The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,4
really giving it her all tonight.
“Who. Are. You?”
My fingers were about to be broken by this customer if Loris didn’t chill out soon. I was going to have to shoot her a silent signal and let her know she was taking it too far. I opened my eyes, with the intention of getting Loris’ attention, and all words, hints, and signals fled from my mind. In front of me, hovering over the table, was a genuine ghost. Like, a legitimate form in transparent white. Considering Loris couldn’t use her cell phone reliably, this had to be the real thing.
“Who are you?” it asked, looking solely at me.
Loris and the client were staring at the ghost, stunned.
“I wasn’t paid for a call. Who are you to summon me? You better be paying for this!” the ghost continued, her face wavering in and out. She was still clear enough to see the angry lines of her expression.
“I did pay her!” the customer said, thinking the ghost was referring to Loris.
I didn’t know who was supposed to be “paid,” but I’d bet my rent it wasn’t Loris. This ghost seemed to think I was supposed to pay her.
Loris was chanting some “Oh, great spirit” crap beside me.
“How much do you want?” I asked. I had some coffee money in my purse if it would make her feel better.
“You didn’t pay,” she said, almost too clearly for someone who was supposedly dead and talking from the other side. The ghost looked like a bitter hag as she shoved her finger in my face. “Don’t call us again without a negotiated deal, jerk.”
Jerk? Did that ghost really call me a jerk? I’d heard of nasty ghosts that would haunt your house or possess you. But this? What was this?
“Wait, I have to talk to Mama!” the customer yelled from beside me, grasping at the now-empty space.
The ghost was gone. The customer was screaming, “Come back!” Loris had her hands clasped in front of her chest as she repeated something about thanking the mother.
Me? I was sitting there, not talking, not moving, except for the trembling in my hands as I thought about how the wind had whispered my name, and the leaves had looked like little trolls scurrying across the ground, following me.
It had all been in my head. That was what I always told myself. But if that was the case, what had happened tonight? I had two witnesses that could attest to this not being a delusion.
I leapt to my feet.
“I gotta go,” I said, not caring if anyone heard me.
Loris was still busy thanking the mother while the customer was walking around the room crying for the ghost to come back, waving her hands in the air.
I shot into the front room, grabbed my purse from under the counter, and hustled out of there. I needed to get to a tattoo shop, and there was only one that stayed open late enough on a Sunday to get this done for me. I walked a few steps, then jogged a few feet before I ran the rest of the way.
I burst through the door of the Ink Well. A single tattooist was leaning over, tattooing a tiger onto a girl’s outer thigh as her male friend watched on.
“Can you fit me in tonight?” I asked, winded.
“Sorry,” the tattooist said, not looking up from his work. “Won’t be done until late. I can fit you in tomorrow, though. Nothing scheduled for the morning.”
Tomorrow? What if that ghost came back? No. I needed this tattoo back tonight. “I really need it done now. It’s sort of an emergency.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll have to somehow survive your tattoo emergency until tomorrow.” The tattooist rolled his eyes, and the three of them chuckled.
“You don’t understand. This is really important,” I said.
“And mine isn’t?” the girl lying on the bench asked, looking at the outline on her leg.
The tattooist stopped and looked up. “Like I said, come back tomorrow. She was here first.” He went back to his tattooing as if I weren’t there.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ll wait until you’re done.”
He leaned back, this time putting his needle down. “Look, I’m not doing it tonight. Now get out.” The tattooist looked at the male friend. “Can you show her out so I can get back to work?”
The male, all six foot something of him, nodded, stood, and took a step toward me.