A Girl, a Guy, and a Ghost

by Patricia Mason

  She didn’t want to move but she had to find out what was on her other side. She completed the turn of her head and opened her eyes again. Nothing helpful on the other side. Just headstones and raised tombs. Headstones and tombs? She was in a cemetery. That meant she’d been laid out on—eeeek—one of those raised tombstone-covered graves. Yuck. Eeek. But mainly yuck.

  Her mouth felt full of some cotton-like fabric but she managed to open her lips. At least she wasn’t really gagged. She just felt like gagging. She cleared her throat.

  “Uhmmm.” Hearing her own voice brought relief that she could make a genuine sound. Neither of the vampires took any notice of her.

  She cleared her throat again. “Hey.”

  Still nothing. No reaction at all. The vampires continued to squawk at one another.

  “Hey, Lester. Marissa.”

  Nothing.

  “Hello there, not so dynamic duo?”

  Giselle could hear her own voice. Surely they could hear her. Yes. Finally, the two stopped bickering and Lester floated toward her. When he reached her side, Lester looked down at her with a calm, almost-gentle expression.

  He’s going to cut me loose. She felt herself asking him.

  He placed a hand gently on her forehead and pushed at the hair that was plastered to her forehead by sweat. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I can’t let you go.”

  Dammit.

  “Why not?” Giselle cringed at the whiny sound of her own voice. But a girl had a right to whine when tied to a tomb.

  “You know too much as they say.”

  “No. I don’t know too much. I don’t know anything. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you I don’t know anything.” She tried to shake her head but the rough stone scraped at her scalp.

  “Just kill her and get it over with.” Marissa smiled in snide satisfaction. “You have to do it.”

  “No you don’t, Lester,” Giselle said. “You don’t have to do any such thing.”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I do have to kill you.”

  “I really think you probably do like it a little more than I do since I’m the one dying here.”

  He looked abashed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But I am sorry. You see, I know that you know about my plans for the courthouse.”

  Giselle shook her head.

  “Do not bother to deny it,” he said. “It’s unfortunate but it must be done.”

  “Marissa has made it impossible for me to do anything but kill you.” Lester walked back to Marissa’s side. “You will naturally not be able to write the article about VICTIM for your magazine. I am very displeased. It is most inconvenient.” He glared at his consort.

  “Yeah, inconvenient,” Giselle muttered. “But I don’t understand. What does Marissa have to do with it?” If she could keep him talking maybe she would be saved by some miracle. Plus, she wanted to know.

  “It was Marissa who originally tried to kill you of course,” Lester said as Marissa nodded smugly. “She did not have my permission to do so, but nevertheless she did. In fact, she tried several times. But do not worry. I have chastised her severely about her behavior.”

  Great. That would be a lot of comfort to Giselle when she was dead.

  “Marissa suffers from an extremely jealous nature. She did not want me to romance you.” He caressed Marissa’s cheek. “I told her that I love only her and that my attentions to you were all a sham, but she could not accept that I would have sex with you. I told her that it had to be done. It was like a job, part of my duty as the president of VICTIM.”

  Double great. More comfort for Giselle.

  “But it was her attempts on your life that caused you to snoop around and stumble onto our plans.”

  “What plans?” Giselle attempted to fake it. At Lester’s skeptical expression, Giselle said, “Oh all right. I know. But I promise not to tell anyone. I am very good at keeping secrets. Like take my best friend Mary Ellen. She used to be a man, but I haven’t told anyone, have I?”

  He didn’t look convinced so she continued. “And there’s my boss Willie. He has a whopper of a foot fetish. I don’t need to tell you how I stumbled on that secret. Let’s just say I don’t wear sandals in the office anymore. But no matter how tempting it was, I didn’t tell anybody about Willie’s love of toes. Well, I have told you now, but that doesn’t really count. Does it? I can keep my mouth shut. See I’m shutting it right now. I’m not going to say another word.”

  Lester shook his head.

  Oh crap. Then a thought occurred. “If you kill me, people will know. You’ll be the first one they suspect,” she said.

  Lester shook his head again.

  “What’s wrong with that logic?”

