8. Cary

8

Cary

O kay, I’d be lying if I said seeing the twink getting worked up into a state didn’t turn me on. I guessed I would have to be dead myself to miss that.

The ghost revelation went over like a lead balloon, not that I didn’t anticipate it. Skepticism and denial always came before understanding and acceptance. At least he didn’t kick me out or accuse me of attacking him. After contemplating my options, which weren’t many, I turned toward the basement and slowly made my way down the stairs. I had no fear of spirits, but damn, even I was creeped out by the basement in this place.

The natural rock walls were exposed, and since the manor was basically built into a volcanic mountain, I imagined the builders figured they couldn’t get much more secure than to tie the structure into the actual rock it sat on.

Unfortunately, the crystal-rich rock forming the basement caused the nasty entity to hold some power I didn’t think it normally would’ve had in this realm. I immediately caught a whiff of his cologne as I reluctantly descended the stairs. That was his signature.

I’d tried determining what the scent actually was when I first arrived and thought I’d be able to relate to this man somehow. I never figured it out, and even learned it was usually frowned upon for a man to wear cologne in the late Victorian period.

I also learned, very quickly, he was not to be trifled with, and trying to negotiate or communicate with him wasn’t very likely either. From my research, I thought the man had some kind of personality disorder. From all accounts, he didn’t appear to have any friends. Not even his son wanted much to do with him.

Poltergeist was the term I’d give this entity if I had to label him. I didn’t, however, give him a name because that gave him power, and this one already had more than enough. I proceeded toward the back of the basement, where he was strongest. Usually, I wouldn’t have dared come here, except I knew he was still weak from the spells cast the night before.

“You have got to leave,” I said, entering the area behind the huge boiler that heated the entire manor. I heard his laughter, but wasn’t sure if it was in my head. “You can’t stay here any longer. Not after attacking a living being. I’m giving you fair warning because I don’t like to force the spirit world.”

Just then, he materialized in front of me. His body not quite corporeal, as I assumed he’d be able to make it if he still had his full power.

He opened his mouth to say something, then looked over my shoulder. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and my stomach fall as I realized Evan must’ve come back downstairs and followed me into the basement.

I threw up a quick shield, but not fast enough to stop the attack. The ghost shattered the shield as he collided with it, throwing Evan back against the boiler.

I rushed forward, grabbing him under the arm, pulling him up, and rushing him toward the stairs. “Go, now!” I demanded, and turned around just as the entity was reforming.

“ Leave here! ” it bellowed, and this time I knew I was hearing him, and not just in my head.

I didn’t try to confront him again, not when he was so angry. Instead, I cast a bubble around myself and forced it toward him hoping that’d give me enough time to escape.

I made it to the top of the stairs when I felt sharp nails swipe the back of my shoulder. “Shit,” I said, and slammed the door behind me. I secured the boundaries I’d set when I first arrived, effectively sealing the nasty thing in the basement for now. Not that they would last long. He was still too damned powerful.

Maybe Al was right. Maybe it was time to exorcise him. Unfortunately, that would do the same for all the spirits here, and they didn’t deserve to be punished just because of him. Besides, they were likely here to keep him contained. More than once, I’d gone with my mom or grandmother to deal with evil spirits only to watch them pull upon the surrounding spirits to help in forcing the nasty one to behave. It didn’t work to punish your allies, even if they were ghosts.

I reached back and felt the tender skin where I’d been attacked. “I sucked air through my teeth as I gingerly touched the scratches. I’d have to get a juniper poultice made up. Damn, this was getting serious.

I ignored the pain and went in search of Evan. I found the front door wide open and him holding himself under one of the giant western live oaks that lined the front driveway.

Of course, I wanted to scream and yell at him for not doing what I’d asked. But he was the owner of the place and an innocent bystander, and he hadn’t believed me about the spirits that occupied the manor. “Are you okay?” I asked instead.

He shook his head. “Wh… what was that?”

“A very nasty deceased man,” I responded. “He threw you pretty hard. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

He shook his head. “Um, no, I’m not physically hurt, not this time, but… that thing is dangerous!”

“Yeah, he is. You believe me now?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “Why…? Why is he attacking me?”

I shrugged and then moaned. “Ouch!” I said as my tattered shirt brushed against my shoulder.

“What? It got you too?” he asked, and before I knew what was happening, he’d turned me around to have a look.

“Damn, man, he… he scratched you.”

“Yeah, really bad. I should get back home and put a poultice on it.”

He looked around, and when he saw the golf cart I used to travel between my cottage and the manor, he moved toward it. “Come on, I can drive you there and walk back. Not that I’ll want to go back inside any time soon. Your house is the cute cottage down by the lake, right?”

I nodded because I could feel the venom beginning to infiltrate my shoulder and knew I wouldn’t make it to the cottage on my own.

