“Really?” he straightened up a bit in the uncomfortable antique wooden chair that he’d been perched upon for the last fifteen minutes of her non-specific session. “Old magics?”
She nodded with some dramatic flair that seemed to accompany her dialogue. “And there’s more.”
He waited, then impatiently prodded, “More?”
Again she nodded in earnestness this time, “Yes, it will be through another that you will gain what you seek.”
He felt a curious flux of energy as he turned off of Royal Street. A quick rush of energy surged toward him—again with the familiarity so strong and then he remembered the words of Maxine Dupres nearly six months before during his visit to France— “It will be through another that you will gain what you seek.”
And then a bit unexpectedly he noted that the street he’d turned onto was deserted. All the areas he’d traveled in the French Quarter that morning thus far had been literally crammed with people but not this one.
He moved to the center of the street and closed his eyes. The draw was intensely strong—somewhere here definitely, perhaps somehow lodged between realities. He cleared his mind willing it to strip away layers of obstruction and then slowly opened his eyes again.
The scene before him had changed, actually quite a bit. A chill swept down the road—dare he say whistled. And there was activity, people meandering slowly, window shopping, dressed less casually, in coats, winter wear, from a different time perhaps fifty or sixty years before.
A dizziness passed over him. There was a different time layered here. And then he spotted the oddity, some three or four blocks down—a woman, a young woman dressed in a light cotton blouse and blue jeans, clearly out of place for this scene. As he walked forward, the air became denser, thicker, more difficult to move in. It was clear he wouldn’t be able to sustain here very long. It was misty but he could see her ahead of him, in the street like himself but stopped, speaking to someone. Again it hit him, the intense familiarity; clearly she was the focal point and foolish, so very foolish.
He didn’t even have to concentrate on her aura to see the energy just bleeding out of her, giving it her all, clearly at great expense. His steps reached a quick stride as he moved to catch up with her.
It was an Aunt, actually a Great Aunt who first began appearing to her in the house on Solomon Street. Her marriage had broken up several months after her parent’s car accident. The marriage her mother had warned her emphatically was a mistake. What was it again that her Great Aunt Lilia had told her: “It clearly was your path my dear. That was why you wouldn’t hear anyone.”
“But it was such a mistake.”
“You really shouldn’t be quite so judgmental my dear one. We plot our lives to learn. Sometimes the very best places to learn are in difficult situations.”
It was odd in reflection. She’d married just out of college and the only way she could describe it was like being in a fugue, a strange fog where she was somehow locked in with blind determination that seemed unfathomable now. All the signs, all the distant warnings going off in her head went unheeded. Everyone else was wrong. What a shock when the fog lifted so quickly after the honeymoon and reality set. And the rest of the story became trying to make due with something that was wrong.
Julia took a deep breath. It was so easy to get sidetracked in this place where she was, somewhere between—somewhere hidden deep in this poor lost soul’s reality. When her Aunt, her long deceased Great Aunt Lilia, had first appeared to her on Solomon Street, so odd to remember, it was after her parent’s death. After their death, after the divorce, she fell into a hole, a dark gray shrouded place of depression. She could feel it now, the tantalizing feelings of despair trying to wrap around her like tentacles—his or mine she wondered or both? The old man stared at her with frightened eyes. “You must understand they are clinging so hard to the life they once knew. But the more they resist what is, the more warped their reality becomes. It becomes a nightmarish landscape. First you must comfort them.”
She smiled at him even though she was shivering. It was so cold here in the plane where he existed. “It’s all right. I’m a friend.” His eyes widened. Most of the people he encountered probably never acknowledged him. How could they? He was a spirit just living on the physical plane.
He shook his head in negation. He didn’t trust her. “They must be guided to move on.” How exactly was that going to happen if he didn’t trust her at all?
Dizziness swept through her. She was exerting too much here. That was clear. “You must move on,” she stated as emphatically as she could muster. “You must move into the light.”
“Demon, devil,” the old man muttered under his breath. “Women, the scourge of the earth.” His frightened eyes had suddenly erupted in hate.
“Excuse me,” she spat out with more than a bit of shock.
“This one’s got more troubles that just being dead my dear,” commented a deep voice couched in a clipped British accent.
She swung around to be greeted by a tall man behind her. He had brown hair, a beard, and sparkling blue eyes. “What makes you say that?” she asked not completely yet absorbing the fact that he also was seeing the old, yes insulting, ghost in front of her.
“It’s obvious. He’s off his rocker and I’d wager it happened long before he left our world. You should be more cautious about those you choose to help.”
She opened her mouth to retort in irritation at his frustratingly apt assessment of the situation when another wave of dizziness swept through her. The diffusive thought that she should have not left the house without wearing her diabetic bracelet briefly crossed her mind as her surroundings crashed into darkness.
Her eyes flickered open to a brilliant spectrum of light—a rainbow of colors emanating from a single spot.
“It diffuses, purifies energy,” she heard a voice, a voice whose source remained in shadows.
It was almost as though it lay above her head, fixed or rather anchored to something.
“It’s very old, very powerful in certain hands although it has been hidden for so long.”
Her eyes drifted upward to the compelling spectrum. In fact she felt helpless to look away, and then abruptly it focused on her like a beam, sending a powerful jolt of energy shot directly into her heart.
