Zaira circled overhead. Their street was brighter than she was expecting at that time of day. There were no street lights this far out of the city. At night, the only lights usually came from the two houses and the hundreds of visible stars. Zaira followed the light to its source. A car was parked at the intersection of 10th Line and Hwy 84. Headlights on, no hazards. Odd. Maybe they were lost. She turned back to the houses.
It was shortly past sunset. Knowing the Rosses were likely still awake, Zaira landed and knocked on their door.
“Oh! Hello dear. I was wondering where you were. I went by your place at noon, but it was locked.”
“Yeah, I was at the library. I spotted your guest last night. But I needed to do a bit of research.”
“Yes, and?” Hannah inched a little closer.
“It's a pukwudgie. A cryptid. Not a dangerous one though.”
“You are bloody joking.” Ryan appeared behind Hannah. “First ghosts, now this. Ghosts, fine. But this is too far.”
“Um. Not sure what else to say.” Zaira rubbed at the back of her head.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow dear.” Hannah shot Ryan a look and backed away to give the door enough room to close. “Are you working?”
“Hannah, you can't really think-” Ryan hissed.
“Inside, Ryan. I’ll see you tomorrow dear.”
The door was shut and Zaira heard the Rosses’ talking on the other side. Well. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. She had forgotten herself; they were still human. And like the majority of humans, they were cut off from all other sentient creatures on the planet.
She stepped down from the porch and before heading home, Zaira circled around the Rosses’ house. A visual sweep of the yard revealed nothing out of place. She also walked a little further down the road, there were no headlights, nor could she see the shape of a car. She shrugged off the evening’s events and turned for home.
Through the window, big blue eyes watched her walk down the driveway. The little child’s hands and nose pressed against the glass. The ghost ran to her as soon as the door was opened. Little hands gripped her pants tightly.
It wasn’t hard to tell what was spooking the kid. Howling was emanating throughout the house. Zaira resisted the urge to leave the house. She had been planning on going straight to bed but this wouldn’t do. Since she hadn’t eaten more than that hot chocolate, she prepared a meal, sat down, the child still hanging on to her, and hoped the entity would shut up at a reasonable hour.
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Hannah did come to see her the next day. They sat over tea and homemade biscuits and Zaira told her about the little she had found. Hannah looked reluctant to believe everything she said and was in fact rather pale, but she wasn’t dismissive. That evening they went to the backyard, under the guise of enjoying the last of the warm weather, leaving Ryan to read in the living room.
“Um. Hello?”
Zaira watched as Hannah shuffled her way to the porch stairs and took the stairs one at a time, her eyes darting back and forth along the treeline. She held in her hands a child-sized portion of food, leftovers of the night’s supper, as well as a couple chocolate chip cookies.
“Zaira tells me you are the one who is moving things around. Um- I would appreciate it if you could stop breaking into the house. And scratching at the window – that scares me. You can play outside, but please, could you put everything back where you found it when you are done? This is for you.” Hannah placed the plate on the chopping block. “For your cooperation.”
Hannah straightened and watched the treeline. Zaira stood on the porch watching Hannah.
The elder human turned to her. “Is something supposed to happen now?”
Zaira shrugged. “Not really.”
“What am I supposed to do with the food?”
“Leave it there.”
“But what if an animal gets it?”
“I don’t think we’ll be able to know if this works until things stop happening. Try for a week and see.”
“Ok, dear.” Hannah clapped her hands together. “I hope this works.”
“Me too.”
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Zaira was reading by her open window. The air was crisp and brought in with it the scent of the pines. They didn’t change their colors as spectacularly as deciduous trees but they did drop some of their needles in the fall, giving them a particularly sharp smell, in which Zaira basked.
She looked up from her book and spotted a star in the clear blue sky. Within seconds it went from barely visible to near blinding as it approached her home. She averted her gaze. Soon after the house was illuminated as Rushka came in through the wall and landed in front of her. The angel’s light dimmed and their lovely umber features came into view. Their features were neither hard nor soft. They were wearing an orange bogolan with a geometric pattern as a skirt. It was reminiscent of the cultures they had been surrounded by for 200 years or so at their last job.
