Grave Danger Page 6

  “You scared me to death, Richard.”

  Richard raised one dark eyebrow, pushing his messy hair around on his head. “A little difficult to do, don’t you think? When you’re already expired as it is.”

  “It’s a figure of speech, smart ass,” she said with small grin. Clarissa resumed her search through the racks of clothes, still unsure of what she wanted. She pushed through the stock of winter skirts, ignoring Richard as he leaned against the clerks counter.

  Eleanor stood across from them on the opposite side of the tiny store, gazing at herself in a full length mirror. Lizzy was handing her another jacket to try on, elbow length with large brass buttons down the front. She nodded to herself as she turned left then right, trying to see the look from altering angles in the mirror.

  Lizzy’s store, on Charlotte Street, had a cute wooden sign outside the glass doors shaped like a pin cushion with a large knitting needle. It was difficult to find her place of business if you weren’t dead or among the few livings connected with their world. Lizzy loved her shop, spending most of her hours in it or thinking about how she could improve upon it. Her entire afterlife was about fashion, a leftover trait from her living days. She felt most at peace when she was thinking about clothing designs.

  “You’re both killing me with this damned shopping spree. What the hell do you need to change your clothes for? And you’ve been at this crap for hours.” Richard folded his pale arms across his chest, sporting his usual vintage tee. He never changed out of his death clothes, ever. “I could be eating a delicious medium rare steak right now, but no, I’m here watching you two play princess dress-up party.”

  “Oh Richard, stop complaining.” Eleanor took off her jacket, handing it back to Lizzy. “You’re dead and as far as I know don’t really need to eat to stay alive. Besides, you can stand to be a little more patient. There are more things in death than food. So make yourself useful and help Clarissa pick something out.”

  “I’m not your personal assistant, Elle,” he said bitterly, using his nickname for her. Richard watched as Lizzy strolled toward him with a stack of clothes Eleanor had discarded in her arms. She was a small woman with reddish brown hair that she kept in a short bob cut. The clothes looked like they were trying to swallow her up, only her face and legs were visible.

  “Lizzy,” he called as she came closer to him, “Why do you always bend and scrap at her majesties every bidding?” He pushed himself away from the counter, removing the hefty stack of clothes from her arms. He tossed them in the back room. “She may be an Eleanor, but she’s no queen. Unless there’s a queen of drama,” he made an evil face, “Well then that’s all her.”

  “You’re one to talk Mr. Poltergeist.” Eleanor hissed, looking at him through the mirror. “I’m sure if you looked up drama on dictionary.com you would see a picture of your ugly face.”

  Lizzy ignored them both. It was in their nature to be argumentative with each other. The three of them, Henry, Richard, and Eleanor, they engaged in regular confrontations with each other, but seemed to always work things out. One moment calling each other awful names then laughing and going out on the town together the next day. Eleanor and Richard could dish out insults like practiced professionals.

  “I wouldn’t stand so close to that mirror, oh wicked queen. Are you planning on asking it who is the fairest in the land? I wouldn’t if I were you; you might be a bit disappointed to know the truth. Ah, stand back Eleanor. I believe there’s a crack starting in the glass.”

  Clarissa and Lizzy could see that these two enjoyed being cruel to each other and could easily go too far and seriously hurt the others feelings. Clarissa took Eleanor and Lizzy took Richard. It was best to separate them before the heat of their bantering turned into an uncontrollable firestorm.

  Clarissa walked over to Eleanor, another jacket that Lizzy had handed to her in her hands. She helped Eleanor try it on and complemented her on the look of it. Lizzy took that moment to distract Richard from further hassling Eleanor.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, Richard? Perhaps a new shirt would be nice?” Lizzy questioned, forcing his attention solely on her. She took out a catalogue from behind her counter. It had just come in from one of the deadly fashion distributers. To keep up on current trends the larger dead community funded projects such as these to put the information into every soul’s hands. Descendent Digest was hit with readers, rivaling living magazine distributers in readership. And in the fashion world, Phantom Fashion was the choice source for the newest must haves.

