, was that the store had benefited quite a bit from the signing as well - it'd sold three times as much today as it did on a normal weekday.
Those grey eyes appraised Julie with cool intelligence before she flashed one of her generic penny bright smiles. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine. It means so much to me to know that I have been able to reach out and help so many other people who may have been in the same position I was in. It's my life dream to help others... in fact, I'm actually working on another book deal this very moment. Very intense, karmic connections - about human relationships, and knowing which ones to cultivate and what not to waste cosmic energy on... It should be hitting the shelves this autumn...." she trailed off helpfully, waiting for Julie to take the bait.
And she did - as both Ms. Stevens and Violet knew she would. "That's fabulous! I tell you, with humanitarians such as yourself in the world, I don't know what could be better... You're such a positive role model for women the world over! We'd absolutely love to have you back for another book signing when the new book gets released. You will keep in touch, won't you?" Violet had to give Julie credit - the smile actually looked real as Julie extended her hand to Ms. Stevens.
Ms. Stevens accepted the proffered hand with a business like clasp, and then quickly released it. "Of course we'll keep in touch - oh! Look at the time - I'm late for a very important meeting! Ta-ta for now!" Violet observed with amusement that she'd dropped the brightest blessings greeting and farewell, now that business had been discussed and agreed upon. Having tucked away her list of potential future money donators (in the guise of collecting names for a mailing list), Ms. Stevens quickly departed, leaving Julie, Amy, Violet, and a handful of customers alone in the store.
Violet looked around, before pulling Julie off to the side. "We really need to get some form of security - surveillance camera - something - anything, in here. I'm tired of having to try to retrieve attempted stolen merchandise. We don't get paid enough to take on potential physical violence, you know?"
With a sigh, Julie just shook her head. "You don't have to tell me that... but what do you think I can do about it? I'm just a shift supervisor... I've brought it up to management before, and the answer is the same as always - there's not enough money to invest in that." Her tone was sharp, and abrupt. Patience was never her strong point on days like these.
Like some supernatural groundhog, Amy popped up behind Julie, eyebrows raised in mock surprise, "What? Not enough money? The owner can afford a new car and his hair plugs, but can't afford one or two measly little cameras? Heck... put up a few webcams and monitor it on a laptop... bleh! Problem solved!"
Julie just shook her head while Violet turned to Amy, about to counter her idea. It was an ongoing complaint, and one that they all knew would never be resolved. "Go take your lunch breaks - Dianne clocked in about 10 minutes ago - but don't be late coming back!"
Both Amy and Violet took off, needing no second promptings.
~~~
"Wow! I bet your place is going to look great when you finish it!" Amy's burbling enthusiasm was contagious "Do you need any help unpacking? I mean... I know how you can be sometimes with the – umm... you know.." she trailed off, trying to find a polite way to phrase the thought.
"Procrastination, you mean?" There was a slight sardonic note to her voice. "And yes - actually, if you're offering, I'd love to have some help. I was kinda hoping to plan a house warming party this weekend... you know - have you and Julie and Terra over.. Raven and her boyfriend too, if she can make it. Might also see about inviting Greg along...." Violet blushed a little, as she added in the last name. Looking down at her empty plate, she picked up the crumpled napkin and began twisting it about, absently.
"Greg..? As in, your online-pseudo-boyfriend-you've-only-met-once-in-person-Greg? Is that wise, letting him know where you live?"
Violet's shoulders hunched defensively, her voice a touch churlish, "It's not like he's a criminal or anything... and he's serious about me. I like him a lot."
Her friend tilted her head, dark curls cascading over her left shoulder. "Mmmm. K. Well, you're an adult... but let it be noted for the record that I think you've been breathing in too much incense, chica. So - when do you want me over? I could come by tonight to help... I don't have to be in to work tomorrow till the afternoon - I traded shifts with Dianne...Oh! Did you want to invite Dianne over too, this weekend? She seems fairly nice..."
Violet nodded, a smile lighting her dark eyes. "Yeah... I should have thought about that, actually...I'll ask her when we get back on shift - thanks for the reminder... Tonight would be good, if you have the time. My poor living room is positively adrift with boxes and bags. I'm not even quite sure where to start..."
"Oooh! I know!" Amy's rather buoyant exclamation caught Violet off guard for a moment. "A house cleansing! You can't just move in to some musty old house and not cleanse it of imprinted energies and negativity... that's like leaving a poltergeist breeding ground sign up sheet. Breed here!" The emphatic nod coupled with a brilliant grin left Violet wondering if she was serious or joking.
