My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits

by Maree, Jacinta

  It was weird how different these two worlds were, the city and Whitehaven, it seemed impossible that they belong on the same planet. I felt very homesick, subconsciously massaging my stomach to comfort myself; I missed my bedroom, the warped couch cushions that were adapted to fit our curves, the smell and the familiarity of being able to just slouch around. “You can hide out here when she gets back-”

  His lower lip stiffened. “I have to hide?”

  “It’ll be easier if she doesn’t meet you; too much explaining and lying, otherwise.”

  “Okay, but just letting you know, I don’t want to have to hide all the time. We can be seen together, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Ten:

  We went back inside to wait for Mum to return. Lock was annoyed that we were wasting so much time, but he couldn’t very well carry me to the station on his back so he sat down, irritated.

  “While we wait, do you want anything to eat or drink?”

  Lock lowered himself into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. His eyes were set on the window, looking out as though he was lost. I packed my things while I tried to think of an excuse to tell Mum, thumbing through my plans at the same time I thumbed through my books, packing and sealing each idea with a novel. I made sure to leave half my gear behind for my return. The days past had seemed frightfully short; it was scary to think that about four days had already gone by since I’d become Lock’s Host. Four days of my life… four days closer to my grave.

  I looked down at my hands, then at my half stuffed bag and felt my brow twitch when I thought of what life would be like now. I was partnered with a furtive Banished ghost; being hunted by spirits that I never knew existed. The Staff could be anywhere, and hiding in the city was useless if Lock had to stick to the shadows every time we went outside. He needed a cover or a jumper so we could blend in and move freely.

  I shuffled through the cupboards that sat on the far left side of my room. Inside were abandoned garments left behind from the last owners, my Uncle Ray and his family. This had been one of the boys’ rooms. They must’ve left in a hurry then, if all their clothes are still here. But I didn’t read too much into it, they left for a reason that suited them and that was that.

  I pulled out a large dim hoodie, a dark emerald green colour and took it downstairs to Lock. I smiled at him but he didn’t look at me, he only took the jumper and threw it over his head.

  I huffed and moved into the kitchen, clearing plates and cups away. I pulled the curtains back from the window over the sink and turned on my toes, nearly banging heads with Lock who was watching me over the back of my shoulder. He snarled, “Hey watch it!” and sourly patted his nose.

  “Well, why are you always standing so close to me?” I snapped back just as harshly.

  Lock ignored me and my question.

  “Don’t you care about how I died?” His words, they weren’t full of venom, hate or loathing, they weren’t even filled with pain; they were just innocent, pure and curious, just as though he was asking for a drink of water or how my day was going.

  “I didn’t think you would want to tell me…”

  Myths claimed that ghosts carry with them the final image of themselves to the afterlife and that often included their clothing, hair style, age, and of course, last injuries. But Lock had no rope burns, slits across the wrists, bullet wounds, open gashes, or anything that could indicate foul play, so his death did actually strike me as strange. An illness, perhaps, or maybe even poison could’ve taken him.

  “Would you like to tell me? How did you die?” I didn’t know anything about him, only that he was a Banished ghost and his name was Lock. Oh, and of course, that Betrayal was his sister. “Betrayal told me that you two were siblings.”

  Lock cocked an eyebrow, now shifting his body so he could lean leisurely up against the kitchen counter, both hands tucked behind himself and his elbows poking outwards. He looked away, trapped in his own thoughts, and I could read the conflict in his eyes as they jumped around his eye sockets, searching for a missing signal.

  “Betrayal lied.”

  “Lied? About what?”

  “Us, that we are siblings. She isn’t my sister.”

  “Why would she lie?” I asked.

  “Because she can’t remember her human life; she doesn’t have anyone, and I don’t have anyone. So she likes to think of me as her little brother, but she really isn’t related to me at all”. He paused for a moment and tilted his head upwards, his pinkish lips moving softly, “It’s for the best if Banished spirits forget I, guess...”

