Giving Up the Ghost

by Magenta Wilde

  “No,” I griped.

  “Are you sure?” Scott asked.

  “I’m sure. At least I think I’m sure. I’m not feeling mad about anything right now.” Don’t ask me about what I was feeling fifteen seconds ago, I thought. “I was actually just thinking that we were having a better time than that girl or Roger was.”

  Scott looked me over with scrutiny and put a thumb to my cheek. “You’re bleeding. It looks like you got knicked.”

  Roger hurried over, followed by Heather. “Are you okay? I see blood on your face.” He cupped my chin in his hand and looked me over.

  “I’m fine.” I waved him off. “I’ll go to the bathroom and wash it off with some water.” I turned to Scott. “Can you see if management can get me a band-aid?”

  I turned as I headed to the restroom and saw the three of them looking around, trying to figure out what had happened. A theater employee made his way over to the line and began sweeping up the broken glass while the manager corralled patrons away from the mess.

  I went into the restroom and splashed some cold water on my face. The cut was a tiny one, so I didn’t even think I really would need a band-aid.

  I was really more concerned that Ivy had been trying to gain a foothold in my mind. For a moment I felt like I’d been taken over.

  I looked in the mirror and applied some tinted lip balm and assessed the cut. It had already stopped bleeding. I felt something hazy next to me and saw Ivy materialize next to my reflection.

  “You used to date him?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  I nodded. “A few years ago.”

  “Wow. You’re lucky. He’s kind of got a bad boy vibe going on, despite the suit.”

  I shrugged. “It’s in the past. We’re just friends.”

  “He’s willing to be more, if you’d let him,” she pressed.

  “No. I’m not going to do that again. We dated twice, and it was fun, but we’re not meant for one another.”

  Her expression clouded over.

  “If I had the choice,” she started, “I’d grab onto him and never let go.”

  I stared at her now pouting face in the mirror. “You usually are latched onto your brother. I’m surprised you’re tailing me now.”

  She started fiddling with her hair and grew interested in one blonde lock. “He’s conflicted right now. It’s easier to get away from him when his mind is jumbled. Plus, I like hanging around you. You’ve got some interesting kind of energy that I find exciting, and I feel kind of magnetically pulled to you. I like it. It makes me feel …” she squeezed her face into a grimace as she struggled to find the right word. “It makes me feel so alive.”

  As she said those last six words, her pupils dilated wildly, making her irises look almost entirely blacked out. There was determination, a hunger in her expression that filled me with cold dread. I could see she was hatching some sort of plan.

  I steeled myself, trying to erect a firm mental barrier against the persistent teen, then sighed and turned to return to the lobby.

  “It’s showtime,” I muttered, leaving the girl by herself in the mirror.

  24

  By the time I returned to the lobby, Scott had some popcorn, Milk Duds and a soda for us, and a band-aid for me. He set the snacks on the counter so he could gently apply it to my cheek.

  Roger returned, hovering and checking how bad the cut appeared.

  Scott shooed him away, telling him to focus on Heather. “Don’t miss your show. Miss Poppy here works just a few short blocks from you. You can visit whenever you carve out some free time, dude.”

  Roger walked off, looking annoyed as Heather bounced over and grabbed his arm so quickly that he nearly lost his balance.

  “That girl needs to learn to play it cool.” Scott looked at me, and motioned to the snacks. “They gave this to us for free since you got cut by the exploding light fixture. They also gave me a bunch of free movie passes.”

  He tried to hand me a large stack of tickets. I waved them off. “You can have them.”

  Scott shook his head. “You’re the one who’s been injured.”

  “Then at least take half of them. Consider it payment for me using you as arm candy.”

  “Fair enough,” he smiled, pocketing some of the tickets and tucking the rest into the side pocket of my purse.

  A moment later Scott and I went into the theater auditorium, finding seats toward the back and settling in.

  “I don’t even know what this movie is about,” I confessed.

