| Last Call By V.C. Hale |
| The Last Call sign glowed eerily in the darkness, the letters Gothic, neon blue, the rosebud a deep, blood red. The slick, greasy mud reflected the light in irregular pools and off the slimy bark and damp hanging moss of the nearby trees. No road led to this establishment, no bright lights brought it to anyone�s attention, no signs directed customers, it appeared on no map. But then, Last Call had a fairly exclusive clientele. None of its regulars had ever drawn mortal breath. That is, save one. The spirit Carpathian sat at his usual table, in a corner, not far from the piano. Nasty, the bartender, polished glasses with a towel. His blue-grey flesh, roughly worn at the joints and looking slightly rotted, hung loosely on his bones and rolled slowly over his stringy muscles. It was a slow night. The doorman, his dusty, rotting tuxedo stretched taut over his distended abdomen leaned in the doorway, and the piano player was well into the twenty-fourth verse of a lengthy and fairly graphic ballad requested by three ghouls who were now engrossed in a lively game of pool. Bloody Mary, the waitress, set a steaming cup on Carpathian�s table. �You must really be bored,� she said. �I�ve never seen anyone last through the entire song of �The Laughing Skeleton and the Countess� if they had anywhere else to go.� Carpathian smiled slightly. �But it was a request,� he said, �and Glory is doing such a fine job of it.� Mary took hold of the back of the chair across from Carpathian. �You mind?� He gestured to her and she sat down. �I�ve noticed you�ve been hanging around here a lot,� she said. �Not that I mind. You�re a really nice guy, and I like you, but you worry me. This is a place to meet, and get away from things, not stay at all the time.� Carpathian smiled again, and took her hand. �I appreciate your concern, my dear,� he said, �but if the truth be told, I have no place to go. I am a wandering spirit. I roam the earth, unbound to any place.� Bloody Mary smiled knowingly, then stood. �So why aren�t you wandering, then?� she said as she walked back to the bar. The sun was close to coming up, and Last Call was shutting down. Carpathian, who had been there all night, stood and crossed to the door. �See you again tomorrow?� Glory asked, rising from the piano. Carpathian smiled wanly. �I think so, my dear.� �I heard you talking to Mary,� Glory went on. �I know you used to head up a house. Have you thought about finding another?� Carpathian shook his head. �I was rather burned by my last experience, you might say. I�m afraid it was something of a mistake to bring such ones together.� He touched his chest with his fingertips. �And there was a sacrifice�� he said softly. Glory touched Carpathian�s shoulder. �There are many that need you, my friend,� she said. �Little ones, vulnerable and innocent, that would benefit from your protection.� Carpathian took Glory�s hands in his. �I know that all too well,� he said. As the sun set the following evening, Carpathian rose in the underground cavern he now called home. So far beneath the earth that no light could find its way down, and the temperature held at a steady four degrees all year round, Carpathian stayed during the brightest part of the day, and stored the few material items he possessed. As an insubstantial spirit, Carpathian moved through the narrow, twisting passages and tunnels to the surface. He ascended into a misty twilight. A chill wind was blowing bright leaves down from the trees, and thin clouds blew across the face of the moon. He started walking, intending to let the wind take him, but soon he realized he was heading towards Last Call. He thought of its warm fire, the song and the company, the table they kept waiting for him now, and he redoubled his speed, sweeping in the front door before Glory had even opened the piano. Bloody Mary brought him his customary drink as he set at his table. �Back again,� she said. �Back again,� Carpathian agreed. �You ready for tomorrow,� she said. �Tomorrow�� Carpathian asked faintly. �You�ve been living underground too long,� she said, laughing. �It�s Halloween tomorrow.� Carpathian lowered his eyes. �A year already,� he said quietly. �And the little one so distant�� Bloody Mary sat down opposite, not bothering to ask permission this time. �What�s been bothering you,� she asked. �I mean, I�ve heard of a spirit of melancholy, but for crying out loud.� �It is a very long story,� Carpathian said, an edge coming into his voice, �and I have no desire�� �Look,� she said, cutting him off, �I don�t have to hear your life story, but I�m talking to you as a friend, here. I don�t have to be a necromancer to see you�re low. Now maybe I�m just a wacky optimist�� �Get to the point, Mary.� �Well, if you�re just looking to start anew, you could do worse than coming by tomorrow and talking to some of the folks. I mean, they all come home for the holiday. Nasty even lets a couple of vampires in.� �Vampires not allowed?� Carpathian asked. �Never,� she answered. �Nasty thinks they�re lowlife scum.