  “Do you remember your human life?” I added.

  “Yeah, bits and pieces of it. But I haven’t been in the spirit form for as long as her, and the longer you stay the harder it is to remember.”

  “Tell me about yourself, I would really love to know…” I held my breath for his answer. I was dying to know what Lock was about, why he became a ghost in the first place. I felt robbed about how little I actually knew and considering how much I cared for him, it seemed a little stupid. He knew so much about me and I didn’t even have to open my mouth.

  “I remember her story… Betrayal’s… Do you know Betrayal isn’t her real name? It’s only her spirit name. Lock isn’t my real name either…” Damn, there goes another thing I don’t know about him!!!

  RRRIINNNGG!! The phone shrilled at us from the corner of the kitchen. I motioned for my finger that I’ll only be a minute, but he didn’t seem bothered and moved back towards the lounge room. I ran to the phone, annoyed and, ripped it off its hook as it rattled in response.

  “Yes, hello?”

  “Ah, yes, good afternoon. May I speak to the owner of the house?” It was just a survey caller. I told them that the owner’s weren’t home, and to call back at a more convenient time before hanging up, not in the mood to pretend to be interested. I went back to the lounge in hopes of rousing Lock back into conversation. But I paused in mid breath, mid step and mid thought, looking upon a new face entering our circle. She looked at Lock, then back at me, the front door still swinging to a shut behind her. Lock smiled, cheekily, as if he knew something which we both did not, and sat himself back down.

  I couldn’t stop the croak in my voice, watching and waiting for something, anything to distract her from him, but she didn’t tear her eyes away for a second. Still, I guess it wouldn’t have mattered.

  “Mum… what are you doing back so soon?”

  As Dianne walked in, flustered, she dumped her purse onto the table with a steady thump, slowly edging around the chairs.

  “Rachael… what’s going on?” She was eyeing Lock as he stared blankly outside, not moving from his slouched position, as if she had never entered the house at all. She spoke in a whisper, probably in hopes that he had terrible hearing, despite him only sitting two metres away.

  “I, err, this is my friend Lock. He just needed to borrow the phone for a moment…” Lock looked over at Mum and, on cue, slipped on his dashing grin. Mum smiled back in automatic response.

  “Oh, okay it’s over there if you still need to use it…” She motioned to the phone which Lock stood and walked towards it gracefully, tipping his head in thanks.

  “Umm, Mum, can I ask a favour of you?”

  “Yes dear, what is it?” Her eyes were still on him, and I was sure he was conscious of her trailing gaze before he turned the corner.

  “It’s about my friend, back in the city. She’s in hospital for breaking her leg and I want to go and visit her.” That’s believable right? It’s serious, but not too serious .She shook her head loosely and looked over at me.

  “Oh, that’s terrible, Rach. Who’s hurt?” I paused for a minute too long.

  “Oh, umm, it was Jess.” The taste of guilt flooded my mouth. Jess was my tall Asian friend who was extremely clumsy and wore bruises like jewellery.

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll just stay at the apartment for a few
days and stuff…” A loud cough erupted from the kitchen, loud enough to sound fake as we both glanced over towards the door. Lock’s head appeared momentarily.

  “Oh, sorry, your phone just cut out. Rach, can you help me please?”

  “Oh,” Did I do something wrong? I fidgeted uncertainly. “Okay, sure just one sec…” I glanced at Mum and she didn’t seem bothered, already turning her attention from Lock and back towards her handbag. Just as I entered the kitchen, his hands yanked me harshly inside, his fingers ringing firmly around my arms.

  “A few days?” he hissed, inches from my face.

  “I can’t tell her a week; she’ll never let me stay that long!” I whispered back, my voice slightly higher than his as he hushed me with a stern frown.

  “That’s not enough time, we need to draw them away from this house, and if we can just stay for a while longer then they may just think we’ve moved along…”

  “How about this then, when I get there I’ll request a longer stay?”

