Grave Danger Read online

  Clarissa laughed, causing a stir in the air. The street lights dimmed and brightened, causing someone in the crowd to scream. The tour guide calmed her, trying to tell her that ghosts are usually not malevolent and to think of them as wandering spirits not demons.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Did I make that happen? I didn’t mean to.”

  Now Henry laughed, this time causing the street lights to blink on an off in rapid succession. More people screamed and you could hear the tour guide yelling over the startled voices as he assured them that no one was trying to hurt them.

  “You’re as bad as Richard, Henry.” Clarissa scolded him good naturedly. “When I did it, it was accidental. Now make the lights stop blinking before you give those poor people a seizure or a heart attack.”

  “I’m just keeping up business, remember?” he explained with a devilish grin. “I’m making sure those people are getting their monies worth. Hopefully they’ll go home and tell their friends and family what a great experience they had in our city and convince them to come for a visit as well. Word of mouth is a strong tactic in business.”

  The street lights darkened, plunging the streets into darkness then in the next second they came back on, burning overly bright before returning to normal. At first the group was completely silent. Standing motionless as if afraid that even though everything appeared normal and safe, something could easily pop out and kill them. That wasn’t far from the truth. After a few hesitant moments the group of livings took the opportunity to move on to the next destination on the walking tour.

  “I think they got their monies worth and then some.” She watched as the group ambled away from them, some of them huddled together for protection from the things that darkness hides. “I even think you made a believer out of some of them.” Clarissa noted the man who had earlier looked so bored and uninterested, now scanning every little shadowy corner, waiting for the night creatures to leap out and attack. He held tightly onto his girlfriend’s hand, clutching hers in a death grip.

  “We need to go now, Clarissa,” Henry said, all the lightness of a moment ago gone. His tense, clipped words worried her. Just like that something had changed, the situation turning serious. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting and I need to get you home before it gets any later.”

  They continued onward, their leisurely pace replaced by hurried steps. Clarissa didn’t understand what had changed from a few minutes ago, but whatever it was, she realized that the darkness was something not only the living feared but the dead as well.

  “Henry,” Clarissa nearly shouted, “Slow down, you’re walking too fast. I can’t keep up. What’s the matter? Why are we in such a hurry now?” She thought for a moment, using senses that she had yet to completely understand. “What are you afraid of?”

  They were moving through backyards, cutting between houses. They had left the bustle of downtown and were now on residential area, far from tourists. Few street lamps glowed around them, making the tension more oppressive with the lack of light.

  Henry didn’t slow down, but he did explain. She would find out soon enough and it was for her benefit that she knew the truth about the world around them. It was a complex situation and would take too long to go into full detail. But he could give her a basic tutorial so that she would know how to be safe.

  There were some aspects of their world that even Henry couldn’t fully comprehend, secrets that were kept even from him.

  “It’s not safe to be wandering the streets at night.” He began. Clarissa was too newly developed and didn’t fully comprehend her own paranormal abilities. She would be an easy target for the flesh-eaters and if caught unaware by one of them she wouldn’t know how to defend herself. Clarissa was also an appealing soul to their dark appetites, her soul strong and bright, and a tasty treat for the damned and soulless.

  “What do you mean? We’re ghosts, Henry. The night is when we are supposed to roam. At least that’s what all the stories about us seem to reason, we haunt the living at night when they are most afraid. That’s how it works isn’t it?” They were dead. Nothing could harm a ghost. At least that’s what she assumed. Well, except for maybe an exorcist or a catholic priest. But even then she wasn’t so sure. As a ghost, Clarissa believed that danger was eliminated once she was beyond the grave and that such troubles wouldn’t be part of her afterlife. It seemed she had been wrong.

  Henry stopped walking so suddenly Clarissa smacked in to the back of him, causing a spark of electricity to arch out from the contact. He swiftly turned, a blur of movement, taking her shoulders, steadying her as he bent down to look directly into her startled eyes.

  “The night does not belong to us anymore, Clarissa. I should have told you from the beginning what you were getting yourself into when you first came to our city. I guess I didn’t want to scare you away and I was hoping to wait until you were completely settled in to this existence before forcing this on you.”

  “Scare me?” Clarissa murmured. “Aren’t we the ones who do the scaring around here? You can tell me Henry. Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as you think.”

  Henry furrowed his brows, squeezing her shoulders as if he could somehow impart this information through their connected touch. Most ghosts did not touch one another as it was seen as an intimate connection between souls and if Clarissa had been any other learned ghost she wouldn’t have let Henry touch her. It was also a way to control a spirit, to touch one and manipulate it to do whatever you wanted it to do if you had the power to do so. But Clarissa knew none of this; for now.

  She wasn’t getting it and Henry hated having to frighten her to make her understand. She already had enough to deal with just being dead. She was young, not just in human years, but in death years as well, only a few days old and already faced with danger. A grave danger that could end her existence, a death unlike the one she had already passed through, a complete annihilation that would destroy what was left of Clarissa Schofield.

