Date: April 22, 2012
Drake listened to her story intently. It classified his suspicion of her being haunted. The sighting of her former friend was evidence enough. What sort of haunting, was what Drake had wanted to confirm. By the signs of it, was that of a White Lady. They’re usually categorized as being the cause of a tragic death among lovers. Or involving a pained lover who was still on the side of living. One who could never let go. Same goes for the one on the other side.
Drake broke it down mentally. Derick, the future husband of the currently living Becca, previously had a girlfriend no more than three years ago. Jessica, the dead female, was murdered by a mugging gone bad. Her head had been beaten in by a pipe, and stabbed three times in the stomach. After that, she was removed of all of her clothing and left in her undergarments. The killer took everything she owned, and ran. It took three days for the police to discover the body. They were never able to discover who murdered her.
Becca had decided to be there for Derick. As they became closer, they both became intimate with the other. Drake scuffed at that end of the story. Becca almost took it as an insult, but seemingly dismissed it as choking on his spiked beverage. After dating for a year and half, the two become engaged two months ago. Derick felt it was rational to push the wedding. Becca took it as excitement of being married. Or being as happy as he once had. She mentioned something how she understood that Jessica was Derick’s first love, and respected that. Drake couldn’t remember that detail.
“And that’s.. That’s when she showed up, two weeks ago!” Becca exclaimed the date like it just happened to her. “There that thing was. It was just floating there! Staring!” She let out a small squeak, “I can’t believe that’s Jessica.”
The two had been sitting there for a good half an hour. Drake had ordered another refill of tea. It was watered down this time. Less whiskey. He gave her a cant of his head, “Has she attempted to come closer to you?”
Becca’s eyes watered for a moment. Upon finding her friend had been haunting her, distraught seemed to rule her emotions. Drake allowed her to relax and compose herself. “Y-Yes.. It’s like, every time I see her she’s getting closer to me. Slowly… Moving… Like she’s going to get me!”
“I don’t believe that’s the case,” Drake lowered his tea mug and gave her a glance. “I think she’s attempting to warn you about something. From what you’ve told me it appears she’s not trying to hurt you.”
The female’s eyes blinked rapidly. “What, what do you mean?” She gulped down another lump wedged in her throat.
Drake continued with a flip of his hat higher on his forehead. “From what I can tell, your deceased friend has returned to warn you of something. Some White Lady’s are malevolent, violent, towards anyone that are attempting to enter in the life they left before. Or even attack them, if they are trying to remove that person’s memory.” The man coughed, “My expertise tells me that she wants to tell you something. When you’re dead and I’m sure you can imagine, it’s difficult to communicate. I believe she’s a Death Omen.”
The information seeped into her for a moment. A Death Omen? When you think of most ghosts or spirits today, you automatically go to the idea that you have a haunted house. Even being haunted yourself, from some wrong you’ve done. But a Death Omen is hard to come by. Not something you see everyday.
Becca took a slow breath, “Am.. Am I going to die?”
An excellent question to be thinking given all of the circumstances. “If I can prevent it, Ms. Hamilton, I will.” Drake rotated his wrist in a small roll, “I believe Jessica wants to help with that too.”
The woman released a small chuckle from that thought. Her eyes were lowered down into her lap. She was fiddling with her fingers, from what Drake could see. A blanket of silence began to fall over the two as they sat there. He couldn’t recall how much time had drifted away. How much time they spent, sitting there, listening to the buzz of the conversations around them. Hovering and clenching their biceps. It felt like a heavy burden. To Drake, at least. The woman didn’t seem that bothered by all of the words. The sentences running through his head and bouncing around his mind like a child’s play toy. She seemed much more focused on the task at hand.
She squeaked softly as she rubbed a soft tear out of the corner of her watering eyes. “So… What do I have to do?”
“Ms. Hamilton, you’re rather good at asking the correct questions. I’m rather happy to see this in someone who clearly is dealing with a troublesome corundum.” The man sipped at his tea, blinking his eyes as the bleak whiskey, “Sadly, there is not much foreshadowing I can provide. Unless I uncover more details. Pointing out the fact that this is clearly aiming for the wedding.”
“Yeah,” she weakly agreed. “The wedding.. Is there something wrong with us getting married? Does she not want me taking her place? That’s what you said, right?” Her voice, once again, began to peak and speed up.
Drake raised an eyebrow, “It may be connected to the wedding. If she didn’t want you taking the place as the bride, she may have killed you already. Or showed signs that she was going to act on that. No, no, there’s a connection here but I believe it’s not to you getting married. Is there anyone else connected to the three of you?”
Becca bit the bottom of her lip a moment. Clicking her ringed finger on the side of her mug. Drake summarized it was a reminder to herself what she was attempting to fight for. Or what she had to fight for, if the phase worked better. As he brought the cup of tea up to his lips she spoke up, loudly to Drake’s discontent, “Johnny!”
Wiping a bit of the spilled tea from his cheek, her gave her a raised eyebrow, “Elaborate this individual.”
“Well, you see, Johnny is-was, I meant was, Jessica’s best friend. They talked about everything together! And, well… You know what happens, when, you know,” Becca gave Drake a unknowing look that he didn’t seem to grasp on. “You know, when two friends start to get a little close. For so long…” He still didn’t get the connection, even as she trailed on about the seemingly obvious breakdown.
She rolled her eyes, “You know, he was very ‘fond’ of her. It was way obvious that Johnny had a thing for her. They had known each other ever since High School. He’s never shown any interest in anyone except Jessica.” She looked down at the table for a moment, searching for the next set of sentences. She reminded herself, “Ever since Derick entered Jessica’s life, Johnny has been trying to spend time with her. She always pulled away, you know… He was questioned by the cops, and could barely get a word out. Was crying a lot, they told me.”
Drake nodded, he removes a pen and paper from his jacket and shifted it over to her. “If you’d be so kind, can you write down the details of where I can find Johnny. I think I’ll go and visit him.”
She scribbled down the details quickly and just as she finished the man stood up, she sparked up, “Wait! Where are you going? Jessica could be back any moment.”
“That’s true,” Drake acknowledged. He placed the pen and paper back into his jacket. “She isn’t going to hurt you, and if you give her a strong spray of salt the spirit will be annoyed. She’ll back up. Just do that to protect yourself, next time you see her.”
“Salt? That’s so…” Becca couldn’t finish her sentence. By the time she had started it, Drake was already out the door. He had to continue to do what he did best. Perhaps, he thought, Johnny had a bit stronger connection to Jessica’s spirit returning than most people seemed to think. Drake hoped, at the very least. He didn’t have time for what this piety case was. There were more pressing matters on his mind.
Looking up, he saw the sky for what it was. A reflection for what the night was going to hold. Clouds were looming like constant, black watchtowers over the town. Rain would be arriving soon. And everything was going to pour down. Just like things could be if he didn’t act fast. The predator that his prey was, it was moving. He had to quicken his pace to capture it. Adjusting his trench coat over his neck, he stepped onto the street and blurred into the growing crowd.