by Aline Riva
“Is he here?”
YES.
“Can I speak to him?” she asked.
The reply came fast as the pointer moved swiftly.
HE IS TOO SOON GONE CANNOT SPEAK ON THE BOARD. LET ME HELP YOU CHERRY.
She gave a gasp.
“You know my name?”
YES.
She looked down at the pointer still firmly stuck on yes.
“How can you help?” she asked quietly as her mouth went dry and she realised there had to be reason for this communication – what ever it was, it was so very real...It was there, undeniably so...
YOU MUST BRING HIM BACK, the board spelled out, USE THE BOOK USE THE HERBS SPEAK THE NAME OF THE POWERFUL ONE.
She felt a spike of fear run through her body as she shivered and caught her breath. This was real, it was too real...
She had not spoken again but the pointer was now moving on its own and dragging her fingertips with it as it delivered another message:
DRAKE AMBROSE WAS POISONED.
“What?” she said in horror as goosebumps prickled at her flesh.
MURDERED HE WAS MURDERED HELP HIM BRING HIM BACK TRUST IN NELL.
“I think you should leave now!” she said firmly, “Go, depart this mortal realm and go back to your...ghost space or whatever you live in...leave me alone!”
The board felt lighter as the pointer returned to its place at the bottom of the board. As she lifted her fingers off the pointer, something shimmered as she gasped and for a second she caught sight of an old woman in dark, ragged clothing, her skirt touching the floor and a broomstick in her hand as she raised her other hand and pointed a bony finger. Her pale eyes sparkled with wisdom and her smile seemed to give off such kindness that all she could do was stare, the shock of seeing the ghost melting away as the woman spoke softly:
“Help your love, free him, bring him back, restore his life.”
Then she was gone.
Cherry's hands were shaking as she dumped the board and its pointer back in the case, hastily positioned it against the stand that propped it up, set the pointer beside it and then she closed the case firmly. She looked about the room she had hurried into after the ghost had vanished, recalling how she had grabbed the board and run down the stairs and through the hallways of the museum, wanting nothing but to restore the board to its display case and never ever touch the thing again. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her and went back the way she came, still shaken as she thought about the ghost:
A ghost.
She had seen a freaking ghost.
A real one!
As she reached the dimly lit area with spotlights, her gaze fell on Drake's form:
There he sat, looking off into space, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, in his stiff pose that seemed relaxed at first glance. Her pace slowed as she reached the cord that sectioned off the area, then she lifted it, stepped under it and went up to the glass. Never had she been so sure of something that once she had not believed in – it was real, life after death was real – either that or she had gone mad. As she looked into his lifeless eyes, her heart ached with the need to do something, to right the wrong, to save him, to put it all right...
“Did someone kill you?” she said in desperation, “I would have asked Nell Pepper but it's not every day I see a ghost... Oh shit, I've never seen one before. It was real! She said someone poisoned you. I wish you could speak, Drake. Is it true?”
He stared at the wall unmoving, looking alive yet stiff in his posture, silent and lifeless as she looked back at him and frustration swirled in her mind as she wished he could answer her question.
“She said you are my love. Did you feel the same? Even now, I want to save you. I want to change this. I don't know what to do!”
She blinked away tears as she looked at him and he looked past her, gaze forever fixed on the wall, blank and devoid of life.
“She told me to use her book. I don't even know if it's safe, I don't know if she can be trusted. She seemed kind but I remember you said she had dark powers...What do I do, Drake?”
The corpse sat frozen in the seat, unable to respond, lifeless and silent, seeming to contradict just how alive he looked on first sight.
“I don't know what to do,” she said again, then she stepped back from the glass, lifted the rope and went under it, then she turned away from the display case and walked off towards the archway, where warm and welcoming light shone as if this was the place to go to find life again, and it felt to Cherry she was leaving Drake alone in the cold and the dark and the silence, and that notion tore at her heart.
She went back upstairs, needing time away from the creepy displays, the board that worked, the ghost of a witch and the body of the man she loved. She was thankful of how ordinary the flat was and how the warm glow of the lighting banished thoughts of death and gloom. She made more tea and sat in the kitchen, watching as snow swirled downward from darkened skies heavy with more of the same.
Cherry had dinner and then watched TV on the sofa. Bess called and she did a sterling job of pretending everything was fine. On hearing her close friend offer to come over, she lied and said she had far to much work to do for the next few days, but soon, she would see her soon and yes, she was liking the work here. When Bess asked about Drake's corpse, she said it was out of sight for now, and that seemed to take the worried tone from her friend's voice. It was a huge relief when the call ended – she hated lying, but this situation was something that would be very hard for anyone else to understand, even Bess with her interest in witchcraft and the bizarre would find it very hard to accept...
Cherry spent the rest of the evening trying to be ordinary, even though thoughts of the extraordinary would not leave her alone. She went to bed early and turned off the light, then as she recalled how the ghostly witch had appeared, she snapped the light back on, but no ghosts were lurking in the shadowy corners. She slept quickly after that, drawn into a deep sleep that brought with it something she was not expecting:
It brought her Drake...