  It didn’t seem like that bad of an idea; if worst comes to worst then she’ll just have to drag me back to Whitehaven herself, and that in itself will buy us some time.

  “Okay, I guess that means we can leave now, but make sure my Mum sees us heading down two different paths. You go towards the town and I’ll go back to the station, then you can just sneak through the back houses until we meet on the dirt path.”

  Lock nodded promptly and turned to face the door. Before he left, my hand shot out and stopped him, “Please be careful.” He nodded again, a little slower, biting down his lower lip and shaking my arm free from his jumper. He entered the lounge room first and greeted Mum with a bowed head, saying his thanks in a whispered breath as she waved politely back. Before walking outside he slipped the hood over himself so his face was cast into shade, being careful, just as I wanted him to.

  I went upstairs, waiting for a few minutes before walking back down and to the front door, my bag in tow. I waved and kissed Mum goodbye, but she pulled me back before I could leave.

  “Wait a second, who was that boy?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and I cringed. He was younger than me… and dead, but I suppose she didn’t know about that last fact.

  “Oh, you mean Lock? He just some kid who needed to use the phone. I dunno.” I shrugged.

  “There was just something… strange about him. I can’t explain it… He didn’t look familiar to you?”

  “No, I just met him.” Again, another shrug, this time unhooking her fingers and letting my shoulders glide free. I made for the door and pushed it open, the wheels of my luggage clicking against the floorboards. My luggage was lighter as I’d only packed my essentials this time and before long it was rocking quickly over the pebbles along the dirt path. Lock approached me from behind a tree at the entrance of the pathway, his head still masked by the large hood.

  “Come on, we don’t have much time to lose.” He was right; the clouds were breaking as the day reached its peak and the heat was building underneath the bulk of my clothes.

  We reached the station in silence and bought two tickets for the train into the city. As we waited, I watched out of the corner of my eye as Lock sat fidgeting, jerking at every noise.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked softly. He shook his head roughly and glanced back up at me. Three slim fingers emerged from behind the cuffs of his sleeves before taking hold of his hood and tilting it back just far enough to expose his eyes.

  “No, are you?”

  The colours of his irises were dark, rich and mysterious, like rare jades. I shook my head; enough to feel the wisps of my hair caress my cheek before sensing the sudden icy chill of Lock’s hand as he captured the loose strands, fondling them between the ends of his fingertips. “Good,” he whispered before dropping his hold.

  Lock yanked on the tip of his hood, pulling it down past his nose, before scooting an inch further away.

  The train took about an hour to arrive, in which time Lock and I exchanged small talk, complaining about the weather, about the people, about boredom, before stepping into the carriage and taking seats in the shadows, facing each other. He kept his head turned and watched out the window. The sun sat on the other side of the carriage, only stretching over the end two seats.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm?”

  I leaned toward him with my lips itching for answers, “These Royals… are they Gods?”

  “Not exactly…. They may have more power than normal spirits but they are not creators. The Royal spirit who is in charge now, is called Miira. That’s all I know.”

  “Miira… sounds like a woman’s name.”

  “Could be. But the Royals don’t stay in power forever; Miira is just the one in charge at the moment. She’s the one who set up this Banished curse.”

  I raised my brows. “Why would she do that?”

  “To keep her power, of course. She needs to be powerful otherwise another Royal will knock her off the throne.”

  “So how long as Miira been in charge then?”

  “A long time… Before her I heard it was a spirit called Tydant or something… Politics,” he shrugged.

  I scratched my neck and glanced around wearily, dropping my voice into a whisper, “Can I ask you another question…What is it like to die?”

  He raised his eyebrows, but quickly rearranged his wrinkleless face, and turning his head back to the window, trying to collect his thoughts. The deep surge of concentration penetrated his eyes, un-focusing his pupils until they glazed over with an invisible skin.

