The ghost continued to move towards me.
“I’m… I’m warning you…” I bluffed.
The ghost reached out its left arm, extending her pointer finger.
“What are you doing?”
The ghost’s finger went through my ball of light and touched my hand. The second the ghost touched me. It dispersed in a gust of wind.
I let go of the energy powering the ball of light and looked down at my hand. Had the ghost done something to me? I didn’t feel any different. I was a little worried it would somehow hurt me, but I felt nothing from it’s touch.
Who was the woman? She looked vaguely familiar, but not like a customer or a teacher from back in school. I couldn’t place where I had seen her before. Too bad she hadn’t come from a particular gravestone. I’d have at least known her name and could look her up.
I glanced down at my phone to look at the time, deciding I should probably head back home.
What were the odds of running into a ghost the first time I visit a cemetery after becoming a witch?
Chapter 3
“The ponytailed guy was there?” asked a surprised Bart as he hopped out of my car. “You’re sure you’ve never seen him around town before?”
“I’m sure,” I said, closing my door and beginning my morning routine of trying to get the key fob to work. I’d considered that the man was an old classmate or something, but I was confident that I’ve never seen him before.
“There’s definitely something strange going on with him. I’m not sure if chasing after him is necessarily the right thing to do, though. You don’t really know any magic to defend yourself with.”
“I have the light thing!” I said, walking into Foster’s Market.
“That worked once, and was a fluke,” said Bart.
“Then you should teach me something that could possible help me.”
“That’s fair. Let me think on it, and I’ll pick something out that might help.”
“Morning Miss Foster,” said Eric, one of my produce clerks. He was sweeping up his section.
“Good morning, Eric,” I smiled. “How are things going for you?”
“Works going great, I’m pretty caught up on everything that needs to be going on today. Jimmy comes in later, and I’ll have a few things for him to work on.”
“How’s working with Jimmy?” I asked. Both Eric and Jimmy were hard workers, but sometimes Jimmy’s ambition was a little worrisome.
“It’s fine. He doesn’t slack off, which is nice, but sometimes he seems a bit frustrated with me.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I said. “Let me know if it ever crosses a line though!”
“Will do,” nodded Eric, getting back to sweeping.
Normally I would’ve said hello to the rest of my employees, but I was behind on some work. I took a left and headed for my office, behind the cash registers. As I came around the corner, I took a deep breath. Charline Baker was working, and there weren’t any customers in her line.
“Ah, man…” whined Bart. “Why has Charline been working more?”
“Since Bridgette’s pregnant, I’ve been trying to give her more time off,” I whispered.
“She’s like, what, a few weeks pregnant?”
“It’s good to get ready for her taking maternity leave,” I said, walking towards my office. There was no point in stalling any longer. “Maybe we’ll hire another cashier.”
“Good morning, Miss Foster,” said Charline.
“Hello, Charline,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on my door. Hopefully she would get the hint that I was busy and wouldn’t try starting up a-
“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last night!” she said.
Conversation…
I stopped, hand on my doorknob. So close, yet so far away.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked politely, letting my hand slip off.
“Well, I decided that I was going to go watch a movie last night,” she began. “Not something too risque, mind you, but something to help pass the time. Kids these days are always wanting to watch movies with half naked people, giant robots, or explosions. Those just aren’t for me. To be honest, I’m of the thought that they are what’s wrong with the current generation.”
“There’s not going to be a point to this story,” grumbled Bart.
“What movie did you end up watching?” I asked, trying to help Charline get back on track.
“Beg your pardon?”
“You went to the movie theater last night, but didn’t want to watch something risque. Which one did you decide on?”
“That’s just the thing, Miss Foster. I drove over to the theater, and asked the young man working to give me a run down of each movie. I stood there for nearly fifteen minutes before we both realized that all they are playing nowadays is pure trash!”
“Fifteen minutes?” I asked. The poor theater employee.
“Right?” nodded Charline. “I couldn’t believe what a waste of time it was. He just kept going on about the newest shoot em up movie, really trying to sell me on it.”
“Well, you did ask him to tell you about all the movies…”
“But I only wanted him to tell me about the good movies. Little did I know, there wouldn’t be any!” she scoffed.
“Kids these days,” I shrugged. There was no point in arguing with her.
“It’s because of a lack of discipline,” said Charline.
Behind her, where the conveyor belt was, I noticed a blue shimmer. What was that?
“Back in my day, if you had time to talk, you had time to work!” said Charline. “If you weren’t working, you’d get the spoon.”
The blue shimmer continued to rise behind Charline, until I could make out a familiar face.
“Uh, Zoey…” said Bart. “Why is there a ghost popping up behind Charline?”