  “Come along, I’ll explain,” he whispered, pulling her arm and propelling them quickly to their destination, moving so fast now that their feet barely touched the ground.

  “Let’s begin with this. We have an understanding of sorts with the creatures who reside over on Anastasia Island, just over the Bridge of Lions. We call them flesh-eaters, but you might have heard them called by other names, zombies in particular. They can only cross the bridge at full dark, but they usually never start to hunt until much later.” It was a lot to cover and the history of these creatures was unfamiliar to Henry. But Eleanor knew, she could tell Clarissa all about them. He just wanted her to know not to trust them or to ever let herself be alone with one of them. The strange relationship the Eidolon community had with these monsters still confounded Henry and he didn’t like having to share his city with them, let alone its people.

  “During the daytime hours, the city belongs to us. You know that the shops, restaurants and tourism stuff, that’s run by us. Every ghost tour you’ve ever been on, here or in any other state is operated by a ghost. Tourism itself keeps the city alive and running and we all prosper from the exchange. It’s a solid partnership we have with the living.” Henry turned his head, looking behind them, making certain that they were not being followed. He couldn’t detect any of them close, but he knew they would be out there soon, taking lives. It made him sick if he thought about it too long and he couldn’t do anything to change the status quo in this world.

  “When night falls,” he continued, facing forward and moving them quickly to Mrs. Connors home, “we must turn the city over to the flesh-eaters.” He paused, remembering when they had first encountered the clan of flesh-eaters. They had come back after so many decades and this time they couldn’t be put down so easily. The flesh-eaters were here for good and they all had to make sacrifices to keep the peace. It was a utilitarian method, sacrificing the few to save the many, but one death to spare thousands was still one death too many in Henry’s view.

  “
Are you telling me that we have zombies living in St. Augustine and that their eating the locals? That’s awful.” It was more than awful it was disgusting and cruel to allow such creatures to wander their streets at night devouring people. Killing innocent humans, there was no reason to allow such atrocities of nature to exist.

  But that didn’t explain why Henry feared for her safety, and he did. He was worried something terrible would happen to her. Something involving one of them that would truly destroy what was left of her existence. “What can a flesh-eater do to one like us? Can we be destroyed or devoured by one? Is such a thing possible?” Clarissa didn’t really know anything about these creatures but she guessed that they needed blood or flesh of living humans to keep themselves intact. A ghost had no body or blood and couldn’t possibly meet their needs.

  “Yes,” he answered. “We can be just as easily destroyed as a living human. Only if they consume us, without a body or blood there isn’t much left; they kill us for good. There is nothing left of us to exist in this world or the next. It would be as if we really no longer existed, our energy would become theirs and we would be lost. A ghost is not the flesh-eaters primary source of nourishment, but there is something about the fact that our form is composed from a human soul that makes us appealing to the soulless creatures.”

  Mrs. Connors house was coming into view. A two story wood planked structure with intricately carved hurricane shutters on the front windows. The front porch was a wraparound, large with wide sets of stairs leading up to the double door front entrance. A Florida southern house, it dated back to the late nineteenth century, passing through the generations until it came into the ownership of one Madeline Connors; a special lady with unique paranormal gifts of her own.

  All the lights were on in the house. She was indeed expecting them tonight. Clarissa and Henry stepped up onto the front porch which was occupied by outdoor furniture: a set of chairs and tables, potted plants and hanging vines from a trellis that ran along the entire front of the house. It was a place to spend quiet afternoons drinking iced tea and talking with friends and neighbors.

  Henry pushed the button on the doorbell, setting off the chimes inside the house, loud enough that they could be heard from outside. They stood silently as they waited for Mrs. Connors to answer her front door. If Maddy was any other kind of woman she might have been scared out of her wits at finding two ghosts standing at her front door. But she wasn’t easily scared and to her, the supernatural world wasn’t so different from her own.

  “Don’t ever go outside this house alone at night, Clarissa. I am very serious about this. If you need anything at all, just inform Mrs. Connors and she’ll contact one of us. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” Henry’s face drew tight with concern, his usual cheerful eyes turning cold.

  “I understand, Henry,” she assured him. “I won’t go out unless I’m with you or someone else. But tell me something. Why would we allow these creatures to exist in our city? If they’re as evil as I think they are then we should not be making bargains with them, allowing them to have our city. It’s like making a deal with the devil. You may think you’re sparing the masses, but you’re not. In the end the devil always wins.”

  She looked up at one of the nicest ghosts she had met and wondered more about his past. He was a protective sort of man and she could appreciate that to some extent. Right now she sensed he was extremely concerned for her well being, her safety. “Why are afraid for me? I don’t scare that easily.”

  “I know and that is exactly what worries me.” He looked off into the distance, into the night that consumed the old city. Tonight someone would die a most horrible death and he couldn’t do anything about it. Death was part of life; he had firsthand experience with the reaper. His own death had been gruesome and unnatural, but the fact that he knew people were dying tonight and his people were allowing the murders to happen in their city made his insides twist in knots; a purely psychological reaction because he didn’t have any guts to knot up.

