Abigail felt her chest tighten. She definitely wasn’t getting paid enough for this.
Charles Herant was no fool. He was shrewd, efficient with his words, and very, very experienced when it came to his vocation. Well known for his expansive knowledge of diverse spirits, his lectures were always a hit at the paranormal conferences that the whole family would attend. This is why it was such a shock seven years ago when Abigail received a call from Scotland Yard informing her that her father was missing.
Abigail hadn’t even known her father had left the country- he always had more than enough work here in the states. It was unlike him to not keep her up to speed with his work and she had bristled with anger about it. One of his most important rules had been to always communicate regarding your last whereabouts. It was standard operating procedure. Had he been in a rush? Even so…
After one red eye flight alone to Edinburgh, multiple cups of strong espresso, and a bumpy ride through the highlands to Glenmore Forest Park, she had arrived at the scene of what looked like a very straightforward summoning. The peculiar thing- the salt circle her father had so clearly taken great pains to create was broken, along with some scattered ash and the lingering smell of frankincense. The waters of what she would be told was Loch Morlich were calm. Nothing afoot. Nothing ominous. They had searched the park with a fine tooth comb for weeks following the incident and Mr. Herant’s case was eventually closed. It remained a complete mystery as to what exactly her father had been doing there.
Proclaimed deceased by the authorities, she reached out beyond the mundane world to try and get answers. Any attempts to glean information from her spirit world contacts came up dead for lack of a better description. Questions simply yielded riddles or answers were inconclusive. None of his colleagues seemed to have any knowledge of his most recent work. Whatever Chuck had been up to in that deep forest had been top secret.
Now in this all American cafeteria she stood before a Kelpie- or the new world equivalent she supposed, and the irony was not lost on her that this entity, smelling of swamp gas and staring her down with that uppity and penetrating gaze, was just the kind of being to inhabit a Scottish Loch.
Abigail set her teeth and gathered her resolve. Her father didn’t make mistakes and neither did she- this was calculated. This case may have started out as a means to seek a quick buck but it was clear now that she might get some more answers into the nature of his death by simply carrying out some of the same steps he had.
Abigail broke the salt circle with her sensible shoe and stepped onto the other side of the brand new linoleum floor.
The River spirit crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “Well that wasn’t dramatic or anything. You humans and your salt. You’re simply OBSESSED. The amount of salt that gets dumped into my swamp by your plow trucks every winter is simply astounding. I’m constantly cleaning the crust off of every thing.”
Surprised by the conversational tone the Kelpie had taken with her and hopeless for any capture now that her circle had been broken and her ritual plans were cast aside, Abigail unceremoniously blurted out apology. “Well, I’m quite sorry for that- on behalf of all humans. We do make a mess of things and I’m terribly sorry your swamp has been filled in to create this new space in the elementary school”. If she got out of this alive she should definitely add consulting to her list of services. This sort of faux pas could have easily been avoided.
“I’ve met your terms…ugh?”
“Gwen. You may call me Gwen”
The kelpie examined her blackened talons nonchalantly.
“Well then Gwen, it’s my business to ensure good relations between spirits and humans and I’d say your activity here certainly doesn’t qualify for polite society.”
Gwen’s black eyes narrowed and the scales around her neck stood to attention as she fumed. “I have been trying to get these children out of here. It is no longer safe. My swamp has in the time of human memory represented a “filter” of sorts between our kingdom and yours. But this wretched little town you’ve recently created- you keep expanding year after year, you’re an infestation. Now my swamp can no longer serve its purpose which is not only to keep you out but to keep certain other “parties” IN. You humans are totally oblivious and have no idea what you’ve started. I couldn’t say why but our king has a soft spot for you cretins and I’ve been tasked with scaring you off”
Abigail was flummoxed. She never considered the Kelpie might be acting with good intentions and she was intrigued by the swamp’s purpose. There truly was a much more complicated ecosystem and many moving parts that she had never taken into account in her paranormal work before. She had primarily been consumed with bag em’ and tag em’.
It was obvious that Gwen had become impatient.
“I’m not sure how we move on from here” Abigail said out loud but mostly to herself.
“You can help me clear out this sorry excuse for a feasting hall by escalating the fear in these silly humans with me or you can take it up with my King”.
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