Make Some Magic: His Ghoul Friday, #4

CHAPTER 1

It all started when Cordelia called to give me the bad news about my job.

"I found out how Game of Thrones ended. I can’t tell you any spoilers, though." Cordelia’s voice broke on the end of the phone and I could hear snuffling sounds.

Game of Thrones ended ages ago, but Cordelia was always behind with TV shows. She hadn’t even started watching Killing Eve yet. Cordelia, are you crying? It’s only a TV show, after all.

No, of course not. Cordelia’s tone was decidedly snappy. "Anyway, you cried when Amy and Rory left. We’re not all Doctor Who fans, you know."

She had me there. At any rate, Cordelia was typically months, if not years, behind the times.

Misty! Are you still there?

Sorry, Cordelia. I was thinking. I gently pushed my cat, Merlin, away with my toe. Merlin didn’t like me speaking on the phone given she was an attention junkie.

Are you alone?

I groaned out loud. I knew that Cordelia was asking if John Smith was still around. He had turned up unexpectedly the other week and then had left again just as suddenly. He worked for some secret government organisation. I always thought of him as someone like Mulder of The X-Files. Of course, Cordelia didn’t know that, with it being a secret organisation and all, so she thought he was a less than satisfactory boyfriend. Truth be told, he wasn’t my boyfriend at all. I’m sure he didn’t think of me in that way. Yes. My reply was a little curt.

Misty…

I cut her off. Please don’t start on that again, Cordelia. I know you don’t like him, but …

Cordelia in turn interrupted me. No, no. It’s just that I have some bad news. I’ve only just got home from Keith’s house, and he confirmed that Skinny is cutting your hours back as of next week.

I had known this was coming. Cordelia had all the inside gossip, courtesy of her dating Keith, our boss, Editor In Chief of Ghoulzette, the paranormal magazine for which I was an underpaid journalist. I sighed. Just as well you’d already warned me.

I know, but I’m sure it doesn’t make it any easier. Skinny is, well, not a nice person.

I agreed. I wasn’t quite as upset as I would have been under normal circumstances, because I had recently received a job offer from John’s secret organisation. There were three little problems with that. One, just before the men made the offer, I had received a mysterious text that said ‘Job offer could prove fatal.’ Two, the men had left after they had made the offer and I hadn’t heard a word since. Three, I had no idea how much it paid, or even if it did. Surely they couldn’t expect it to be voluntary. The greater good is all very well, but I had a mortgage to consider.

What are you going to do?

Look around for another job, I suppose. I would have to find another job if I didn’t hear about the secret organisation job offer soon.

Full time or part time? I’d miss you if you left the magazine.

I sighed again. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Cordelia let out a shriek. I wondered for a moment if she’d misheard me. I forgot to tell you. Just after you left work today, a man came to the office and asked for you.

I was intrigued. Who was he?

"He wouldn’t give his name. He was very cute."

I thought about the two men who worked with John. They were okay looking, but I wouldn’t call them very cute. Describe him.

He had a slight accent, English perhaps. Tall, dark, and handsome, the usual cliché.

My blood ran cold. Douglas. A member of the Black Lodge, a man who had not prevented a nasty old woman from arranging my murder. Surely Douglas wouldn’t be in Australia, seeking me out. It made no sense. And if, on the other hand, the mysterious man was a member of John’s organisation, he would not be likely to contact me at my work. They knew where I lived.

Anyway, in some good news, Cordelia continued, Skinny is sending me to a little town called Hillgrove this weekend to write up a big feature on ghosts. The magazine’s paying for me to stay in a motel overnight.

I knew Hillgrove, a tiny town just north of Armidale, where I had gone to university. Hillgrove doesn’t have any motels, Cordelia. There should be a lot of ghosts there though. There were several massacres in the area back in the day.

Cordelia groaned. The motel’s in the city of Armidale, silly. It’s only a fifty minute or so drive away from Hillgrove. Anyway, come with me.

I bit my lip. I don’t know, Cordelia.

Look, it’s free accommodation, and I don’t want to go alone. Anyway, it’s not as if I’ve ever asked you to do any favours for me.

Oh no? How about the time you made me drive to Perth with you to steal your ex’s dog? It took five days to drive there, and five days to drive back, and the very minute we got back, you found out that your ex was so distraught that we had to drive the dog straight back to him.

Cordelia shrugged. She was my dog too.

Yes, but that horrible favour I did for you back then lasted about three weeks.

Cordelia laughed. You have a point, but please come, Misty, please, please.

CHAPTER 2

And that is how I found myself driving to the little town of Hillgrove with Cordelia the following weekend. We were in Cordelia’s car, a large Lexus, because I doubted mine would have made the distance. It needed new tyres, plus the mechanic had advised me to sell it as the repairs would cost more than the car was worth.

We drove through miles and miles of bushland. This section of the Grafton Road was boring, but at least the road was good.

I need botox.

What? I said. We had left Armidale well behind us and were closer to Hillgrove now, driving along a road thickly flanked by old eucalyptus trees. Cordelia’s botox statement had come out of the blue. Oh no.