"Er... yeah, of course..." When all else fails, a vague acknowledgement, which can be attributed to agreement or dismissal, always worked. Poltergeists weren't real, were they? Unbidden, she recalled last night, with the broken teacup and displaced pile of books fallen to the floor. She must have been working at the store too long to even entertain the notion of a supernatural cause. "On that note - break time is over - time to get back!" she announced, a tad too cheerfully, even for her ears.
CHAPTER TWO
"Holy fu--aaaack!!!!!!!!" were the eloquent words issued forth from Violet, upon walking through her door and directly into a haphazard pile of boxes. Unable to keep her balance, she went tumbling head first over the boxes to crash into an undignified pile of limbs and gauzy skirt. She hadn't remembered those boxes being there from the other night, or even this morning - a realization that niggled at her mind after she'd gotten back to her feet. "Nan daiyo!!" she added in a hiss to her earlier exclamation, as she headed towards the kitchen. It roughly translated to What the hell, in Japanese. Cursing was bad - but it didn't count if it was in a foreign language, right?
The kitchen, thankfully, was just as she'd left it last night - right down to the now odd number of teacups on the counter. Amy would be by shortly to assist with unpacking, and Violet wanted to have a pot of tea ready, as well as some food, for her arrival. Just as she was reaching for the tea kettle, the shrieking ring of the phone echoed off the kitchen walls. She hastily dropped the kettle back down to the stove and made a leap for the phone.
"Hello??" But nothing greeted her on the other end except for some nondescript electronic fuzz. "Hello???" Because hey, by asking a greeting into the phone, maybe the noise would magically clear up and someone would answer. After a few more moments of calling Hello into the phone, she hung it up with a disgusted sigh and went back to filling the kettle with water to boil.
Opening her fridge she looked at the contents before closing it. Grocery shopping - that's what she'd forgotten to do. Looked like it would be a pizza night after all - luckily, Amy happened to like pizza. She checked the clock again before picking up the phone to order out. With any luck it would arrive before Amy - but probably not. Pizza Pizazz was notorious for always being late with delivery - they only got away with it because they made the best pizza in the town.
When Violet got off the phone she checked on the kettle, seeing the steam beginning to seep out from the top. Another minute or so and it would be ready. The phone rang again and she picked it up, wondering if there was a problem with the pizza order. Instead, just as a few minutes earlier, the only thing she heard on the other end was static. Static and what almost sounded like music. She hung up, stepping away from the phone. A cold chill ran down her spine. What if her ex had found her new number? She didn't want to think about what could happen if he figured out where she lived now.
Taking an unsteady breath, she let it out in a quiet laugh. Come on, Violet. The chances of him finding you are only slightly more than the chances of being haunted. Or of Carol Stevens not being full of bullshit. Smiling at her own overactive imagination, she sat down at the table and started shuffling through the books again. Not really interested in picking one to read so much as just looking for something to fiddle with while she waited for Amy to show up.
~~~
Coincidentally as it turned out, both Amy and the pizza delivery guy showed up at the same time. When Violet opened the door, the enticing aroma of melted cheese and pepperoni wafted out from the insulated bag, and she noticed her friend eyeing it with the intensity of a true pizza connoisseur. With the pizza paid for, both women happily stepped inside with the pizza and headed for the kitchen.
On the way in, Amy looked around and began chuckling. "You really are hopeless when it comes to moving and organizing, huh? At the very least it might be a good idea not to stack them right in front of the doorway, you know?"
"Hey - I didn't stack them there... " she broke off, realizing how crazy that sounded. Of course she had, otherwise they wouldn't have been there. "Well.. Not intentionally anyway. They just kind of wound up that way. The plan is to get the living room, unpacked and put together before the housewarming party though... wouldn't do if I wound up killing friends via badly placed boxes." She grinned over at Amy who was still looking around the new house with interest.
"It's a pretty cool place. I like it - cozy. So - do we get crackin' with the house blessing first or the unpacking?"
Violet once again contemplated her friend. Up till today she's still entertained the idea that Amy was actually fairly grounded in reality. But then she'd seen her at the front of the line for the book signing. Note to self: don't be quite as flippant about the new age stuff around Amy. She might get insulted.
Clearing her throat, she shrugged, motioning to the chaos that was the living room. "Probably organizing first. Set the right feel of the place before anything else, right?"
