Worshipping Small Gods by Richard Parks

Author:Richard Parks [Parks, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2020-07-20T00:00:00+00:00

DIVA

Marshall Hall reminded Eli of a Greek Revival antebellum town home, but larger: each of the eight pillars on the portico was at least three feet thick. Visible through the tall windows running the width of the facade was the foyer of the auditorium, large enough that it could and often did serve as a ballroom and reception hall. Beyond that lay the auditorium itself, reached through two pairs of massive oak doors flanking a statue niche.

In that niche stood the ghost.

Well, Eli reminded himself, not literally. What stood in the statue niche was, no surprise, a statue. A fine marble likeness of Madame Justine Violetta Caldwell, nineteenth-century soprano and, by most accounts, the ghost of Marshall Hall. Eli remembered the statue quite well from his own student days. With so many new buildings in evidence, Eli thought it rather pleasant to see an aspect of the campus of Armfield State University that hadn’t changed at all.

Eli checked the time, sighed, and kept walking. His appointment was on the second floor of the nearby University Arts Center with the Dean of Student Activities, Abigail Wilson. Dr. Wilson’s deputy administrator, a rather harried-looking young woman, waved him through to the dean’s office.

Dean Wilson hadn’t changed much either.

Oh, she was older, certainly, but you forgot that almost immediately. Eli rather had the feeling that Dr. Wilson considered time an impertinence to be tolerated at best and ignored otherwise. She had been something of a legend, even in Eli’s time. Now her once auburn hair was pure white, and there was a slight tremor in the hand she extended to him as she rose from behind her desk, but her eyes had not changed, nor the way she looked at him. Eli remembered that look. He couldn’t say he’d missed it very much.

“I’m Eli Mothersbaugh,” Eli said. “You probably won’t remember, but we have met.”

She smiled then. “Elijah Mothersbaugh, class of 2002. You once broke a ceiling board while chasing ghosts in the auditorium attic, among other misdeeds. I guess it’s fortunate for me now that we didn’t expel you.”

Eli almost smiled. No matter how old he was or probably would ever be, Abigail Wilson had the knack for making him feel like a kid who’d just been caught with his hands somewhere they didn’t belong. “Dr. Wilson, I know you didn’t have the Bureau called in just to remind me of old transgressions.”

She sat back down and indicated a chair for Eli. “No, my assistant called the Bureau so that we might put that ghost hunting inclination of yours to some practical use. I want you to get rid of the ghost haunting Marshall Hall.”

“I see,” Eli said.

Dr. Wilson smiled grimly. “No, I don’t think you do.”

Eli sighed. “All right, I admit it—I don’t see. Why do you want Madame Caldwell gone? She’s been there for over one hundred and fifty years.”

“Far too long at that. She’s a ghost. She’s disruptive to the smooth operation of this University, specifically in the area which is my responsibility.

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