Chapter 22: 22__Unsettled spirits

Rogan stalked from window to window, looking out at the night.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Son of a bitch.” They were everywhere. They had the house surrounded.

“See?” Maia said from behind him, shadowing him around the house, now perfectly accustomed to his profanity and secretly storing each word in her memory.

“Stay still,” Rogan muttered.

“What are you going to do?” Maia asked him, eyes wide. “Let’s destroy them with magic!”

“Go upstairs to my chambers and lock the door,” Rogan said. Wait. He shook his head. If he went out there to get rid of the ghouls, some of them could get to Maia and since her only defence was a martial art which had no effect whatsoever on ghosts, he couldn’t take that chance. “No, don’t go upstairs. Stay here. Right here where I can see you, okay?”

Maia nodded and Rogan released an exasperated breath. Dealing with ghosts was not a part of his damn agenda.

She just thought his house was haunted. She had no idea those beings were here for her. They wanted to take *her*.

Rogan glanced at her as Maia peeked out at the ghoulish beings. Who was she?

“What could a clueless forest rabbit like you possibly have done to piss off these spirits?” he murmured.

Maia blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Forget it.”

Puzzled, Maia watched Rogan stalk over to a closet at the end of the hallway and throw the doors open.

He dug through the clutter in there, tossing out whatever he didn’t need.

When he reappeared, he had a long black bag in one hand and his phone in the other.

Dropping, the bag at his feet, Rogan dialled Aiden’s number, ignoring Maia’s gaze which followed his every move, a million questions written on her face. He had no time to answer them, so he turned away, walking a little distance from where she stood.

“This late?” came the answer on the phone. “Are you dying?”

“Come over,” Rogan said. “And bring your fire.”

“There was this thing once invented,” replied Aiden with a sigh. “It was called Please. It worked wonders for its inventors—”

“I’ll stop looking for Trojans.”

“On my way.”

With a nod, Rogan hung up and tossed the phone onto a sofa. He turned to Maia and, lifting the bag on the floor, shoved it into her hands.

“W-what’s this?”

Unlatching the top, Rogan revealed the contents of the bag to her and Maia’s mouth dropped open.

“Woah…” she breathed. Before Rogan could stop her, she turned the bag upside down spilling the artistically carved bow and arrows inside onto the floor.

Maia dropped to her knees to get a look at the bow, admiring it from one end to another.

“They’re not for you to stare at,” Rogan told her. “Use them. There’s an endless supply of arrows in that closet, but I’ll have to get another bow made if you lose or break that one. So don’t.”

Maia looked up to see him bringing different potions down from above his fridge, arranging them on the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You take those arrows and drench them in this blue potion,” Rogan said, not answering her question. “You see a ghost in here, don’t ask questions, you aim and shoot! Understand?”

When she didn’t answer, Rogan turned to Maia to find her looking up at him with puzzlement in her eyes. “Understand?!” he asked more firmly.

“Y-yeah.” Maia nodded. She didn’t understand at all though. The ghosts seemed to have some kind of grudge against Rogan. Since he’d done plenty of bad things, the thought didn’t seem too strange to Maia. What seemed strange was why Rogan seemed to be worrying more about her than himself.

Ghosts didn’t kill you unless they had unfinished business or a grudge against you and they had neither of the two with Maia. She raised her brows. They were here for Rogan.

“If you want, I can stand at the front door with these arrows and get rid of all of them for you,” she offered.

Rogan turned to her with a scoffed out laugh. “Really? Who the fuck do I look like? Cinderella? I don’t need you to try and rescue me, Rag-skins, you worry about yourself.”

Looking at him with a snarl, she got up and put all of the arrows back in the quiver, holding the bow in her hand. It felt so good to hold the warm, carved wood. It felt like she was back in the forest and doing target practice.

“There’s hundreds of them, Rogan,” she said to him, clutching her bow tightly. “With just these arrows and this one bow, I could get through thousands. As long as you give me that potion that’s going to make it effective.”

Frustrated, Rogan turned away from the potions and looked at Maia. “Are you a Werewolf?”

Stunned at the unexpected question, Maia blinked and then shook her head.