Amy nodded enthusiastically. Continuing on to the kitchen, they both sat down to enjoy the pizza. A pot of tea was also at the table, but Violet was the only one drinking it - Amy had declined and opted for a soda instead.
"So. Housewarming party. We have the list - by the way, are you absolutely positive you don't want to rethink inviting Greg? I mean, seriously. You've only met him once in person. So what if you've been chatting for half a year. He could still be a crazy, psychotic freak... "
Violet sighed. She hated any reminders about her ex. She knew Amy wasn't deliberately trying to bring that back up though. She just had an unhealthy trust of meeting people from the internet. "Just because you don't believe in online dating doesn't mean it's a less valid choice than going to a club or bar to meet someone. At least with the online dating you actually have to talk to the person and get to know them." And you don't have to anywhere within a 10 mile radius of them if you chose not to be. Safety in electronic dating.
"Hah!" Amy scoffed, "He could really be some 60-something year old creepy dude. Or a transvestite... or Big Bertha. It's a lot harder to lie about what and who you are when facing someone than when over the internet."
"Yeah.. Well. I have met him, and he's not 60, or a transvestite or Big Bertha, so yes, I still plan to invite him." Violet took a sip of her chai before continuing. "Soo... what do you think? With our group, do you suppose any of them will be up for games? If so - board games or card games?"
Amy looked like she was considering pushing the Greg matter, but changed her mind. "Hmm. Honestly...? Probably neither. Maybe if you had a Wii you could get everyone going with a game, but our group is more into the seance and tarot readings for fun than Apples to Apples or a game of Rummy... you know?"
Violet considered her options as Amy started picking up the books on the table. She felt embarrassed that she'd forgotten to safely hide away all the romance novels. Not exactly the type of thing she liked to broadcast: Hi - I work at a new age store and my interests include... umm. Tea. And... umm. Well - I read really trashy books. It's for the articles. I swear. Oh wait - that's my playgirl subscription defense. Crap.
Amy let out an excited squeal as she came across the book with the girly man in what passed for a kilt. Holding it up, she looked at Violet with a hopeful grin. "Can I borrow this one? It's the latest one in the series, right? I've been dying for it to get released!"
Blinking, Violet returned the smile, inwardly relieved. "Of course! I have others if you'd like to look through them, as well. I'm always happy to loan books out." Huh. How about that? Turns out we have a common interest in books. Woo!
What started out as a pre-organization pizza-fest devolved into a gab session about the series of novels they'd both been following. When they both started giggling over the escalation of the Height Wars, Amy had to stop, gasping for breath.
"Wait.. Wait! If it keeps up, the next set of heroes she writes will all be at least 8 feet tall! And each one after that, taller than the last! Why do you suppose she does that?" her question ended with another laughing fit as she wagged the book in Violet's direction.
Violet managed to catch her breath enough to respond. "Oh - I don't know... I'm thinking you're being kind with the height. I was truly expecting her next series to be about the Titans, the way she obsesses over tallness. Maybe she thinks her readers won't get that her heroes are all manly.. And umm... manly, unless she makes sure everyone knows just how incredibly tall and broad shouldered and chiseled they are? With as much chiseling as is going on in all these books, I fully expect the next heroine to bypass the living altogether and fall in lust with a statue."
"Makes sense! After all - it's what the readers want in their fantasy men... things that don't exist. Like a bad ass leather wearing warrior who spouts poetry. If women wanted to fantasize about a guy who could actually exist, then nerdy, geeky guys could start rejoicing!" Amy paused, then shrugged with a slight smile, "Although... it would explain the number of women who seem drawn to assholes. Most of the heroes in those stories are written as surface level assholes just waiting for the right woman to come change them..."
"Huh... you know, you're right. Don't think I'd ever quite thought of it that way before. Why do we like these books, again?"
The question sent Amy into another fit of laughter. 'Oh, come on... no one reads it for the intellectual stimulus. They read it for the other kind!"
A few hours later, they'd managed to polish off the pizza and put the living room into some semblance of order. The boxes still needed to be broken down, but Violet didn't particularly feel the urge to jump right on that. When she bid good night to Amy, it was with a smaller box full of romance novels that Amy had plucked out from her larger collection. Violet had no doubt she'd be done with at least one of them before she saw her at work the next day.
~~~
He felt somewhat better about his new house guest as he listened in on their conversation. It was a relief to know the girl could admit the types of books she read were garbage. It gave him some hope that somewhere amongst her book collection, she might actually have something worth reading.