“Hey, ndugu.”
“Hello, sister.” They smiled. “What is this?” They brushed their fingers over her hair near a horn. “You’re red again.”
Zaira’s throat closed as they said that. The rest of her glamour spells went up and she looked once more like the pale dark-haired anthropoid woman, lacking horns and wings.
“Really? It's just me.”
“Sorry.” She took a deep breath in. Then dropped the spells, returning to her former state. The stronger glamour spell on her face remained, as always.
Rushka looked at her, head to the side with a tight smile. They looked around and picked up her mostly empty mug of tea from the coffee table and went to the kitchen. Zaira sat back down on the couch and watched them as they made her another cup of tea and made themselves a mug of hot chocolate, with cinnamon and nutmeg. They also cut up an apple, garnishing it with the same spices.
“You’ve not made any friends?” They asked as they returned, mugs in hand, their apple floating behind them on a plate.
Zaira took her mug and stared at the dark liquid. “Do the Rosses count?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Do they?”
“They are friendly.”
Rushka placed their mug and apple on the coffee table next to her. “That’s good. Anyone else?”
“I’ve not really been out.”
“Why?”
Zaira shrugged. She picked up her book, which was lying face down beside her, slid its bookmark into it, and put it on the coffee table. Rushka sat on the newly vacated section of the couch.
“Books can’t replace people.”
“Could I get you to help with the entity?”
Rushka shook their head, and she heard a small chuckle.
“I take it you didn’t get my last message. Where did you get stuck?”
“I think it’s a demon. The lock-up worked, but I’m not comfortable with the banishment spell. To be honest, I barely managed that lock-up spell.”
Rushka nodded. They put their feet up on the coffee table, bit into a piece of their apple, and sunk back into the pillows.
“I’ll have a look at it after my snack.”
“Take your time.”
Zaira smiled at them. Rushka deserved some rest after their four-week work shift. She found her small contracts so mentally taxing; she couldn’t imagine having to do the kind of work they did for so long. Angels saw the worst in all creatures, the most horrible events. Yet, they always seemed to have hope, faith, and joy to share, and the strength and sanity to carry on. She could never understand.
They sat in silence for the next hour. Rushka stared at the wall and nibbled on their snack, Zaira mostly reading her book.
“What do you want Zaira?”
Zaira turned to look at the angel, had she been subconsciously annoying them? But she wasn’t near them, nor were they looking at her. They were staring at the unlit fireplace.
“What do you want in life?”
She frowned. They had gone over this before, three hundred years ago, when they had been assigned her case. She had wanted stability, purpose, a home... She had that now.
“Are you still my caseworker?”
“Yes.”
Zaira looked away. “And here I thought you were my friend now.”
“I don’t often seek companionship with my cases.”
They shouldn’t seek companionship with their cases, they both knew that.
“As your caseworker, and as your friend. What do you want?”
“Why do you ask? Everything is fine.”
“I’m still your caseworker.”
Zaira shook her head and picked up her book once more, her body tense. She has a guess as to why they hadn’t been taken off her case yet.
Rushka didn’t ask anything else. They settled once more into silence. With each breath, Zaira forced herself to release the tension in her body. Rushka’s head leaned back, and they closed their eyes.
Another hour went by. Zaira felt her eyelids droop. Her book hung limply in her hand as she stared at the floor. She could hear Rushka trailing their fingers on the sofa’s sidearm.
They may have lazed about for another few hours had it not been for a loud scream. The loud shrill sound ripped both of them from their thoughts and demanded their attention. It was followed by the sounds of the attic shaking, like a small earthquake.
Rushka looked up, “Huh. You don’t hear that through a lock-up spell very often.”
Zaira had read in the book that the spell was supposed to silence trapped entities. Given her results, she had assumed that it had been an exaggeration. Her hands balled. She truly had been lucky to escape with only those scratches.
Rushka sighed and put their empty mug on the table.
“I suppose I should rid you of this nuisance.”