  This woman was special, a much needed addition to their community. Or maybe she would be a threat to them all. It was yet to be decided. Henry wondered how the night creatures would react to her. He never wanted to actually find out, hoping that she would keep away from them as long as possible.

  “There is more to you than you realize, Clarissa.” Henry spoke, looking down at her ghostly form. “You are a powerful soul and you don’t even realize it. The flesh-eaters would literally kill to possess you. Stay away from them.”

  Clarissa wanted to speak with him further on the matter, but just as she opened her mouth to speak the front door opened revealing an older woman, a warm cheerful expression on her slightly wrinkled face.

  “Oh good,” she sighed. “You’re both finally here.” She extended her hand in welcome. “Do come in, Henry.” She turned to eye Clarissa intently, “Ms. Schofield, it’s lovely to meet you at last. It will be such a delight to have you in my home. Well, come in. I’ve made up your room, Clarissa.”

  Mrs. Connors continued to twitter away as they followed her into her house. Henry closed the front door as he and Clarissa were shown around the house. He had visited Maddy many times in the past as he had known her since she was a child, giving her the nickname Maddy when she was just a kid. Now his little Maddy looked older than he did and one day she would die and leave him. But it was something that his kind always faced. And the truth was that he didn’t want this existence for her. When her time came, he didn’t want her to stay behind like the others even if that meant he would never see her again. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to concern himself with this for a few more years.

  “Mrs. Connors is different isn’t she? There is a strange glow about her that I haven’t seen on the other livings in the city. What is she?” Clarissa walked beside Henry as they trailed behind Mrs. Connors, who was still talking up a storm about her home, explaining the history of the house and the décor in intricate detail.

  “Maddy is a psychic among other things. Isn’t that right Maddy?”

  Mrs. Connors looked behind her, scanning between the two ghostly persons in her home. She nodded her ascent before turning around and continuing forward. “Something like that Henry,” she answered simply. Then she resumed the detailed tour of the house. Maddy wasn’t boastful about her abilities, preferring to allow others to come to their own conclusions about her. She was a simple woman with exceptional skills when it came to the unnatural world.

  Henry left the women after several minutes, insisting that he had much to do before the morning lights touched the city. Kissing Mrs. Connors hand in a gentlemanly fashion, he gave Clarissa a single look that reiterated his earlier statement. She was to remain inside Mrs. Connors home until Eleanor came to get her in the morning and under no circumstances was she to leave the house before full light. And so Henry left her in the more than capable living hands of Madeline Connors, psychic and other things not yet guessed at, a woman who Clarissa could see was more than a simple living woman.

  Clarissa couldn’t help but notice that Henry planned on walking home alone despite his warning that it was unsafe to travel through the city streets during the darkest hours. These safety rules he had imparted upon her apparently didn’t rule his actions in the city. But he was an aged ghost, far more familiar with these dark creatures than she and could likely take care of himself if he had a run-in with one of their kind.

  She didn’t ask anything further of Henry on the issue of flesh-eaters in their city, nor did she think it appropriate to discuss the matter with Mrs. Connors. Though, Clarissa was sure that the woman knew just as much about them as anyone else in town. She, as a living, was most at risk from an attack by them. It disturbed Clarissa to know that the ghosts Mrs. Connors served could easily put her in jeopardy by allowing the flesh-eaters to roam the streets. The humans were caught in the crossfire’s of this strange alliance; used as food for the undead. Clarissa wondered if knowing the truth was better than not, or if simply be b
lissfully ignorant like most of the living was best.

  Clarissa watched through the front parlor windows as Henry strolled away from the house, his steps unhurried but quick. Then he disappeared, swallowed up by the night so she could no longer see him.

  She turned away from the window, hearing the footfalls of Mrs. Connors as she came down the hallway to join her. Mrs. Connors had left her in the parlor as she had gone to the kitchen to return a phone call from her grandson, Jackson. He would be coming over here tomorrow for one of his weekend visits. Jackson kept late hours like his grandmother, much to his parent’s disappointment. They feared he was more like her then he should be.

  Clarissa’s hearing had improved with death, other senses heightened as well. Mrs. Connors heart beat was a heavy rhythm in Clarissa’s ears, her blood pumping through her body, a cascading rush of fluid in a being that was complete, living. Clarissa was drawn to the presence of the living, sensing them even from afar. She felt her own wrist, pressing her fingers to the veins there and felt nothing, no flow of blood or twitch of nerves. Her system was silent, her flesh cool, but there was something living there under the illusion of skin. It was not the flow of blood that coursed through her system, but the energy of the immortal soul and something else she couldn’t name. And in Clarissa, it was strong.

  Mrs. Connors entered into the front parlor, seeing immediately her newest house guest. She was young, her skin pale and glowing in her deathly state. Anyone seeing her in this existence might mistake her for one of the angels. But Maddy knew about such deities to know the difference. For death to take a person at such an age was a sadness that many of the living experienced. Death did not discriminate. He took any and all who crossed his path and without remorse.