Haunted (open)

[Deagan (DELETED 7215)]

McCallahan's Books and Things was quiet and uncrowded this time of night. That was for the best. Less customers meant less cellphones being pulled out to call the insane asylum, or possibly upload a viral video. The Tourette's guy had nothing on Deagan McNamara today.

He had been standing in the Religion and Folklore aisle, thumbing through a copy of Vampires, Burial, and Death. He should have been at the cemetery. It was a year to the day since Emily had died. Though the pain had never really abated, this knowledge of the date and its significance had brought the throbbing grief back to sharp relief. How arbitrary, he mused, that a date on the calendar should have this effect on me. He had come under the strong conviction that a visit to the cemetery today would result in some sort of heart attack or collapse on his part. And he couldn't have that. He had to live, at least long enough to find her killer.

The book was telling him nothing new, but today had other surprises in store for him. Such as the sudden whisper in his ear, which caused his soul to quake, and the book to drop to the floor from cold, numb hands.

Hello Deagan. I've missed you.

The time it took Deagan to turn in the direction of the voice felt like eternity stretched a little past breaking. It was enough time for him to run through every possible scenario in his mind of what he was about to see, except the reality of the one that confronted him as he looked down what should have been an empty aisle, and came face to face with his dead wife.

The air seemed to freeze in his lungs, and all he could push out was enough to form the word "No..."

Yes, Deagan. It's me.

Behind Deagan, a clerk rolled a cart full of books needing shelving past the Religion and Folklore aisle. As he glanced down the aisle and saw the lone figure standing there. the clerk was mildly alarmed at the older man's appearance (though not enough to pause in his assigned duties). Though Deagan was well-dressed in a smartly cut tweed suit and dark blue overcoat, his complexion seemed to have turned a peculiar shade of white. The clerk frowned as he pushed the cart past to another aisle, hoping he would not be cleaning up vomit in the Religion aisle later.

Ironically, to Deagan's eyes, Emily looked perfectly healthy. Her mousey brown hair was cut in a short bob, similar to how it had first looked when he had met her at the University of Toronto all of those years ago.

Aren't you going to say anything else?

The apparition was sincere and plaintive. She looked at him with genuine concern. It was more than Deagan could stand.

"How are you here, Emily? How?" He realized that his voice had gone slightly hysterical. Any moment someone would notice this strange scene, and what would happen then?

[Ambrose Acheron]

Ambrose Acheron was seated nearby with a book on ancient Greek mythology open on the table in front of him. He wasn't fully absorbed in his research however. He was mulling over the reality of these beings and how easily the balance could be disrupted between the Fae, the humans and his own kind. These modern vampires, if they could be called such, more like careless leeches from what Ambrose could tell, had so far managed to mess things up more than those of his own past age when their own carelessness had led to near extinction of their entire race.

They had no concept of subtlety, they had no concept of self-preservation. They were the epitome to Ambrose as what humans thought of as the actions of lemmings. Lemmings dragging them all to a cliff and forcing even those who kept to the old ways, the ways of respect and secrecy over the edge with them in their suicidal swarming. He hated them for their ignorance. He hated them for he knew they would be responsible for the second death of his bloodline. He hated them because they were too stupid to see it. Given the chance he would burn them all to ash himself. Perhaps turn them over to the Fae like they wished to turn themselves over to the humans.

Drawn from his idle thoughts by a note of panic trembling through a nearby voice Ambrose looks over his shoulder from the volume he was not reading at a man in a tweed suit and blue overcoat. Ambrose had never had a mind for fashion. It changed too quickly. He preferred the immutable over the fluidity of inconstancy. He watches the man closer now, turning his chair part way round to face him more comfortably in his seat. For the moment he says nothing, content to perhaps glean a little more insight into the man.

[Rudy]

The weeks and months Rudy had spent alone were troublesome to him. He had found everything just to have it slip away from him. He couldn't bring himself to end this wretched existence so had taken his turn at getting others to put him out of his misery just to have been drug right back into it kicking and screaming. He had given up on trying to end it all praying and hoping that he would find his life once more .

He trudged through the 8th Dimension Mall wearily The construction on Rudys had been stalled his contractors giving up on him and leaving the job half done . The place was a wreck so he made his way down to McCallahan's Books and Things To check and see how his Rosie's manager was handling things while she was gone ... He missed Rose terribly and wherever she may be he wished she would reach out to him, but that had not happened in ages she was lost he could not find her .

