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“I suggest you stop acting like a dick and start behaving more like the respectable ghost you should be by now.”

  The two men glowered at one another. Clarissa glanced at the petite blonde, Eleanor. The woman simply shrugged her small shoulders and smiled sweetly back at her. Apparently the two men didn’t get along so well despite being friends. Apparently it was best not to interfere.

  While Henry had gone to see about their order and had stopped to talk to the waiter, Clarissa had taken the initiative to introduce herself fully to the two ghosts across from her. They had both been more than pleased to have her join their community. It was extremely comforting to know that she wouldn’t be alone in her death. And from what she could see of ghostly life, it wasn’t that much different from that of the living. They drank and laughed and behaved like any other normal human being.

  The four of them sat quietly for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the old city. The living were living it up good tonight, the dead not that far behind.

  Eleanor was the first to break the silence. She turned to look at Henry across from her. Henry, take notice of her beautiful blue eyes on him, stopped frowning immediately.

  “Is Clarissa going to be staying with Mrs. Connors? I know she would be pleased to have her.”

  Henry nodded in assent.

  “That’s good. I just saw her this morning on Cordova and I told her I thought she’d have a new guest staying with her tonight.” Eleanor smiled to herself as she recalled the living woman.

  Turning her attention to Clarissa she continued. “Mrs. Connors is the sweetest living woman you’ll ever meet. She’ll probably fuss over you like you were her own baby girl. She’s like that. It’s so sweet.”

  Henry interjected. “Most of the new citizens of our community stay with her until we can find a permanent residence for them.” He looked questioningly at Clarissa. “I hope you won’t mind sharing a place with a living. If you do, I could set you up in a hotel for awhile.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” she assured him. “This Mrs. Connors sounds like a decent living and I don’t mind staying with her. Then I guess she can see us.” She remembered Eleanor saying that she and the living woman had spoken. “How is it that she can see us, but none of the others can?” waving her hand at the living patrons in the tavern.

  It was Richard who answered her. “Most of the living can’t see us,” he explained, “or more likely they don’t want to see us. But some of them are intuitive enough to see beyond their own barriers of reasoning.” He rubbed a hand along his otherworldly chest. “We don’t exactly fit into what is normal to them. Most think of us as a novelty item or only fit to be seen on ghost tours or in the movies. They never imagine us as humans existing alongside of them day after day.”

  “I have to say that I was probably one of them,” Clarissa admitted to them all, though she wasn’t sure that was entirely true. She had to wonder if she wasn’t excepting all of this too easily. “The idea of a ghost just seems too fantastical to be reality.”

  “And yet here we are,” Eleanor spoke as she reached out and put her hand over Clarissa’s, patting it in understanding. “We are very real, indeed.” Being dead wasn’t easy, she could attest to that from personal experience. But she knew it was the comfort of friends like Henry and pseudo-bad-ass Richard that kept her from a lonely and tortured afterlife. Even Mrs. Connors was a blessing. Through her, she could still be a part of the living world.

  Just then their orders came up. Richard exclaimed triumphantly as his beer came floating down to land on the table top in front of him along with a mammoth burger and a plate of fresh steaming fries, lightly salted. A Ketchup bottle manifested itself on the table too. More plates and mugs floated down from above like manna from heaven as Clarissa watched wide eyed at the spectacle.

  Clarissa picked up her own glass as she watched Richard tear into his burger with the gusto of an animal or a teenage boy. It felt solid and very real in her hands. It was even icy cold, as it should be. Taking a hesitant sip of her beer she realized it even tasted real. Amazing, she thought.

  Henry took a big bite of his burger and turned to look at Clarissa. He swallowed before he spoke. “Tastes pretty good doesn’t it? You should try the food.”

  Clarissa picked up her burger from the plate in front of her, bringing the tantalizing monster slowly to her mouth. She took a small, hesitant size bite. As the spectral food touched her taste buds she could feel their collective gazes on her, watching as she tried her first ghost meal. She chewed the very tangible food around in her mouth before swallowing. Putting the burger down on the plate, she looked at each of them, reading in their faces their excited expectation for some response.

