Death is a Girl

“Pull over!” Emma said, shooting up in her seat. “That’s her truck!”

The black Ford Ranger was parked on the side of the road, and Hilda pulled in right behind it. Emma jumped out before Hilda could even put her jeep in park and ran right to the truck window.

Upon observing there was no Morrigan, Emma took out the pouch with the amulet and held it by the draw string, observing the direction it was being pulled towards.

Hilda walked up to the driver's side and opened the door. “She left the keys.” She reached in and turned the key, listening to the engine choke as it refused to start. “Hm, car trouble.”

Emma walked around to see Hilda getting down and poking her head underneath. “There’s oil everywhere, clearly has a leak. She probably never checked it.” Hilda got back up and dusted off her knees. “Guess reapers aren’t good about routine maintenance.”

“This is no time for jokes, Hilda!” Emma said, holding up her Morrigan GPS. “But I think I know where she is. I’m pretty sure the graveyard is in that direction. She seemed to like going there.”

“Graveyard? Seems appropriate.”

“Yeah… especially since that’s where she died.”

“Huh…” Hilda pondered it. “Could she be haunting the graveyard?”

“She’s not a ghost.”

“Maybe, but she’s acting like one.”

“What do you mean?”

“When ghosts have an attachment to their place of death, they are often drawn there. It is extremely typical of those who died in their own homes. Especially if under duress.”

Emma seemed at a loss for what to make that. “Let's just hurry!”

They got back in the jeep and drove right to the graveyard, Emma once again jumping out before Hilda could even finish parking. Hilda climbed out much more calmly but froze as she felt a pull from one of her protective charms. She reached into her shirt and pulled out another amulet, feeling it shake almost as if in fear.

“Emma!” she called assertively as her younger cousin rushed ahead. “Wait! Something’s not right.”

Emma stopped amongst the tombstones and turned back, a look of confusion on her face. “What? What’s wrong?”

Hilda held up the shaking amulet. “This is a warning charm. It reacts to black magics and spirits with ill intent.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you think Morrigan is in danger?”

Hilda approached Emma, her eyes scanning the area. “Go wait in the jeep, I’ll look around.”

Emma held up her Morrigan GPS. “This only works if I’m using it, right?”

Hilda folded her arms. “I think I can figure it out from here.”

“No. When Morrigan didn’t know where else to go, she called me. She doesn’t know who you are and… I-I just have a feeling I shouldn't stay behind!”

“Hmmm, you feel strongly about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, come along then, but stick close to me. No running off, though. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

They wound their way through the decrepit burial ground, Emma eager to move ahead, but when her steps outpaced Hilda, the older girl promptly pulled her back. “Stay behind me, Emma. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Then can you hurry?”

“Emma!” Hilda snapped. “I know you’re worried, but we have to be cautious. Do you understand what ill intent means?”

“It means something might hurt Morrigan.”

“Or, it could be that Morrigan herself is what my charm is reacting to. She ran away from you, didn’t she? Maybe she doesn't want to be found.”

Emma wanted to say something, but the words lost her. Why did Morrigan run away?

“Good. Now behave, or I’m going to cast a binding spell on you.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t test me.”

The look in Hilda’s eyes showed it wasn’t just a threat, so Emma reluctantly nodded and continued following her.

They rounded a bend, climbing over a fallen obelisk, and the angel statue soon came into view. Emma lifted the Morrigan GPS and it seemed to be pointing right at it. “Hey, Hilda, that statue is the place where she died.”

“I really should have brought my staff,” Hilda said, lifting the charm around her neck. “Stupid.” Instead, she reached behind herself for her pocketbook and slipped out a vial of white powder. She popped the lid off with her thumb and poured it into her other hand as they walked.

“What’s that?”

“Just salt. Can be used to cast a warding spell to buy ourselves some time if we need to make a run for it. With the way my charm is reacting, I’m not fighting anything without my staff.”

“If it’s Morrigan, I’m sure I can talk to her,” Emma said.

“If it’s not Morrigan?”

Emma grinned, trying to seem confident, though she felt her heart thudding in her chest. “I guess we run?” Even she could feel there was a different quality to the air now, like a cold breeze that cuts right through your clothes and into your bones. Her knees felt stiff with each movement.

Hilda stopped in her tracks, her eyes scanning the area around the angel statue. The silence of the graveyard was broken only by the faint rustling of leaves. Emma looked up at her, and then her eyes shot back to her Morrigan GPS as its tight pull in one direction suddenly stopped, and it hung limp by the drawstring.

“I think we’ve been spotted…” Hilda said under her breath, putting her hand over her charm, which was settled on her chest.

Emma search the area, and froze when she saw a man amongst the graves, opposite of the clearing which contained the statue and the crypt. He walked forward, stepping around tombstones. He was wearing black overalls, and a black baseball cap, his wrinkled face was deathly pale and he had his eyes right on them. Emma’s gaze focused on how he was dragging something attached to a pole alongside him, and she tensed as he lifted it.

“Stay back,” Hilda muttered, fist clenching around the salt with one hand and nudging Emma back with the other.

Emma relaxed somewhat when she saw the old man was merely holding a shovel, and he lifted it to rest over his shoulder. He stepped around another tombstone and into the clearing. “This is privet property,” he called to them. “What are you girls doing here?”

Hilda lifted her hand away from her charm, glancing down at it for just a moment. “It’s a cemetery; we’re here to visit a friend,” Hilda answered him.

“I’m afraid you’re too young for me to believe that,” the old man said. “No one new been buried in this graveyard in fifty years.” Emma then saw a black cat step around the tombstone and come to the old man’s feet. There was something strange about the cat which Emma couldn’t shake. It was the way it stared back at her. It wasn’t the usual semi-cautious look of a cat. The way it stared at her was, somehow human.

“How about you?” Hilda shot back. “Are you going to try to tell me you’re the groundskeeper or something?”

“There ain’t no try’in about it, young lady,” the old man said. “That’s exactly what I am.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re doing a terrible job. This place is a mess.”

Those words stopped the old man, his jaw cracking open slightly as if he were about to laugh. But, he pulled himself together. “You youngsters are always coming in here, partying and vandalizing, making more work for me. I suggest you get on now, before I call the authorities!”

Hilda seemed to confirm something with her charm, then took a step forward. “How about dropping the act? You don’t work here. You’re not even human.”

Then, Emma suddenly shot forward. “What did you do to Morrigan!” she shouted.

“Emma!” Hilda lunged at her, wrapping an arm around her protectively and raising the salt high in the air. “STAY BACK!” she yelled threateningly at the old man.

Her reaction was almost comical for how little the old man seemed to care. He turned his head inquisitively. “Morrigan, you say?” Not only that, his tone of voice changed completely. Where before he sounded like some short-tempered redneck, those last words had a sophisticated quality to them.

“I don’t know what you are,” Hilda said, still holding Emma tight against herself, “but demon or spirit, you just crossed paths with the wrong person. So you better start explaining yourself.”

The old man held that inquisitive expression, nothing close to concern in his demeanor as he pondered the question. Then, to both of their surprise, the cat stepped forward. It looked up at them and, in a deep voice, said, “We’ll be the ones asking the questions, witch.”

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