Had he not been haunting his current location for coming up on 80 years, he might have been shocked about the brazen way they discussed men and sex... as if they were men themselves! But no, the things he'd learned about what people did when they assumed no one could see... Well, he could write a book about it. If he could write.
Henry blinked as a realization struck him. He could write. Thanks to modern technology and easy access to a computer, he could write whatever he wanted. He could manipulate tiny electrical currents with far greater ease than physical objects after all. So long as he didn't mind his current house guest being the one to see it. Now that had its own possibilities. Starting with this Greg fellow Violet had gone on about. He hadn't met the guy but he didn't like him already.
Rubbing his hands together in an exaggerated expression of glee, Henry materialized in the computer room. Pausing for just a moment to bless the wonderfulness of modern technology, he siphoned his essence into the machine, bringing it to life. Lightening fast he sifted through circuits until he found what he'd wanted. Her e-mail box. What a world of difference a mere 15 years made in the way people communicated. Amazing really.
Greg,
I've done some thinking and have changed my mind about a few things. I'm tired of maintaining an online relationship when what I want is something closer. I gave you plenty of time to decide if you wanted to take our relationship into the real world and as yet I've only ever met you the once in person. I've met someone nearby and feel it's worth exploring. I would appreciate it if you did not try to contact me again.
Best of luck,
Violet
Henry sent it out to Greg's e-mail address before adding his name to the list of ignore rules she'd set up for spam. Now she'd never see another e-mail from this Greg fellow. Or a few other people, from the look of her ignore list, it seemed. A quick glance over the saved e-mails assured him she'd not given out a phone number so he didn't have to concern himself over that venue, either.
Had he been perhaps a nicer person, he contemplated, he might feel bad for sabotaging his new house guest's attempt at dating. But there was only so much a ghost could put up with. He had to accept people would move in and move out. Sometimes sooner than they may have planned. He didn't have to accept cowardly dweebs who were too afraid to even approach a woman in person to talk to. Why, he'd have been laughed out of town if he'd tried courting a woman that way.
Satisfied, he parted ways with the computer and materialized in the living room to survey the progress. It was at least better than last night. A shame they'd left those boxes there. Annoyed, Henry stacked the empty cardboard directly in front of the door. She'd have no choice but to deal with them before she left tomorrow morning.
~~~
It had been a week since Violet had heard from Greg. She was annoyed - hurt even, but refused to beg for his attention. She'd seen it often enough to recognize when a guy just wasn't in to her. They'd known each other for several months and he'd only ever asked to meet up once. And now this - the silent treatment. No doubt he'd grown bored and found someone new to hit on. Men.
When she'd told Amy about it, the other girl had simply nodded sympathetically, which was nice. Violet had half expected an I told you so from her. Instead Amy showed up at her house bearing chocolate cupcakes and a romance novel series that Violet hadn't read yet. It was the perfect therapy. Chocolate goodness and sexy fantasies. Hard to beat.
Tomorrow was the housewarming party; something she should be looking forward to, but for some reason she was nervous about it instead. Violet was becoming increasingly absent-minded as well. She kept misplacing things and forgetting she'd moved them. The first few nights it was tea cups scattered about the house. Then there was the matter of the boxes, keys, books, shoes, and even her undergarments (she'd found those in the freezer of all places!). She just couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. Maybe it was the stress of moving to a new house, coupled with Greg's silent treatment. She'd really thought for a while that he'd been genuinely interested. Maybe it had been her job that had thrown him off. Can't blame him, I suppose... it throws me off sometimes too, after all.
Sighing, Violet stared at her computer screen. Back to the dating sites, it looked like. There were still a few minutes before she had to leave for work, so she logged in and changed her status in the settings back to "looking". Shaking her head, she logged out and grabbed her purse, giving a quick survey of the computer room. Nothing seemed out of place, much to her relief. Apparently her scatter-brained misplacing of objects had not extended out to this small room yet. Then again, really the only things in the room were the desk, chair, computer, and a bookshelf sans books (those were still in the living room in a tidy stack). It made it hard for her to lose track of things in the room. Hopefully.
Heading out, she paused at her front door to survey the living room. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just missed seeing something important. It was a strange thing to feel, and seemed to be increasing the longer she stayed in the house. Suppressing a shiver, she turned around again and shut the door behind her, locking it. Maybe it was time to get a pet. Being alone in the house all the time was doing something weird to her imagination.