� �Talk about your subtle distinctions,� Carpathian muttered. �Anyway,� Mary went on, �there�s always a bunch of ghosts, spirits, witches�� At this Carpathian winced. �They�re always looking for folks to fill up houses, help haunt forests; they could use someone like you.� Carpathian shook his head slowly. �You do not know what you are asking,� he said. �At least talk to some of them,� she pressed. �Perhaps�� �Please, for me,� she went on, then added, �at least try.� �I will try,� he said. Carpathian was startled the next night when he entered Last Call. Jack-o-lanterns were set everywhere, and candlesticks made of skulls. Each table was crowded, even his usual. A group of ghouls was playing darts, shouting boisterously and joking with Mary and Glory. There were, as Mary promised, witches, ghosts, spirits both evil and good, and even a couple of vampires. Although, Carpathian noticed, Nasty was keeping an eye on them. He looked around, vainly it seemed, for a place to sit. He finally spotted a table for two where the ghost of a little boy, maybe about thirteen, was drinking a �Roy Rogers� cocktail. Or a close enough facsimile, he supposed. Carpathian crossed to the table. �Do you mind if I join you,� he asked the ghost. �Not at all, sir,� the ghost replied. �I am called Carpathian,� Carpathian said, extending his bony hand. �My name is Jeremy,� the ghost said, taking it. Carpathian sat opposite and regarded his companion. �If you do not mind my saying, Jeremy,� he said, �are you not somewhat young to be enjoying a tavern.� �It�s only once a year I am free to, sir,� Jeremy said. �But the ghosts I have known,� Carpathian went on, �even on Halloween, tend to roam with their fellows from whatever structure they haunt.� �Would that I had fellows, sir,� Jeremy said, �but I am solitary in the house I haunt. That is, I am the solitary ghost.� �I am sorry to hear it,� Carpathian said, �but still, it must be worth it, the thing that binds you to that place, for, if you will excuse me for saying, you are not the usual addle-brained spirit.� �Sir?� Jeremy questioned. �Well, most ghosts,� Carpathian explained, �are not aware of their state, and simply continue on, not knowing why or even, sometimes, that they have passed on to another state.� �You mean they don�t know they�ve died,� Jeremy said flatly. �There is no need to deal in euphemism with me, sir. I am all too aware that I�ve �passed on.� And believe me, I would dearly love to pass even further on, and enter that undiscovered country, to find the peace I�m sure awaits me there. But it is not by choice I remain in the material world. I am bound, unwillingly, and have been for over eighty years.� Carpathian gave a start. He could not imagine such a thing. �Eighty years,� he said, unbelieving. �What holds you like that?� Jeremy shook his head, and his words were bitter for one who seemed so young. �At first I believed it was excessive grief, and I stayed to comfort my little playfellow, but with time, she found ways to keep me with her.� He gritted his teeth. �In adulthood, she found her power over me had �uses.� She is now a powerful sorceress.� Carpathian shuddered, imagining such a thing all too vividly. �But even she cannot tie the hands of time,� Jeremy concluded. �With her death, I will be free.� �So you think,� Carpathian said ruefully. �But with such power, some witches can carry on their evil even in death.� Jeremy looked stricken. �Are you sure?� he asked. �I know all too well,� Carpathian answered. �Then there is no hope,� Jeremy moaned. �There is always hope,� Carpathian told him. �I will come with you tonight, and see if I cannot help you put things to right.� �I would be sorely in your debt, sir,� Jeremy said. As the night ebbed, Last Call slowly emptied. First the spirits that were, at heart, homebodies left just after midnight. Then the werewolves, and witches, and other semi-naturals who had jobs to get to in the morning. And lastly, the spirits who longed for company reluctantly went home for another year. Carpathian went with Jeremy to the foreboding old mansion where Jeremy�s former childhood friend dwelled. It was a tall structure, with towers and gables, all painted a dark, Gothic gray. �Well, the place certainly looks the part,� Carpathian noted. They drifted through the front door. Inside, much of the furniture was shrouded with sheets, and a thick coating of dust lay over everything. �She�s upstairs,� Jeremy said by way of explanation. �She doesn�t leave her room much anymore. But then, she doesn�t have to.� �Jeremy, is that you?� came a voice from somewhere above them. �Your lady, I presume,� Carpathian said. �Not mine, but yes,� Jeremy answered, �that is Elizabeth.� �Shall we go to her.� Jeremy shrugged and led Carpathian up the stairs and into a large bedroom. The furniture here was uncovered and freshly dusted. In the mahogany bed lay a frail-looking old woman, her gray hair arranged in a halo about her head. She had drawn the counterpane to her chin and her eyes were closed as if in concentration. �That will not be necessary,� Jeremy said. �I have come of my own will.