He walked into the shop and looked around every thing seemed to be in order how Rose liked it . There were a few customers milling about browsing the rows of books . Rudy spotted a tall fellow he was a older man but what struck Rudy was the complete look of horror on the guys face ... It was as if he had seen a ghost which in harper rock was totally possible, the things you saw around this town would make you go insane quicker than a jack rabbit being chased by a fox .

Or maybe hes having a Heart attack ... Ohhh **** he thought not in here ... "Hey, Hey are you Ok he called out to the man as he approached him "Hey .... You ok why don't you come over here and have a seat ill get you some water or something ?" Rudy put a hand out to touch the mans shoulder and stopped just short of it Suddenly aware that something wasn't right if felt like when that damn pesky ghost friend of Rosies was watching him He disliked the thing immensely but never had the heart to tell her. Rudy shook the feeling off looking around curiously ... " Come on man have a seat ...? he said a little more unsure of what exactly was going on

[Cathy Dawn]

Cathy Dawn had been in the cooking section of the book store getting a few books for her diner and had headed towards the section on myths and legends. She had been collecting books on that ever since she was turned even it her turning was an accident. She also had found a book that she had been looking for North and South book 1 it takes place before the civil war so she was all for reading it. She always thought she should have been born either in that time or another time. She had just rounded the corner when she saw an older man look at something and speak to it as if he was seeing a Ghost. She pulled out one of the books she was going to buy and turned it over. The picture on the back was of the same man and she was sure he was the author. She walks up to the man but stops when she sees other people in the place and it startles her. She is not good with crowds of people so she almost took a step back but she also wanted to talk to the writer of the book and to see if he was okay.

[Deagan (DELETED 7215)]

There was a crowd forming. In the year since Emily's death, Deagan had certainly had some long nights where he conjectured that he might well lose his mind. He had never envisioned the scenario where he would do it in front of an audience.

Deagan, you must listen to me. There is something very important I have to tell you.

Deagan looked around frantically. A man was approaching him, looking concerned. He had barely registered it before, but now he realized that the young man had been speaking to him, something about sitting down. There was also a young woman in the aisle. She's holding one of my books, he thought, and almost began laughing hysterically. He felt cold sweat soak his brow; sweat that seemed to permeate the skin and sink right into his cerebral cortex. As he looked back and forth from the man and then the woman, one thing was becoming painfully clear. Both of them were looking directly at him, pointedly and steadily. Their eyes did not even flick in the direction of Emily.

They can't see her!

The shreds of his sanity were quickly unraveling, but Emily was still there and she was waiting for his response.
He turned back to face her. She was as radiant and as beautiful as he had ever seen her. Had he truly worried that visiting her grave today would break him? Oh fickle fate. If seeing her now did not destroy him forever, what else could?

Perhaps she was a sliver of his mind that had cracked and slipped free to jab at his bleeding consciousness. Perhaps she was truly the dead returned. But if there was any chance that this was truly Emily, then there was only one question that had to be asked, and he did not know how much time he would have. He had to know...

"Who killled you?" he pleaded with his apparition. "Who killed you?!?"

[Ambrose Acheron]

Amrbose looks over toward Rudy and then Cathy Dawn. The first vampire looks the part if one knows what to look for. He absolutely feels like a fellow vampire to Ambrose, the second, the female looks human but feels like a vampire. The Darkness within him recognizes this fact and instantly Ambrose is on high alert. Nothing shows on his face really but he silently appraises both of them, instantly disregarding Cathy as a fledgling in his mind.

Rudy is more interesting. Ambrose sizes this one up more carefully, stronger, much stronger than the woman was but Ambrose doesn't remember hearing about him. Still, though he may be curious about the other vampire, it's the human that draws his attention.

Who killed you? Ambrose turns his mind toward the torn human and delves into his mind. Here is a plethora of pain, Ambrose thinks while he sifts through the major events in this man's life, his first published book, his old girlfriends and best friends, family moment, his first car... glancing at his most private and intimate moments like it were an autobiography and he was looking for a specific chapter... Ah, there... his wife.