Rogan once more found himself frowning in thought. What the hell was she? “If you’re not a Werewolf, not a Vamp, a Sorceress or a Gemini, those things out there can possess you and make you do whatever the hell they want. Doesn’t matter how good you are with a bow and arrow.”

Maia looked up at him and it was clear that she hadn’t know that little piece of information. “I can defend myself from that. With these weapons, I can—”

“Stay inside,” Rogan stated firmly. Striding past her, he headed for the front hall. Maia followed him, stopping when he suddenly turned around.

“When I get back,” Rogan said. “You’re telling me what you are.”

She stayed coldly silent and Rogan turned away, stalking out of the house.

Maia felt her fingers tighten on the bow in her hand, the floor suddenly seeming even colder beneath her bare feet. Tell him what she was?

What the hell was she?

The question hadn’t even been in her mind for a moment when a cold chill filled the house, making Maia tremble.

Shrieks and ghostly wailing suddenly filled the air and Maia clutched herself. Rogan was destroying them out there. The sounds were horrific, perfectly worthy of a classic horror film.

*“Pssssst!”*

Maia froze. The sound had come from the stairway, across the front hall behind her. Afraid to look, Maia slowly drew an arrow out from the quiver on her back and placed it on the bow.

“*You there*,” came another airy whisper, echoing around her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, seeming to rise further up in her throat with every slam and gulping it down. The ticklish prickle of perspiration bothered her forehead, but she didn’t dare wipe it away.

“*Come with me*,” it whispered. “*We came to get you out of here*…”

Maia frowned. What the hell was the thing talking about?

Rogan’s words suddenly rang through her head. *“You see a ghost in here, don’t ask questions, you aim and shoot.”*

Maia gulped and nodded in agreement with the words.

“*Come here*,” the ghost whispered.

Clenching her jaw, Maia spun around and raised her weapons, eyes narrowing as she aimed for the ghoul by the stairs.

The ghosts gasped, raising his hands to his cheeks and immediately resembling the famous scream portrait. He was sitting on the stair rail, balancing perfectly on the awkwardly angled rail.

“*Don’t…. shoot*…” whispered the ghost in a slow, dream-like whisper. “*I’m your friend.”*

Maia narrowed her right eye even more, getting a perfect angle.

“*Come with me, before the others—”*

Maia unleashed the arrow, sending it zipping through the air with sharp precision. The ghost shrieked and dropped of the rail as the arrow pierced it. Maia watched with wide eyes as it vanished before it had even hit the ground.

Did it work? She destroyed it, hadn’t she? Oh, thank God! Maia thought she’d die from fear.

A wobbly smile curved her lips and Maia hurried over to the stairs, retrieving her discarded arrow. It was a good thing they were ghosts and there would be no blood on her brand new arrows.

She huddled besides the staircase, bow and arrow ready for the firing. She kept her eyes wide open, afraid to miss the sighting of any ghost. They were the sneakiest of all creatures, she couldn’t get distracted.

Her heart leaped up when a shuffling sound came from behind her. Maia jumped up, spinning around with arrow aimed. Damning the darkness of Rogan’s house, she squinted into the dark corner of the front hall.

Seeing nothing, Maia gave up. She had to get to a place with more light. Like the kitchen. The arrow clutched in her hand, Maia straightened and turned to run when, out of the air before her, the ghost reappeared, its friendly expression gone.

A short, sharp shriek broke out and Maia quickly realized it had come from her own throat.

She hadn’t destroyed it. It was still here.

*“I said not to shoot,”* whispered the ghost, it’s nearly white irises staring at her with a dull look which inspired nothing but terror within Maia. *“I said I was a friend…”*

Slowly appearing and drawing forward behind the first ghost, came four others.

Maia’s throat clenched as she looked at them. She’d shot it! She definitely had! So then, why…?

Oh, no. The potion! Rogan told her to drench the arrows in the potion! Without it, the arrows were ineffective on the ghouls!

*“Your friend, the Sorcerer…*” said one of the new ghosts, its voice a hollow echo. *“He destroyed one of ours.”*

Maia tensed. So that’s what it was. The grudge they had against Rogan.

“*Do you know the saying*,” breathed another ghost as they slowly crept in on Maia. “…*that the grudge of a spirit lasts forever? Until… it settles the score.”*