“Come on,” he said, drawing me toward the cart. “You’re going pale. Should I call an ambulance?”

I shook my head, the pain getting worse. “No, they can’t fix this. I have what I need at home.”

I had to give him directions. I hated the thought of hitting all the roots and snags along my usual shortcut, but if I didn’t get a poultice on this soon, there would be some real damage to manage.

After what felt like an eternity, we made it to my cottage. Evan had to help me up the front stairs, and I asked him to take me to my solarium.

“Can you help me? I need to do this, but I’m getting too weak,” I admitted. Damn, the spirit had fully intended to cause permanent damage when he attacked me. It was the first time he’d done that.

“Sure,” Evan said, following my directions as I asked him to pull things from the cabinets.

“Okay, now, my mortar and pestle. It’s there on top of the shelf next to the mugwort.”

Evan smirked. “I’m not sure what mugwort is, but it sounds very witchy. Is it this thing here?” he asked, finding the large mortar and pestle right away.

“Yeah, but be careful, it’s really heavy.”

He lifted it off the shelf and brought it to me. I began putting all the ingredients together, but the juniper berries were too hard to grind with my shoulder burning like it was. “I’m sorry, Evan. Can you mash these berries for me?” I asked.

He’d been watching me and immediately picked up the pestle and began doing what I had attempted, grinding the dried berries into a powder.

“Okay, that’s fine,” I said, when he’d ground everything into a nice mixture. Pointing at the shelf next to the sink, I added, “I have some beeswax there. Can you bring that and the little candle next to it here?”

I used the candle to melt the beeswax into the bowl I kept on the table for making poultices, then with Evan’s help, I added the contents of the mortar and began the spell.

“Evan, can you bring me the white fabric from the drawer next to the sink?” I asked. He went through several drawers before finding the material. It was actually just some muslin I kept for when I wanted to make small medicine bags to give as gifts, but I had enough to wrap around my chest and shoulder.

I tested it, and sure enough, it would work as I’d hoped. When I’d tried it on, I could see where the blood had soaked into the muslin, so I knew where to apply the poultice. Evan helped apply it, ever so gently, and secure the makeshift bandage it in place.

“What do you need now?” he asked as I slumped in my chair.

“I need to rest. Sorry, Evan, I’m going to have to sleep this off.”

“Okay, where’s your bedroom?”

“Through there,” I said, pointing, and let him help me. Unfortunately, I only made it to the living room before my legs gave out. “The couch is fine,” I said, and with Evan’s help, I managed to stumble over to it and collapse.

Luckily the poultice was already working. I cast a small protection spell around me just because I knew spirits and magical creatures that were usually benign might be unable to resist a vulnerable magic wielder. More than a few witches had learned the hard way and been attacked when they were most vulnerable. Feeling confident I’d done all I could, I fell asleep.

I’d seen the man in my dreams before, but never so clearly. He danced around the room to the music, laughing when people told him a joke or said something silly.

He was the star of the show, at least this one. A woman… she wasn’t his mother, but for some reason I could feel they were close… someone like a mother, smiled and winked at him. Then a young Asian man came up behind her, whispered in her ear, and she laughed.

When she gestured toward the man I’d seen before, the two men locked eyes, and I saw all I needed to understand the love these two men felt for one another.

The commotion from the dining area caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned as he came in—the old man whose evil spirit had attacked me earlier.

He stood there, red-faced and angry. He was yelling, but I couldn’t hear what he said. In an instant, the entire room had cleared as people ran from the manor. Everyone but the two men and the woman.

It was then that I saw the resemblance between the younger man I’d first seen and the angry man. Father and son.

They were arguing, but I couldn’t hear. Suddenly, the older man pulled out a pistol and aimed it at his son, then at the other man.

The two men rushed from the room, the old man laughing as he watched them flee.

I slowly began to wake, but my head was full of cobwebs. I could feel the malice from my dream like it was inside me. I related to the man’s poor son, but right now, it felt more like I was the father. Hate coursed through me. Anger… “ I lost her for what? A queer? ”

I realized I was hearing the man’s thoughts. Lost who? Then realization dawned… the young man’s mother. The old man hated his son because his wife had died in childbirth. My heart ached for them both, then broke for the son. Being born into a life where one parent dies giving you life, and the other hates you for having survived. My momentary sympathy for the old man vanished just as quickly. What a fucking asshole.

My mind remained foggy when I felt myself turn and saw an image of Evan. Anger… well, more than anger, a mix of emotions surged through me. Attraction, longing, resentment, all wrapped together. I wanted to kill her… Her? No, Evan was a man… I was losing track of who I was seeing. One minute it was Evan, the next a woman. The woman at the party. The woman his son had loved like a mother.

Fuck , I thought, what is happening to me?