A Curse Owed

Vivian found him on the floor of his cottage, his cold dead hands still gripping the medallion viciously as if his fingers were two spindly white spiders perched around the golden metal. She clicked her tongue as she looked down on him, his empty eyes staring uselessly at his bland living room wall; his face already beginning to hollow out after the time he had spent lying on the tiles. She pulled her dagger from her belt and cautiously slid it under the medallion clasped in the dead man’s fingers. It easily lifted free allowing her to gently tilt it in as the morning light reflected off the dull metal, her eyes roving over it as she inspected the gold. Engraved into the medallion’s core was a snake that wound around a dazzling star; the crest of a wealthy family, she realized with a frown.

She sighed, letting the medallion fall to the man’s chest as she re-sheathed her dagger. When she had arrived in town earlier that morning, the townspeople had wasted no time to inform her of the man’s tragic tale; explaining in horrid detail of how he began wearing the medallion with pride on the day he got it, but by the next day he was yelling in the streets, hissing about demons and curses. They continued, saying that he had disappeared a few days later, their voices lowering to hush whispers, faces turning pale and their eyes widening as they informed Vivian that he had cursed the town. She had almost laughed at them but instead she stifled it with a clear of her throat and murmured a question.

“What price would you pay to rid the town of this curse?” She asked, her voice quiet and croaky from its lack of use. The townspeople had looked between one another before one of them spoke up, her voice wavering slightly as she spoke.

“We don’t have a lot of money…” The woman muttered. “We wouldn’t be able to afford…” Her words stopped abruptly as Vivian filled in the blank.

‘The Exorcist.’ She thought, finishing the woman’s sentence as she looked around the room. ‘They wouldn’t be able to afford me.’

“Can you provide a week’s worth of supplies,” She asked, her gaze fixing on the woman. “A hot meal and a soft bed?”

The woman nodded her eyes widening even more from their petrified state. Murmurs trickled through the quiet bar as Vivian braced herself; she always hated this part.

“That is all I require.” She replied, sipping her drink before continuing. “Your curse will be lifted, but do not speak of the price to others. My services do not come cheap to those who can afford it.”

She would start at his house, the directions to it already fresh in her mind from the townspeople’s story. She rose from her chair, gathering her bag as she waded through the crowd, her mind already focused on the job at hand, barely hearing the question asked in her wake.

“Who are you?” A young woman asked, her hands trembling as she gripped her friend’s sleeve; reminded Vivian of a child.

“I’m the Exorcist.” She replied with a smirk before disappearing around the corner into the morning sunlight.

Now she stared down at the man inspecting the large gash across his throat, her eyes calculating the size of the pool of blood that had spread around his head. The blood had stained his clothing, and tossed a few meters from his body was a simple steel kitchen knife; its blade covered in dried blood where it must’ve clattered to the floor.

“Never steal from the dead.” Vivian murmured the memory of her father’s words hanging in the back of her mind. “Any fool knows that.”

She clicked her tongue again before removing her righthand glove and, with delicate fingers, she reached down and touched the medallion’s gold. At her touch it began to hiss and sizzle as it unclipped from the dead man’s neck and fell to the ground.

‘Definitely a curse.’ Vivian thought. ‘Not the kind the village thinks it is though.’

She hesitated for a moment, her hand faltering in the air as she stared at the dead man before her, the large gash across his throat taunting her. She shook herself continuing to pluck the medallion from the floor and clasped it around her neck. As the cool metal touched her skin she closed her eyes, allowing the magic that was attached to the gold, to work on her mind and sink into her skin. When she opened them, she was surrounded by ghostly figures; transparent and colourless silhouettes that stared blankly back at her. She stood slowly, looking around at them all, committing them to memory.

“Hello, can any of you hear me?” She said nervously, her words met with silence. She cleared her throat as she tried again. “What is the name of your family?” Silence once more.

‘Great.’ She thought with a roll of her eyes. ‘Non-responsive ghosts. That’s gonna be a fun curse to have for a while.’

Vivian placed a hand on her forehead as she tapped her foot lightly. With another soft sigh she turned on her heel and began to make her way out of the house.

“We don’t know.” A quiet voice said behind Vivian as she crossed the threshold of the house.

Vivian froze in place, her heart hammering as she quickly whirled around to face a young woman. The woman took a gentle step forward and shrugged; a soft smile gently curling itself across her round face. Her figure was the brightest and clearest out of all the other spirits, and her eyes practically sparkled compared to the hollow and empty ones around her.

“Do you know your name?” Vivian asked as she stepped back into the house.

“Helena.” The woman replied. “My name’s Helena.”

“I’m Vivian.” She said with a polite bow; Helena returned the bow with the nod of her head as silence briefly filled the space between them. “How did you end up like this?”

“We- what I mean to say is… I don’t know.” Helena replied looking around the room at the other ghosts. “All I seem to remember is my name. Which… I think… is slowly fading. And the others aren’t very talkative.”

Vivian looked at the other spirits too and noticed that the ones that were looking at her were, in fact, looking through her as if she weren’t even there. Their faces, although sad and unhappy, were also strangely blank with no indication that they recognised where they were, or that there were other spectres in the room. Vivian turned on her heel and walked out of the house, her fingers running across the medallion as she thought.

“Wait!” Helena called as she caught up to Vivian. “Where are you going?”

“To the village.” Vivian replied, the ghosts moving silently around her, walking in time with her step seemingly unknown to themselves. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

Helena raised an eyebrow as Vivian trudged down the gravel road, into the village and towards the local tavern, her step never slowing as she slipped the medallion into her shirt, hiding it beneath the white material. She pushed the doors open, stepping inside as she looked around, her eyes landing on the townspeople kneeling before the priest, his voice heavy as he prayed over the room.

“The curse has been lifted. The town will be fine.” Vivian announced as the people inside cheered and whooped, hugging one another.

“How do we know it’s been lifted?” An old man sitting in the corner closest to the priest asked, his voice carrying his power over the celebrating people. Vivian narrowed her eyes at the mayor as she took in the jewels wrapped around his bony fingers and thin neck; the room settling into silence as they gaped at the mayor and stared, wide eyed, at Vivian.

“Do you doubt my credibility?” She finally asked.

“No- I simply- I would never- I just…” He stammered.

“Don’t worry sir, your people are safe.” Vivian assured him. “If you have any problems, you know where to find me, and the cost.”

“And what of Mr. West?” A woman asked tentatively.

“I couldn’t save him from the curse.” Vivian replied softly. “He unfortunately passed.” The room fell quiet at her report, the woman beginning to quietly sob.

“I’m so sorry Ms. Ellis.” The priest managed as he stepped towards the woman offering a comforting embrace. “He will be mourned. Here, I’ll escort you home.”

The priest wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided the crying woman out of the tavern, the rest of the people inside trailing behind, spreading the news to the rest of the town; the mayor scowled at Vivian as he passed, slowly stalking behind the crowd as he too left the tavern.

“Thank you for your services Miss. Thatcher.” The barkeep said as she emerged from behind the bar, handing Vivian a small satchel full of fresh supplies. “Your horse is waiting out the back. Safe travels.”

Vivian nodded, thanked her, and left the village; her invisible hoard of ghosts surrounding her like an armed guard as she retrieved her horse.