Ghost Light

My mother stood, keeping the ice wrapped around her hand, and went to her bedroom.  She returned with a small jewelry box.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have left of your fa…,” she said.  Of your father.  She coughed and cleared her throat.  “Keep it safe and when you find him, tell him I love him still.”

She pulled a plastic bag from a kitchen drawer and slid the box inside.  My mother knew about my aversion to carrying old things and was trying to make this easier on me.  She handed me the box and tears blurred my vision.  I smiled and nodded.

I had come here in hopes of finding a clue to my father’s whereabouts and I wasn’t leaving empty handed.  My mother had suffered trying to give me the information, but I now had a name—Inari.  I also had the box and whatever it contained.

“I’ll bring dad back to us,” I said.  “I promise.”

My mother smiled through her tears and went to fetch her coat and purse.  When she returned, she offered to drive me into the city.   Since the best hospital in the area, Harborsmouth General, was in the city, I agreed.  We rode in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

I held the jewelry box in my lap, eager to return to the city and continue the search for my father.  I had planned on paying Kaye a visit to thank her for healing me after the cemetery battle.  Now I had another reason to see my friendly neighborhood witch.  If anyone had information on this Inari, it would be Kaye.  I looked out the window and grinned.

For the first time since learning of my father’s existence, I had a solid lead.

Chapter 31

I stayed with my mother at the hospital while the doctor set her finger.  X-rays indicated the finger was broken, as I’d guessed.  After setting the bone, the emergency room doc wrote out a script for pain meds and told my mother to ice the finger for twenty-minute intervals to control the swelling.  I nodded and smiled standing at my mother’s side, but I was covered in cold sweat.

Hospitals are one of my least favorite places.  Aside from the obvious harried staff, frightened patients, and unpleasant smell of industrial cleaners, the place is filled with objects tainted with painful visions.  I kept my hands in my pockets, hoodie and jacket collar up, and shoulders hunched.  When the doctor said my mother was set to go home, I nearly ran to the exit.

I passed a banshee on my way out the door.  The faerie wailed and moaned and pulled out clumps of her own hair as she hovered around a family who were huddled in the waiting area.  In my peripheral vision, she looked liked a particularly distraught woman in her eighties with gray hair, pearls, and a business-casual, white dress stretched over a sagging chest and a pot belly.  When I looked at the banshee directly, however, she had the telltale appearance of a death omen.

The banshee was dressed in a long, flowing dress stained with the blood of the soon to be deceased.  The cute elderly woman was replaced by a fierce faerie hag with long, disheveled, gray hair and red eyes.  A banshee is often loyal to one bloodline, foretelling the death of the eldest son with her keening cries.  Judging by the banshee’s behavior, this family was about to get some whopping bad news.

Since a banshee does not bring about death, only foretells it, there was nothing I could do for the family.  I skirted past the waiting area and sprinted for the exit.  Glass doors swished open and I sucked in a breath of city air laced with greasy food odors and exhaust fumes.  After the antiseptic smell of the hospital, it smelled like heaven.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d skipped breakfast in my haste to question my mother.  I turned down Mercy Ave and headed toward Congress Street, the jewelry box in my pocket thumping against my side with each step.  I needed to get off the street to somewhere safe and private where I could examine the contents of the box.  I could also use some food and caffeine.

I knew just the place.  I was on the west side of town, not far from Fountain Square.  At Congress Street, I took a shortcut through a parking garage over to Temple Ave.  I held my breath against the mingling scents of sweat and urine and nodded to the ogre parking attendant.  Whether it was aware of it or not, the city of Harborsmouth was an equal opportunity employer.

Once on Temple, I scooted into the Old Port quarter and followed the brick and cobbled streets to The Emporium.  I owed Kaye my thanks for patching me up and nursing me back to health after the cemetery battle.  I couldn’t help it if that thanks was going to be followed by more questions about my father.  I just hoped that Hob could spare a cup of tea and some toast.

Humphrey guarded the door from his perch on an old, stone drain spout.  I waved to the gargoyle and ducked inside.  It was business hours and Madam Kaye’s Magic Emporium was open.  No special invitation, or security escort, needed.

“Hey, Ivy,” Arachne said.