~~~
Diane stood behind the check-out counter, chewing on her bottom lip. Her shoulder length, pink and lavender multi-colored hair was in pigtails today, adding to the sense of childish youth she exuded. It could also be her Rainbow Bright knee high socks and lace edged babydoll dress. She was an oddity in the store, looking more like a cross between Punk and Lolita than what the average Pagan or Goth tended to go for. Most women her age couldn't pull off that look, but despite being 26, Diane managed to look adorable rather than ridiculous or trampy.
Violet arrived to see her nervously discussing something with a somewhat belligerent customer, her eyes darting nervously to the door. When she caught sight of Violet her eyes practically glowed. Either Julie or Violet were the ones who usually were called in to deal with difficult customers. Amy and Diane were too nice, and they were collectively worried that Raven would one day snap and get into a physical altercation with someone.
Taking a deep breath, Violet smiled, approaching the counter. "Hey Diane! Came to take your place and relieve you for your break." Turning to the customer, she kept her smile pleasant. "Good afternoon, Ma'am. Might I be of help?"
The woman continued to scowl, transferring it to Violet as she shook several small bags of dried herbs. "I bought these and it doesn't work. I want my money back."
Violet took the plastic bags from the woman and flipped them over. The labels listed dried violets, rose petals, cinnamon bark, cloves and jasmine buds. The woman probably bought them for a love spell. Or a lust spell, depending. Looking at the woman again, she kept her expression pleasant, studying her for a quick second.
The customer was definitely a Maid Marianer. Her thin brown and grey streaked hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung limply down the back of a light umber, one-size-fits all tie-back dress. The ties dangled on the sides, unable to be pulled back. The sleeves had a t-shirt shape to them, and her upper arms strained against the fabric. Whoever came up with the one-size-fits-all concept, clearly had never worked here before.
Shaking her head, Violet made her tone gentle. "Ma'am, I assure you our ingredients are some of the finest you can buy. Organically grown and pesticide-free. Perhaps you could tell me how you were using them and I might be able to help you out. Maybe you just need to tweak your approach a little.
The woman began to puff up before she seemed to rethink. She still frowned, but it wasn't as fierce a scowl as before. "Well... alright. I read that all I had to do was burn an herb mix that would correspond with what I was wanting from the universe. I burned some of this, and it's been a week and nothing has happened. They don't work."
Nodding in understand Violet headed over to the bookshelves to the right of the counter. "Ah.. Well, that's certainly one approach, but why don't you give this a look, instead?" She pulled out a pale green and pink paperback book with an artistic rendering of scattered flower petals on the surface of what looked like a clear pond. Violet had read it last month and actually been fairly impressed. Some enterprising author had laid down good advice in the form of a "spell book" that advocated taking care of one's health. The outlined theory being a timeless one of God/Goddess/Universe helps those who help themselves.
The woman took the book from her and began flipping through it, interest lighting her features.
Smiling, Violet motioned her to flip towards the middle of the book. "There's one spell in particular that requires the use of those herbs as a bath soak... that way you can absorb their properties into you without the smokiness of burning them. The ritual is sort of lengthy and results aren't always instantaneous, but I've heard excellent things about it, nonetheless." The ritual being that the person thoroughly shower and scrub themselves down as a "purification" before then soaking in the scented bath water. Cleanliness went a lot further in attracting someone than the smell of burned plants did. And it was just plain psychologically uplifting. A happy person was more likely to attract someone than an unhappy person.
The woman looked up from the book and actually smiled. "Well, thank you. That was actually quite helpful. I think I'll buy this and give it another shot. If I have any more questions can I come back to see you? That other girl was of no help to me at all." Her scowl started to return, but she recovered herself.
"Of course. I'm happy to help in anyway I can. Let me know how it goes." Violet replied, as she led the woman back to the counter and rang up the book.
Diane reappeared after the customer had left, bouncing on her toes. "How did you do that? She was so incredibly rude to me! Just kept insisting we should take the return and give her her money back! And she was so mean about it!"
Violet shrugged. "The herbs were ones commonly used in love spells. The woman is unhappy, overweight, and her hygiene wasn't the best. No amount of herb burning was going to get her what she wanted. We got a new book shipment a couple months ago... love spells. But the writer set the rituals out to revolve around bathing type activities. People like to be pampered - it's great for the mood and makes them feel more attractive. Figured that would help her more than chanting some words and setting fire to something would."
Diane blinked, then smiled. "Oh. Which book was it..? So I can refer people to it if needed?"
Smiling, Violet nodded in the direction of the bookshelves. "Second shelf to the right, third shelf down. It's called Channelling Aphrodite."
