a Team: Wildfire story
by Thom Thetford, all rights reserved
A gentle fog drifted in from the Gulf of Mexico. The lawn was maliciously groomed and the house still stood after all these years and countless hurricanes that have assailed the coast. It was very early in the morning, a few hours before dawn and I can see the shimmer of the apparition moving around the base of the manor. It seemed to be searching for something.
The hostile spirit claimed to be the angered spirit of President Jefferson Davis himself, last and only president of the Confederacy. He said he had risen to strike revenge for his decades of tormented spirit at the hands of the Union. At least that was what the only person to live had heard, but he was a night watchman who managed to run for his life before the angry ghost could take his life from him.
My team is still an hour away as I had been vacationing in the Biloxi area when this spirit’s haunting was called to my attention. I had overheard some locals talking about three mysterious deaths at the Beauvoir mansion. Strangely, the victims were tourists visiting the museum when their bodies were found on the grounds, the day after they had paid to visit the attraction. As far as I could tell from a brief investigation, the three had nothing in common except visiting the museum. Since I was the only one here, now was a good time to interrogate the ghost, at least until the police patrolling the area came by to find out what a crazy man was doing talking to himself at this time of the morning.
“Spirit!” I announced myself, stepping toward the main house. “Come forward and speak with me!”
My staff pulsed with a pale green light as my command spell reached out to the wayward spirit. My staff is an extension of who I am and I extended my will along it. It is not quite a wizard staff as much as it is a priestly vestment. I was trained as a wizard with the Bureau, but they quickly changed my training as they found I was a much better priest than wizard. I think it was the exploding lunch trays that gave them their first clue. Not that I meant to spoil everyone’s lunch that day, things just happened like that.
The command spell reached the ghost as he turned to face me, an angry, pained expression on his face. He certainly looked like he could have been President Davis, himself. Spanish moss in a nearby tree waved gently as the ghost flew over to float in front of me. I could now feel his presence like a cold lump in my chest. The strength of his presence seemed to draw out every bit of warmth from my body.
“How dare you speak to me in such a manner! Your spell compels me, sir! Release me before I take your life, like those traitors before you!” he demanded.
My spell had done its job, it had compelled him to come to me and prevented him from lashing out at me, but what if his attacks were not to strike or lash out? What if it were his very presence that caused the deaths? This was not simple ghost, something was wrong with the strength of his presence. My methods were suddenly very much in question and me with out backup. I would have strung my team up by their thumbs for making a stupid beginner mistake.
“What manner of priest are you, traitorous man? Your aura is not that of any vicar I have seen before.” he spoke again, his form shifting, searching for a weak spot in the spell.
“Silence, spirit! I command thee here! My faith serves the wind and the trees and is of no concern of yours!” I replied. “Tell me who you are and your purpose here, on this hallowed ground.”
“I am who you see before you. You may call me President Davis. I died here one hundred and twenty years ago! And I have come back to avenge the soldiers who died serving me!”
As he continued to speak, his presence grew stronger as my life force fed his rage. I called on the earth to shore my reserves, but I could tell I was weakening rapidly. This standoff was not going to last very long, he was much stronger than I had given him credit for. Something did not seem right here, but I had no time or strength left to reason it out, I was suddenly in a fight for my very life.
Surging forward I put all my will into my banishment spell, “Be still, ghost! I compel you be gone from this place and cross over. You do not belong here!” But I had hesitated too long, as I struggled to put power into the banishment, my command over the spirit slipped and he struggled away only to surge back at me.
His hand passed into my chest and I felt his grip on my heart. That cold lump in my chest turned into an icy knife that drove itself through my heart. My staff surged and shone like a star with a bright green light. As I began to black out, I felt his face near mine as his mouth whispered into my ear.
“You are no match for me, priest. I will have my revenge after all these years!” were the last words I heard as the darkness enveloped me. I felt my soul drift away, as my consciousness slammed into the darkness.
