Villainous Us

Back At It Again

The Hauntress

I couldn't hear anything from inside the bag. It was heavy and thick, and let in no light. By the time we reached the morgue, I was starting to get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

Bright white light peered in as the bag was finally unzipped. I gulped in the fresh air, then glared at the doctor standing beside me. "Take long enough?"

Edward laughed nervously. "Sorry. Cops are everywhere."

I hopped down from the gurney, stretching my spine and cracking my neck. God, that was an uncomfortable ride.

I turned to the wall of small, metallic doors. Each had a yellow tag with a name scrawled in permanent marker. Edward and I searched them for Antoine Vicardi, and we found him toward the far wall, thankfully in one of the lower compartments.

I put on latex gloves before unhooking the latch so I would leave no fingerprints. I pulled the bed out of the wall so that Mobster's body lay before us, covered only by a white sheet.

I pulled the gloves off, having no more need for them. Then I reached for a small plastic bag of wormwood shavings that I always kept in my coat pocket.

"Take my knife," I said, handing one of them over to Edward. "Nick his finger. I don't need much blood."

He did as I said, and three drops of dark red blood fell into my bag of wood shavings. I then poured the shavings and blood into a small pile on a metal table in the center of the room. I pulled my lighter from my back pocket and lit the shavings, which sizzled and popped white sparks.

By creating this incense and using the power of my sigil, I could summon the Mobster's spirit for the first time. Once I made a contract with him, it would only take my sigil to call upon him.

I reached out my right hand, the one with the sigil, and held it over the burning incense, parting the smoke. I closed my eyes and breathed, "Antoine Vicardi."

I pulled my hand back as the smoke began to swirl. It thickened and began to form, shaping into my former colleague, the Mobster.

He stood at the opposite end of the table and looked around for a moment. He still wore his white suit, black fedora, and that gold masquerade mask. His eyes finally met mine. "Hauntress."

"Mobster," I replied, "or should I start calling you Antoine?"

He looked miffed, his mouth slightly agape. "How...?"

"You died today," I explained. "This morning, actually. Killed by some heroes. Sorry, but you're a ghost now."

He looked at his hands. I never thought about it, but I wondered if ghosts could see that they were transparent too. He looked up then and his eyes widened at the body behind me. His body.

"Anyway," I continued, hoping to distract him before he started freaking out or asking more questions. "Do you know why I'm here?"

He looked back at me, swallowing hard. "You want me as one of your helpers?"

I shrugged. "That's one way to put it. I was going to say I'd like to make a contract with you."

He shook his head. "You make it sound like I'm selling my soul."

I waved the idea off. "No. It's more like taking a job. Most of the time, you're free to wander the Earth, do whatever you like. But when I summon you back to me, you just have to do as I ask. If you decline, I can't tell you what will become of you. After time, a spirit's sanity withers away as you walk aimlessly and without purpose. Some grow angry, becoming poltergeists, while others just disappear into nonexistence. If you join me, you'll be able to see the other spirits who have contracts with me, make friends with them. If you say no, you'll be forever alone. I'm not trying to make it sound like you have to join me or your damned, but that's basically the truth. It's your choice."