Grave Danger (15 page)

When a person died the body and the soul separated
becoming two halves of a once living person. The soul returned to
the source of all creation and the body returned to the energy of
the cosmos. But outside influences sometimes interfere in this
process and the human could become “stuck” in an alternate
existence; a ghost of their former self.

Most people in the room were milling about, taking a
few minutes to talk to friends and acquaintances. The S.S., the
only living humans in the room, mingled with their dead employers
and each other. Toward the front of the conference room sat a high
oaken desk with four grand chairs behind it. Set on a raised
platform, the now empty chairs would soon be filled by the reining
diplomatic authorities, the council members of the St. Augustine
Eidolon Community.

“
Sir, what you have there is what we refer to
as a focused, non-terminal repeating phantasm or a class five full
roaming vapor,” a deep voice said from behind the two
women.

Clarissa turned around to see Richard standing
behind them. He was dressed in the same outfit he had on earlier,
his hair still mussed and unkempt. He grinned when she smiled at
him. “Did you just make a quote from the Ghostbusters movie? I love
that movie.”

“
That movie was terrible,” Eleanor
contradicted, not turning around. She stood looking off into the
crowd, her back stiff. “The theatrical arts have taken a real turn
for the worst and that movie and all the rest of the popcorn fluff
Hollywood shovels out on the masses have turned a beautiful art
form into mindless dribble.” She made an unladylike snort,
continuing, “A giant marshmallow man and a moving Statue of
Liberty, how farfetched can you get? Not to mention that it is
offensive to ghosts everywhere. How dare those men think to contain
us in a metal box – as if they could do such a thing?”

“
It was just a movie, Eleanor.” Clarissa
touched her forearm, forcing her to turn around. Richard moved his
hair around on his head nervously as Eleanor glared angrily at him.
She was clearly still miffed at him from earlier today. “How are
you doing tonight, Richard?” Clarissa held on to Eleanor’s arm,
making sure she kept put and didn’t storm off like she wanted to
do.

“
Okay, I guess,” he answered. “What about you,
Eleanor? How are you doing?” Richard stuck his hands into his denim
jeans pockets, rocking slightly back on his heels.

Eleanor pulled her arm out from Clarissa’s grasp,
tempted to fold her arms around herself in a defensive hug. She
shrugged her shoulders, looking away into the crowd, ignoring them
both. “Fine,” she answered in a clipped voice.

“
Eleanor,” he said on sigh.

“
Richard,” she responded.

Richard grabbed Eleanor’s small hand and tugged,
forcing her closer to him. Eleanor refused to look at him,
pretending she was still ignoring him, yet she allowed him to pull
her closer.

Richard pulled her into his arms, wrapping them
around her smaller frame.

“
I’m sorry,” he whispered over her curly
blonde head, as he held her in a tight embrace. They were like
family; she couldn’t stay mad at him forever. Besides, if she had
been truly beyond simple anger, she wouldn’t have let him touch
her.

“
You’re a jerk, you know that?” she whispered
back, brushing away a few stray tears that had escaped from her
cerulean colored eyes. “You don’t deserve to have
friends.”

“
I know,” he said, patting her back. Richard
was all too aware that he hadn’t been the type of person people
would have wanted to make friends with. He had been a rotten person
in life and only in death had he been able to slightly redeem
himself from his past. Even if Clarissa believed differently, he
knew that deep inside he was the same miserable bastard he had been
in his living past.

“
Clarissa, can I see you for a moment.” Henry
walked up to the group. Taking in the sight of Richard and Eleanor,
he felt a deep seething hatred for his good friend. Henry, despite
what others believed, found Richard to be admirable. The man had
his list of short comings. Didn’t they all? Yet in spite of all of
that, Richard was one of Henry’s friends – no, more than that, he
was like family – a family that Henry had never known until his
death. However, seeing Richard holding
his
Eleanor like that put all thoughts of
friendship and comrade aside.