  “This cemetery is the site of a burned-out church. It’s at least forty miles from Savannah. There have been some unsavory activities in the cemetery here lately. The authorities will assume that you were sacrificed by some satanic cult.”

  “Lester is right. There will be nothing to connect your death with VICTIM or with what is going to happen at the courthouse,” Marissa finished with a self-satisfied smirk and a proud jut to her chin.

  “But Ry will know,” Giselle said desperately.

  “We will take care of Mr. Leland later,” Ren or Field said.

  “Yes. I’m a bit surprised that Mr. Leland hasn’t made an appearance here. His much–talked-about psychic talents must be failing him,” Lester observed.

  Psychic talent? “What?” Giselle asked.

  Just then a car engine could be heard. Gravel crunched under the tires as it approached. Everyone seemed to freeze in place as the car headlights came into view. The car’s engine turned off. A metal door swung open and slammed shut. Footsteps swished through the vegetation of the cemetery as an unseen figure treaded toward them.

  It was Ry, Ry, Ry, Ry. Crap. It was Vector.

  “Giselle, ma cherie. I see them carry you from the vampire house. But you do not get away from Vector.”

  “Who the hell is this?” Lester demanded of his henchmen.

  Ren and Field each shrugged.

  But Marissa knew. “It’s that French artist. You know the one who donated the horrible portrait of himself with fangs?”

  “Oh yes.” Lester nodded.

  This incensed Vector. “Eh! I am great artiste. I create the art, which is unique in all the world.”

  “Never mind that,” Giselle shouted.

  He didn’t have Ry’s heroics, but surely she was saved now that Vector was here.

  “You should let me go now, Lester. I’m sure that since Vector saw your goons kidnapping me, he called the police and they’ll be here any second now.”

  Lester’s brow furrowed with uncertainty. He looked to Marissa.

  “It will go easier for you with the authorities if you let me go now,” Giselle pressed as he seemed to consider.

  “You may be right.” Lester moved to the tomb and began to loosen the ropes. He worked for a moment on the knot at her wrists.

  “No!” Marissa shouted.

  Lester stopped, and Marissa continued. “I don’t think this imbecile called the police.”

  “Oh yes, Vector definitely called the police, didn’t you?” Giselle asked. Her eyes pleaded with the French skunk in the bright light of the moon.

  “Oh no, no police,” Vector said happily oblivious. He hadn’t caught her hint. “We play the sex games. No police will interrupt.” Vector almost hopped up and down with eagerness. His eyes ran over Giselle tied to the tomb. “I like the M&Ms. I would like to be tied up too.”

  “That can be arranged,” Marissa said, snapping her fingers at Ren and Field. “Tie him up.”

  “You dummy!” Giselle shouted. “There are no sex games. They’re going to kill both of us. Run and get help.”

  Ren and Field marched toward Vector.

  “Kill, as in die? Vector would be dead?” The skunk blanched.

  “Oui. Dead. Morte,” Giselle screamed. “Get moving.” The tiny artist must
be quicker than the two lumbering hulks. Yeah. Vector had agility on his side.

  “Morte.” Even in the pale light of the moon Giselle could see the whites of Vector’s eyes as they rolled back in his head. Vector dropped with a thud to the earth in a dead faint. Now he was about to be dead.

  “It looks like the Satanists will be sacrificing two tonight,” Marissa chortled.

  Yeah. At least Giselle would have the satisfaction that she wouldn’t be dying alone. She’d be going into the next world with a skunk. An extremely stupid skunk. Or maybe she wouldn’t go to the next world. Maybe she’d end up as a ghost. Didn’t ghosts result from violent death? She hoped she wouldn’t be chained through all eternity to Vector. The two of them forever haunting this desolate cemetery together. Giselle and the skunk.

  No. That wouldn’t be haunting, that would be hell. She’d been a good person. She would get to haunt anyone she chose, wouldn’t she? If she had a choice she would definitely haunt Ry. And not in a good way. Where the hell was he?

  Field or Ren picked up Vector from the ground like a crumpled piece of paper. Then Lester blocked her view of the hapless Frenchman.

  “Where’s the knife?” Lester asked, holding up his left hand.

  Knife? This couldn’t be happening.