What’s wrong?

I just spilled some of the coffee on my jeans. We had been to the Armidale McDonald’s on our way. Hillgrove didn’t have a McDonald’s. It didn’t even have a single store, not even a café. Anyway, Cordelia, you don’t need botox. Why would you think you’d need botox?

Cordelia sighed. The other day, Skinny asked me if I’d been crying, and I said I hadn’t been, but she said she thought I’d been crying because of all the lines around my eyes.

I couldn’t help laughing. Oh Cordelia, you know she always says things like that. You can’t take her seriously. If anything, she’s just jealous because you have such good skin. You don’t have any lines around your eyes.

Cordelia peered in the rear vision mirror and the car swerved erratically. I do have lines on my forehead. Can you please do me a favour? Google ‘botox clinics’ on your iPhone.

I waved the phone at her. Out of range.

I felt more and more uneasy as we approached Hillgrove. I’d been there with friends when I was a student, but back then I hadn’t inherited the Keeper’s ability to see or sense ghosts.

I was looking out for the turn-off when we came to a sign that said, ‘Bakers Creek Falls (Old Hillgrove Road).’ Don’t turn here, Cordelia, but…, and then I gasped as Cordelia turned hard off the road. "No, I said not to turn here."

Cordelia swung the car back hard onto the main road. Her driving left a lot to be desired. I spilled the last of my coffee down my jeans, and almost missed the actual Hillgrove turn-off, because I was so busy wiping my jeans with tissues. Here it is, Cordelia. I pointed to the sign that said, ‘Hillgrove, 5.’

Are you sure this time?

Yes, and look, there’s a sign to the Hillgrove Museum. I pointed to a large sign that said, ‘Visit the fascinating Hillgrove Museum.’

Cordelia swung the car to the right and drove down the middle of the road. It was a narrow, unmarked road, and I was worried that we’d meet a car coming the other way.

Cordelia, we’re in luck. If that sign is right, the museum’s open this afternoon. I’m going to ask them about the massacres.

Cordelia swerved to miss an oncoming car. What reason are you going to give them?

When I’d sufficiently recovered from the fright of seeing a car heading straight for us, I said, Reason? What do you mean? Do I need to give them a reason for asking?

Well, massacres, hardly a subject for casual conversation, is it? And don’t say you’re a journalist. They might clam up.

We were driving up a slight hill, approaching the town itself, and I silently said to myself, We’re not wanted here. Something doesn’t want new people coming to the area. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, as if there were a heavy weight pressing down on me. Cordelia knew nothing about the Society or of course about me being the Keeper, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

Just then, there was large thump under the car, as if we’d driven over a sizable branch.

Cordelia pulled off the road. What was that?

Dunno. I’ll look. I got out of the car and looked under it and behind, but there was not a thing in sight. I hopped back into the car. I can’t see anything at all.

Weird. This place gives me the creeps. I’ll be able to do a good ghost story here. I bet the whole place is crawling with ghosts. Cordelia quivered.

We continued on down to the entrance of the Hillgrove mine. Along the side of the road were green signs showing the businesses that had been in those particular locations back in the town’s heyday, such as, ‘Hillgrove Oyster Saloon,’ ‘Quinnell’s General Store,’ ‘Val Irwin Tobacconist,’ ‘Crough’s Hillgrove Hotel,’ and ‘Police Station Lockup.’ There were dozens of signs.

The road led straight to the Hillgrove mine, but there were high wire fences and huge, electronic security gates. A big sign on the entrance warned people to stay away, and another sign said, ‘Video surveillance.’

Cordelia turned the car in a circle in the parking lot and then we drove about fifty yards and parked at a little monument. What sort of mine is it anyway, Misty?

The sign said gold and antimony.

What’s antimony?

I shrugged. No idea. I think it might be used in plastic production or something.

Cordelia nodded and then laughed. You know, this will sound crazy, but just then I had a feeling that someone was going to chase us.

I laughed, but I’d had the same feeling too. I felt threatened, but not by anything human.

Let’s go back to the museum. Remember, we saw a sign to it as we drove in.

I readily agreed, but Cordelia pulled the car over every few metres so she could take photos of the green signs for her magazine article. This town would’ve been quite big for a country town, and now it only has a population of just over ninety people. I looked at my notes. It used to have a population of three thousand.

That must have been ages ago, Cordelia said.

Yep, back in 1898. It even had its own stock exchange, as well as six hotels, two schools, four churches, a few banks, and a hospital. It even had a cordial factory and a school of the arts. They had electricity here back in 1895.

Cordelia drove down a dirt road. That’s pretty impressive. Look, here’s the museum, but I don’t think it’s open. Cordelia parked the car under a big tree.

Yes it is. See, that door’s shut, but there’s an open sign on it.

Oh, great. Cordelia sounded less than enthusiastic. This place is giving me the creeps. Lucky it’s broad daylight.

Cordelia dragged me into the museum and made the requisite gold coin donation. In