Eleanor had moved to the city of St. Augustine some
time ago, in the mid- nineteen sixties. Henry had been residing in
the city since his move from Baltimore, Maryland in 1938, long
before Richard had even been born. Back then it had just been the
two of them, not that Richard’s presence had changed their
relationship much. Henry had never gotten the nerve to tell her how
he truly felt. The three of them had become more family than
friends and still Henry kept much of himself from them.

Henry eyed the two of them, wondering if what
Richard and Eleanor felt for each other was more than brother and
sisterly affection. If it turned out to be more than that, he
wasn’t sure if he could be detached enough to not care. He would
have to leave the city he had grown to love because he didn’t think
he could stand to watch Eleanor with someone else, even if he made
her happy.

He made sure to nod his greeting to them both before
escorting Clarissa away to the other side of the room. Standing in
a half open circle were several residents of the Eidolon community
who were conversing with two members of the council; two of the
total four. The young woman, Isabella Canova, who Clarissa had seen
earlier stood in the middle of the group. She looked no older than
sixteen and the youngest looking in the community, but one of the
oldest of their kind. Her premature death in 1887 from the white
plague that killed many in the city including her own family
created a girl who would never physically grow up. She was flanked
by her leading council member and their constituents.

Cyrus Cercopoly was a descendent of Greek Immigrants
who came to this country more than two-hundred years earlier. Like
his council members, their surnames were linked and well documented
into the history of this ancient city, giving them the advantage to
oversee its inhabitants, dead and living. Cyrus’s death in 1813 at
the tender age of twenty-seven made him the oldest classical
phantasm residing in the oldest city; residual hauntings and shades
not taken into account. After a time, even ghosts lose steam,
slipping away into the shadows or crossing over into the next
world.

“
May I introduce you to two of our leading
council members, Clarissa?” Henry walked Clarissa up to the two
diplomatic authorities standing in the middle of the group. Taking
a moment to finish a conversation she was having with the older
looking woman next to her, Isabella turned to look down from her
slight height advantage at the newest resident of her
city.

“
I am pleased to meet you both.” Clarissa
spoke with reserved dignity. Isabella Canova was a beauty, true to
her Spanish ancestry. She had dark chocolate brown hair with
flawless skin and eyes that matched the darkness of her hair. Her
youthfulness belied the aged soul within her.

“
We are pleased to have you join our
community,” Isabella spoke in a soft gentle voice. “Henry has told
us much about you and from what I have heard from others, you are
quite an exceptional woman. Wouldn’t you agree Cy?”

Cyrus gave Clarissa a thorough examination, raking
his eyes from the crown of her brown hair to her new soft leather
slip-ons. His eyes roved back up her person until they were once
again on her face. “Yes,” he said with a thick Greek accent, “A
most remarkable young lady, indeed.” Cyrus smiled down at the young
woman in front of him, but the slight show of warmth didn’t reach
very far. Cyrus’s eyes remained distant and cold, his body a tall
statue of a man who was just as imposing in death as he had been in
life. “I think I might be at the disadvantage of losing my seat on
the council table before too long. What do you think of our council
members so far, Ms. Schofield? Do you believe us to be doing our
best for our people?”

Clarissa was the one at the disadvantage at
the moment. Cyrus Cercopoly was not a man to make an enemy with and
he had seen far too much into Clarissa’s thoughts to be fooled into
believing Clarissa if she told him that she thought the council was
doing a splendid job of running the city, because in her opinion
they were not doing a splendid job. The sudden call for this
meeting and the deathly reasons behind it was prime example
that
The Four
had waited too
long in taking the much needed action against the flesh-eaters. In
Clarissa’s opinion, the deaths of the S.S. members were on their
spectral shoulders.