  He filled me in on the details. It was based on some novel that came out a few years ago. “You’ll probably hate it, because it’s about gangsters, and if you’re bored I suggest making out with me.”

  I felt Ivy’s presence go stronger when he mentioned the kissing. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” she cooed inside my head.

  Scott continued. “That’ll help make Roger jealous, and it’ll be a welcome distraction for you, since I’m such great kisser,” he teased.

  He wasn’t lying about that last part. He really was a great kisser. Even so, I had designs on Roger, so much so that even a casual game of tongue hockey with anyone else held no appeal, no matter how good Scott was at it. I’m practically monogamous to a fault. Even if I’m only interested in someone, with no dates on the calendar, I can barely spare even a glance for anyone else. That’s how narrow my romantic tunnel vision is.

  “Go ahead. Kiss him. For me,” Ivy pleaded. I gave another big mental push and evicted her from my head. Hopefully for good, I thought.

  Scott and I chattered through the commercials and previews, and his humor lifted my spirits.

  I tossed a few pieces of popcorn at his face, and he caught more than half of them in his mouth. He tried the same with me, but it wasn’t working nearly so well. “Pull open your shirt a bit,” he teased. “I’ll toss them in there and fish them out.”

  I raised a finger in warning, wagging it at him. If he kept saying things like that, I suspected Ivy would barge back into my brain with a vengeance.

  “You know I’m only kidding. Mostly. You kind of like it when I act like a pig,” Scott said.

  I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. He was charming and good humored enough that I never took offense at what he said, no matter how suggestive.

  Once the movie started, I leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “We’re being watched again,” Scott whispered to me, inclining his head a few rows down.

  Heather had turned her head in our direction. She tried pulling herself closer to Roger, but he didn’t react. After she made a few overt attempts at being cuddly and running her fingers through his hair a couple times, he turned and looked around the theater. When his eyes landed on Scott and me, his expression was unreadable, but he didn’t look thrilled to be there. I felt sad, a bit guilty even. I didn’t want him to think Scott and I were an item, not really. When he put his arm around Heather, though, I was miffed.

  “You’re tensing up,” Scott said.

  It took me a moment to realize he was speaking to me.

  “Lean forward,” he said, so I did for a moment and he began massaging my shoulders. I groaned, enjoying the sensation, and let myself relax.

  Something prickled at my brain, and I felt like I was tumbling down some dark tunnel. Suddenly it felt like I was swimming in jelly. Everything grew thick, murky and muffled around me. I could see the movie playing on the screen in front of us, and hear snatches of the dialogue, but I felt removed from myself. A buzzing overtook my mind. I tried to speak but couldn’t make the connection to produce sounds and words.

  I felt something nudging me, prodding my limbs to move. My hand, through no control of my own, reached out to Scott and began caressing the side of his face, running my fingers through his hair. I tried to fight the motion, but found it increasingly difficult. I felt like a puppet yanked around on a string. I fought to regain control.

  Soon my mouth was on his, my tongue hungrily probing his mouth. As much as I had liked d
oing that sort of thing with Scott in the past, I had no desire to do that now. I recoiled at the lack of control. Suddenly my body sprang onto him, straddling his lap and kissing him violently, intensely, with my breasts smashed against his neck. My arms alternately wrapped around his shoulders and then one arm reached for his hand and put it under my shirt.

  I heard someone shush me from a couple rows down, and someone else clearing their throat to hint that we should be quiet.

  Scott pulled my body tighter to his for a moment but then pulled back. “Poppy,” he whispered, “you don’t kiss like that. This is all wide-open mouth and crazy tongue action. It’s like someone else is in your body.”

  I felt Ivy recede slightly, perhaps due to surprise, maybe embarrassment. “Doesn’t he want to kiss me? Or you?” I heard her say inside my head.

  She resumed her assault, but he gripped my shoulders and firmly held me back. “Seriously, Poppy. This is like someone else is wearing a Poppy mask and pretending to be you. And your perfume. That number perfume you often wear, it’s being drowned out by that teenage stink.”

