“It’s not my imagination. I’ve seen her twice now, and each
time we’ve had a fine chat.” He pointed at the chess board. “We even played….”
A frown commandeered his mouth. “Oops, I should have let her win. A real
gentleman would have.” He called himself another name under his breath and then
changed the subject. “Do you not believe in ghosts?”
“I suppose I do,” Jackson said slowly, still rubbing his
chin.
Christian’s gaze fell back onto her. “I wish I knew her
name. She doesn’t remember it, you know.”
“Indeed, that is odd.”
“Oh! I’ve just gotten a brilliant idea! Let’s hold a séance
for her. Perhaps the psychic will be able to get her name from other spirits.”
The old man looked as though he didn’t think it was so
brilliant, and said as much. “A séance, my lord? Have you gone mad?”
“Isn’t it fashionable to have one these days?”
“I gather it must be. Though I would not recommend it.”
“Why, because of evil spirits?”
“That’s one reason.”
“And the other?”
“Funds, Chris, you should know better. How much does it cost
to have a séance? You must be frugal until your father—”
Christian groaned. He didn’t want to remember that.
Jackson continued, “Do you really want to risk wasting money
only to invite more wicked specters—”
“She doesn’t have a wicked bone...uh...she is not wicked,
and this is the best way I can think of to help. I’ve already searched every
book I can get my hands on. I never found her name.”
“And how long have you known this phantom?”
“Do not call her that. I can sense the intentions of her
heart, and I can say for a surety they are good.”
“Does she even have a heart?”
Christian was thrown by that. Her spirit form clearly did
not have skin and bones, but he said with conviction, “She has a soul.”
“Where is she? I’d like to meet her.”
“She said she was going to retire.”
“She sleeps?”
“I suppose.”
“And you trust her? Perhaps we should get an exorcist
instead.”
“Jackson! That would crush her. She’s sweet, trusting and
innocent.”
“And you know this?”
“I do.”
“Very well, have your séance.” Jackson’s expression softened
to a fatherly kindness. “Now, Son, you know I care for you. So please don’t
lose your heart to a girl you can never have,” he mumbled, dipped his head
once, and then turned to leave.
“I won’t.” But deep down, he knew he was lying. It may have
been too late for that already. “Goodnight. And thank you for the pie,” he
called after the old fellow as he left.
Christian knew Jackson was right, however. He couldn’t
afford to lose himself to this girl. But found he couldn’t resist talking to
her when she was around. She fascinated him. And somehow her spirit managed to
reach right inside to his and seize his very consciousness with a hug that
began from within and worked its way out.
The next morning he was pleased when she joined him in the
garden while he sat reading. As she lowered herself over the stone bench beside
him, he said, “I must apologize for upsetting you last night—”
“It was not your fault.” She glanced sideways at him and
then commented, “’Tis a lovely morning, is it not?”
“It is….” He trailed off as he looked at her spirit figure
in the sunlight. The golden rays bathed her in a gleaming caress. “I thought
you were pretty in the candlelight, but the morning light shimmers...on you,
even more so.” Christian almost said that it shimmers
through
her, but
then he wasn’t sure how to actually explain what he saw. The sight of her was just
too unearthly for words.
“You think I’m pretty?” she responded, sounding bashful.
Somehow he knew his words would have tinged her cheeks in pink if she’d been
living, and couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see her blushing,
solid form.
“I think you’re absolutely lovely.”
“Thank you.” And with that, she looked away, unable to hide
the happy curve of her lips. Oh, yes, she would blush so nicely….
“I’ve thought of another way to discover your name,” he
said.
She twisted back around to face him. “Really?”
“Yes, a séance.”
“A what?”
“It’s all the rage in London right now. It’s simply a small
gathering of people with a psychic medium who can speak with the dead.”
“But you can talk to me.”
“I’ve never been able to converse with spirits before. But
others might know your name. The psychic should know how to attract them and
ask if they know you.”
She shuddered. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. It
sounds…frightful.”
Christian laughed. “Surely you can’t be frightened of other
spirits.”
The ghostly girl frowned and her lips puckered with
concentration. “I have a vague memory of this. Ghosts were always seen as evil
spirits, and do not move on. They linger because of their tormented soul over
whatever horror happened to them, or what they did.” Her expression shifted,
and this time she looked distraught. “What if I—?”
“Nonsense!”
“Then what if this…?” The corners of her pale mouth angled
down, and he understood she might be unfamiliar enough with the term to repeat
it, or had simply forgotten it.
“Psychic,” Christian supplied.
“Yes, what if this psychic attracts bad spirits?”
He didn’t know what to say to that, and had to admit that he
didn’t want to consider the possibility. He’d never really believed in psychics
before, had gone to the on-stage séances and knew those were simply trickery, a
sort of magic show. And he’d heard that some considered these in-home séances
to be similar. False and foolish folly, but she was proof ghosts did exist, and
perhaps she and Jackson were right, that he should be careful about such
things. “But how else can we discover your name?”
“I know not,” she answered after a short pause.
“I believe most psychics are frauds anyway and I don’t see
how that could really cause any harm.”
“Then how could one help me?”
With an exhale that blew the hair from his forehead,
Christian frowned. “Please, humor me?”
After another, longer hesitation while she studied his
expression, she said softly, “If you wish.”
Christian didn’t wait for either her or Jackson to further
protest this. He sent a missive to a psychic, the cheapest one he could find,
with an invitation to arrive that evening. She’d requested he set-up a round
table in the sitting room with candles.
After making a final adjustment to the cloth covering the
quaint table surrounded by four chairs, Christian lit the candles, and then
opened the door for the psychic when she rang.
“Hello, my name is Luna,” said the woman with a black,
feather-adorned hat on her head, and purple gloves covering her arms from the
tip of fingers to her elbows.
A stage name. Great, this just might be a waste of time and
money after all
, Christian thought.
“This way, Luna,” he said, trying to hide the doubt in his
tone.
When he sat at the table with Luna and Jackson, the psychic
asked in an airy voice, which again made him wonder if he’d invited an actress
to his home, “You did not invite all of your friends to this event?”
“I wanted something more private.”
“Very well,” she said, stroking a skinny, gloved finger over
the moon-shaped pendant hanging from a chain around her neck, “but the fee is
still the same.”
For her offering of parlor tricks, he was sure. “Yes, yes,
let’s begin,” he said, almost shortly.
Luna ordered them to set their hands on the table.
His gaze slid to his ghost in the chair next to him. She was
very quiet, as was Jackson, and he sensed that neither one of them were very
pleased.
The psychic noticed his look at the seeming empty seat and
studied him and the chair curiously. Christian offered a grin, hoping to
distract the woman.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Christian wanted to
smirk at how the approaching storm added to the spooky atmosphere in the room.
“We shall begin,” Luna said ominously, fluttering her
fingers over the candle in front of her. The movement caused the many bangles
around her wrist to tinkle noisily. The black feathers protruding from her hat
bobbed.
Christian smothered a laugh, and tried to hide the sound
with a cough.
He got a dirty look for that, but the woman continued.
“Ooooh, spirits of Krestly Castle, please come to us.”
He thought Jackson laughed that time, and chanced a glance
in the old gent’s direction. Christian decided the man was either trembling
with old age or mirth, though he wasn’t certain which it was.
“Oh, my!” the psychic blasted, regaining his interest. “You
have many ghosts here!”
His gaze turned to the sweet spirit next to him. She was
busy looking around the room for any of the
many ghosts
mentioned, then
turned to him and shook her head. “I do not see anyone else.” He also noticed
she seemed skittish. Especially when she flinched as another lightning strike
hit closer to the castle, briefly brightening the darkened room. He then
realized that she’d edged closer to him.
“You’re frightened?” he asked, barely audibly.
“Aye,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry I made you do this. I think you were right. This
was a waste of time,” Christian whispered from the side of his mouth.
“Who are you talking to?” Luna shouted, and Christian
jumped.
“Pardon me, madam. I was just muttering to myself.”