  “It’s very good,” she appraised the food, “I don’t think I could have made it better myself. The living chefs have nothing on Clare’s cooking.”

  They all smiled and laughed in agreement before returning to their own food and drink. There was little conversation as the four of them devoured their meal.

  Just as they were almost finished, several spectral staff members from the tavern came through the kitchen door, coming over to stand in a formation around their table. They all had very welcoming expressions of their ghostly faces as they gazed down at Clarissa, the newest citizen of their community.

  Clarissa knew she would likely forget their names as they introduced themselves to her, but at least she might remember their faces if she met them again. In turn, each spoke welcoming words, saying how glad they were that she would be staying on in their city.

  Then as a surprise, Josh presented her with a small round chocolate cake.

  “We had Clare make it up especially for you,” Josh said with tender smile, as his laid the cake in front of her. “If there’s anything we can do, don’t hesitate to ask.” Then he stepped back with the others as they broke out in song.

  It was a sweet little number, a celebration of ghost-hood. Clarissa enjoyed their performance immensely and thought that the group of ghostly singers all rather talented. Likely some of the staff had been professional vocalists in life.

  When they finished, Henry, Clarissa and Eleanor clapped in approval as did several of the other dead patrons in the restaurant. Richard clapped grudgingly out of respect. He didn’t care for the style of music which was more like old timey barber shop.

  “Thank you all so much,” Clarissa exclaimed, looking between the tavern staff and the three ghosts at the table. “I’m really glad I came to this city.” She looked down at the lovely cake. “And this is the proverbial frosting on the cake. You all have been extremely generous to someone you don’t even know.”

  Josh looked down at the sweet young woman, seeing glowing moisture in her ghostly eyes. He had been younger than her when he had died. He understood what it felt like to have the threads of life cut so short of your expectation. “That’s what being a part of this community is like. We take this deathly existence in stride and see to it that no one feels alone or unappreciated.”

  “Even jerks like Richard here,” Henry interjected. “He might be as annoying as hell, but he is still one of us and we don’t forget that.”

  Richard rolled his eyes at their melodramatic speeches. “I feel so loved right now, old man,” he said snidely. “Hurry, get me a tissue. I think I’m leaking,” he cried out in ridiculous Richard dramatics.

  Clarissa just smiled. Their bantering just made this existence that much more normal and human. She glanced down at her cake again, taking in the little masterpiece. As a centerpiece the cake had on it a small pink skull, smiling up at her in welcome. In the empty eye sockets were red roses fringed with ice blue coloring on the ends of each petal. Made from candied sugar, the skull was more sweet and girly than gruesome. The cake itself was covered in a thick chocolate frosting. Tiny sprinkles made into the shapes of arm bones, leg bones and skeletal feet were arranged over the surface. The sprinkles were also died pink to match the skull.

  “Do you mind if I try a piece of tha
t, Clarissa?” Richard asked with a boyish looking hopefulness on his face. He was a charmer underneath that blowhard, punk attitude. There was likely a very sweet and endearing side to Richard. It would just take the right person to bring that side out of him.

  “Sure,” she answered, pushing it toward the middle of the table. “Actually,” she continued. “You should all try some of this.”

  And with those words several silver spoons and forks materialized on the table. Clarissa looked to the staff, telling them to try some as well. They didn’t decline her offer. Clare made the best spectral food in town.

  Eleanor removed the pretty pink skull from the top of the cake, setting it on a black and gold napkin. “This is too pretty to eat. I’ll just set this here and you can take this home with you.” Then she picked up her own utensil and scooped up a large piece of delicious confection.

  They devoured the cake until there was nothing but crumbs left on the crystal plate.