� The old woman�s eyes snapped open, and she turned sharply towards them. Then her mouth dropped open in horror. A moment later voice came to her throat and she let out a high-pitched, keening wail. With more strength than Carpathian would have imagined her to have, she sprang out of the bed and ran, screaming, wildly, through another door into an adjoining bedroom, then into the hallway. Jeremy and Carpathian went after her. At the top of the staircase she turned suddenly and stopped screaming. �Leave me alone,� she said, her voice even and strong in contrast to her earlier wailing. �I have done nothing to you,� Carpathian said, �and I have no wish to do you harm.� �Don�t lie to me,� she said. �I know who you are. I have anticipated you. But I know your weakness, and have studied how to fight you. Jeremy!� she called sharply. �Please, Elizabeth,� Jeremy said softly, �this isn�t what you think.� Elizabeth turned an eye towards him. �Listen to me, Jeremy. You know I can make you.� Jeremy�s shoulders sagged and he turned helplessly to Carpathian. �I�m sorry,� he whispered. Carpathian drew himself up and turned to face Elizabeth. �It is an evil and cruel thing you have done here,� he said fiercely, �and I cannot allow it to continue.� �How dare you,� the old woman hissed, then she raised her hands. Carpathian felt a force like a strong wind press against him, pushing him backward down the steps and through the front door. As he was pushed through he pointed up at Jeremy. �I will not abandon you,� he shouted as the doors slammed closed in front of him. The next night Carpathian found himself back at Last Call. But he was not sitting quietly. He was at the bar with Nasty, Glory, Bloody Mary and even Delive the doorman gathered around him. Sparing no detail he recounted the story of the night before. �Oh, the poor little chile,� Glory drawled sympathetically, �shut up in that great big ol� house without a friend in the world.� �Well, I am his friend,� Carpathian said gravely. �I will have to do all I can to convince that wicked woman to release him. Or find a way to force her.� �So the boy says she is near death?� Bloody Mary asked. �Yes,� Carpathian answered, �and canny. And she is not going gently anywhere.� Delive cleared his throat meaningfully. They all turned to him. �She, uh, may have already planned for that, uh, eventuality,� he said. �How so,� Nasty said, leaning across the bar. Delive looked around nervously. �You know� the hidden heart.� �Spit it out,� Nasty growled. Delive cleared his throat again. �Well,� he began, �the really powerful sorcerers have way to trick death. To defy aging and bodily harm.� �How?� Nasty said, his voice loud and demanding. �They extract their own souls,� Delive explained. �Disguise them as some object and hide it. With their souls removed from their bodies, they don�t age, any physical damage can be healed magically without causing pain, they can�t be killed�� Nasty blew his breath out slowly. �There�s no way to stop her then.� �No, wait,� said Delive, suddenly excited. �I remember now. If you can identify the object that the soul has been hidden in and somehow destroy it, the sorcerer dies as well.� He snapped his fingers and pointed at Carpathian. �Did you see anything at her house that a soul could be hidden in?� Carpathian gave an elegant shrug. �Just how big are we talking about?� he asked. Delive cupped an imaginary object in his hands, �Fairly small,� he said, �about the size of a human heart or smaller. I guess between the size of a walnut and an apple. Did you see anything that size?� Carpathian�s own heart sank as he remembered the shelves of knick-knacks that filled Elizabeth�s house. �Only hundreds,� he said glumly. �Oh,� said Delive. �Wait a minute,� said Glory. �There has to be some way to narrow it down. Maybe you could talk to Jeremy.� �I am going to try to go back tonight,� Carpathian said, �but that witch�� he bit off the word ��is powerful. I have no doubt she will try to prevent me from speaking to him.� �Do your best, dahling,� Glory said, touching his shoulder. Carpathian stood outside the once-stately home of Elizabeth. He had seen Jeremy looking out at him furtively several times that night and knew the boy was waiting for the right opportunity to speak with him. It was all right. He was a patient spirit. He kept himself occupied examining the house. It had been elegant once. There were balconies and gables, French doors and a tall tower in one corner. Carpathian could imagine a winding stairway and airy dormer windows. He remembered the entrance hall with its grand galleries and the large bedrooms with their fireplaces and skylights. But now the house was in decay. Paint peeled off in thousands of tiny flakes. Moss covered the stonework, reducing it in places to a fine powder that gathered at the base of the walls. The porch floorboards had warped to a point where they had ripped free and stuck out at strange angles. Carpathian shook his head sadly at the rotting edifice, a fitting testament to Elizabeth�s wasted life. She should be in a proper cozy home, surrounded by her family, a family she never had. At last the back door opened and Jeremy slipped out. �I�m sorry,� he whispered, �she has only just now gone to sleep.