  “I got this in yesterday. It’s their fall/winter collection.” Lizzy opened the thick magazine, placing it on the counter so Richard could see. Flipping through the glossy pages she searched for something she would like to see Richard wearing. Most of the magazine was filled with adverts, ads for pest protection from the living, creams to keep your ghostly skin looking radiant all year long, or information on ghostly activities in the greater area.

  “Do you see anything you might like to try?” She knew he didn’t care for any of this, but it was worth a shot to see if he might at least attempt to wear clothes from this modern era.

  Richard leaned over the counter, brushing his arm against her as he looked down at the pages of the fashion catalogue. Lizzy cleared her throat and stepped a few inches to her right. She was his senior by a good ten years or so. But in looks they appeared closer in age. However, looks were deceiving and besides they were from entirely different worlds. If only she could tell her tingling arm that. A brush of his ghostly flesh against her and she was turned into a spectral puddle.

  “No one actually wears clothes like this in public.” He pointed to the page. “This guy looks like a total pansy in that get-up.” Tapping his ghostly finger he continued. “This is female propaganda against guys like me to get us to wear these stupid outfits. I’ll keep my own threads on and save myself the embarrassment.”

  “You’re being ridiculous and I think he looks very nice. You see the cut of the shirt sets off his chest and it’s a good color for his complexion.” Lizzy fingered the photo, imagining Richard wearing the clothes the model was sporting so well in the photo. Richard would look really good in something other than his usual eighties rocker outfit, which in her opinion lost its appeal soon after coming into fashion back then. Now, he looked more than dated. Maybe he wasn’t a pretty boy model, but he had a decent build and a masculine handsome face that would showcase the fall collection superbly.

  But Lizzy suspected that Richard kept his aged look for reasons other than because he couldn’t stand current fashion. He was holding on to more than his old wardrobe. She could relate to whatever hurt kept Richard from moving forward with his afterlife. Though she would never say so, they were kindred spirits, lost and lonely souls.

  “Is this what you like, Lizzy?” Richard furrowed his dark brows leaning forward till their faces were only inches apart. “These kinds of guys with their prissy haircuts and tailored designer duds, is that what you’re into?”

  Lizzy could feel his ghostly presence so close to her. It was exciting and frightening. She had never been attracted to another ghost, not in her entire death. She’d never thought about such things. Moving here three years ago from New York, she had pictured having a different existence. But in all her planning’s she had never thought about love.

  She was aware that ghosts could and did have relationships with each other. Mr. and Mrs. Mendez was one couple in particular. Finding love even in death was a special blessing as those two had both been fortunate to find.

  “Sure,” she answered him. Turning her head, she met him, eye to eye. She noticed he had green eyes with flecks of brown in them and they were spectacular. “I’m a dressmaker, so of course I like to see put together men, prissy hair and all.”

  He didn’t seem to like her answer, pulling back as he made a disgusted face at her. “That just figures, doesn’t it?” he said angrily.

  Lizzy folded her arms across her small chest, defe
nsive, raising her delicate eyebrows up at him. “What do you want me to say, Richard? That I like guys who dress like they went to bed and woke up the next morning in the same cloths. I like fashion and I like guys who take the time to dress to current fashion and don’t dress like slobs.”

  If she had wanted to wound him with her words, she succeeded. Lizzy could cut through his protective snarky exterior and do serious damage to the man underneath. He was stuck in the eighties and for a damn good reason. A reason he wasn’t ready to explore even after all these years.

  Richard had only his pride left to him. His death had stripped almost everything else away and he knew with absolute certainty that Mrs. Elizabeth Sands would forever be just out of his reach. She was too damn good for him, too nice and too innocent. She deserved a guy like the one she had pointed to in the glossy sheets of her fashion catalogue, not him.