  Chapter 3-

  Henry and Clarissa left Happy Haunts a quarter before midnight. The night air would have likely chilled them if it weren’t for the fact that they were already dead. Richard and Eleanor had eagerly accepted the responsibility of taking Clarissa around town tomorrow; showing her the ropes of this afterlife.

  The Eidolon Community of St. Augustine went to great lengths to create and maintain a valued lifestyle for its citizens, to co-exist in this world with the living, who for the most part, went unaware of their influence in the old city. They watched out for the livings, keeping those who would harm them from taking complete control of their world.

  The dead needed the living. Henry had explained to Clarissa that for the ghosts it was a matter of business. With no living customers to sell to, then there were no profits to buy the lifestyle the ghosts needed to assimilate into living culture; tangible items that connected them with the livings.

  It worked out as well that the livings profited from the ghosts, increasing tourism to the area by their presence alone, putting money in everyone’s pockets. It was a solid partnership that benefited all.

  Unfortunately, all was not at peace in the Sun Shine State. Henry and the rest of the Eidolon community couldn’t escape from the others. In recent years, the citizens and tourists of the oldest city had to contend with other deadly residents, ones that could leave this city in tatters if left unchecked. The monsters of this world were never far from their doorsteps. For those living in the city of St. Augustine, the monsters resided across the ancient Bridge of Lions on Anastasia Island.

  The flesh-eaters, zombies to the livings, had staked their claim on the area centuries ago. When the European settlers ventured out to explore a new and strange world, the stories of the flesh-eaters were written along with theirs. The land was caste in magick, dark forces best left alone. The wars and bloodshed that was so much a part of the first decades of this community stirred up the magick and created a monster.

  The numbers always began as a select few. And then like a cancerous cell, their numbers grew. Those livings who first tried to make a home in St. Augustine were confronted by this creature, taking a number of them to their graves.

  It was believed by many residents in St. Augustine that the flesh-eaters of today were created as a curse to the white men and women who forced the natives from their homes. The land itself created these monsters. The magic of the ancient ones making what once was human into a soulless killer. But even such theories are questionable.

  The search for the genesis of the flesh-eater was in some respects as conflicted as the search for the creation of mankind itself. Henry and the others couldn’t fully comprehend the beasts and though they tolerated them they believed them more than evil. They and others believed these creatures as cursed or damned. Some friendlier thoughts were that they were lost and confused bodies searching for completion. Much like the ghosts they were forced to take the hand dealt to them by death. Manage the best way they know how to survive. What was clear and undeniable to those in the know was that these creatures did exist in our world.

  Their reign in this city had seemed unending. But every predator was susceptible to another. The hierarchy of nature combated this threat with the creation of a higher authority. The death dealers or death bokor enacted the blow that all but extinguished the flesh-eaters, driving them from the city, putting to rest the damned and soulless.

  For two hundred and sixty years there had never been a flesh-eater in St. Augustine. Until one day, approximately thirty-eight years ago, when a clan of them moved themselves back in to the oldest city. They planned to stay for good this time.

  With the need for death dealers so low after the years of peace, at this critical time for the city there were none to be found. Drastic measures had to be considered for the safety of the larger population. So a bargain was struck between the two communities, the souls with no bodies and the bodies with no souls. Each would share the city and the living that passed through it. The livings had to be sacrificed for the good of all. It was a fact that Henry and the others rarely liked to dwell on, simply sweeping the truth under the rug where the cover of darkness could keep the bloody stains from view.

  “Do you think we would be bothering Mrs. Connors, showing up like this at her home so late at night? It’s almost midnight and she’s likely already in bed asleep.”

  Henry and Clarissa turned down a narrow side street. Mrs. Madeline Connors lived a few blocks west of Grace Methodist Church, a short walk from the historic downtown.

  “No,” Henry assured Clarissa. “Maddy stays up later than most. She’s a bit of a night owl. And besides, I called earlier telling her that I thought you’d be coming home today. She will be up and waiting for us to arrive, I’m sure.”