  My body stilled. I felt Ivy still controlling my limbs, but he had surprised her and she backed down slightly as she let her guard down. I saw my hand reach up, tugging nervously on my ear.

  The light from the screen illuminated Scott’s features, and his brows furrowed for just a moment. I could see he was trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  He continued. “Plus, you’re slobbering me when kissing me, which seriously is not your style. It’s just not hot.”

  Ivy pulled back a little further. I could sense he was making her feel self-conscious. She still hung on, however.

  “And did you put on some weight?” he continued. “You’ve parked that fat ass here on my lap, and it’s making my legs fall asleep.”

  I felt Ivy recoil at the insult, and I successfully reclaimed my headspace. I sighed in relief.

  “I can’t believe you called me fat!” I hissed. Then I shoved a huge handful of popcorn in my mouth out of spite.

  More shushing came from another part of the theater.

  “Okay, now you seem a bit more like yourself,” Scott said, and I realized he’d been aware of what was happening and intuitively knew how to help.

  “How’d you pick up on that,” I asked.

  “It honestly was like you were gone for a few minutes there. Even your eyes seemed different, like nobody was home. I got to wondering and thought I’d try something.”

  “And the fat comment did it,” I mused. “It scared her off.”

  “It definitely wasn’t you in there for a moment, was it?”

  It really wasn’t, I said. “How’d you know to say that last thing, though?”

  He shrugged. “If I had said that to you when we were dating the first time, you might have started crying, but by our second round you would have told me to deal with it and enjoy the extra cushion for the pushin.’ When you gobbled up that popcorn I knew the real you was back.”

  I snorted. Loudly. A few patrons turned their heads in our direction and an elderly man cleared his throat and glared at us. I realized I was still perched on Scott’s lap and hopped off.

  “I can feel my legs again,” he teased.

  I gave him a playful punch in the arm to partially still him, and partially punish him.

  I felt Ivy trying to burrow herself back into my brain. I turned and looked around and saw Roger staring at me. Oh no. This is not good. I felt a white-hot bolt of panic course up my spine.

  “Can we go?” I asked Scott. “I’m not feeling well.”

  He nodded and we made our way out the theater. When we got outside, I took a couple breaths of fresh air and collected myself.

  He put his hand on my forehead. “You seem like yourself again. Do you want to go home?”

  “Not yet,” I said. I could feel Ivy buzzing near and I knew she’d try to take over again. Fortunately, I had an idea of who could help. “If I try anything like that, you know, trying to make out with you, say no. It’s not me who’s driving my impulses right now.”

  “If you try to eat my face off like that again, I’ll have no problem saying no. Trust me on that.”

  A few moments later I was rapping on the glass door at Emily’s Eatery. I saw a small light on in back, so I hoped she was still there.

  I saw her familiar silhouette emerge from the back of the café. Scott and I waved frantically at her. When she recognized us, she made her way to the front door.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, as we breezed inside. “You look a bit spooked, Poppy.”

  I didn’t know where to begin. She looked me over with her steely blue eyes. “Cinnamon,” she said.

  Scott and I looked at one another. “She didn’t come in for a latte,” he said.

  Emily shook her head and directed us to sit at a table by the window as she flipped on a light. “No. She’s usually into almond and lemon, and lately it’s been white chocolate and peppermint. But now, oh my stars, something else is … interfering.” She scrutinized my appearance and waved a hand around me, like she was reading my aura. “Yes. There’s some outside influence. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Has anything unusual happened to you lately?” She paused, looking to the back of the shop. “Wait a second. Let me get us some tea, and a snack.”

  Emily brewed a pot of tea and brought an assortment of treats.

  “Eat the lemon and almond,” she instructed me. “You need to reinforce your essence. There’s chocolate brownies for you, Scott.” She poured cups of tea around. I caught a whiff of eucalyptus. I grimaced in disgust. “I know you don’t like eucalyptus, but it’s purifying and your unwelcome guest hates the stuff even more than you do.”

