“Mind you,” she continued, “the women are just as bad. Getting fall-down drunk in the streets, throwing up everywhere, and worse, peeing in plant pots. Can you imagine the horror? They wear clothes that reveal everything; if you are not a size zero, you’re fat! They can drink a pint in one mouthful and swear like sailors. What happened to society? I bet you’d be appalled by it. Now, I am all for girl power and equality. But I wonder why we had to lose ourselves in the meantime.”
Maggie raised her eyes to the painting. She could swear it was listening to her. She knew she should feel stupid, but she didn’t. Maggie was at peace and at home.
“I suppose I’m being judgemental, aren’t I Lucian? After all, ladies are strong. We can do whatever job a guy does, and we’re just as capable. We fought for the right to be independent, and it costs lives, and they should be honoured, even revered. But I bet half those loutish women don’t know the names of those who sacrificed everything for them to be what they are now. I should shut up, eat lunch, and get cracking. Isn’t that so, Lucian!”
Maggie grinned and rose to her feet.
“It’s Lord Castleton, not Lucian,” a voice said.
Maggie screeched and jumped, spinning to see behind her and grabbing the mop. To her astonishment, there was nobody there.
“Show yourself. Whatever game you’re playing is not amusing!” Maggie yelled, looking around.
“Get out!” a voice wailed, drifting towards her on an icy wind.
Maggie narrowed her eyes in anger. This was not funny.
“I said come out. Before I call the police and have your sorry self arrested!” Maggie spat.
“Leave.” The word floated through the air.
“The hell I will. I own this inn, and you’re trespassing, not me!” Maggie retorted, peering around.
“Death,” the voice whispered, and Maggie nearly blew a gasket. She yanked her mobile phone from her pocket and stabbed in the numbers to unlock the screen.
“Last chance tosspot! I give you to the count of three to leave before I call the cops,” Maggie growled. “One… two…” Maggie’s jaw dropped open, and she stopped counting as a mist appeared. It hovered between the door and bar and slowly formed the shape of a male. Before her disbelieving eyes, it took on the features of Lucian and then he floated transparently in front of her.
“Really?” Maggie snorted as she waved her mop at the transparent figure. Eyeless sockets gazed down at her as the image flickered. “That must be the worst hologram I’ve ever seen. Christ, the power’s not even stable!”
Lucian
He stared at the tiny wench as she ranted about power or something and wondered what the hell was wrong with her. In Lucian’s broad experience, on seeing a ghost, most people do two things, have vapours or flee. No, this ninny was muttering about holograms, fake images, and unstable power lines. Lucian frowned as she stomped forward, shoved her mop straight in his stomach, and waved it around. Ribbons of mist floated off him as she swirled it harder. Then, to his absolute disbelief, she began climbing on chairs and inspecting the beams on the ceiling.
“I’ll find it, and then I will shove it up the idiot’s ass! If you’re watching this, this is my inn. I bought it fair and square. I won’t be frightened away by some lunatic who thinks he can steal it from me!” Maggie yelled, twisting her head, and looking around.
Lucian peeked around, too, wondering what they were searching for.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed on a machine. He believed it was called a hoover, and she grinned. Lucian wondered what was going through the irritating female’s busy mind. She jumped down from the chair and grabbed the hose off the machine. Wickedly smiling, she pointed the tube at him and stepped on a pedal. Lucian cocked his head as he received a sharp pull. His eyes widened at the hoover, and then he felt a further tug.
Maggie walked forward and held the pipe closer, and Lucian shrieked as suddenly his legs began disappearing into the hose. Lucian screeched as he struggled to free himself. And was nearly physically sick when he saw his feet spinning around in the glass container. The hose sucked him even further into it, and Lucian was waist deep before he knew it. Lucian’s nails scrabbled at the floor and tried to materialise, but he was so unfocused and disturbed he couldn’t. No, no, he kept moaning as his stomach disappeared.
His eyes widened as he saw his body spinning round and round, winding itself around the central tube in the glass tank. With a cry, his shoulders faded into the hose, and before Lucian could utter one more word, he was sucked fully down the pipe. His eyeballs rattled in his head as he sped in furious circles and gagged at least three times. There was dust and dirt inside, which made him sneeze. He could see his reflection and was flabbergasted to see his face stretched around the container!
With a monumental effort, Lucian dematerialised and transported to his room at the inn. On staggering legs, he headed for his bed. He felt as if he’d be on the rack and tortured. His limbs felt four times longer than they should. His neck was as delicate as a swans, and his head wobbled everywhere. Lucian collapsed on his mattress in relief. But when he opened his eyes, the room spun out of control.
That wicked witch! That terrible woman! Here he was, trying to innocently protect his inn and stop the evil within from escaping, and that buxom spinster had tortured him! No wonder she was unmarried! The creature was cruel and untameable. No man would wish that upon himself! And that device. Lucian had thought it was for cleaning, but no, it was a cleverly hidden torture machine, probably created by that foul, fickle frog downstairs! This was war!
Maggie
Maggie watched, bemused, as the hologram was sucked away. She was unsure how it happened but was glad it had. It was amusing watching it spin around in the hoover, but when it had disappeared, a tingle raced down her spine. Maggie ignored the obvious question of how she hovered a hologram in the first place and busied herself cleaning again. Tomorrow she would scour the inn looking for hidden equipment, but today she wished that this side of the inn would be cleaned at least.
Once she’d completed her search, Maggie would start on the wing that came off Lucian’s side. She’d not explored that yet apart from a quick glimpse but realised it had been stables later converted into a part of the restaurant and inn. At Margery’s end was another wing which seemed to be cut in half. The open half was a seating area. Maggie assumed the kitchen was behind the dividing wall. Or maybe near the bar. She knew she really should explore tomorrow.
Whistling cheerfully, she continued cleaning until six o’clock fell, but wriggling tired and sore shoulders, Maggie had completed her task. The front wing of the inn gleamed and shone. She packed everything away and tiredly got into her car. She didn’t glance behind her, which was a shame because Lucian glared out of his window at her while he made plans for revenge.
Chapter Two.
Maggie arrived the following day, bright and early, and sighed as she saw all shutters closed and the doors barricaded. Angrily muttering under her breath, Maggie spent twenty minutes opening everything up and manhandling the large pots covering the entrances. Once she could unlock the door, Maggie stepped inside and paused. Something was different. Maggie carefully checked around but couldn’t put her finger on what. The wood and windows still shone with her thorough cleaning, and her items were where she left them apart from…