They stood and moved upstairs; she followed closely behind. They looked to the ceiling and back to her.
“Impressive work.”
Zaira nodded her thanks. She felt a slight glow in her chest.
“Where’s the attic?” Rushka asked, their eyes scanned the length of the hallway’s ceiling.
“Back left.”
“This is like something out of a horror novel,” Rushka remarked as they examined the hole in the wall.
“Wait till you see the occupant.”
Rushka let out a short laugh as they stepped through the hole. Their eyes glanced at the stairs on the floor and then up to the sheet covering the entrance. They tugged the visual barrier down.
A skinned face greeted them. Red and inflamed, it dripped blood that never reached the floor. It had barred its teeth and started growling at the sight of them. It lunged at the barrier separating them. It was forced away but wasn't deterred as it returned to claw at the boundary. Deformed hands hit the blockage over and over. Zaira could hear the wood being ripped away from the frame as it brought its hands back to neutral to strike again.
Rushka didn’t flinch at the sight. They watched for a bit before, assisted by their wings, they gracefully hopped up through the entrance into the attic. For all its bravado, Zaira heard the entity scramble back. Then she heard it hiss and saw a shadow pass over the entrance. Rushka took a step aside, then walked away from the entrance.
Zaira jumped and grabbed hold of the entrance’s frame, hoisting herself up just enough to be able to see into the room. Rushka’s gaze was actively avoided by the snarling entity, which had reverted to the black twisted form she had faced. The angel even turned their back to the entity when it lunged. They approached the mirror first. As they got close the entity leaped, not at the angel, but at the mirror. Rushka’s wing snapped out and the entity bounced right off of it.
Zaira sensed a rise of magical energy in the room as Rushka cast a short series of wordless spells. With a small wave of their hand, the mirror shattered and lay on the floor, dull, no longer seeing.
The creature roared. It leaped at Rushka.
Before it could reach them, the angel sent out a blinding light.
Zaira saw white. Her eyes closed tight against the painful amount of light. Her grip slipped and she dropped to the floor. Just as well as pained screaming echoed around her and she pressed her palms to her ears. The shrieking became yelping then the creature's sounds were replaced by rushing winds, and then, nothing.
Her hands left her ears as the light receded. Zaira’s eyes traded blinding white for dancing reds, greens, and blues.
“Rushka? Is it gone?”
“Yes.” Their voice sounded much closer.
“Fucking show off.”
Rushka let out a laugh as they jumped back down to the second floor.
“How’s your eyesight?”
Zaira blinked a few times. Shadows were returning. “It's coming back.”
Rushka took her arm and led her through the hallway and down the stairs.
“That was…anticlimactic, and an ending not worth being in a horror novel.”
Zaira grinned as Ruska let out another laugh.
“I’m an angel, what were you expecting?” They stopped walking at the base of the stairs. “Can I stay for supper?”
Zaira squeezed her ndugu’s arm. “Of course, you can stay for sup -oh!”
A force had run into her at thigh height, and she felt two little arms wrap around her leg. Zaira looked down to see a blurry version of the little ghost.
“Oh,” Rushka echoed. They squatted down to look at the translucent child. “Hello, little one. What are you doing up here?”
The child shyly huddled in closer behind Zaira.
“She likes you.”
“Yes…So she is separate?”
“Separate from what?”
“The entity.”
“Yes.”
“And she is just a ghost?”
“Yes.” Ruska’s eyes twinkled.
“Oh. Good.” A surprising amount of weight lifted off the woman's shoulders.
Rushka chuckled. “Try picking her up.”
Zaira raised an eyebrow at the angel. He nodded towards the little one who was gripping her pants tightly. Tentatively, she reached down to pick up the child. The girl let go of her pants without prompting and lifted her arms up. Zaira's hands made contact with an itchy wool dress and baby-soft, cold, skin. She lifted the child into her arms.
They heard the girl squeal gleefully. Zaira’s near-normal vision was immediately blocked by little arms reaching for the nearby foot-tall horns.
“Do that and I’ll put you back down.” Her tone was not as harsh as she wanted it to be.
