Paranormal | Fiction

The Haunting of Lucy Lombardi

It’s less scary than you think.

Ten days.

Ten days since a werewolf had gutted Niall, leaving him a bleeding, crumpled mess on the pavement. She’d somehow managed to kill the thing, but he was too badly injured to save.

It was hard for her to believe he was really dead and buried. Wasn’t all that long ago that the two of them were arguing over what was best to use against monsters, and even less time since they successfully killed a vampire by using garlic salt to nullify his powers. Niall’s stupid idea that she was sure would never work, only for it to turn the tide in their favor.

And now he was gone.

Hunts went wrong all the time. She’d lost her father and older sister that way. Sometimes a beast was too powerful, too cunning, or there were simply too many of them. Even the best hunter didn’t stand a chance when they were chest deep in the dead. Well, unless they had magic like cousin Rosie, and even so she was down an eye.

She knew that, and yet losing Niall felt way worse. Probably because she felt responsible for him, and look what happened.

The temperature in the room dropped sharply, causing her to shiver. It had to be at least thirty degrees colder in there than it was five seconds ago, and she swore she could feel it all the way down to her bones.

A ghost. Had to be.

Ghost-cold was different from normal cold. When it was cold out you could just put on more clothes, turn up the heat, drink something warm and so on. No coat, sweater, scarf, or cup of coffee could take the edge off of ghost-cold.

The lights flickered, and the faint sound of laughter echoed through the living room. A couple of small items on her bookshelves floated. Yeah, she’d seen this all before. The upside was that ghosts that went for these kinds of theatrics were usually pretty harmless. All the same, she wasn’t about to let this nonsense go on all night.

More annoyed than frightened, Lucy picked up a small hammer and used it to strike an iron bell she had on the endtable. With a yelp the pesky spirit fell out of the wall face-first onto the floor. And given the messy blond hair, it was someone she’d come to know well over the past half-year.

Ghosts still looked the way they did when they died, which meant Niall was a sight. Not only the gaping wound in his belly which had ended him, but the multitude of claw marks all over. The big one down his face that had taken an eye, although ghosts had dead-black eyes anyway so you couldn’t tell. The mess that was his throat. The shredded, bloody tatters of his clothes.

Werewolves were the most dangerous things a hunter could fight. Niall was a living — or unliving — testament as to why.

“Ow…the iron bell? Really? Really?”

Wincing, he picked himself up the floor, giving her a casual wave with a now three-fingered hand as if he hadn’t died horribly a few short days ago.

“Hey Lu. Did I scare ya?”

If it had been anyone else, Lucy would have been horrified. But considering it was quite possibly the biggest dipshit she’d ever known, she couldn’t be scared even if she tried. With a smirk, she shook her head.

“…You are the least scary ghost in the history of phantasms.”

He huffed, plopping down on her couch. “Humor the dead guy, will you?”

“Fine, fine. You’re scary.”

“Did you miss me?”

“…’Course I did. Hasn’t been the same without you around.”

For the past six months Niall had been her hunting partner, and an almost constant presence in her life. In all truth, he’d become like her little brother. Her annoying little brother sometimes, but her little brother all the same. His absence was profound. Even earlier that day she’d asked him to hand her a couple of tools only to realize she was in her workroom alone. Before that she’d called him, only for the call to go straight to voicemail. Lucy had been half tempted to leave a message he’d never answer, just to pretend he was still there.

She had to admit she was glad to see him again, ghost or no. All the same, he should have passed on. The dead weren’t meant to linger in the physical world, and yet here he was.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you still here? You’re dead. You need to pass on.”

He shrugged. “Yeah well, I can’t.”

“Walking the earth in limbo until the werewolf’s curse is ended?”

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the disapproving glance he gave her over his shattered sunglasses.

“I saw that movie too, smartass. Besides, you killed the werewolf. If that was the case I wouldn’t be here.”

“So why then? You never seemed the type to have a whole lot of regrets in life. Also, your death was kind of immediately avenged.”

“Have to keep you safe, don’t I? I mean, how many times did you tell me hunting’s a dangerous job?”

More times than she could count. Most hunters didn’t make it through their first two months. Ones like her who lived year after year fighting everything and anything the supernatural world could throw at them were rare. Lucy counted herself lucky every time she came home alive and with all her limbs.

“A lot.”

“Yep. And I’m gonna make sure you survive, from now until the day you hang up all your various weapons. You’re my unfinished business Lu, and I can’t rest until I’ve seen it through.”

She should have been angry that he’d condemned himself to being earthbound for god-only-knew how long, but she couldn’t be. Lucy smiled at her now decidedly-less-tangible partner.

“Glad you decided to stick around.”

If you prefer a more-tangible Niall, there’s a couple other stories right here.