Forty-Two

“I bet there’s some kind of tracking spell in here,” suggested Phineas, snatching Leota’s journal out of Koji’s hands. He flipped through. “Or something to snag ‘er and bring her to us.”

Ezra thought on this, brows furrowed and a bulging eye squinted. “And then what do we do?”

”Whack her!” Gus gleefully cheered, picking up his chain and swinging it like a lasso.

“And after Des’s brains are splattered all over the carpet, then what?” asked Asher sarcastically.

Gus pursed his lips and pressed his curled pointer finger against them in serious concentration. “Uh… We get a mop and bucket?” he ventured.

“No dark arts for you!” Koji snatched the book back. “But Phineas is on the right track. We have to bring her here. We’ve got the ashes. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do with them exactly…” he trailed off. “But this,” he waved the tiny tome, “should have something!” He flipped through the pages, carefully scanning over the spell titles.

“But she blocked us,” George spoke up. “I’m a connoisseur of the occult, you may well know,” he said with a sniff and a smug tilt of his chin.

“And look where it got ya,” Ezra hoarsely reminded him with a raspy chuckle.

Continuing on as if he hadn’t heard the bony specter’s sarcastic remark, the Master of the Manor lectured, “We can’t pull her here. After all, she has a body now. If you were to drag her spirit out, you’d leave the body behind to face whatever perils came across it. Why, if she’s driving, she could very well crash and we lose Destiny’s body completely. Or at least horribly mutilate it beyond recognition.”

“Lovely image, Grandpa,” Destiny groaned half-heartedly. For most of the debate, she had been mentally drifting in and out. She knew she should be more upset, or at least, rapt in attention. However, the events of the past several days ran through her memory, jogging through logic and dashing through her imagination. The stories she had heard and the moments she had witnessed pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle. At first, things had made sense, or at least, insomuch that she hadn’t felt compelled to ask a lot of questions. Now, it seemed like there had been some blank spots, some curves that didn’t fit into any grooves.

As George continued his little lesson on the do’s and don’ts of spiritual retrieval, her mind wandered and an idea began to form. Not bothering to wait for a proper pause in his diatribe, she interrupted him mid word. “Can’t you send me after her?”

Surprised and a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of it first, Master Gracey stammered, “Well, yes…I think so. But what about the ashes?”

Destiny uncrossed her arms and strode to Koji. “Won’t need it.” Peering over his shoulder, she scanned the table of contents in the spell book. Then she reached her arms through his shoulders and turned the pages.

“Hey!” Koji cried, tossing her the tome. “You could have just asked! You have any idea how cold you are? Brr!” he shivered.

“What’s the point of being a ghost if you’re not going to have any fun with it?” she retorted, eyes focused intensely on the words. Another few pages were turned. “Hmm…Let’s try this one.” Pointing to a bold title, she handed the small volume to Little Leota.

Dustin, who, like Destiny, had been sitting quietly with his thoughts, lifted his head. “What is your plan, exactly? You haven’t said.” He frowned thoughtfully in concern. Worry shone in his emerald eyes, but there was a flicker of hope as well.

Destiny turned and faced him. Her deep brown eyes shimmered, as if welling with unshed tears. A lump rose in her throat and she found it hard to speak. “I’m just…Just going to talk to Leota for a bit,” her voice quavered. “I have something in mind that I want to…propose.” She cleared her throat and held her head high, as if daring anyone to question her.

Asher arched an eyebrow. Not intimidated by her stance, he asked, “And what does that entail?” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. When her nostrils flared, he rolled his eyes and huffed. “Lookie poppet, this is a mad woman you’re dealin’ with ‘ere! And even Dobbins will second me on that motion.”

Ezra nodded to Asher’s claim, his big head bobbing on his skinny neck like a dashboard ornament. “And I can say in full confidence that I still hate him with every fiber of my being,” he added pleasantly.

“See?” the lawyer gestured. “Whotever it is you ‘ave worked out in your pretty, little head better be pretty damn clever, lass.” He sniffed smugly.

She flared her nostrils in a sharp huff and crossed her arms. Standing nose to nose with him, she asserted, “Trust me. After all,” here she had an smug air not unlike her great-grandfather, “who coaxed Emily out of the attic?”

“Oh, we’re all real grateful for that,” Koji drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “It’s a miracle she’s not latched onto me right now.” Fearfully, he looked behind him and into the halls nearby, hoping she hadn’t heard and was preparing to assault him. When nothing happened, he ventured jinxing himself and asked, “Where is she anyway? And the others?”

Leota’s minions had long forgotten what exactly it was they were supposed to do. Wicked though they were, the wraiths’ and ghouls’ attention spans lasted less than the average gnat’s. If anything within their eyesight moved or squealed, they chased after it to see if they could torture it. They were despicably nasty, but thankfully they were also incredibly stupid.

One spook, an ugly fellow with yellow teeth filled with cavities, and spider webs dangling from his nostrils like silken snot—complete with boogerish spiders--was busy breaking flower vases and urns in the conservatory. One by one, he smashed them on the edge of a long forgotten, slightly open coffin, spilling earth and ashes onto the face of a weak, protesting old ghoul.

