Festival of the Dead

Chapter 14: Mystra turned around

   Mystra was so scared; she thought she had no other option but to run. She sprinted down the last few stairs and approached the door. Right before she could make her exit, something grabbed her and pulled her back. She felt arms around her, binding her own to her body, not allowing her to move. She looked down, and to her shock, the arms holding her were not solid. They were a transparent white; even the cloth (or supposed cloth) that covered those arms was the same. They were cold, and felt real, yet not quite there.

Suddenly a voice whispered in her ear. "Guess whooo?" it asked in a sing-song voice. At that moment, Mystra knew she was completely done for. She was violently turned around, and she faced the ghost of Carter. "One more death, you know. One more until my job is complete," he said. "What job?" asked Mystra, already knowing who he was going to kill.

"This job..." Soon she felt a white-hot pain racing through her veins. She couldn't move. Couldn't talk. She couldn't even breathe. Her very soul had been sucked out of her. She dropped limply to the floor. Her body was left to rot there, just like that of her old husband.

Mystra slowly turned around to face what was behind her, and she immediately wished that she hadn't. Before her was the towering ghost of Maxwell Carter. Her heart began to race to a pace that she didn't even think possible. She forced herself to look into his eyes. She was not weak. She was a huntress. She was independent. She would not just flee from this, no matter how scared she was.

His face was just as handsome as it had been when he was alive; flawless, pale skin, dark eyes, well-defined cheekbones. And his expression...She was so accustomed to a sneering look that she had never fathomed it possible for him to look the way he did now-kind. He had always been a tall man, and now, floating a few inches off the floor, he seemed even taller. He approached her slowly, literally walking on air. He reached out and touched her face. His ghostly hand was cold. She felt scared, yet she didn't even flinch when he made contact with her cheek. "Mya?" he whispered. When had he ever spoken so softly? Something seemed to be off about him; this was not the man she knew and grew to hate. "Max," she said flatly.

"You came back," he said softly. He ran his thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek. "I didn't mean to," she said pulling away. His face grew sad. Why was he acting like this? "I've really missed you," he tried to come closer once more, but she took a big step back. "No, you didn't miss me. You would never miss me." She felt tears flowing down her cheeks. Did he really think that she could be lied to and persuaded that easily? She was hurt, and if he really was trying to make amends, he could be sure that she wasn't that willing to forgive.

Max already knew this. "Do you really think that? Why do you think I married you?"

"For your own pleasure."

Now he looked really depressed. "You hurt me Max. You beat me every day. Why would I ever believe that you missed me? Or that we married for love?" her voice began to crack now. She was no longer scared, rather, very hurt. "But I didn't want to hurt you Mya. I never wanted to hurt you. Had I been able to, I would have told you."

"Told me what?" she sneered. She didn't want to hear anymore lies. "I would have told you I was not in control of myself. I could think and feel, but what I said and did was never due to my intentions." That sounded far-fetched-but very odd. "Do you mean to tell me that you were possessed?" It was the only logical interpretation of what he had just told her. He gave her a smile. She had to admit, he only looked even more beautiful when he grinned. "You've always been so smart...Yes, I was possessed. The night before I visited your father to ask for your hand in marriage, a demon decided to pay me a visit. He knew of my intentions, and wanted you for himself. Before I knew it you and I were married, and I was hurting you. I became something I was not...A monster." Tears began to flow from his eyes. Mystra didn't know that ghosts could cry, but here he was, eyes misty. He took a shaky breath. "But I never wanted to hurt you, Mya. I married you because I loved you." He finished, his voice cracking.