The ghost I had seen in the graveyard the previous night stopped as its feet rested on top of the conveyor. It looked down at Charline, and then back up to me.
“The young man should definitely have gotten fired for such an offense,” continued Charline, unaware of the floating being behind her. “I ended up driving back home and calling the manager of the theater. It was then that I realized why the boy working up front was such a poor employee: poor management!”
“You see this ghost, right Zoey?” asked Bart. “Just nod if you do.”
I bobbed my head up and down, staring up at the ghost behind Charline. Why was the ghost here? Was it going to harm us?
“That’s when I decided to write a letter to the theater chain… what are you looking at?” asked Charline, turning around and staring at where the ghost was.
I waited for her to start screaming.
Charline turned back to me, eyebrows raised. “Well? What are you looking at?”
Could she not see the spirit?
“Humans can’t always see ghosts, unless the ghost wants to let them see them,” said Bart, as if he could read my mind. “I’d recommend cutting off the conversation and heading into your office.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said to Charline, still not taking my eyes off the ghost. “I just realized I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“You have been taking quite a bit of time off,” agreed Charline. “Very unprofessional.”
“Yes, uh, sorry about that,” I said. “Anyway, I should really get going. We can talk more later!”
“Probably for the best,” nodded Charline, as the ghost passed through her.
It was hard to not freak out.
I turned and quickly made it into my office, closing the door behind me.
“What do we do?!” I whispered to Bart.
“Just go sit down, maybe we can find out what she wants,” he offered. “If she meant you harm, she would’ve attacked you already. Probably.”
That made sense to me. I settled into my chair and tried to look relaxed.
“Don’t look so tense,” said Bart.
I guess it didn’t
work.
A blue shimmer appeared through the door as the ghost made it’s way into my office. It looked at me for a moment, then at Bart. It then looked up at the wall behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and sighed.
“The floral wallpaper won’t come off,” I said. “I know. It wasn’t a good idea.”
The ghost nodded and looked back to me. That was the first time it communicated with me! Not exactly concerning something that mattered, but I’d take it as progress.
“So you can understand me,” I said. “Are you in more of a talking mood?”
The ghost stared silently back at me.
“Wait, you’ve already seen this ghost?” asked Bart.
“At the graveyard yesterday,” I nodded.
“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just assumed it was normal to see ghosts there as a witch…”
“It isn’t uncommon, but I’m not sure if normal is the right word,” said Bart. “Why is she here?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
The ghost floated there, giving no answers.
“You didn’t… touch her, did you?” asked Bart.
“I mean… maybe?” I said, shifting uncomfortable in my chair.
“Seriously?” said Bart, eyes wide at me. “You encounter a ghost for the first time, and you think, ‘Hey, this thing might be dangerous. I want to touch it?’”
“I was trying to get it to stay back, but the light spell didn’t help,” I said defensively.
“Because it’s not meant to be a defensive spell! Stop thinking that’ll work!”
“I realize that now,” I mumbled.
“If a ghost touches you, they are able to form an anchor on you.”
“An anchor?”
“Yes. At any point, they are able to appear around you, if they feel so inclined. They can leave, but normally they will hang around their anchor point. That’s why some people feel like they, or their house, is haunted. The ghost created an anchor on them, or the particular building.”
“Interesting,” I said, looking at the ghost. “Not that I have any problem with spirits, but since I already have you, I don’t really need another invisible thing following me around. How do we get rid of her?”
“Most of the time, ghosts are spirits that can’t move on until there is justice for their deaths,” said Bart. “Ghosts can sometimes talk, but a lot don’t. It makes helping them find justice… difficult.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t it be pretty simple to just ask her who killed her, and get a straight up answer?”
“Oh… that would be easier.”
“Exactly. Well, since you let her touch you, there’s no getting rid of her until she gets justice.”
“How can we do that, if she can’t talk?” I asked. “I have no idea who she is.”
The ghost spun around and went through the door. After a few seconds it came back in, then back out of the door.
“Does she want us to follow her?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this. I was so behind on work, and who knew how long it would take to figure out who this ghost was, let alone how to give her justice.
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t have time to follow her,” I said, opening up a file on my desk. “Maybe in a few days, but I’ve got too much to do right now.”
The ghost floated back in and stared at me.
“You’re just going to have to wait a bit longer,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
The ghost floated next to my desk, looked down at some of my knickknacks, then back up to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
It reached out it’s hand, vertically straight, and rest it next to a stapler. She continued looking at me.
“Don’t do it,” I said, shaking my head.
The ghost floated backwards through the door and disappeared. After a few seconds, she came back in.
“I can’t leave right now,” I said.
The ghost floated to my desk, hand reached out to the stapler.
“Don’t,” I said firmly.
The ghost swept the stapler off the table.
“Really? Is this how we’re doing this?” I asked.