  She had come to St. Augustine three years earlier from New York City where her still living husband lived with his new family. After more than thirty years of watching him live his life she had taken the final step and left him behind. Her husband had remarried several years after her untimely death, creating a new family; one that she couldn’t be part of. But she still kept her married name which stated quite clearly that she had yet to move on completely. Richard knew that she would never let him take the place of her husband in her heart. He would be a fool to ever think she would.

  “I’ll be outside.” He spoke in a chilling voice. “You can send them out when they’re done playing dress-up.”

  Richard turned and walked away from Lizzy, never seeing the bright tear slip quietly down her pale cheek.

  Lizzy quickly dabbed at her eyes, turning away from the other two women so she could compose herself in private. She had been cruel to him, but he had been asking for it for a long time. And she had lied. She didn’t want some picture perfect magazine model. Lizzy wanted a handsome rebel, bad boy who never brushed his hair except with his fingers. One that looked like he threw on whatever garment was closest at hand at the time, a bedraggled smart mouth that not only haunted the streets of St. Augustine, but haunted her dreams as well. And she would be a fool to think that he would find her in any way attractive.

  Usually, the few times he did speak to her, he was questioning everything she did or didn’t do. He was bossy and argumentative and he would never want to be with a push-over like her. They were too much of an opposite to ever be compatible; that whole line that opposites attract was total bullshit.

  Lizzy sighed as she moved to view herself in a small table mirror, fixing her hair and wiping at her face. Her ghostly pale reflection stared back at her with sad eyes. But the real sadness lay deep in her heart where no one could see. Her real heart might be dead and silent, but her soul’s heart wanted what so few of them ever found, a connection. As a ghost, she felt she was distanced from much of the world. It was only with the connection of souls that this existence became somewhat bearable.

  Plastering a false smile on her mouth, she turned to the two women. It was best to keep secret dreams in the safe keeping of her inner soul where no one else could hurt or crush them. In some ways Lizzy believed she deserved this pain, some misdeed in her past existence forcing her to exist in this form as punishment. Seeing Richard flirt and talk with other women was that punishment. And surprisingly that hurt much worse than watching her husband marry another woman. Richard Pomar would forever be out of her reach.

  Lizzy turned her thoughts away from such melancholy. Being a dressmaker for her community was rewarding and she was a prized citizen within the city. She had even been selected to dress noted figures in the community at large, not just the ones in St. Augustine, but those at the very top of the paranormal world. If not for her love of fashion, Lizzy would be a wandering broken soul; this kept her grounded. And right now she needed to be grounded, or be swept away by despair.

  Lizzy helped Eleanor finalize her selections and pick out some much needed outfits for the city’s newest citizen, Clarissa. The woman was strangely unique though at first it wasn’t noticeable. It would be interesting to find out more about her. Lizzy, like Eleanor had a talent for sensing the paranormal currents on a higher level than the others. Clarissa was a soul they hadn’t seen in quite some time.

  Chapter 5-

  “What are you daydreaming about over there?” Richard waved his hand in front of Clarissa’s face bringing her attention back to him and Eleanor. They were having lunch at The Boneyard Grill, a barbeque joint just off of San Marco Ave. It was one of Richard’s favorite places to eat that served red meat specifically.

  “Clarissa, anyone home in there?” Richard was sitting across from her, Eleanor on her right in a booth by the window which overlooked the street. It was after lunch hours now and the place was a ghost town, literally, with only a few ghosts occupying seats in the restaurant.

  They had, upon Richard’s insistence, ordered each a two inch slab of medium rare sirloin. If you didn’t know better, you might think it had actually come from a cow. Clarissa had barely made a dent in her steak. Her mind was too preoccupied to enjoy her food, but she couldn’t deny it wasn’t delicious. Clare had some competition with the owner and barbecue expert Frederick Vern; Dead Fred to his friends. He served up some of the best barbecued beef and pork; it would be a sin to cover it in sauce. If you even tried to put ketchup on one of his creations you were swiftly booted out the front door.

  “You are felling all right, sugar? You don’t look so good.” Eleanor placed her hand over Clarissa’s, feeling the inner turmoil within the young ghost’s soul. “Whatever it is, you know you can confide in us.”

