"The not-so-invisible woman?" I rephrased.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "I am Violet, a spirit trapped in this world," she corrected me. She spoke in a prim and proper manner like someone out of an old movie.
Roland stepped in front of me. "What has brought your wanderings here?" he asked her.
She pointed a transparent finger at the box in my hands. "That is what I seek. It awakened me from my spiritually slumber and given me new life, and I demand more of such life."
"I'd hate to break it to you, lady, but this soul's already taken," I quipped.
"How did the soul revive you?" Roland interrupted.
The woman shook her head. "I know not, but that there was a great flash of light in the place in which I resided, and I found I was unchained from that hateful place of my wanderings." She turned her heated eyes on me and thrust out her hand. "Now I demand more that I can walk among the living and taste life again."
"Like I said before, it's already called for. Besides, we don't know how to work it," I told her.
A blue glow erupted from her fingers, and a matching glow came from the box. The glow from the box burst from beneath the lid as a straight line and traveled to her hand. Her see-through appearance became less so and a faint color came to her pale cheeks.
Roland grimaced and swept me, box and all, into his arms. He dashed into the bedroom and the blue-light contact was broken. The woman screamed like a banshee and the cutlery flew after us. Roland slammed the door shut behind us. I was still in his arms and glanced over his shoulder, and saw the tips and prongs of knives and forks stab through the door and stuck there.
The wielder of my cutlery floated through the wall and held out her hand. The soul box glowed bright, but before it could make a collect call between spirit and soul Roland ran to the open bedroom window and flung us outside. We flew up and away from my apartment building. My nun hood fluttered in the wind, but I pulled it back and glanced behind us. The spirit floated through the bedroom wall and followed, but her astral speed was stuck on turtle mode while Roland had his on panic.
Unfortunately, speed was all he had. We'd only gone a few miles over the town when he sputtered and descended into one of the wooded parks. There was a small pond nearby with a few fat, sleeping ducks. Their weight wouldn't carry them south to their condos, but the park-goers would provide fro them during the winter.
We landed on the damp grass near one of the park trails. Roland set me down and stumbled over to a bench. He caught one of the arms and leaned over it. His back was turned to him.
"Why couldn't we get a little more distance between her and us? Maybe a state or two?" I asked him. Roland's reply was to fall onto his knees. "Roland!" I yelped as I knelt beside him. The faint glow from his soul box illuminated his strained face. "You okay? What'd she do to you?"
He clutched his chest with one hand and ground his teeth together. "She. . .she stole a piece of my soul," he gasped out.
I blinked at him. "She can do that?"
"Apparently," he hoarsely whispered.
"Are we talking three-quarters or just a teaspoon?" I asked him.
"A great deal more than I wish," he answered.
"Well, let's get you a little more comfortable," I replied.
He shook his head. "I will be fine. I merely need some rest," he insisted.
"Then you'll be just as fine on the bench," I quipped. I helped him onto the seat and sat down beside him. His face was as white as a bleached sheet and his body was stiff. "What if I give you some blood? Would that help?" I offered.
"This is a matter of the soul. Blood only assists my physical form," he explained.
"So what happens if she steals all your soul?" I asked him.
"Then I will be completely drained of my existence and cease to be," he told me.
I leaned back and glared at the pond in front of us. "If that's the Lady Violet Ned told me about then I think we can drop the 'lady' part. And how did she find us?"
"As all the others found us, through the energy given off by my detached soul," Roland explained.
"So since it's detached she's thinking about attaching it to herself," I mused.
Roland struggled to his feet, and I jumped to mine and caught his arm so he could lean some weight on me. "Whoa there, cowboy! You can't think of wrangling a spirit in your condition."
He shook his head. "It will continue to worsen if the spirit isn't confronted and my soul retrieved."
"You have any idea how to do that?" I asked him.
"No. For once I have no past experience with such a dilemma," he admitted.
I felt the color drain from my face until I was as white as Roland. "Then how about we get a plan of attack together? Otherwise she might K.O. you the next time we face her."
"You spoke of this Violet before. Is there any truth to the story?" he questioned me.
I shrugged and readjusted the collar on my costume. "After knowing that vampires and were-sheep exist I'm ready to believe in a car accident."
"Is there any place that keeps such records?" he persisted.
I furrowed my brow. "The police probably destroyed what they had, if they ever had much, but if it was a bad accident the papers probably mentioned it."
"Where can we find records of these papers?" he wondered.
"The library should have a bunch of old copies, but I don't know if the librarian would be crazy enough to be open on Halloween," I told him.
"Then to the library we must go," he told me.
Then I heard a softened shot ring out.
CHAPTER 4
Roland grabbed me and pushed us both to the ground. A bullet struck the bench where we'd just sat. Roland helped me to my feet and he looked towards the pond. I followed his gaze and saw that a man stood there. He was dressed completely in black with a pair of night-vision goggles over his eyes. Even in the getup I still recognized our old enemy, the vampire hunter David Ginsleh. He had his gun barrel pointed at us.
"Get out of the way, sister!" he shouted at me.
The idiot was so single-minded he must not have realized what day it was. Roland tried to step in front of me, but I stepped in front of him. If Ginsleh expected a nun then he'd get a nun, and be nun the wiser.
I held out my hand. "Have mercy, my son!" I insisted.
"Mercy on a monster? You don't know what you're saying, sister," Ginsleh told me.
"He is but a stupid lost soul! Have mercy on him!" I pleaded.
Ginsleh shook his head and positioned his eye behind the scope atop the barrel. "Not this one. He's too smart. I knew he couldn't be dead. Then I heard about the attack on the Squash Festival and knew I had a job to finish." He pressed his finger against the trigger. "Now step aside, sister! I don't like collateral damage, but I must destroy this beast!"
"But you must believe it wasn't this creature! It was a were-sheep!" I insisted.
Ginsleh looked over the scope and frowned. "A what?"
"A werewolf of the sheep variety," Roland explained.
Ginsleh sneered at him and raised the scope to his eyes. "Werewolves don't exist, and in a moment neither will you."
I held up one of my hands, and the other cradled Roland's soul box. "You must stop this senseless violence!"
Ginsleh paused and squinted his eyes at me. "You look familiar. Aren't you-"
My eyes widened and I pointed at the pond. "Duck!"
Ginsleh whipped his head around. Roland flew past me and pulled back his arm. Ginsleh turned around and Roland's fist connected with the side of his face. Our erstwhile hunter flew backwards a couple of yards and landed with a heavy splash in the pond. The ducks quacked and scattered, and in their retreat they gave Ginsleh a bit more beating.
"Yes!" I shouted. Then I noticed Roland cradled his hand in his other one. I noticed that small plumes of smoke rose up from his knuckles. "You okay?" I asked him.
He nodded. "I am, but the hunter is most thorough. He wears a protective sunscreen infused with silver."
/> I walked up and studied his skin. It was blackened like Ralph's toast, and smelled like Ralph's tuna surprise. I wrinkled my nose. "What if you ate that stuff?"
"The results would not be pleasant," he told me. He tilted his head to one side and studied me. "But how did you know I would have the speed to attack him?"
I shrugged. "I didn't, but I figured it was either try that or get a vacuum to suck up your dust."
Roland smiled. "I'm glad the vacuum won't be needed."
"Me, too. There's no plugin nearby," I agreed.
A noise from the pond roused our attention, and we turned in time to see the hunter rise to his feet. Gone was the majesty of his black outfit, and in its place was a camoflauge of muck and sticks. Ginsleh swiped off some of the mud from his goggles and pointed the barrel of his dripping gun at us.
"Die, monster and his scum!" he yelled.
Ginsleh's finger pressed against the trigger. Roland and I battled it out who would be in front of whom, and the vampire won. He stepped in front of me and held out his steaming hands on either side. Ginsleh's gun fired, but instead of the muffled report there was only a muzzled 'glop' and some mud slid out of the end of the barrel. The hunter watched with wide eyes as the muck drip into the dirty pond water. His body shook and he ground his teeth together.
Roland swept me into his arms and flew us high into the sky. The last I heard of Ginsleh was his terrific roar of frustration and a few choice words, none of which were learned in Sunday school. Except maybe if the Apocrypha was studied.
"He really needs some anger management problems," I quipped. Something caught my eye and I glanced behind Roland. My face fell and my eyes widened. "Um, speaking of problems, we have one. A big one."
Roland flaoted in place and looked over his shoulder. Behind us was a streaming mass of mist that covered the clear Halloween sky over the park. Its arms flanked us on either side. We were stuck between the ground with the angry hunter, and the sky with the angry spirit. The spirit made our decision for us when the mist swooped in and wrapped its white tendrils around us. We were pulled apart, but I tucked the soul box against me and didn't let them take it.
We hovered five yards apart, and the form of Lady Violet appeared out of the main body of the mist. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth set in a firm line.
"You dare leave when you are not excused?" she scolded us.
"It was my house, lady," I reminded her.
Her red-colored eyes fell on me and the box in my hands. "I would watch my tongue, Breather. You are no use to me."
"Then release her and take me!" Roland insisted.
The ghost sneered at him. "I believe you both have vexed me enough that I would take what I desire and destroy you both, starting with the Breather." She turned her attention back to me and clenched her hand that was closest to me.
The mist around me tightened. My air was cut off around my neck and I couldn't push my chest out to breathe.
"No!" I heard Roland shout.
A flash of blue light from my arms lit up the night sky. The phantom screamed in anger and her deadly wisps released me. I dropped towards the ground with the bright box still in my arms. A shadow swept beneath me and caught me in his strong, shaky arms. I looked up into Roland's face and saw beads of cold sweat dribble down his temples. He gasped for breath worse than me and his whole body shook like a grass in the wind.
"You okay?" I asked him.
"Only when you're safe," he replied.
He looked past me, and I twisted in his arms to see the mist dive down towards us. Roland flew forward low over the park trees. The mist followed, and the upper body of Violet protruded from the head of the fog. Her eyes were scarlet colored and her hands were fisted at her sides. The strands of her hair whipped about like white snakes. Her face was twisted in hideous anger.
In essence, she was ugly when she was mad.
"Must go faster! Must go faster!" I encouraged Roland.
"I. . .cannot," he gasped.
The tips of the mist licked at Roland's shoes. Roland put on one last burst of speed and then his strength failed both of us. His closed his eyes and grimaced, and we dropped from the sky like two stones with a baby rock in my arms. Roland maneuvered so he was on the bottom, and we crashed down on a grassy surface. We skidded a dozen yards before we came to a stop at the edge of gravel.
I peeked open my eyes and beheld a sign from God. Or of God. It was a sign, and it said 'God's Ministries. All lost souls welcome.' The sign stood a few feet away from us, and the gravel was the driveway to the front doors of the large, stained-glass building beyond the sign. The church was built of red-colored brick and was gracefully toped by a spired belltower. A pair of wooden doors stood open welcoming any lost soul and thief to the pews and silver.
"Roland, I think we found the place for you," I told him.
All I got was a groan in response, and I looked down to find Roland with his face twisted into a horrible grimace. His eyes were closed and his body was tense.
"All right, Roland, enough saving me. It's time for me to save you," I insisted.
I sat up and pulled him up so I could wrap one of his arms over my shoulders. He ground his sharp teeth together and winced.
"Leave. . .me. . ." he gasped.
I snorted and stood onto my shaky feet. "And leave you to her? Don't you know I'd be driven mad with jealousy?"
Roland opened his eyes and blinked at me. "Would you?"
"Maybe, but could we talk about this some other time?" I suggested.
He shook his head and tried to stand on his own. "No. You must. . .get inside. . .the church."
"And leave you out here for here to find for yourself? I don't think so," I insisted.
Roland pulled himself from my grasp and pressed his soul box into my arms. He looked me in the eyes and I felt a welling of five emotions rise up in me. Fear. Regret. Sadness. Happiness. Hunger. Okay, maybe just four emotions.
"So long as you have my soul you will have me with you," he whispered.
A screeching wailing came from the trees behind us. I turned to see the mist slip among the large, ancient oaks that spotted the grounds of the church. Roland took advantage of my distraction. He tucked me under his arm like I was a football and ran for the end zone at the church doors.
"Permission! Remember?" I screamed at him.
We reached the threshold of the doors and he tossed me like he'd just made the winning touchdown. I flew through the doors, through the small foyer, and skidded to a stop a few yards down the carpeted runway between the long wooden pews. The soul box clattered to a stop close beside me.
I whipped my head up and saw the mist wrap around Roland. He smiled at me before he was pulled into the white darkness.
"Roland!" I yelled.
CHAPTER 5
I scrambled to my feet and made for the doors. The tendrils of mist tried to meet me halfway, but they had a little traveling problem. They evaporated the moment they crossed the threshold and fell as sparkles onto the carpeted foyer. I skidded to a stop at the edge of the doors and tried to peer into the mist.
"Roland?" I screamed.
I started back when the woman's face shoved itself out of the mist and only inches from my nose. She sneered at me and gnashed her teeth.
"Give me that soul!" she demanded.
I glared back at her. "Give me Roland!"
"The box!"
"The vampire!"
"Breather!"
"Color deficient!"
"What's the matter here?" a voice spoke up.
The ghost's eyes widened and she receded back into her fat form. I turned and saw a man dressed in black with a white collar walk out of a side door near the altar at the front of the church. He didn't hesitate when he saw me, but smiled and opened his arms wide as he walked down the aisle.
"Good evening, sister," he welcomed me.
"I'm not really-"
He came up to me and patted me on the shoulder. There was a twinkle in his eye
and strength in his hand. A silver cross around his neck glistened in the dim lights. "I know, but I must admit you did fool me for a few moments. Where did you get that-"
"Listen, preacher-"
"Father Malone."
"Father, my friend's out there-" I half-turned to the open doors and the mist that resided just outside the church, "-and I don't have time to explain, but-"
"Is he injured?" Father Malone asked me.
"To the soul," I confirmed. "But do you have some sort of fan or something we can use to blow away that mist?"
Father Malone furrowed his brow and dropped his hand off my shoulder. "First we shall see what we can do for him." He strode past me, but I caught his arm.
"But there's something else out there," I warned him. "Something that's not exactly-well, kosher."
He smiled. "Then it's good for both of us I'm not Jewish."
Father Malone gently pulled from my grasp and walked to the doors. He didn't hesitate, but walked straight into the mist. Sort of. The mist parted for him, and I heard a faint wail of the banshee ghost as she retreated down the gentle slope atop which sat the church. The father didn't appear to notice his Moses-like ability to part the mist.
"Hello?" the father hollered. "Are you there?"
There was a groan that was distinctly Roland. Father Malone forded further away from the doors and his footsteps revealed Roland's prone body.
"Roland!" I shouted.
I raced to the fallen vampire even as Father Malone knelt by his side. The father pressed his hand against his neck and frowned. "He's deathly cold. We must get him inside."
I neglected to mention that for Roland cold was a feature, not a bug. There was the problem of getting him inside.
"We can't take him inside the church," I informed him.
Father Malone raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
"Because he's Jewish, and crosses scare him," I replied.
A small smile slipped onto his lips. "Very well. I live behind the church in a small cottage. We can see what we can do for him there. I'll need some help, though. He's quite a load."
Father Malone and I each took an arm and draped it over our shoulders. I glanced at the open doors and the hint of soul box that sat between the pews.
"You needn't worry about the church. Most nights I forget the doors are open," he assured me.