Flash Fiction Friday

"The Star and the Ghost" (part 2 of "The Job Never Ends") ©2006, Tempest Knight “Then you’re my only hope.” Yeah. Me and Han Solo, princess. I took a long sip of my coffee while eyeing the young woman sitting hunched across me on the booth. Her big blue eyes kept darting everywhere as if expecting someone to pop next to her any minute. I wondered who. I waited for her to explain herself, but she sat there in silence. I sighed annoyed. I was tired and felt like hell after fighting a vampire. And losing track of the Vampire Master’s lackey and being surprised – and almost seduced – by the new vampire in town didn't sweeten my disposition. Finally, I set down the empty cup on the table and leaned back. "What can I do for you, Ms. Malone?" She bit her lower lip. "Get rid of a ghost." **** After a long nap and an even longer bath, I drove up the gravel driveway and parked my SUV in front of an ancient, dark stone mansion with well-maintained garden. No wonder it was haunted. I'd bet it came with an old family cemetery. With stiff movements, I got out of my SUV. I left my ghosthunting gear inside. Ghosts didn't stir during the day. Too much energy coming from the living blocked their faint energy. That was why ghosts mostly came out at night, when most of the living slept. I looked up at the sky. There were still a few hours of light left. As a precaution, I carried only a small bag of salt and a vial of holy water in my pockets. Ms. Malone was waiting for me at the top of the massive stairs. Next to her a man stood. Lanky, thinning fair-haired hair, glasses too big for his square face, preppy clothes. Together they looked like Barbie and Ken. As soon as I reached them, the man hurriedly extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Star." I arched an eyebrow but didn't take the hand he offered. As a rule I never shook hands. "Call me Calista." "Calista." He nodded as he slid his hand over the lapel of his shirt, his wash-out green eyes glancing around. He was nervous about something. Me or the ghost? Tough choice. Not. Then he cleared his throat and straightened. With his chin tilted up, he looked down at me. "My fiancée feels that certain matter has gotten out of control, and you’re the right person to take care of it. We expect your discretion, of course." I stepped closer and smiled. "Of course," I said slowly, my voice low. It made the pompous ass more nervous. Good. **** I’d inspected the first floor of the massive mansion. So far nothing. Still stretching with my senses, trying to perceive a glimmer of the ghost energy, I worked my way down the corridor of the second floor, where the bedrooms were. I reached the last door and tried the knob. Locked. Why? I made quick work of it and stepped inside. The room was larger than the others. Bookshelves covered the walls, except for one with French windows. An antique desk sat in front of them. A studio. "Hello." I turned to the sound of the gentle male voice and noticed a door opened on the right side. The voice seemed to drift from the other room. I stepped in. The drapes covered the windows. The light coming from the studio cast shadows. My eyes quickly adjusted. A four-poster bed stood on a dais. The furniture screamed masculine. Suddenly warmth enveloped me. A ghost. "Why are you here?" This time the voice sounded clearer. Closer. How was I supposed to answer that? And to a ghost? Hey, I was passing by the neighborhood and I saw the lights on...? Geez. I never had a ghost question me why I was there. They just attacked me, and I captured them. Simple. Clean. I ran my fingers through my hair. "The owner asked me to come here and investigate some paranormal activities." "You’ve come to kill me." For a moment the sad tone in his question touched me, then I shook my head. I couldn’t kill what was dead. I could help the soul move to the other plane or trapped it. But before I could question him, the temperature of the room increased. My skin rippled as I felt his agitation. "Oh dear. The night is coming. Go." His voice was urgent now. "What?" "Leave now. He must not found you here." "He? Who?" "The other." "You mean there's another ghost here?" Shit. I didn't need ghosts double-tagging. "N-not really." "Then exactly what do you mean?" "I-I am not m-myself when the night comes." Great. A ghost with a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde complex. "Look, I—" Suddenly a blood-curling scream erupted. Cringing, I put my hands over my ears and ran out of the room. Before I could reach them, the door of the studio slammed closed. I took several steps back. The drapes over the French windows dropped plunging the room in darkness. Shit. The sun hadn’t set yet. No ghost could be this powerful. I stood still for a while. Then slowly I took my hands off my ears. The screaming had stopped. An eerie silence set in. My breathing quickened. The air carried the faint aroma of sandalwood. I walked back to the room, and the doors closed behind me. I turned and tried to pry them open. I swore under my breath. Trapped. A chill swept in, and I stilled myself. "Hello, my dear." The voice was still male, but it was rich and deep. Seductive. Mr. Hyde, I presumed? "Who are you?" If I could get him to give me his name, I could control him. The ghost's masculine laughter rang through the room. "Very clever, witch." Apparently not clever enough. "Did you think I'd give you my name so you can have power over me?" His deep voice whispered sensuously in my ear. "No woman will ever have that much power over me." Oh boy. Hell hath no fury like a ghost scorned. A warm air, like a lover's fingers, caressed my neck, then slid up and down my arms, sending tendrils of liquid fire. "My beautiful star." I swallowed hard, my breathing coming in short gasps. If he found out my name, I'd be at his mercy. "What do you want?" I felt his whole presence before me now. So close. Overwhelming me. I couldn't stop the rush of heat. "A kiss." I felt his warmth over my lips. "A kiss?" My voice came out breathy. Damn. "Yes. Only a kiss. I don't ask for much, do I?" Before I could answer, I felt warm, soft lips molding to mine, moving expertly. Coaxing a response with little nips. I closed my eyes and "saw" the face of man with long ink-black hair and dazzling sky-blue eyes. His sensuous full lips over mine. Unable to resist his erotic attack, I opened my mouth and his tongue plunged inside, teasing and tasting. I heard myself moan. I should stop him. I couldn't allow him to control my mind - and body - like this. But his hands played over my back, and with every move, I felt my surrender. His strong arms wrapped around me, and I leaned against his body, feeling every hard curve touching mine. "No!" Rage rang in his voice as he pushed me away from him. I fell hard on the floor, still dazed. I shook my head trying to clear it up. The room was no longer chilled. I tried to sense the ghost presence, but met only emptiness. Suddenly I felt the something solid over my leg. I looked down, and a white furball meowed back at me. I laughed. Cats, the guardians of the dead. I'd been saved by a little kitten.