� �It is all right,� Carpathian said. �I have been speaking to some friends. We have a theory about your situation�� Quickly he explained what Delive had told him. �Does it sound reasonable,� he said. �Can you think of anything she might have hidden her soul in?� Jeremy lowered his eyes. �When we were both children,� he said, �when I was still alive, I gave her a locket as a birthday present. Well, not a locket, exactly, but a little charm shaped like a fancy egg. It was gold and blue enamel, with little chips of glass, different colors, like jewels. It opened up and had a space inside. I thought she could keep dried flowers in it, or pretty pebbles.� He sighed sadly. �Anyway, she hasn�t taken it off her neck since. She doesn�t even remember I gave it to her, anymore.� Carpathian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. �It sounds likely,� he agreed. �If we could only get it from her. Removed from the source of her power, she would have no control over you anymore.� Jeremy allowed the barest hint of a smile to cross his face. �Oh, to be free,� he said wistfully, �no longer bound to this material plane.� He took Carpathian�s hand, and his own hands were shaking. �I cannot believe you would undertake this on my behalf. I have known you such a short time.� �But it is right,� Carpathian said, cutting him off. �I know what it is to be bound by sorcery, and I would not allow another to be so if I can help it.� Jeremy nodded his head slowly. �I thank you,� he said. �I only pray you do not struggle in vain.� Then he clenched Carpathian�s hand more tightly. �You must promise me,� he said, �if you think you might be hurt, to abandon this folly.� �I do not think�� Carpathian began. �For my sake,� Jeremy begged. �I could not bear it. Please, if I tell you so, you must withdraw.� Carpathian held silent a long moment. �Very well,� he said at last. �When you say so.� �Agreed, then,� Jeremy said with relief. �Let us lay our plan.� Carpathian spent the next few nights tracking down various ghouls and spirits and creatures suggested by the staff of Last Call. He needed muscle, he knew, if he was to overwhelm the enchantress in her own lair. At last he had a group assembled. At his request, they had taken care to look especially ghastly. Maggots squirmed in open wounds, teeth were ground to fine points, and fresh blood stained their lips. Carpathian quickly explained his and Jeremy�s plan. The various ghouls, brawlers at heart, jostled together excitedly. Then, like a sergeant-at-arms, Carpathian raised his staff and led them to Elizabeth�s house. He stationed one at each window and door, instructing them to frighten her back if she tried to escape. Rising on the wind, he hovered outside her window. Reaching out, he rapped at the glass with a bony hand. Untouched, the curtains rose up and the sash was raised. Elizabeth sat bolt upright in a chair facing the window. Jeremy stood behind her. She had not been caught by surprise this time. Indeed, her demeanor suggested she was expecting him. She was dressed in a dark, high-collared gown, and her iron-gray hair was pulled back in a severe knot. �You cannot touch me,� she said sternly. �I have sealed this house against you.� Behind her, Jeremy hung his head. Carpathian nodded at her gravely. �I give you a chance, witch,� he said. �Release this boy from bondage and I will trouble you no more. Refuse, and you call me and my company down upon you.� �An idle boast,� Elizabeth answered. �Very well then,� Carpathian retorted. Then he shouted, �Now!� As one, every ghoul, spirit, and creature, every tentacled horror and fierce beastie rattled doorknobs, pulled at latches, and struck windowpanes in an attempt to break them, and made valiant effort to undo the seal that bound the house. And Elizabeth reacted as though she, herself, had been struck. She half-rose in her chair, a look of pain and horror seizing her face. She motioned with her hand. �Jeremy, attend me,� she rasped. But Jeremy, momentarily freed from her spell, stepped away from her and snatched a heavy paperweight from a nearby table. With all his strength he pitched it through the window, shattering the glass. Effortlessly, Carpathian slipped through into the bedroom. With a wild cry of rage, Elizabeth tore from the room and ran down the stairs. All over the house, dozens of horrors breached her defense and stepped, flew, and crawled in. They chased the old woman to the library, surrounding her there like hounds holding a fox at bay. Carpathian came into their midst and Elizabeth began to curse and snarl. �Begone, fiend,� she hissed. �You can bring this house down around us, and still you cannot harm even the slightest hair upon my head.� �No,� Carpathian said, stepping close to her, �but I know your secret.