“She’s a better cat than I am,” mumbled Bart.
The ghost reached her hand out again, this time targeting a coffee mug filled with pens and pencils.
“Stop. Stop!” I said.
The ghost stared at me, slowly nudging the mug towards the edge of the table.
“Bad ghost! Don’t do it!”
The ghost nudged it to the edge of the desk, maintaining eye contact with me.
“Think this through, ghost,” I warned her. “Think this through.”
The ghost flicked her wrist, sending the mug to the ground, it’s contents spilling all across the floor.
“She’s just going to keep doing this,” said Bart.
“Fine,” I grunted, getting up from my desk. “It’s not like I’ll be able to get much done with this thing wreaking havoc all over the room.”
“Time for another adventure!” cheered Bart.
“Don’t sound so excited that the ghost won,” I muttered, following the ghost out of the door.
I followed the ghost past Charline’s cash register.
“Going somewhere?” asked Charline, her voice filled with judgment.
“Yes, I’ll be gone for a bit. Call me if you need me,” I said.
Charline took out a black marker and made a dash on a piece of paper next to her.
“What’s that?” I asked, stopping.
“I’m making a note of every time you abandon your duties,” she said calmly. “I’ll be submitting them to upper management at the end of the month.”
“I am the upper management,” I said.
“Correct.”
“Well, I eagerly await your report,” I said, waving goodbye.
“I hate that woman,” hissed Bart.
Chapter 4
I drove down the road, following the ghost that was a dozen feet ahead of me. I was surprised how fast the ghost could move when she wanted to.
“I’ve been thinking more about it, and I think I know what we should study next,” said Bart.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a defensive shield that cackles with purple electricity,” he said.
“I like the sound of that!” I said, sitting up a little bit more in my seat. “Sounds powerful and dangerous!”
“Don’t get too excited. It really isn’t,” said Bart, shaking his head. “You’re still way too new to be getting into any of the strong stuff. Don’t want you to spontaneously combust, remember?”
“Ah. Right. So how does it work?”
“The key is to picture something in your mind that you really want to protect. The stronger you feel about wanting to protect something, the stronger the shield will be. Typically, people will think of their kids, or a favorite animal… but you don’t really have those. Aside from me,” he smirked.
I gave him a look.
“As I was saying, you picture something that you want protected. Then, focus your energy into your hands again, like with the ball of light.”
“So the shield only comes from where my hands are?” I asked, holding my palms up and looking at them. The car started to cross lanes.
“Keep your hands on the wheel!” he hissed.
I jerked the wheel back and checked around me. There were no other cars by me, luckily.
“Don’t practice magic while driving! Rule number three!” he said.
“What are rules one and two?” I asked. Bart had never mentioned rules to magic before.
“You’ll find them out when you break them,” he said.
“That doesn’t seem very fai-”
“The shields will initially only appear with your hands,” continued Bart. “When you eventually get strong, assuming tha
t happens, then you’ll be able to throw the shield on other objects or people.”
“Woah…”
“Calm down. You’re not going to be at that level for quite some time.”
We pulled up to an industrial section of town. I hadn’t been over here in years. What could the ghost want with us in this part of Twistchapel?
I followed behind her past a few warehouses, took a side street that I didn’t know was here, and pulled up to an abandoned warehouse at the end of the dead end. The building had the blackened paint and debris of a building that suffered from a big fire. The ghost had stopped moving, and stood by the door, waiting for us to get out.
“Should we follow her?” I asked. This was creepier than I was expecting it to be. Granted, having a ghost around should have tipped me off about the level of creepiness the day had in store for me.
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” he said. “Not if you don’t want Foster’s Market to be haunted, anyway.”
“I guess I don’t,” I sighed, getting out of the car. It probably wouldn’t be a wise business decision to let a ghost live there, and one that had an inclination to knock things over when they were mad. Poor Eric and Jimmy would be constantly cleaning up broken jars.
The warehouse was several stories high, and nearly as long as a football field. The windows were stripped of any glass, and there weren’t any doors. The middle of the factory was a large open space, with several broken down metal benches. It looked like there used to be many different workstations here, but after the fire, there hadn’t been an attempt to resurrect the building.
The ghost floated to the back end of the factory, where several small rooms were setup. Passing by a few of them, I saw that this must have been where the office workers spent their days. This area was filled with ash and warped filing cabinets. They probably used to be filled with desks, before the fire ate everything inside.
We continued on to the back corner of the warehouse, where a corner office was. We walked in and the ghost stopped. Looking around, there was nothing out of the ordinary with this office compared to the other ones we had walked by.
“Why do you think she stopped?” I asked.
“This must be where she died,” whispered Bart.
“Where’s the body, then?”
Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short Page 8