Bony, frail hands clasped around the lid as he tried to pull it shut, the undead creature within moaned, “Stop it! Pfft!” he tried to spit out a mouthful of dirt. “Don’t hurt the flowers! That vase belonged to my aunt! And those ashes were my aunt! Oh please!” His wails went unheard to the cackling fiend.

“Hey!” a sharp, strong voice barked.

The wraith stopped his mischief and looked up to see Clairece the maid standing in front of him. Her jaw was gritted in anger and her eyes were narrowed. “Do you see the mess you’ve made?!”

He looked around at the filth with a yellow grin, pleased with himself.

“Do you know how hard it is to clean dirt out of the carpet?!”

“Uh…” Now he was starting to get a little worried.

“Have you any idea the hours…No days! No years! Decades! I have put into making this house clean?! It’s hard enough with the cobwebs and dust everywhere without little cretins like you making my afterlife worse!” she screamed, enraged. “I am not a neat freak by any means,” she snarled, advancing towards him. He whimpered and stumbled back. “But I do take my duties very seriously! I was entrusted with the upkeep of the mansion, and by-God, it will be up kept!

“I may get annoyed with babysitting, but nothing infuriates me more than people who clutter up the floors!”

The henchman was quivering. He flinched and covered his head as she kicked open a supply closet and took out a broom.

Feeling cocky, he slowly lowered his arms and laughed. “Wha’cha’ gonna do? Sweep me? It’s solid.” He waved an arm through it.

“Yes.” She whipped around and flung the handle down hard on the coffin lid, breaking the long stick. As the pieces clattered to the floor, she was left with a transparent, glowing broom in her hands. If the executioner could wield a ghostly axe, or the knight his transparent sword, then why couldn’t the maid have an ethereal broom?

Without effort, she twirled it in front of her, spun it behind her back, threw it up in the air, caught it gracefully in one hand, and then brought it down hard on the lackey’s head. WHAP!

“OW!” He rubbed his skull.

She knocked his feet out from under him then put the bristles firmly under his chin. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the tips of the brush. Through clenched teeth, she snarled, “You will sweep up this mess, including all of the dirt you spilled on Mr. Padgett,” she pointed to the coffin. “And be extra gentle. His skin has a habit of peeling off.” She thrust the broom into the wraith’s hands.

“And you had better do a good job of it,” she added. “Or I will make you sweep up again…And you won’t be able to hold the handle with your hands…” Pleasantly, she said to the coffin ghoul, “Let me know how he does, Mr. Padgett. I’ll be back to check in,” and strode off.

Looking down dumbly at the stick, he mumbled, “But how else could I…” His eyes widened and he quickly set to work. Some things were better left unpondered.

Not long later, Clairece was stopped in the hallway by Bea and Emily. The young bride, with her eyes wide and occasionally twitching, looked frazzled and high-strung, but otherwise fine. Her blond hair stuck out in all directions from under her veil and her heart beat out a rapid time. Bea was in similar shape, but where Emily looked as if she’d shriek and start kicking if someone so much as tapped her, Bea was practically glowing with boundless, happy energy.

“Most of them seemed to have scattered,” the Brit said by way of both greeting and updating on the crony crisis. “We have a group rounded up with Manny and Rolly patrolling, but they’re not much trouble once you pound them into submission.” Looking at Emily, she remarked, “I think the poor girl’s gone into shock. After she ran out of things to throw, she jumped out the window and just started shrieking and flailing her arms and legs like a lunatic. Pretty bloody funny, really, especially the way those blokes ran away screaming. We should have gotten her out of the attic ages ago. She’d be a riot at parties.”

Clairece gave them a smile and patted Emily on the shoulder. “Good job!”

Emily just stared ahead. “My space. My personal space. No one invades my space.”

Bea giggled into her hand. “We should give her an axe. She’d run through hacking them all up!”

“Leota and her goons are bad enough,” Clairece smirked. “We don’t need to add another maniac to the mix.” With a gentle push on Emily’s shoulders, she eased the near catatonic bride forward. “Let’s check to see if anyone needs our help.”

Little Leota silently read over the spell Destiny had found, careful not to say the words out loud. She knew from watching her mother that rhythm was important. She had to have the enunciation and pacing just right when she was ready to recite it. Just one mispronounced syllable could mean a purple elephant made out of grape jelly falling from the sky and squashing everyone. At least, that’s what she imagined would happen.

A new voice broke her concentration.

“Has anyone seen Master Gracey?” asked Clairece. Briskly she entered the hall with Emily and Bea behind her. No one needed to answer; they all turned their gazes downward. Quickly, she spotted the crystal ball lazily rolling forward and back in the slight groove of a chair.

George gave her a weary grin.

“Oh.” She shook her head to shake away the shock. “Keep a stiff upper lip, sir. Chin up.”

Emily perked up instantly at the sight of Koji. “Koji-bear!” Before he could run, she flung her arms around him. “Oh, I hope those annoying ghosties didn’t get you!”