  “Yeah, you look like death warmed over.” Richard stuffed his mouth with more of his steak. “Maybe you need to see a doctor or something. It could be life threatening. How about an exorcist or voodoo priestess? That might work.” He eyed her plate with interest. “Are you going to eat your cornbread?”

  “No, go ahead.” Clarissa answered, staring out the window. Cars zoomed by, pedestrians lining the sidewalks and just beyond that she could make out the Old Jail House. Now just a tourist stop and ghost hunters’ destination, it had once housed hardened and toughened criminals. Yet even now, the living claimed that some inmates had yet to leave their cells. It was fun for them to imagine a ghost peeking at them from a second story window, or a lady dressed in old fashioned clothes walking up and down a deserted highway, there and then gone. That rush of adrenaline that the living got from believing they say a real ghost was addicting and even in these modern and scientific times, still an unsolved mystery. The paranormal world was an exciting adventure that science was just beginning to unravel.

  “What are those ghosts doing over there?” Clarissa asked her companions as she watched a couple of ghosts follow in line behind a group of tourists on a ghost tour. “Why are they walking with those livings on the tour?”

  “Oh, they’re tourists too, out-of-town ghosts.” Eleanor answered, looking out the window and across the street as the group stopped in front of the jail. They were too far away to hear what the tour guide was saying, but she could make out the faces of the tourists as they switched between looking at the jail to turning their attention back on the guide. One of the ghosts brought up his camera from a strap around his neck and snapped a photo of the building.

  “They’re on the tour as well, I would imagine. They look like tourists to me,” Eleanor took note of their attire, “Northerners, just from the look of their outfits. The snow-ghosts always come down around this time of year, not because of the cold weather of course. I’m not really sure why. I guess maybe they get confused between the living and the dead during the winter months. Everyone starts looking a little dead after being in those kinds of conditions.”

  “But why would they go on a ghost tour?” Clarissa watched as one of the ghosts made a face in front of the hangman’s scaffolding as his friends clicked away with their cameras. “Is that like a Hollywood celebrity going on a celebr
ity tour bus? You’d think a ghost would find a ghost tour boring. What excitement is there when they know perfectly well that ghosts do exist and they happen to be one?”

  “It’s just good fun and it’s not so much about the ghosts as it is about the history of the place. We are one of the oldest ghostly communities. People come from all over the country to see us, even other ghosts.” Eleanor cut into her steak, bring her fork to her mouth and taking a lady-like bite. “I met a couple last year who have made it a point to go to every haunted city in the country and next they’re going overseas. They take pictures, of course, and scrap book everything. Sometimes they send me the photos of their latest adventure.”

  “It’s true,” Richard joined in. “Last month we had a wedding in town. Bride and Groom came from out west from some state that I guess doesn’t have a large ghost population. They wanted to get married in St. Augustine, of all places.” He laughed, pushing more food in his mouth. “Totally pissed off the New Orleans ghosts I’m sure. They get all the attention. I don’t know what it is about Louisiana and the supernatural but its fucking weird up there.” He swallowed, taking a sip of his soda before continuing. “So the whole town is invited and it’s a big community affair. Even the big wigs from Washington come down. The bride has some connections, a friend of a friend kind of deal and she’s in with the Eidolon politicians. Clare made this huge cake. I swear it was as big as this room.” He spread his arms out wide. “It had to have at least thirty tiers. It’s never been my desire to go to a wedding. They’re not my thing. I went for the cake and the out-of-town ghost ladies.”

  “He’s such a charmer.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Richard doesn’t care how dead they are. He’ll chase anything in a skirt. In fact I wonder if that is even a requirement anymore.”

  A chunk of corn bread hit Eleanor square between the eyes. It was a spectral cornbread so it didn’t pass through her like living food did. Ghosts could manipulate objects, pick things up or sit on objects. But if they weren’t paying attention the tangible world could pass through them; hence that ghost phenomenon of passing through walls or falling through floors.