“
Don’t badger Ms. Schofield, Cy. She hasn’t
been with us long enough to have created an accurate opinion of
us.” Isabella moved closer to Clarissa, touching Clarissa’s cheek
for a moment. Clarissa felt a shock of electricity run through her
system, like a sting, but it only hurt for a second before it was
gone. “I would like to invite you to brunch with me sometime soon.
We could discuss some of your thoughts about the city and possible
improvements. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She continued in her sweet
angelic voice. “We could perhaps take a short trip to Paris for a
just us girls shopping spree, my treat.” Isabella fingered the
collar of Clarissa’s new blouse. “Mrs. Sands does exceptional work.
However, I prefer Madame Truveau’s designs myself. The Europeans
have such a unique flare for fashion that American designs can’t
compare to. You must let me have her take your measurements.” When
Clarissa would have declined the offer, she rather liked Lizzy’s
unpretentious designs, Isabella pressed forward. “I insist. Do not
say no.”

Clarissa felt the sharp sting against her system as
Isabella took hold of her hand. Isabella’s cold fingers tightened
ever so slightly over Clarissa’s hand. The child-woman looked too
sweet for anyone to believe that there was anything like violence
hidden under her beautifully cool and composed exterior. Isabella
was a woman, despite her youthful façade, and she wanted what she
wanted without remorse or wavering on her part. Nothing stood in
the way of her desires.

“
Yes, thank you very much, Ms. Canova,”
Clarissa bit out the words, a false smile on her face for everyone
to see. The men and women surrounding them looked pleased by
Clarissa’s acceptance to Isabella’s brunch date. Some even had a
hint of envy in their eyes that some newly deceased nobody had been
given the esteemed pleasure of being allowed into the private
circle of the deadly elite.

“
Please, call me Isabella. I will send a
little reminder to you sometime in the coming weeks,” she said with
a wicked gleam in her eyes, which on closer inspection were not
simply brown; they changed colors. Now they appeared bright gold
like a cats eyes. Flipping the long wave of her locks off her
shoulder, she turned away from Clarissa, a simple
dismissal.

Isabella regarded Henry with an innocent look that
might have fooled most of the community, but not Clarissa. “Henry,”
she sighed. “Will you come and walk with me?” Holding out her
delicate hand to Henry she waited for him to take it.

Henry nodded, taking Isabella’s hand into the crook
of his arm, leading her away from the others. He briefly glanced at
Clarissa, a look of understanding flashing behind his brown eyes.
Then he turned away as he and Isabella walked off out into the
antechamber.

“
May I escort you to your seat, Ms.
Schofield?” Clarissa heard the deeply accented voice of Cyrus.
“They will return shortly. The meeting is about to start in a few
minutes and there will be many forced to stand.”

Clarissa allowed Cyrus to take her hand into his arm
and lead her to the front of the room where Richard and Eleanor had
already found their own seats. He left her with them as he bowed
stiffly to her before walking up to the platform where the council
members would be seated. Clarissa watched the brute of a man as he
took his leave. His grey eyes were aged and cold stones in the face
of a handsome young man. Clarissa’s hand felt icy from where she
had touched him. She rubbed it against her heart, pushing his touch
from her body.

A few minutes later Isabella came back into
the room, walking swiftly down the open aisle leading to the
council table. She smiled at Clarissa as she walked past, a girlish
bounce in her step. She took her seat between Cyrus on her left and
Francisco Fatio on her right. Seated on Cyrus’s left was Hanna
Zespedes, the second oldest member of
The
Four
.

Francisco Fatio was the oldest looking of the
council members, dying at the age of 47, but he was the youngest
of
The Four
. His death in 1904
was unknown to the community; even his closest constituents did not
know the actual circumstances of his untimely demise. He was of
medium build and height, a square jaw that complimented his
upturned mouth. His overall pleasantness was a complete contrast to
Cyrus’s stormy presence on the council.

The only other woman on the council, Hanna Zespedes
was Cyrus’s closest rival. Her ties to the first families in St.
Augustine made her a celebrity of sorts in the community and she
knew it. A small woman with a round face and large cobalt colored
eyes, she sat behind the council table like the princess she knew
she was. Leaning over she whispered something into Cyrus’s ear,
making his usual frowning face draw farther down.