  “It’s right here.” Marissa jumped up and down. She hopped forward with glee and slapped a dagger into his hand like a nurse handing off to a surgeon.

  For a moment Lester stood, unmoving. The moon gleamed off the metal of the dagger’s long blade and bounced, reflecting a strange light in Lester’s eyes. He examined Giselle from one side to the other, as if wondering where to start carving first.

  He moved the blade to Giselle’s neck. Her skin broke out in goose bumps as the cold metal and sharp edge made contact with her soft flesh.

  Giselle pulled back, trying to sink into the stone. The tomb didn’t give an inch, but the knot at her wrists seemed to have a little more play as Giselle struggled against the ties. She opened her mouth. She had to say something to delay what seemed inevitable. Not a word would come forth. Not a word, not a sound. It apparently took imminent death to stop Giselle from talking.

  Lester made a hesitant cut. Giselle felt a sticky substance melt down her skin. At first she felt nothing. Then the sting forced breath to break from her mouth in a gust.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  Lester pulled back.

  Giselle searched her brain for something to say. “Don’t you want to know why people laughed at your logo at the party?” No need to remind the crazy vampire holding a knife to her throat that she had started the laughter.

  “Why?”

  The dagger’s blade in his hand now had a dark substance on it. Giselle had to look away from it. If she thought about her blood on the blade she would pass out.

  “There’s a comic book where the illuminated outline of a bat in the night sky is used. Your logo is just like the comic book logo.”

  “I cannot believe it.” Lester’s voice boomed in the otherwise silent night air. “Another author is plagiarizing my life? When will it end?” Lester stalked over to Marissa. “We’ve got to contact our lawyer. What is he doing for us?” He continued to fume, his arms waving. “All that money I’ve paid him. Lawyers. They do nothing while charging a fortune for it. And they call us bloodsuckers.”

  Marissa wrapped her arms around him, holding his flailing arms down to his side. Lester rested his head on her shoulder. “My poor darling. I will take care of it. Mommy will fix it. Don’t I always take care of everything?” Marissa crooned to him.

  A muffled “Yes, Mommy.”

  Lester straightened.

  Marissa pushed the hair from his brow and out of his eyes. “Now you have to concentrate, Lester. Kill these two and let’s get out of here. We have a big day tomorrow. The world needs to hear from VICTIM.”

  “You’re right,” Lester murmured then drew himself up straight and went back to Giselle.

  She’d been working hard at her ties. They had loosened. But not enough. Not enough.

  Lester peered down at Giselle and raised the knife. For countless seconds the crazy light shone in his eyes. Then his glance seemed to take in the cut on Giselle’s neck. Pity warred with crazy. Pity won.

  “I can’t do it. The sight of her blood is making me sick.” The dagger fell to the ground at his side.

  He didn’t feel pity, but nausea did just as well as pity in a pinch. A relieved breath rushed from Giselle’s mouth.

  “I can do it,” Marissa said eagerly. Stepping forward, she bent and retrieved the fallen dagger. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy will take care of it.”

  Lester nodded and stepped back as Marissa took his place looming over Giselle. Marissa lifted the dagger in her two hands and stretched them far over her head. Apparently she wanted maximum torque for her thrust. She stood poised to plunge the blade into Giselle’s chest.

  There would be no hesitation from this crazy bitch. Goodbye, cruel word. Giselle’s eyes snapped shut. She couldn’t watch this.

  In the darkness behind her own eyelids, Giselle waited for the agony she knew would come. It didn’t. Any second now. No, nothing. Giselle opened one lid then the other. Marissa still stood there, dagger poised, but she stared off into the distance.

  “Did you see that?” Marissa asked. Always pale, the alleged vampiress went a whiter shade of white. “I saw someone standing over there just beyond that gravestone,” she said, pointing to a distant grave with a small square stone. “It looked like a person, but I could see through them and then the person just disappeared.”

  Marissa rounded on Lester. “I bet it was a ghost. You promised this cemetery wouldn’t have any ghosts. You know how I hate ghosts. They’re so sly and sneaky.”

  “Now, honey,” Lester comforted. “I’m sure it wasn’t a ghost. It was probably just your imagination.”

  This comment didn’t have the comforting effect he’d planned.

