The Ghost of Me: A Ragina Wells Short Story

C.

A tall lithe figure walked inside the vast cavern of a room. Standing at about 6'4 with creamy white skin, tinted lightly with an olive and russet brown mixture she had a face that was almost heart-shaped, her chin a bit broad, but in an angelic way that came with her breed. Her slightly almond shaped eyes were the most curious thing about her; they were a deep shade of violet and her hair waved down her back in an unnatural shade of raven black. Following her was a large black and tan dog, her small stub of a tail wagging as she inspected the room. The woman who owned such a beast smiled, her red lips thinning and showing pearly white teeth. "Home at last Cookie, let's leave the hall for now and wash up 'eh?" she said, her voice as smooth and soft as cream on a warm day. She spoke with a strong Romanian accent, telling anyone that listened that she was from Romania, not from your local Canadian village, or town.

This woman's name was Ragina Wells VonHurst, and her life had been one long, painful ordeal. There was a time when she had done several things that she was not at the moment especially proud of. Luckily for her, Professor Felix Alexander had stepped in. He had made a deal with her that he would make all of the bad things she had done go away on the condition that she would help him. So she moved into his mansion and he immediately put her to work. She started out being a maid of sorts but after a while he decided she was ready to go on simple missions. These missions usually involved small supernatural occurrences. Once she showed promise in that, he began to give her more difficult missions until finally she had earned his trust enough to go on his fabled time missions. These were missions where she would have to travel back in time and fix something that some jerk had messed up a long time ago. When she succeeded on her first time mission, the Professor agreed that once the fabric of time was as it should be once again, he would let her go. Only she relied on the old man. He was like a father to her. The father she never really had. She was addicted to his orders, his power, his control, and his care.

It was true; this cold woman was fond of the big gorilla of a man. He was her savior. Without him she would be back out their killing people out of blind rage and sometimes simply for fun. Of course she knew how it felt to simply rip a man's throat out and make a person suffer. She had killed many men out of pure rage. A rage that had built up sense she was six years old and finally reached its climax when she was born into darkness. It was to be expected though. Her father was a first generation demon, even if he revoked his immortality to live with her mother, a mortal woman with an angelic son.

Ragina peeled off her cloths and stepped into the spray of the shower, letting the hot water wash away the thoughts running through her mind. Black water swirled at her feet and she watched it, her eyes glowing and her fangs peeking over her lower lip. She was relaxed and alone; the way she liked it.

Leaning against the wall, her forehead pressed against the moist tiles, Ragina watched the black swirl of water and wondered what part of her life she wanted to forget. Every day she felt each memory trickle away; like the black hair dye that was now thinning out in the water at her feet. A strand of copper hair slipped off her slender shoulders and clung to her cheek. Pressing her curled fists into the wall, Gina closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

A young woman's scream echoed in her mind and she was back in her home land, running in a field of wild flowers, a young man running after her, laughing. He was a very handsome young man, not even sixteen yet. The young woman was Ragina at age sixteen, before her life went horribly wrong.

"Tarquin you brute! You know you're not supposed to chaise an innocent woman!" Ragina squealed, laughing as he made a grab for her, only to miss by inches. He didn't say anything and she laughed again when she felt his arms circle her waist and lift her off the ground.

"You? Innocent? Don't make me laugh Genie." he chuckled in her ear, twirling her about before tossing her over one broad shoulder and starting to walk in long measured steps. If her pounding on his back had any effect, he didn't let on.

Ragina shook her head and forced the images away, grunting and slamming her fists into the wall, cracking the tiles. Pushing away, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing and wrapping a towel around her as she padded out of the bathroom. She didn't want to remember Quinn. He was dead and that as that. She didn't even want to remember that day.

"Gina why are you so angry?"

"He just makes me so mad! He wants to run my life! He treats me like a child when I'm not."

"Run away with me then. We can go to England and start a new life…."

"Do you mean it?"

"Tonight, meet me in the forest. If you aren't there I'll take it as a change of heart and I'll go on my own…"

"I'll be there"

But of course, she never made it.

Peering at her refection, Ragina brushed out her copper curls and tied it back before grabbing her keys and walking out, slamming the door behind her. On the bedside table was a small painting. In it was a young man, grinning and looking like he was up to something. It was an old painting, and if it was carbon dated, it would date back to the late 1500's.

Memories will always follow you, no matter how much you try to run from them. For Gina, she had four century's worth of memories. Four hundred years of things she witnessed and wished she could run from. The only good memories she had were few and they ate her up inside just as the bad did. You can't hide from your past, no matter how much you wish to ditch it. It will always be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment.