Raven's Curse

17 - The Ghost

The moment the lights in the depot faded, Lou reached for my hand as if to offer me support. I swallowed a giggle and pressed his clammy fingers. If someone needed support here, it certainly wasn't me.

The ghost's presence resonated through every fibre of my existence. I glanced at my companions, their strained features now lit only by the blue glow of Matt's screen. Vic and Lou seemed shaken, but Matt had no time to be shocked. He zoomed in on the red blob glowing on his screen, a picture of concentrated efficiency, before a grin split his face. "Only one ghost, but with quite a powerful signal. The White Lady has a remarkable aura."

I had already gathered as much, but to have my gut feelings confirmed helped me focus. "She's approaching now. Lou, Vic, move over into the kitchen corner, please. I bet the ghost is drawn by the lamp, and trust me, you don't want to stand between her and the object of her desire." Neither did I, but this was the wrong moment to discuss the finer details of ghost contacts with my friends.

At least Matt was experienced enough to fear direct contact. He picked up his laptop, leaving the screen open to give us a minimum of illumination, and ushered the others to the kitchenette. I followed them, walking backwards and scanning the room.

A sudden chill in the air told me the ghost was near. I crossed my arms to keep my body heat together and bumped into a kitchen chair, overthrowing it. Vic's terrified gasp drowned in the clatter.

"Shh." I stooped to straighten the chair, afraid I'd frightened our visitor away, clenching my teeth and concentrating on my sixth sense. My wrist felt like the favourite playground of hundreds of ants. The ghost was still close by, but I couldn't locate her.

"San." Lou's voice was a mere whisper, and his pointing finger trembled. Then I saw it, too. In front of the desktop with the lamp, a fine tendril of smoke gathered, swirled, and grew in an expanding spiral. I held my breath while it extended and reached upward, new silky strands of the translucent matter twirling around each other, condensing and contracting into the rough form of a person floating in front of the desk.

In the blue sheen of Matt's screen, I could still see the tiny lamp sitting on Vic's workplace through the figure. Yet the ghost became more solid by the moment, the moving, twirling strands of ectoplasm now weaving themselves into the illusion of a long, flowing dress. The loose garment swished over the floor, and the figure pulled a sheer scarf around her narrow shoulders.

Without a glance in our direction, the ghostly woman reached for the lamp, pulling the scarf over her dark, braided hair with the other hand.

The moment she touched the lamp, the spectre solidified, a few curly locks spilling from the scarf and reflecting the light of Matt's screen while the folds of the lucid dress fell in a distinct pattern of moving light and shadow.

She was beautiful and terrifying, young, perhaps not even in her twenties. I gulped down air, aware it was up to me to act. If we wanted to learn something about the motivation of this visitation, I needed to make contact—now. I cleared my throat.

The ghost woman whirled around, her eyes dark wells in a face pale as death. Her gaze found mine as she hovered unmoving in front of the table, full lips pressed tight, and a frown marring her forehead.

"Greeting, my lady. Please, may we offer our help?" I tried to articulate well while keeping my voice level and friendly.

At the sound of my words, the ghost shrank back, passing through the table, her hand closing around the lamp. My eyes were fixed on the object now. Could she touch it? Or did her fingers pass through it like Sir Guillaume's through the cookie? I couldn't tell for sure yet.

"This is a beautiful lamp—is it yours? Should we try to light its wick?" I was aware there wasn't a wick in the artefact, of course, but I hoped my words would gain the woman's attention without frightening her away.