  “Are you saying that I’m crazy?” Marissa pulled herself to her full height and put a hand to her hip, her tone incensed.

  “Of course not,” Lester backpedaled. “I would never think such a thing let alone say it. It’s just that the circumstances are highly unusual. You must agree. And anyone could see things that aren’t there.”

  “Thank you very much…for nothing. Just you remember that if it weren’t for your roving eye we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Now, sweetheart, I don’t have a roving eye. There you go imagining things again.” Lester held his hands up in a weird kind of supplication while taking a step back from Marissa.

  “Aaaahhhh!” Marissa screeched in outrage. “My imagination? Was it my imagination that you wanted to have sex with this—”

  Giselle hoped that they would go on arguing. If she had luck on her side, they would argue for the rest of the night.

  Marissa reined herself in, closed her eyes and took a deep inhale of the night air. She exhaled slowly.

  She opened her eyes. “We’ll continue this argument after I clean up your mess,” she said to Lester.

  Of course they wouldn’t argue all night. Why would Giselle think she would be lucky?

  Marissa returned to stand over Giselle. Again Marissa raised the dagger over her head, gripping it in her two hands. Suddenly, a strange slack look came across Marissa face as she and the dagger came down, down, down.

  Giselle screamed. “Nooooo!”

  Yes. It was really happening. She was going to die.

  Giselle’s eyes clenched shut. She felt an impact on her chest. Omigod, the knife. It was in her chest. No. It wasn’t in her chest, but on her chest. In fact, it lay loose on her chest. Giselle opened her eyes and saw Marissa draped over her like a rag doll. She seemed to be out cold. A white noise buzzed in Giselle’s ears.

  “What?” Not that she wasn’t grateful, but what had happened? Giselle decided not to look a gift vampire in the mouth…although she could see into Marissa’s mouth from this angle. Her unconsci
ous lips gaped wide open.

  Giselle started struggling against the ropes around her wrists again. She nearly had the ties slack enough to tug one hand through. Just then the white noise she’d heard in her head clarified and Giselle realized that what she heard wasn’t the static of her panic, but Lester screaming Marissa’s name over and over in an unnaturally high-pitched voice.

  Giselle couldn’t see anything over Marissa’s body on top of hers until Lester lifted Marissa up and cradled her to his chest. He continued to croon hysterically.

  Now Giselle could see beyond Lester to where Ren and Field ran, flailing about and yelling. What were they doing? They seemed to be dodging something. It was…it was…rock. Rocks flew out of the darkness of the woods around the cemetery, striking Ren and Field in turns. The two goons hopped around, screaming in pain and confusion, not able to see where the rocks came from.

  A dark shadow swooped out from between the shroud of trees and into the moonlit clearing of the cemetery. Was it the ghost Marissa had seen? The figure soared with an almost supernatural swiftness. It must be an apparition. Then Giselle saw that it didn’t appear to be a ghost at all. Ry, glorious Ry was there. He attacked Ren and Field with moves Giselle had only seen in Chinese action movies.

  Ry did a springing double split kick, hitting first Ren and then Field. Giselle had laughed when she’d seen that move on film, thinking that it was all special effects. Now she knew it was possible in real life.

  Ren fell. Field staggered. Ry slammed the butt of his palm into Field’s nose. Giselle heard a cracking sound and blood gushed forth. Field grabbed at his face. Oooooh. That had to hurt. Good. Ry stomped a back kick into the crook of Field’s knee. Giselle heard another crack and Field went down.

  But by then Ren had gotten up and delivered a punch to Ry’s side. Ry stumbled back.

  “Ooof.”

  Oh no. Ren must have two hundred pounds of muscle on Ry. But Giselle found that she’d worried for nothing. Ry barely flinched as Ren made two more strikes at his midsection. Ry spun clockwise and clocked Ren with a back fist to his head.

  As the battle continued, Giselle realized that she’d been so fascinated that she’d forgotten about freeing her hands from their bindings. However, she recalled the importance of her task when she heard a moan on her other side. Marissa, still in Lester’s arms, blinked as she regained consciousness. Giselle realized that she could be at the mercy of the two vampires while Ry fought Ren and Field if she didn’t free herself soon.