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The Ghost in Your Christmas Present

By L G. Nixon

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CHAPTER ONE
A KNOCK UPON THE DOOR
“I’m telling you, girlfriend, my mom sees ghosts!” Lucy plopped on the bed and pushed her cold feet under the coverlet. The heater in the SUV worked intermittently on good days, and not so much today. She stared at the cell phone with disbelief. Her best friend could be so obtuse sometimes.
“How can that be? She isn’t a ghost hunter, doesn’t believe in the spiritual realm, and yells like crazy when you mention it,” said Schuyler, munching and crinkling a wrapper. The sound carried through the microphone. “She’s even threatened to put you in counseling.”
Lucy rolled her eyes—Schuyler and food. “I haven’t a clue how it happened, but it did. Mom flinched and nearly drove us into a ditch. My short life passed before my eyes!” said Lucy, throwing up her hands. “Then, she babbles on about a big turquoise vehicle with no driver. So, I get out the Spectrescope, and what do I see? A huge blue car just as she said, only, I saw the driver! It was a female ghost.”
Last summer, Lucy purchased an old wooden trunk from a vendor at the flea market. Inside were oddities she called artifacts. Tarnished and made of a strange metal, the objects were magical. The Spectrescope, an overly large magnifying glass with an antique handle decorated with runes, was the most powerful artifact in the trunk. Not only did it allow her to see and find ghosts and spirits, but it also held the Spirit sword that helped her defeat daemons.
“What? We’ve only encountered one female ghost before. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure! What’s up with all the questions? You’re supposed to be helping me figure this out.” Lucy threw herself back against the decorative pillows propped against the tufted headboard and crossed her arms, the phone pinched between her shoulder and ear.
“Wowza. Grumpy, are we?”
“That’s another question!” Lucy scrunched her face as Schuyler snorted in her ear. “You’re so helpful. You know that, right?”
“I’m trying to figure this out myself. I can’t even get my head wrapped around all the implications.” Schuyler paused and considered the facts they did know, and carefully choosing her next words. “We know you are a ghost hunter and a gatekeeper for the Issachar gate. You’re to protect the gate and keep the dark prince, Darnathian, from finding the ancient magic. The gates are hidden portals leading to the heavenly city of Ascalon in the High King’s realm, and there are twelve gates on earth. However, we’re still trying to understand what all that means. And you come from a long line of gatekeepers. Right?”
“Yeah,” Lucy sat up straighter and pulled the coverlet around her. Following Schuyler’s train of thought was giving her chills.
“Could the lineage possibly come through your mom or grandma? Or maybe your granddad? It’s a long shot, but what if it’s possible?”
“My mom? A gatekeeper? She’s scared of a mouse! Can you really see her fighting and defeating a daemon?” Lucy was incredulous. “I follow what you’re saying, but I’ve got to say, I think you are way off base here.” Lucy went to the dresser where the Augur sphere sat. A magical artifact, the Augur sphere would sometimes give her a glimpse of a possible future, if needed. The timeline constantly fluctuated, depending on the decisions she chose to make. Its swirling smoke-filled globe was glowing softly, but it offered no images in the sphere.

“We weren’t very courageous at the beginning either when we became ghost hunters. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, but we are getting stronger the more we learn,” said Schuyler.
“Yeah, I suppose. I mean, really? Is my mom from the lineage of Issachar? I don’t think so.” She tapped a finger on the globe of the Augur sphere. It responded with a happy burbling of changing colors. Lucy pinched her lips.
“It’s still a possibility, Luce. She sees ghosts. How do you explain that?”
“Maybe the lineage is through my dad. I’ve never met him, and neither Dale nor I know anything about the guy. He just disappeared, and Mom never answers any questions.” Lucy shivered and pulled the coverlet closer around herself.
“I suppose it could be, but doubtful.”
“I think the ghost driving the car influenced my mom somehow so she could see the apparition. It’s the only explanation.”
“What about your grandma?” asked Schuyler, chewing again.
“Grandma used to tease me when I stayed for a sleepover. She told me about the little lady ghost in the black taffeta dress who haunted her house for a while. When you’re little and hear an adult say something like that will scare the daylights out of you. Did I believe her?” Lucy sighed deeply, her knuckles needling her forehead. “I don’t know. Grandma Elliot does have an odd sense of humor.”
“I guess that could explain a few things,” snickered Schuyler. Then, a rude noise blurted through the phone. “Hey, I’m just saying!”
“Whatever.”
“Have you told Mr. Bill or Ms. Vivian what happened? They may have some thoughts.”