The girl’s eyes went wide, and she tucked her arms under her as she rested her head on Zaira’s shoulder. At the weight of the little head, the woman’s arm tightened around the small child. She cradled the child and memories flooded back to the last time she had held a child like this. Her son. He wasn’t much older than this child when he died.
Zaira’s throat closed, and she glared at Rushka, tears in her eyes. They were smiling— the asshole. What was the point of this?
“You didn’t tell me about that spirit.”
She bared her teeth but forced words out anyways. “Honestly - I wasn’t certain if the demon was just trying to trick me with the vision of a child.”
Rushka shook their head. “Not a demon. A human soul who practiced some very dark magic in life.”
Zaira threaded her fingers through soft hair, rubbing the child's scalp a little. The toddler readjusted and gripped the front of her shirt. The cold was the only reminder that the child wasn’t living.
“A spirit can get that powerful?”
“Even more powerful than that actually. It's all about willpower, intent, and practice.” They nodded toward the child. “Has she been a problem?”
“No.”
“Then she can wait a little longer. I’m tired.” They declared as they sat down on the sofa.
Zaira moved to the rocking chair across from them. She started rocking the little ghost much the same as she had rocked her son. The Yulmuth smiled. He had been a small solace in an unforgiving world. He had been an accident. When his father proposed to her to ‘make things right’, she had stupidly agreed.
The little girl relaxed even more in her arms. Her little arms fell to the side and her legs stretched out. Zaira could imagine that since she had died, the girl had lacked the attention children needed. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she rubbed the child’s back. She had lived with the entity for a few short weeks, what had the girl experienced?
Comforted by the little weight, cold as it may be, Zaira forced her thoughts away from her son, away from the girl. She watched Rushka's eyelids fall, and their breathing become more regular. She thought perhaps she should bring them upstairs to rest on an actual bed, but the presence of the child kept her seated. That was until the ghost faded away. Zaira started trembling at her absence, her breathing became labored. She gripped the arms of the rocking chair and took a few deep breaths, feeling the emotions disappear into her once more. Before they could overwhelm her again, she turned her attention to her ndugu. She lifted Ruskha carefully and brought them upstairs, laying them in her bed. She would need to add a guest bedroom for them.
The Amagus returned downstairs and started making supper.
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A wooden spoon was floating in the air over the counter. Sometimes it was still, sometimes it shook widely in the air, occasionally striking the counter and other times it tap-taped the counter. She couldn’t see the child brandishing the weapon but found them adorable anyways.
Zaira scraped her stir fry out of the pan and into her plate. She spotted Hannah walking down the street with a white box in her hands. Zaira snuck in a few bites of her lunch before going to open the door for her neighbor.
“Hello dear! May I come in?”
The wooden spoon clattered to the floor.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Please come in.”
Zaira went into the kitchen and bent over to pick up the spoon. “What do you have there?”
Hannah set the box on the counter. “Open it.”
Zaira walked over, side-eyed the elder, and lifted the lid of the box. She let out a laugh. Inside was a small cake. Someone had drawn a porcupine on it with icing.
“What’s this?”
Hannah wrapped Zaira in her arms and squeezed tightly, the demon tensed.
“Thank you so much.” The woman let her go. “That cryptid has not shown up now for a month. Well, it does eat the food. But, but! I get to sleep through the night and Ryan doesn’t need to clean the yard every day. Yes, thank you.”
“I’m glad that worked.” Zaira smiled.
“Let’s have some cake to celebrate!”
“Oh, um I just started my lunch, maybe after.”
“Oh!” Hannah waved her off. “You can warm that up later and have cake now.”
“Um...”
Hannah egged her to the table and went into the cupboards to retrieve a couple of plates and forks. Behind her, Zaira saw the faint outline of the toddler crawling on the counter. They looked inside the cake box and put their face down into it. The baby’s face would have normally come back up full of icing but of course, she came up clean. The baby gave a little whine before disappearing again.
“Did you say something dear?” Hannah looked at Zaira as she put the dishes next to the cake.
“Nope.”