“Wake up.”
She had stirred from sleep and then opened her eyes and looked up, catching her breath as she realised Drake was standing over her bed. Then she recalled he was dead and her eyes widened in alarm, but he smiled and she saw the sparkle in his eyes that warmed her heart.
“I did feel the same,” he said softly as he climbed on to the bed and reached for the covers and turned them back, exposing her body almost naked in a sheer night gown. His gaze wandered over her as he briefly took in the sight of her rounded, firm breasts, the curve of her hips and the shapely thighs that led to a neatly shaved, barely visible strip of hair that ran down into a place where she was aching and growing damp as she looked into his eyes and felt his hands on her body, his solid hands – this was no transparent ghost...
“Tell me how you died -”
“Shh...” he placed a fingertip on her lips to silence her, then pulled her closer.
His jacket was off, his shirt was open and she slid a hand inside his shirt and placed it on his warm chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart.
“This is just a dream,” she said as she blinked away tears, “I want this to be real...”
“It's real enough,” Drake replied, then he pulled her closer, kissing her hard with passion that stole her breath as his other hand reached down and tugged at his belt. She lay there in his arms breathless as she parted her legs. He pushed up her gown and his gaze locked with hers as he thrust inside her, a single, firm and urgent movement that made her catch her breath.
As she held on to him and gasped and gave a moan of pleasure, he melted from her arms as she opened her eyes and sunlight streamed in through the windows. The sky was laced with incoming grey snow clouds and it seemed as if that break in the leaden skies above had been just for her, a ray of light to confirm this was morning and all that had been before was just a dream, a beautiful dream that would never become reality because the man who had sto
len her heart at a glance was dead and this life affirming reminder of a new day was shining just for her, to make its harsh and brutal point...
Cherry tried to start the day as she wanted it to carry on – normally. She got up, showered and dressed and had breakfast then went down to the museum and cleaned the floor in the entrance hall. Nothing else needed to be done, she went to the office and checked the answerphone but there were no messages.
Then she sat down in the chair behind the desk, thinking about Drake, recalling she had intended to watch those videos of him she had found online but the ouija board and the encounter with the ghost had pushed it far from her thoughts. So she sat there for the next hour watching the interviews Drake had given on opening the museum.
The museum channel itself had several films of Drake showing glimpses of the inside of the place. Seeing that shine in his eyes and hearing his voice once more made her smile. It almost mended the crack in her heart – but seeing him through the screen was all she could do, it was this or go to the shadowy room with the spotlights and look at him under glass and talk to his preserved corpse. She knew that was weird, but she guessed under the circumstance after seeing the ghost of the witch she had to seriously rethink the definition of what weird actually covered...
Cherry stayed away from the glass cabinet and Drake's body for the rest of the day. She kept out of the room dedicated to contact with the dead, she polished the reception desk and tidied some paperwork that was under it and then went back up to the flat. It would be a normal day, she was determined to make it as normal as it could be.
Outside, the snow was falling heavier and the traffic was almost non existent. News reports went out saying this could be the heaviest snowfall in twenty years and was expected to last until the 19th. It was not expected to thaw for a few days – this Christmas may not be heavily white but it would be an icy one as the snow melted when temperatures climbed again. Light flurries were predicted over the Christmas period and then warmer weather by a few degrees, turning what was left in the icy skies to rain once more. New Year was so far predicted to be wet and freezing and miserable.
But the flat was warm and so was the museum, she wasn't worried about getting snowed in because she had all she needed – if she could stop thinking about the ghost and the words it had spoken.
It was late in the afternoon and dusk was falling fast when she heard the sound of the buzzer as it echoed up from the entrance hall. She left a comfortable sofa and a TV full of festive cheer that she really couldn't appreciate and went down stairs, where the sound of the buzzer echoed again, impatiently in short stops and starts.
When she reached the main doors she hit the intercom and spoke into it.
“I'm sorry the museum is closed.”
A reply came back right away.
“It's me, it's Melody!”
The woman sounded upset. The name meant nothing to her, but by the tone of her voice, Cherry guessed she had just heard the news about Drake, so she unlocked the door and opened it. One look at her told her the assumption had been correct – Melody stood there on the step wrapped in warm clothing in a shade of pale pink with black snow boots and a metallic lilac snow coat. She wore a matching scarf and a black hat, her long blonde hair cascaded from under it to her just below her shoulders and she had applied heavy make up – but her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were red from crying.
“Drake's dead? How can he be dead, I came to see him last week? I asked him for my old job back and he told me to piss off!” she gave a sob.
Drake had told her to piss off? That didn't sound like Drake at all...
“Come in,” Cherry said, inviting her in from the cold.
She took Melody through to the office, sat her down on the sofa and gave her some hot tea. Once she was sitting there and warmed up enough to unzip her coat and take off her scarf and gloves and her tears had stopped, Cherry started to ask questions.
“I take it you knew Drake well?”