  On that recommendation, I took a generous sip of the tea and grimaced. I loathed eucalyptus, but I could feel Ivy recoiling in disgust. I drank more in response.

  Emily gave me an assessing look. “Okay, you’re more back to yourself now. Spill. And keep drinking.”

  I paused and told her everything that had been happening. Scott knew of my paranormal abilities, and he knew Emily had a certain something herself in that department, so he listened patiently to the entire story.

  When I finished, Emily was silent for a moment while she pondered. “You’re in a spot of trouble, definitely. Do you know how to put up wards around your house?”

  “Kind of,” I hedged. I told her about the flowers I had set up around my shop, and how my mother had thrown them out.

  Emily clucked and shook her head. “Oh, Fiona. Those were good wards. Too bad she got all fussy thinking they weren’t fancy enough. You won’t be able to repeat the magic because it’ll take time – time which we don’t have – to collect those ingredients.”

  Scott cut in, offering to help track them down.

  Emily smiled at him and told him that wouldn’t be necessary. “Let’s go with something simple but powerful,” she continued, directing her gaze at me. “You have salt? Any kind will do, even the stuff you sprinkle on your steps when it ices over.”

  I nodded.

  “Crumble some dried sage and tansy into the salt. Then encircle your home with it, closing the circle while inside of it. That way, you and your turf will be protected. This method will be the most foolproof, and quickest. Do the same thing at your shop. Then you’ll have at least two safe zones.

  “Right now you’re fighting this Ivy girl off,” Emily said, “but she will keep trying to tap into your power and use it to try and realize some of her desires.”

  “Desires?” Scott asked, incredulous. “Isn’t she something like fifteen?”

  “A fifteen-year-old who’s been dead for nearly a decade and trying to take up real estate in the body of a thirty-year-old woman,” Emily said. “She wanted you to help detach her from Roger. Now she’s finding a way to latch onto you, Poppy, and she likes it.”

  “Would it make any difference to try and get him to let her go?” I asked.

  Emily
paused. “You know, I’ve been giving him ginger because he loves it, and well, ever since I saw him walk into my shop with you that one morning, I saw you two as a match – sorry, Scott, if you had ideas –” she cut off, giving him an earnest look.

  Scott shook his head. “Poppy and I are just friends. I’ve told her I was willing to be friends with benefits – I still would be – but she’s made it clear that the benefits are not to be horizontal, so to speak.”

  Emily chuckled and continued, her blue eyes fixed on me. “I was hoping Roger would match with someone, and the chai I blended with him in mind, well it’s designed to help him find the path to what he wants, but my instincts were off a bit. I think he needs some more psychic healing before he can move on.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll amp up his chai with some clove. It’ll help him to better see he needs to heal and move on.”

  My stomach sank. I told Emily that Roger had seen me climbing onto Scott’s lap in the theater. She paused for a moment, unsure what to say. “Plus he saw us leave, so he probably thinks I’m getting it on with Scott while we speak.”

  “That’s not your top concern right now, Poppy. That’s the fifteen-year-old’s moods coloring your thinking.”

  Scott nodded. “He comes into the Dive from time to time. I can tell him you got sick – ate too much candy or suddenly got your period or something – and wanted to go home.”

  I grimaced at the period excuse.

  “Hey Poppy, you yourself said periods make a great get-out-of-jail-free card, so to speak,” Scott said.

  “There,” Emily said. “Scott’s going to uphold your virtuous reputation. Now I want you to go home and put up that barrier, and do it at your shop tomorrow morning, too. I also want you to keep drinking this tea. Sip from it all day long, and at night, too, as it’s caffeine free.” She tapped the tin of tea. “And put a bit of the herb mix into a locket and wear it at all times until we get this resolved. This Ivy doesn’t like the eucalyptus, and she’ll stay away. She may hover around trying to squirrel her way in, but she won’t breach that barrier while you’re protected. Now, go home and protect yourself.” She poured the remainder of the tea into a to-go cup and handed it to me along with the container of tea.