“No, I haven’t said anything to them yet. What would I say? ‘Hey, my mom, who doesn’t believe in the spirit realm, is seeing ghosts. Isn’t that funny? Hahaha.’” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Grandma wants us to live with her until things get settled, but I don’t want to live in Traverse Bay. I love the area, but this is home. Mom doesn’t want to displace Dale in his last year of school either. Everything is mixed up. The fire really changed everything.”
“I’m sure the McGoos will understand. I’m sure they think it’s only stress. They are your guardians. I would tell them if you got the chance.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I love Mr. Bill. He’s always so cheerful, and Ms. Vivian bustles around, thinking of things we might need or enjoy. She’s a wonderful cook, like your mom.” Lucy stretched out under the coverlet, snuggled into the pillows, and yawned. “I’m exhausted just thinking about all this stuff, and we haven’t had dinner yet. I hope there is chocolate for dessert. I need a caffeine buzz to finish my homework. Bleh.”
“There’s only a few more days before the holidays. I am ready for a break,” said Schuyler. “I have some Christmas shopping to finish up. Want to go with Mum and me to the mall on Saturday? We’ll pick you up on the way.”
“Sure. I have a couple of gifts for Mom and Dale to get, and a frame for the painting I did for Grandma. The McGoos gave me a new set of watercolor pencils and brushes. Mr. Bill said it was an early birthday gift since the fire destroyed my paints. He knows I like to doodle. It was his idea.” She yawned again and stretched. “I think I’ll paint them a landscape as their Christmas gift.”
“Mr. Bill is too cute,” said Schuyler. “Well, got to go, girlfriend. See you at school in the morning?”

“Yup. I better go help with dinner.” Lucy giggled. “Wear your running shoes when we go to the mall. We’re going to shop till we drop!”
****** *
Jeannie Hornberger put the clean plates in the cupboard, pasted on a smile, and hugged
Vivian goodnight, then trudged up the stairs to the guest room she called home. She quietly closed the door, sagged against its panels, and reached a hand to the dresser to steady herself. It was about all she could do to keep from bursting into tears during dinner. The chatter around the dinner table between Lucy, Dale, and the McGoos did little to lift her mood.
She had updated her online work history and social accounts and reached out to staffing agencies, but she had yet to have a response or an employment offer. The insurance monies were dwindling into oblivion. If it weren’t for the compassion and kindness of her dear neighbors, she didn’t know where they would go.
Seething with anger for their predicament, she still couldn’t believe their two-hundred- year-old home had burned in an unexplainable fire that had raged through the old timber, reducing it to a pile of ashy rubble shortly after she lost her job. Now they lived with the McGoos, depending on them for shelter and even for meals. Behind in her mortgage payments, the insurance monies were already dwindling. To say she was frightened for all their futures was an understatement.
The excuse she told her mother for not wanting to move because Dale is in his senior year was valid enough. Change can be precarious for a maturing teenage boy. In their current circumstances, it would be intolerable for him to start over in a new school in his last year without the company of friends. More importantly, she didn’t want to live in Traverse Bay with her mother.

The stress was getting to her. Jeannie waggled her head back and forth, the memories digging deep wells in her soul. Her love for her mother was strong, but her desire for independence was stronger. It was something her mother had never understood. Jeannie had always been a free spirit, and rules and regulations only succeeded in crushing her joy in life. But her mother’s and auntie’s belief in a spiritual realm was the real reason for her rebellion. Unfortunately, a belief like that came with more rules.
Jeannie changed into her nightgown, turned off the lights and slipped beneath the bedcovers, and relaxed into the comforting gentleness of the foam mattress. If they ever had a real home again someday, she promised to get herself a luxurious bed like this one as she drifted off to sleep.
Jeannie slumbered, the shadows deepened and the night wore on.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Hmm, go away. I’m trying to sleep,” murmured Jeannie, burrowing down into the
covers and ignoring the summons. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Lucy, what do you want? I’m trying to sleep, and you’re not helping!”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Mumbling, Jeannie got up and pulled on her robe then padded through the murky dark to
the door and opened it. “What?” she wondered, glancing up and down the empty hallway. Shadows dimmed the corners near the ceiling where the feeble light from the nightlight couldn’t reach. The small multihued stained-glass apparatus nestled in the electrical socket just above the carpet. She stared at it as though the object could tell her who was pranking her.

Convinced it was Lucy, Jeannie gathered the robe closer, marched down the hall to Lucy’s room, and opened the door. Peeking inside, Lucy was sleeping deeply in one of the matching twin beds, the covers askew, a leg hanging off the bed and her mouth open, snoring. Jeannie pulled in a breath, preparing to scold her daughter, then decided against it. Instead, she would have a harsh word with the girl in the morning. Turning, she padded back to her room.
After another glance up and down the empty hallway, she closed the door and crawled back in bed. Settling into the covers, she snugged them around her shoulders and prepared to go back to sleep.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Lucy, go back to bed. I’ll deal with you in the morning, you prankster!” said Jeannie loudly. Staring at the ceiling in the ambient light from the window, she waited for her daughter to knock again. After several minutes, it was still quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Lucy!” Jeannie yelled, exasperated. Grabbing the robe, she flung it around her shoulders and trudged to the door. Her hand reached for the doorknob, then paused and waited for the sound to come again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Gotcha!” she said, whipping open the door. “What?” she gasped.
The hallway was empty.
Chills crept down her spine, and she felt the blood drain from her face. There was no way
anyone could move that fast. She would have seen them. Was it possible she was dreaming? Or was this a reenactment of the haunting from her mother and dad’s house when she was a

teenager? Mother always maintained a ghost had haunted the house for a time. Tingles crept down her arms and legs, leaving a cold, uncomfortable sensation behind.
Jeannie turned and dove for the bed and pulled the covers over her head, leaving only a tiny open space for her nose so she could breathe. Even the robe she wore was not enough protection from the cold that slithered into her bones, chilling her.
The bedroom door slowly closed on its own.

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