She nodded, cradling the hot tea and watching the steam rise, then she blew on it, sipped it and put it back down on the table.
“I used to work on reception. That was when Drake was engaged -”
“I didn't know he was engaged!” Cherry said in surprise.
“He was engaged to a woman called Ivy. They used to argue a lot and me and Drake got closer and we -”
“Had an affair?” she guessed.
The look in her eyes suggested the word offended her.
“We fell in love!” she said sharply, “But he called it off because he wanted her and then he told her everything and she dumped him and he blamed me... I had to leave my job on the main desk, he found a new receptionist and went on like nothing had happened.”
“I'm sure he must have been hurt by it all,” Cherry said, thinking of Drake and feeling sure this entanglement would have broken his heart at the time.
“So...why are you here?” she added.
Melody paused, blinked away tears, looked down at her tea to gather her thoughts and then met Cherry's gaze.
“I wanted to know when the funeral is...also I wanted to know if he remembered me, mentioned me -”
“He just collapsed, I don't think he regained consciousness at all,” she replied sadly.
“No, I mean his will!” Melody exclaimed, “He was loaded, he must have mentioned me after the heartbreak he put me through!”
Cherry looked hard at her as she rose from her seat.
“I didn't know Drake very well,” she said firmly, “But I do know it sounds like you were in this for what you could get. He's dead and he laid his will out with his business partner in mind! Now I think you should leave!”
Melody got up, tugged hard at her zip to close her jacket and snatched up her scarf and put it on.
“I saw him on the day it happened, he said he wanted nothing more to do with me, that he was rethinking the business with his partner in mind, the two of them running the place together for years to come! He said I had a nerve to come back here asking for work and then he told me to piss off! He had shopping in the doorway, said he'd just stocked up the flat for the new caretaker!”
“That would be me,” Cherry replied, and Melody stiffened, glared at her and turned for the door.
“Was he okay when you left him?”
Cherry's sudden question made her turn back sharply.
“Of course he was! I walked off, he was in the doorway, he had the shopping next to him...he slammed the door as I left. Do you think I would have left him alone if I thought he was ill, what do you take me for? I used to love him! He looked fine, he was fine – apart from treating me like shit!”
“I just wish someone could have saved him – spotted something, got him some help...”
“So do I,” Melody said quietly, then she turned back and opened the door, walked away and headed for the entrance hall.
By the time Cherry had gone down the corridor and made it back to the main doors, she saw Melody leave, wrenching the door open and stepping out into the snow. The door slammed with the blast of a wintry gust that scattered tiny flakes of snow into the hallway, then Cherry locked the doors and gave a sigh as she looked down at the polished floor and the melting snow and she thought of Drake and the secrets she had uncovered – it seemed like he had quite a past, and it was something he had not lived long enough to tell her about. It made her wonder what else she would find out about the man who had stolen her heart on the day they had met...
When nightfall came and the streets were empty and the snow was thickening once more, the road outside was vanishing under a blanket of white – the gritters would have a task and a half to clear that by morning, Cherry thought as she let the curtain fall back, obscuring the frozen view that made her feel cold despite the gaiety of the lights that ran the length of the promenade far below.
She had brought the lap top up to the flat and once again watched one of the films online of Drake talking about the museum. She had sat at the kitch
en table watching as he smiled and talked about his lifelong passion for all things strange and mysterious, the breeze had ruffled his hair and the look in his eyes had taken her back to the day they had met, warming her broken heart and making the pain of his loss more bearable. It didn't do good to think on what might have been, but when those thoughts came creeping she got up and decided to go downstairs, back to the dimly lit room in the museum where his body sat alone under glass, looking alive yet frozen forever in that seat, staring at the wall.
The notion that he was lonely seemed ridiculous – he was dead, he didn't know he was lonely. He couldn't feel the cold he wasn't aching from maintaining that position on that seat. He was not alive and knew nothing, but all the same, as she made her way towards the darkened room the ache in her heart was deepening.
She reached the archway and walked through, here the spotlights looked soft as the night sky reflected darkly on the small windows and she had a heart full of emotion that swirled as she thought of the ghost of a witch and a way to revive him. If only it was true, if only magic was real...Maybe it was, the board had certainly raised something, she was sure it had happened and not been a figment of her imagination.
But she did wonder if she was losing her mind as she pressed the catch at the side of the case and it clicked, she slid her hand down to the second catch and did the same, then she took hold of the door and opened it wide. It swung open fluidly on oiled hinges. An odd smell came from inside the case, not quite death, not quite preservative, a mix of all of it, yet faint and masked by a lingering scent of his cologne.
She stood in the case looking at him, his eyes looking past her as he remained motionless.
“Do you think it's possible to meet someone and know you love them at first glance?” she said softly, “Because that happened to me when I met you and I think you felt something too. Maybe we just know when we meet the one we're supposed to be with – I don't know, I can only guess. But I do know you shouldn't have died yet, it was too soon. You still had a life to live. I might have been a part of that life. If I can bring you back, I will. And I'll do it because I love you.”