“Silence! You will frighten the spirits away! Do you not see
them all around us?” She looked around the room, wide-eyed. “Spirits, show
yourselves!”
Another flash of lightening lit up the sky and cast
disturbing shadows against Luna and Jackson’s faces.
“Should I be able to show myself? Is that not something
ghosts are able to do?” the apparition asked, even while she shook with fear
and scooted even closer to his side.
“Try it, princess.”
“You’re doing it again!” screeched Luna—if that was even her
real name.
“I apologize,” he muttered but kept his eyes locked on the
girl seated next to him, willing her to be able to show herself to at least Jackson.
Suddenly the psychic shrieked in terror and shot from her
seat, then backed, while trembling, to the doorway. Christian’s eyes widened as
the woman pointed at his ghost. “A ghost! A ghost! Get thee hence!” Her
accusing finger then jabbed in his direction. “You! You can see her!”
Once Christian got over his shock, he said, “Yes, would you
please help us discover her name?”
After one more terrified look directly at his ghost, the
woman fled, babbling and crossing herself as she went.
Christian sank against the back of his chair. “Well, that
didn’t go as I’d hoped.” He slid fingers into his hair, and itched his scalp.
“Was she afraid of me?”
“I would gather that was the problem.”
“Am I scary?”
“No, you’re not. But
she
was,” he said with a smirk,
and then laughed.
She smiled and giggled in return, then looked at Jackson. The smile slipped from her face as her eyes rounded. Christian followed her gaze.
It seemed Jackson could see her too, and it appeared he was having difficulty
breathing.
“Jackson! Are you all right?”
After gulping some air, Jackson said, “I’m quite well, Son.
You needn’t worry about my health.” He looked at her and then back at
Christian. “She-she is lovely.”
Christian exhaled in relief. “I told you she was. Jackson, meet Lady Ghost. Lady Ghost, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Jackson.”
The old man smiled a crooked smile and gave a short bow.
“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, madam.”
“You as well, kind sir,” she said softly.
“It seems you can show yourself, but we still don’t know
your name.”
The three of them sat in silence until Jackson spoke, “Lady
Ghost, do tell me about your childhood. Was it pleasant?”
She pouted and Christian cleared his throat. “I told you
before, old man, she does not remember things like that.”
“Dear me, I beg your pardon. What do you remember?”
“Just the basic things of life, I suppose. I recall words
for speech. I know what things are, such as doors, and gowns, and insects,
things such as that. I just do not know who I am, or why I’m here, or how I
came to be here. Nor do I recall my past.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” But the old gentleman’s spirits didn’t
stay down for long. After rubbing his chin in thought for a moment, Jackson’s
face brightened and he smirked. “Might I tell you stories of Christian’s
childhood? He was an energetic lad and got himself into many spots of trouble.”
Christian was about to fight it, until he saw the look of
delighted curiosity brighten her face and remove all signs of the previous
pout. He decided to let Jackson have his fun.
The old man’s fun lasted for quite possibly hours. Christian
didn’t have his watch on him to know for certain, but realized he was fidgeting
in his seat much like he had in church as a youth. Jackson managed to make him
flush far too often with all of the embarrassing childhood tales he told to
her. How was his memory so sharp? But Christian decided he could suffer the
discomfort just to be able to hear her melodic laugh. He also suspected she was
afraid to retire until the storm had passed, and he wouldn’t deny her that
either.
This séance had not given them what he’d first wanted, but
he felt some good had come from it. They’d discovered a new thing she could do.
There had to be another way to find her name, another medium, perhaps….
A
witch
, he thought.
Christian secretly decided to keep this one to himself. He
didn’t want to upset her or Jackson with this new idea. He would face that
battle when it was too late for them to argue it, even though he wasn’t looking
forward to another lecture about his finances from Jackson. He’d sent a letter
to his father hoping to get the matter cleared up more swiftly. He wasn’t used
to living like this, which, he suspected, could account for his recklessness in
the matter. But discovering who she was and who killed her seemed much more
important to him, and highly worth the cost.