Ambrose knows the piercing needle of pain and the numbness left after the passing of a lover. He has watched her fall in a hail of gunfire and vicious weapons, clubs, swords, knives... he watches, nearly transfixed for a moment and then simply rises and begins to make his way toward the door. This man has a story and Ambrose means to hear it. He can tell the man is already petrified and with the way he has been living he knows the man would be perfect for a certain ritual...

"Follow the man", he telepathically whispers softly into the humans mind, so quietly that it could almost be missed. " follow the man who is leaving. There is no mind control, nothing but a simple thought that could be the man's own.

[Deagan (DELETED 7215)]

If someone before today had described to Deagan McNamara a scenario wherein his dead wife would return from the grave and speak to him, and then had asked Deagan, What at that moment would draw your attention away from your wife's face?, his response would have been, quite reasonably, nothing on earth. But as the demand for the identity of his wife's killer left his lips and Deagan waited for the ghost to respond, he found himself, of all things, distracted.

A man he had not previously noticed had just risen from his seat at a table near the front of the store, and was now making his way to the exit. Though not particularly tall, the man had a rugged build, and he moved with a certain assurance as he walked blithely away from the bizarre scene that was playing out in McCallahan's. This stranger meant nothing to Deagan; he had never seen him before in his life. But Deagan was transfixed, watching this insignificant moment unfold as if it might be one of the most important events of his life.

Quickly he turned back to his dead wife. "Emily, who ki-" But the words died on his lips. Emily was gone without a trace. Had she ever truly been there? At that moment the thought that he might have imagined the whole thing actually filled Deagan with more horror than the possibility that he had just been speaking to a spectre from beyond the grave. He had to get out of this place, had to escape the scene of his madness.

"Excuse me," he muttered as pushed past the concerned looking young man. As he passed the staring girl, he saw the book she had chosen was From Rocs to Thunderbirds: Giant Birds of Mythology. Not one of my better works he thought offhandedly. Deagan moved to the front of the store and found himself following the stranger out the door of McCallahan's Books and Things. A new conviction of unknown origin had begun to grip him:

This man can explain what just happened to me.

As Deagan passed through the door of the bookstore, the clerk breathed a sigh of relief. There was no vomit to clean up in the Religion aisle.

[Cathy Dawn]

As she watched the man she was about to say something when he walked out of the book store. She was fast though and paid for the books as she went out the door. She had the books in her bag and followed the man. He looked lost and alone. She knew what that felt like. He also looked like someone her Nana would have talked about and that was important. She followed them and that was probably not a good idea but she was a bit worried about the man. He was older and she thought he might be someone's grandfather then the other man was probably a mortal as well she could not tell just yet who was mortal and who was a vamp but she was sure the one that was talking to someone that might be dead was someone important and she would keep an eye on him.

[Rudy]

Rudy scratched his head as the dude started continue to talk to someone there Sweat poured off of him and he looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel . The dude practically ignored him pushing by and headed toward the door the little blond haired chick seemed concerned and headed out the door with books in her arms that hadn't been paid for ... 'What the hell ?' He wasn't so much concerned that the girl was shop lifting as he was that the dude had seemed to seriously loose it in his wife's store and was now headed out into a mall full of people.

Rudy went to the door watching which way he went and told the manager to call mall security as he took off after the man and girl .

[Ambrose Acheron]

Looking back over his shoulder and seeing the man following was a good thing. Seeing the only two vampirea right behind him though? Ambrose narrowed his eyes and decided to handle the young one first. He reaches out telepathically into Cathy's mind and slams a thought into it. "My prey fledgling... back off. "

Looking over to Rudy he repeats the same. "The human is mine. Find another."

Ambrose is determined to know the cause of the man's behaviour because he believes it to be supernatural. Fledglings these days know so little about themselves that there is nothing they could do about other entities other than make the entire matter worse. Neither of these two knew anything about the art of rituals so chances of them having the occult knowledge to handle this was slim to none.

All they would likely manage to do would be to expose their kind.

Ambrose watches Deagan approach and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a card with only a phone number on it. Nothing special or elegant about it. "You and I should talk, Mr. McNamara. First you should assure your fan club you are alright though." He nods over the man's shoulder toward Rudy and Cathy. "They seem concerned for your well-being. Call me at that number when you can set up a meeting in a more private locale."