Julia’s eyes snapped open. He was standing over her, the stranger from the street, and then she realized his hand was directly on her skin, on the heart area of her chest. It felt like warmth, energy pouring into her but that did not lessen the surprise. “What are you doing?” she managed to get out in a weak, croaky voice but he seemed not even to acknowledge her.
With great effort she pulled herself up to a sitting position, her hands supporting her on the rather warm cement of the St. Ann Street sidewalk. She now focused directly on the somewhat inappropriately placed hand that the stranger had not seen fit to remove.
He still appeared to be in that state of intense concentration so she repeated with emphasis, breathing rather deeply. “What are you doing?” Her question pulled him from a state she could only describe as intense concentration and he met her eyes with concern. Removing his hand, he seemed a bit dazed himself as though he had been elsewhere. “Trying to revive you.”
She scrambled awkwardly to get to her feet but he was right there, warm strong hands beneath her arms pulling her upwards. “Don’t rush it. You still seem ill,” he murmured.
“No,” she shook her head which was still spinning. “Well just shaky, low blood sugar.”
“Diabetic?” he said with question. She nodded, still trying to get her bearings. “Well, then let’s get you something to eat Miss. . .”
“Julia Moreau,” she obligingly filled in the awkward pause.
“Yes, let’s get you something to eat Julia Moreau. I’m Christian, Christian Montamat.” And then he smiled with a charm that hadn’t surfaced until now, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Treading on Borrowed Time on Kindle
Evelyn Klebert (1965-present) was born in the small town of Houma, Louisiana but did not find her true hometown of the soul until years later doing graduate work in English Literature and later marrying in the grand, enigmatic city of New Orleans. There she began to write and pursue a lifelong fascination for esoteric studies. She and her family relocated to Virginia for over a decade in the late 1990’s, living near the Appalachian mountains and later the Atlantic coast during which time she penned two paranormal novels, A Ghost of a Chance and An Uneasy Traveler. After hurricane Katrina, Evelyn and her husband, a native of New Orleans, felt compelled to return to their former home and help in the revitalization effort. Over the last several years she has expanded into the field of esoteric poetry with Considerations and Explanations and has also completed a new collection of supernatural short stories The Left Palm as well as two news novel set entirely in the city of New Orleans entitled The Sanctuary of Echoes and Treading on Borrowed Time. Please visit her at www.evelynklebert.com.
About Scott Nicholson:
Scott has written 12 novels, including the #1 bestseller in Mystery & Suspense Disintegration, The Skull Ring, The Red Church, Speed Dating with the Dead, As I Die Lying, Drummer Boy, and Forever Never Ends. Other electronic works include Burial to Follow, Crime Beat, and Transparent Lovers, and the story collections Ashes, The First, Head Cases, Zombie Bits, Gateway Drug, Curtains, and Flowers. With J.R. Rain, he wrote the urban fantasy Cursed! and, as L.C. Glazebrook, he wrote the paranormal romance October Girls. He lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, where he plays guitar, raise an organic garden, and work as a freelance fiction editor. Please visit him at: www.hauntedcomputer.com.
About J.R. Rain:
J.R. Rain is an ex-private investigator who now lives in a small house on a small island with his small dog, Sadie, who has more energy than Robin Williams. Please visit him at www.jrrain.com.
OTHER BOOKS BY SCOTT NICHOLSON
NOVELS
Forever Never Ends
Disintegration
The Red Church
Speed Dating with the Dead
The Skull Ring
Drummer Boy
As I Die Lying
Burial to Follow
October Girls
If I Were Your Monster
Crime Beat
Transparent Lovers
Liquid Fear
Chronic Fear
WITH J.R. RAIN
Cursed!
Ghost College
The Vampire Club
WITH J.R. RAIN AND H.T. NIGHT
Bad Blood
COLLECTIONS
Curtains
Flowers
Ashes
The First
Murdermouth: Zombie Bits
Head Cases
Gateway Drug
SCREENPLAYS
The Skull Ring
Creative Spirit
The Gorge
OTHER BOOKS BY J.R. RAIN
NOVELS
The Lost Ark
The Body Departed
VAMPIRE FOR HIRE SERIES
Moon Dance
Vampire Moon
American Vampire
Moon Child
Vampire Dawn
SAMANTHA MOON NOVELLAS
Christmas Moon
SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES
Vampire Blues: Four Stories
Vampire Games: Four Stories (coming soon)
THE JIM KNIGHTHORSE SERIES
Dark Horse
The Mummy Case
Hail Mary
ELVIS MYSTERY SERIES
Elvis Has Not Left the Building
You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog (coming soon)
THE SPINOZA SERIES
The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo
The Vampire Who Played Dead
The Vampire in the Iron Mask (coming soon)
THE GRAIL QUEST TRILOGY
Arthur
Merlin (coming soon)
WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON
Cursed!
Ghost College
The Vampire Club
WITH PIERS ANTHONY
Aladdin Relighted
Aladdin Sins Bad
WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON AND H.T. NIGHT
Bad Blood
SHORT STORIES
The Bleeder and Other Stories
Teeth and Other Stories
Vampire Nights and Other Stories
Vampire Rain and Four Stories
SCREENPLAYS
Judas Silver
Lost Eden
Return to the Table of Contents
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