Spirit of a Nation: A KC Warlock Weekly Short Story by M. N. Jolley

Author:M. N. Jolley [Jolley, M N]
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER THREE

With my revelation about the ghost’s identity, Carolyn was able to make an appointment for Monday. I volunteered to tag along, in part because I could help set up the ritual circle, but mostly because I wanted to record it for an article.

When Monday evening rolled around, I found myself pouring salt onto Tia’s lawn, surrounded by illusions to keep our work secret from the mundane world.

“Just a big circle, right?” I asked, shaking the mason jar gently to sprinkle the salt out without just dumping it everywhere.

“And then I’ll draw a symbol in the middle,” Carolyn confirmed. “Once the ritual starts, under no circumstances can anyone cross the circle. Nation’s ghost will be inside, we’ll be outside, and it needs to stay that way.”

“Okay, got it.”

“No, you don’t.” Carolyn shook her head. “Nobody crosses the line. Period. We’re shaking up a champagne bottle, and the circle’s a cork. If it comes loose with all the energy coming from the Well of Power just a couple miles away, Nation’s ghost might be strong enough to manifest.”

“Manifest?” I frowned, setting aside the now-empty jar and reaching for my notepad.

“Take on a physical form, and seek out retribution for whatever perceived injustice is keeping the echo of her life around.” Carolyn shivered. “It’s terrifying.”

“She’d just be an old woman, though, wouldn’t she?” I asked, uncertain what would make that so scary.

“An old woman made of pure willpower, driven by raw emotion. Ghosts don’t have sense, and they don’t have mortal limits. Echoes of willpower that have the force to manifest are by definition strong, they’re all but impossible to destroy, and they do nothing except act out the thing that they need.”

“And in Nation’s case, that need was to smash things with a hatchet because she thought it was God’s will. How would you stop it?”

“Blast it with a magical nuke,” Carolyn suggested. “Or wait until it possesses the nearest compatible person, then kill the person.”

“The nearest compatible person?”

“Someone who’s similar in body type, age, temperament, that sort of stuff. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be something the ghost would recognize as close to itself.”

I considered it. “In this case, wouldn’t that be you?”

“So,” Carolyn concluded. “Nobody. Crosses. The line.”

I tilted my head. “Has that ever happened during an exorcism you were doing?”

Carolyn looked very tired when I asked her that. She already looked very tired, actually, but the weight on her shoulders seemed to press down even further, and the bags under her eyes took on an extra layer of depth. “Once.”

I decided to drop the subject.

While I finished sprinkling the salt, Carolyn took four objects from a bag. A bottle of whiskey, a rocks glass, a hatchet, and a King James Bible. On one end of the circle, she set the whiskey and the glass, on the other, the hatchet and the Bible.

“What are those for?” I asked, aiming my pen at the objects.

Carolyn pointed, first at the alcohol accessories. “The stuff she’s mad about.

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