  “I can’t really remember…. It’s like you don’t even know that it’s happening.” He kept his eyes directed outward as if reading the words off a script, “Things go black and when you open your eyes again, it’s just as if you had awakened from a deep sleep. You lose all sense about who you are, where you are, and what you’re supposed to do... But then you become overpowered by the basic instinct to survive, and to survive you have to hunt. There’s no need to be able to talk, or think, your feet move on their own and everything just happens.” He shrugged heavily before adding, “You know everything about what you are looking for physically but at the same time you know nothing, you’re running and looking blindingly like some wild animal.”

  I immediately thought of a feeble old dog, cornered by its blindness and having to just bend its head down and charge, hoping for contact.

  “And when you do find it, it becomes your everything. It’s your oxygen, your food, protection and warmth; it is the world and the universe and makes you feel whole. Only after you attach to a Host does everything seem to make sense again. You can’t help thinking that human life was just a big detour to this other awakening. All your senses change completely; you have different yearnings from what humans’ desire. George, his smell called to me. It was like something hot was boiling right under my nose. Not like smelling something burning, no, I was smelling heat… crisp, clean heat. The cleaner and warmer the smell, the greater the yearning. The connection to the Host is made by physical touch… like a hand shake or a tap, usually.”

  “Or a kiss…” I finished and Lock cleared his throat.

  “Well, um, yes, or a kiss. Human is the best to attach to because they live for the longest and have the best scent. That first link…” He titled his head back, inhaling that sweet memory for a moment longer, keeping it in his private little haven, “It was the strongest feeling I had ever felt, it was like he was … he just was my all. I couldn’t be away from him; it was as if steel ropes had entwined themselves around our bodies and into one unit. But once your Host is dead, they become cold and dirty… you just don’t want them anymore.”

  I frowned unconsciously, burrowing so deeply into my jaw that it felt as if I would never be able to smile again. In the end it was just efficiency that drew them to us; much the same as how humans can’t function without oxygen, but that doesn’t mean we’re in love with it. We use it when we need it, and once we’ve collected wha
t we need with each breath, we instantly dispose of the air, ready to inhale a new fresh gulp. How could this be any different? “So, no white light down a long tunnel, then?”

  “Maybe, I dunno. It’s different for others. Those who are not Banished, that is.”

  “Oh…” I had been insensitive but didn’t feel any guilt. I couldn’t feel sorry for someone who only saw me as a disposable source of life. Lock readjusted his position, completely angling his body to face me, pulling off his hood as the threat of sunlight started to fade below the pockets of the hills. It was getting late now, reaching near dinner time.

  “I remember my first encounter with a Goon, back then I had no idea what was going on or how to get in touched with the Host’s... I mean George’s... soul. I was only surviving off him on a basic level; breathing him in like he was my own personal oxygen mask and sticking to him like glue…I met Betrayal on one of George’s travels. She had been with a different Host then, a Lucy or something, but she taught me about the Goons, Hunters, and the Third Realm.

  “It was only a small Goon that I encountered and Betrayal helped me fight it. I didn’t feel good when I first used my dark magic, like I was ripping the heat from George’s body in greedy mouthfuls every time I fired a missile.

  Before Lucy died, she told me that she and Betrayal used to be friends. Betrayal couldn’t remember any of it, she didn’t care. I didn’t care, either. Human life is pointless. The only good they can offer is to not die so quickly.” If he was meaning to insult me, he had succeeded. I turned my head away, not appreciating his brutal honesty.

  The train stopped and another family joined us, sitting within ear shot of Lock and I. Lock tilted his head against the window, hinting that our conversation was over, and I didn’t pursue it. I was still envisioning this imaginary force that bound spirits to their Hosts. So, it wasn’t just the Host who is shackled in chains, it was the spirits, too, though theirs weren’t physical and couldn’t be broken by sheer force. They ultimately had to destroy their dearest companions again and again.