Frowning, but not fighting, he grumbled, “Not ‘till now.” It wasn’t that he despised her, really. In fact, the admiration was an ego boost and much appreciated. Someone was actually impressed by his exploits! But he really rather would have it come from somebody else. Somebody a little less insane. And preferably alive.

The blonde bride either hadn’t heard his comment, or didn’t acknowledge it. “What happened? Why’s George like that? Why is Destiny dead? Who are those nasty people fighting us?”

As George, Koji, L. L., and the hitchhikers, went into a huddle with the newcomers to exchange news, Destiny saw her opportunity. She grabbed Dustin’s hand and ran, pulling him through a wall and into some dusty little bedroom she hadn’t explored before. Asher gave them a momentary, solemn glance, but then turned back to the others as if nothing had happened.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dustin asked. “You’ve been acting strange.” He lovingly pushed a lock of her brown hair behind her ear, his long fingers stroking her cheek gently.

She looked away, but could still feel the burn of blush. Or at least she thought she did. Turning her gaze back, she clutched his hand in hers, wrapping her slender fingers around it. Tears welled in her eyes.

He wiped away a tear as it began to fall. “What is it, darling?” He cupped her cheek in his hand and she nuzzled against it and lightly kissed his palm.

Breaking her silence, she finally asked, “Do you love me?”

“Yes!” he blurted, not holding back any emotion. “With all of my heart, yes!”

He was so earnest, so sweet. Had it come from anyone else, she would have doubted. It would have felt campy and cliché. Not from him, though. Never from him.

“I love you with all of my heart, too.” She leaned forward and kissed him, holding him tightly around his upper torso, her fingertips against his shoulder blades. His lips pressed hard against hers, and he embraced her firmly with his arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel his hands begin to slide up her back. Fighting against every desire building in her, she took a step back.

“Thank you.” Her hands crossed over and down to his chest. “I’ve made my decision.” She smiled.

Dustin visibly slumped a bit and his lips went slack from their pucker. “Glad to be of service,” he said, with just a trace of disappointment and sarcasm in his chipper tone.

Destiny giggled and gave him another quick kiss. “I’ll be back soon. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He took a quick step to keep up with her as she glided out. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me.” She squeezed his hand. “It’ll all work out.” Ignoring his worried expression, she barked, “L. L. is that spell ready?”

The tiny girl nodded, oblivious to the couple’s disappearance. Or at least, acted oblivious. It was hard to tell what Little Leota noticed; or when she was merely a child, or just appeared to be a child.

Silence filled the hall as the little ghost held the book open before her. In a clear, loud voice, she recited the incantation:

“Hither, dither,

Yonder, yon.

Distance great,

A map is drawn.

Spirits, hear and be our guide,

Cross mountains and oceans wide.
Through bright, gleaming spectral eyes,

Let us find where one belies!”

Little Leota pointed at Destiny. A greenish blue stream of magic flowed out and encircled Destiny. It sparkled and whirled, faster and faster, until all that could be seen was a sea-green blur. Then with a POP Destiny vanished.

The others stood in stunned silence.

Then Ezra spoke. “Five bucks says she’s in the Bermuda Triangle.”

L. L. snatched Phineas’s hat and beat Ezra with it.

Blinking away the twinkling stars in her eyes, Destiny slowly took in her surroundings. It was dark, save for the dull glow of a streetlamp. Beneath her feet was pebbly gravel. It didn’t crunch under her weightlessness as she walked forward. A metal, curling slide gleamed in the moonlight ahead. With their paint flaking, pale blue smiling faces leering at her, the rusty spring-bottomed wobbling horses remained erect. A teeter-totter sat with one end firmly against the ground. It was a depressing, dark playground, a place where lonely children went to waste time waiting for parents to come home. No laughter would be found here.

A slow, pained shriek made Destiny turn. She had almost missed the swing set to her left. The rusted chains let out another groan as the rubber slab seat swung forward. Pale legs stuck straight out as a familiar body leaned back. Long, thin chestnut hair sailed out behind. Then the legs curled under and the hair flew forward, floating past cheeks and nose.

Destiny walked over and took a seat beside her body. She gripped the chains tightly then pushed off of the ground. Side by side, the Destinys swung, with one fading from the effort while the other’s cheeks grew flushed. Neither spoke, but both began to mutually slow until they were just swaying in their own little sphere.

Leota turned her sharp, green stare to Destiny. Her eyes seemed so foreign. They didn’t belong with the brown hair, the slender face, and the long nose. They pierced with an intensity Destiny could never mimic with a million years of practice. The spirit met her gaze though, staring back with furrowed brows and pursed lips. Neither blinked.

However, it was Leota who first looked away. When she spoke, it was with the air of someone cornered, but too haughty to admit it. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The wind is still, a sign that I would be easy to follow.” She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “What are you going to do now, Ms. Chalmers?”

Destiny once again looked her in the eye. “I just want to talk.”

“Hmm?” The medium pretended she wasn’t surprised. “About what?”

“Why are you so angry, Leota?”

A/N: A big thank you to Werecat Boy for all of his help with editing and writing the spell. Another thanks to Jase Andrews and Lyger 0 for looking over the first part of the chapter a long while back.