"Thanks!" Diane skipped off to peruse the shelves, leaving Violet to man the counter.
Thankfully the rest of the day passed uneventfully. People came in, bought their crystals, herbs, books, and charms, and then they left. For once she caught no one trying to shoplift. All in all, it wound up being a pretty good day. And best of all, tomorrow she had off - so she had plenty of time to prep everything for company coming over.
CHAPTER THREE
Rummaging about in the kitchen looking for her box of tea, Violet grew frustrated. Just where in the world would she have put the tea, if not on the counter or in the cabinets? Slamming the last cupboard door closed, she stalked over to the table, fighting the urge to throw something at the wall. This was happening way too often!
Glaring around at the kitchen, as if it was somehow the house's fault, she was startled when the phone rang. Tamping down on her frustration, she chuckled nervously at her reaction as she went over to pick up the phone
"Hello?"
"Hey! Violet? It's me, Amy."
"Oh hey - what's up? You're still coming tonight, right?"
"Yup! Wouldn't miss it. Ummm, I was actually calling to see if I could bring along a friend for you to meet. You'll totally like him I swear!"
Violet inwardly groaned, closing her eyes.
"Vi..? Hello..?"
"Yeah. I'm still here. What the hell... Sure - you can bring him along if you're sure he wants to meet me. And so long as you can vouch for him not being a total creep." The doubt in her voice seeped through.
"Aww... come on... Why wouldn't someone want to meet you? And why would I bring a creep over? Don't judge new guys off that dweeb of an online pseudo-boyfriend you had. You'll like him, I promise. He definitely wants to meet you! Anyway - I'll see you in a couple of hours! Bye!" Click.
How did she let herself get talked into things she wasn't really wanting to do? And just where in the hell had her tea vanished to?
~~~
Henry drifted through the door of the guest bathroom, satisfaction emanating in waves. Some might call it childish, but he was taking an inordinate amount of joy in hiding his house guest's things. She'd never think to look for her precious tea under the bathroom sink. Now if he could just figure out a way to make her buy coffee instead...
Catching the sound of voices, he followed the noise, allowing it to tug him towards the kitchen. He could hear the woman talking on the phone.
"Yeah. I'm still here. What the hell... Sure - you can bring him along if you're sure he wants to meet me. And so long as you can vouch for him not being a total creep."
Unbidden, Henry felt a flash of anger snake up. He'd just rid himself of one potential annoyance, and the woman was already opening up his home to another strange man. Not if he had anything to do with it. It seemed like tonight would be an entertaining evening after all. Maybe with a house full of new-agers, he could finally garner the attention he deserved. Not all of them could be as thick-skulled as Violet was showing herself to be, after all.
Humming to himself, he drifted back towards the guest bathroom. He'd noticed a bottle of liquid Benadryl in the cabinet earlier when he'd been busy hiding that cursed box of chai tea. Nothing quite says it's a happening soiree like a room full of passed out party guests. Swiping the bottle, he made his plans. The moment that punch bowl was put out, he'd just doctor it up a bit.
Oh, the fun he would have tonight.
~~~
Amy was the first one to arrive - perfectly on time. Despite her impression of bubbly flightiness, she was one of the most punctual people Violet had ever know. A man stood slightly to her left and behind, curiosity suffusing his features. His light brown hair was fashionably scruffy, and he wore a plain black t-shirt with a red colored x-box button on the left of the chest. The text next to it read: Achievement Unlocked Red Ring of Death. She grinned at that - a guy with a sense of humor was always promising.
"Hey Vi! I want you to meet my friend Shane. Shane, this is Violet." She stepped aside and motioned for him to step forward. Smiling pleasantly, he held out his hand.
Well, this could be good. Returning his smile she accepted the proffered hand in a firm shake. She'd never been a fan of the wimpy, dead fish, hand shake that most women seemed to do where they'd only just barely grasp the tips of the fingers like they thought their hand would shatter.
"Come on in... the other should be arriving shortly. In the meantime, can I offer either of you a drink? Something to munch on? We have snacks laid out on the kitchen table, and I'm about to set out the drink pitchers." She stepped aside, holding the door wide open for Amy and Shane to come in. Closing it behind them, she waited for them to start migrating in to the main part of the room. The couch and love seat was set up in an "L" formation with the TV centered to the main couch. A bookshelf stood against the far corner, lined with various sizes and colors of books. Not too bad, considering how chaotic things had been just a week ago.
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