� And with a deft gesture, he plucked the egg pendant from her neck. The assembled company froze, set like a tableau. Only Elizabeth�s eyes moved, twitching madly with outrage. Then she suddenly seemed to crumple, collapsing to the ground at Carpathian�s feet. She took the hem of his robe in her fingers, a supplicant gesture, and every year of her life seemed to weigh down upon her, diminishing her. �Please,� she begged, weeping, �don�t. I will do anything you wish, only please don�t harm me.� Around her, the horrors chuckled cruelly, but Carpathian silenced them with a hand. �Anything?� he asked. Elizabeth began to cry anew, sobbing out long, shuddering moans, too consumed by terror to respond coherently. Into the fray stepped Jeremy. �Please, Carpathian,� he whispered, �I cannot bear it. My heart will break.� Carpathian stood back. �As you will, then,� he said, and Jeremy knelt down to Elizabeth�s side. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. �My dear friend,� he said tenderly. �Lizzie, my little playmate, can you not have some mercy for me and save yourself?� Elizabeth, who seemed to have aged twenty years in the past two minutes, looked up at him, confused. She looked around her, at Carpathian and the assembled horrors. �But, Jeremy, I don�t understand.� Jeremy stiffened, once again formal. �Have you no sympathy for me, bound to you, bound in this house, past my time on this earth?� He softened again and took Elizabeth�s hand. �Lizzie, where is my little friend?� There was silence for a long moment, and Elizabeth�s face showed a struggle going on behind her eyes. Then, slowly, she lowered her head. �Oh, Jeremy,� she sobbed, �you�re right. I�ve been so selfish. Can you forgive me?� �Lizzie,� Jeremy whispered, and helped the old woman to her feet. She leaned on the ghost-boy for support, and he helped her up the stairs and into the bedroom. Carpathian followed a respectful distance behind and stood in the doorway as Jeremy lowered Elizabeth onto her bed and drew the counterpane up around her. Jeremy stood up and walked to Carpathian. �May I have the egg?� he asked. Solemnly Carpathian placed the trinket in his hand. �Leave us,� Jeremy said, turning away and shutting the door. Slowly, Carpathian returned to the library and dismissed the monsters that waited there. With no small degree of disappointment, they scattered into the night. Carpathian waited in the library, leafing through a number of the thousands of volumes that filled the shelves. He recalled with some regret his own library, now gone beyond recall, destroyed by the witch Jastin�s ambition and evil designs. He touched the tiny figurines and knick-knacks, and ran his hands over the beautiful antique furniture. And slowly, a tiny seed of thought was planted in his mind. After many hours, the library door was eased open and Jeremy entered. He was much less substantial now, his legs completely gone and only a faint, transparent outline of his lower torso visible. The rest of him was fading rapidly. �Elizabeth is gone,� he said, and his voice sounded very far away. �I will be joining her shortly.� Carpathian nodded gravely. �I am glad I could help you,� he said. Jeremy�s face was suddenly lit by a golden glow. �Oh, Carpathian. That you could know this rapture.� He was fading quickly now; small golden lights rose from his body into the air and through the ceiling. He reached towards Carpathian. �I almost forgot,� he said, �this house, her house� it�s yours now�� Mortal men and women, who consider themselves distant from the spirit world, would like too believe they are not in the least like the ghosts, ghouls, monsters, and other creatures that dwell in the darkness. That while men and women seek warmth, shelter, and comfort, the horrors that haunt their nightmares must seek cold and darkness and pain. But for many creatures this is untrue. And that is why Carpathian was stretched out in a chair before a roaring fireplace, a volume of forgotten lore spread out on his lap. He leafed through slowly, nearly napping, half reading, half pondering how he would put the crumbling mansion around him in order. He sighed heavily, thinking how his limited magic could only do so much, a thought that had been in the back of his mind for the three days since Elizabeth�s passing. But he was not too deeply troubled. It would get done in time, and it was a comfort to be in a house again. He was drowsing lightly when there came an insistent tapping at the door. He shook his head to clear the sleep and went to answer it. He eased the door open and looked down at the two spirits who stood there. One was an old crone, her face and hair mottled like the turning leaves. Beside her was a comely young girl draped in spiderwebs. �My name is Haggatha,� the crone told him, �and this is my daughter, Cobweb. Forgive the lateness of the hour, but we were told by Mr. Nasty, at Last Call, that you might have room available here for us. We�d be willing to help out in any way we can,� she added quickly. Carpathian smiled to himself. So, he thought, it begins again, whether I choose it or not. He stepped back from the doorway and swept his arm back in greeting. �Come in, ladies,� he said, �and welcome to my home.� Main Menu ~ Return to Odds and Ends Menu |