  Clarissa took in his words about coming home, rolling them around in her brain for a few minutes. The thought of being welcomed home struck an emotional chord inside her. She couldn’t remember ever having another home and this place just felt right to her deathly senses.

  A mid-October breeze ruffled Clarissa’s hair, blowing it in her face, tickling her nose. She brushed it away, scratching her nose out of habit. The night was eerily quite as most of the locals had already secured themselves in the safety of their homes. She noticed this but didn’t think it odd that the streets were for the most part empty of people, living or dead. Clarissa never imagined there was any other reason for the change in atmosphere.

  But the truth of the night was far from pleasant. Clarissa didn't wasn’t yet aware that when the sun sank away from the city those who controlled the day turned ownership over to the creatures of the night. Anyone foolish enough to disregard the changeover had the misfortune of being swiftly and expertly swallowed up, consumed by the dark. And when light came, never heard from again.

  A group of tourists on a walking ghost tour stood at an intersection, all their gazes looking up at one of the old Bed and Breakfasts. The tour guide was re-telling one of many ghost stories about the city, specifically one involving poltergeist activities in one of the rooms. The young man continued, captivating his audience with a story of his own encounter with the paranormal world. Everyone loved a good ghostly tale, as evidenced by the numerous livings who shelled out the cash to hear them.

  Henry paused across the street from the congregation of livings. It was one of the last tours of the night. Clarissa halted mid-stride when she too noticed the group. They stood watching the tourists and their guide, enjoying a free show as the tour guide held up an EFM device, waving it around, searching for a paranormal presence.

  “You see folks,” he talked loudly to the group, “I’m picking up a bit of activity. It looks like we’re not alone out here.”

  A woman grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, an excited smile on her face. The man in turn stared off into space, a bored-out-of-his-mind expression on his face. He was one of the non-believers.

  “When I move the EFM this way, you can notice the change on the dial. Whatever it is,” he pointed the machine in
the opposite direction of the two ghosts. An EFM or electromagnetic field meter was one of the basic equipment used by ghost hunters. However, the thing didn’t always work properly in the field, other frequencies tended to interfere with the paranormal currents. “It’s in that direction.”

  “Have you ever actually seen a ghost in person, not just one of their tricks like turning on the facet, but a real ghost sighting?”Someone in the crowd asked the question, but Clarissa couldn’t see who it had been. It had definitely been female and something about that voice was almost familiar.

  The tour guide shook his head in assent. “I have. ‘Bout two years ago I saw a man going through my CD collection. At first I thought I was being robbed, he looked so real. Black hair, looked like he was straight out of some eighties cover band.” He scratched his head, smiling to himself as he remembered the strange encounter he would never forget. “I asked him what the hell he was doing in my house. He looked at me, a stupid grin on his face like he knew a secret I didn’t. He said I had a great collection and wanted to know if I died could he have it. Then he vanished, one minute looking as real as you and me and then nothing. It was the greatest experience of my life.”

  The bored man rolled his eyes, not believing the story was anything but a ghostly tall tale. His girlfriend on the other hand loved everything paranormal and was more than eager to share her ghostly encounter. She believed her hotel room was haunted and wondered how she could investigate it. The tour guide was more than pleased to tell her that back at the shop, where they began the tour, were EVP’s and other paranormal hunting devices to outfit her as an amateur ghost hunter.

  “So, do you really think that woman saw a ghost?” Clarissa asked Henry. “You know that ghost he described? It sounds a lot like someone I know,” she said with a half grin. “What do you think?”

  Henry folded his arms, shook his head in exasperation and nodded in agreement. Richard loved to put on a show for the people, a left over trait from his living days. Most of the paranormal activity in the city was conducted by him or somehow connected with him. “That’s the kind of shit Richard lives for – or dies for, either one – you know what I mean. I’m only surprised he didn’t steal anything. But I guess it’s good for business; can’t be a haunted city without haunting the living.”