Chapter Three – The Discovery – Cont’d

The dreams were the worst. They came fast and furious night now, driving James from her bed to prowl the streets. Nothing as spectacular as Cecelia happened again – mainly because James avoided the places that those tingly sensations led her. Instead, she either perched on her porch and watched the city below or hunkered down at Kaldi, an all-night coffee shop that seemed to lack tingly spots. Most nights there, she stared at a blank pad of paper, her fountain pen capped and unused.

The long sleepless nights were wearing on James. And it showed. Out for her weekly dinner with Serena, James tried to hide the circles under he eyes to no avail.

“There are things you can take, you know.”

“No.”

“James, you have to sleep.”

“Sleep is over-rated.”

“James…”

“Serena.”

Her phone conversations with Guy didn’t go much better.

“Serena says you’re not sleeping.”

“Serena needs to mind her own business.”

“James, you are her business.”

“Guy, please.”

“James, it’s only been…well… since you…”

“I know how long it’s been. I’ve counted the days.”

Cold silence.

“She loves you, James, that’s all.”

She stared at the empty connection as he hung up.

Just as disturbing were the visions because they came when she was wide awke. nothing in particular seemed to trigger them. They came with touch, they came with a look and they came seemingly on the wind.

And her taste for whiskey seemed to grow.

One such sleepless night when the whiskey only brought her a pleasant buzz, James found herself searching the internet. What for, she didn’t know. She just couldn’t seem to stop clicking the mouse. In her right hand, her fingers caressed the amulet usually adorning her neck.

One click stopped her. The amulet in her hand was pictured on the laptop screen. Startled, she peered closer, unconsciously bookmarking the page. She tried to focus on the text but her alcohol-blurred brain wouldn’t absorb it. A few words jumped out – “salvation,” “suicide,” “revenge,” “unrequited.” The one word that seemed the most recurrent was “Wraith.” Capital “W”. James hit print, figuring she’d read it in the morning. Well, truthfully, in the afternoon.

She woke with a start, head on her laptop keyboard, kink in her neck and a pounding head. She knocked the empty Jameson’s bottle off the desk as she struggled upright.

Her cell phone rang, causing the most exquisite pain in her skull. She finally found the offensive device under a pile of paper and opened it.

“What?!”

“Nice greeting.”

“Sorry, Mags. What’s up?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch.”

James was barely listening. The papers that had buried her phone all bore the image of the amulet and the word “Wraith.” Nothing else. Single image, single word. Page after page after page. Seemingly an entire ream.

“James?”

“Mags, how much do you know about mythology?”

“How long have you known me and you have to ask me that question? Which continent? Which era? Real or fictional?””

James clicked the laptop awake and ran down to the last book mark on her browser. The title was simple. “The Wraith.” But nothing came up when she clicked on it. Nothing. No 404 error. No progress bar. Just nothing.

“James?”

“Lunch sounds good.”

***********************

The Farmer’s Market bustled as usual. James and Maggie found what passed for a quiet corner amongst the old, the faux boho’s and the tourists. Despite the noise and the chaos, Maggie was focued on the printed image and the amulet James had handed her.

“I was wondering why you’ve been wearing this,” Maggie said after James explained about the old man and his gift. “This is a very powerful symbol. Only a few of these amulets were created in the late 1700s. They were given only to the most powerful of shamans, usually the females of the tribe. But this amulet has never been found in North America. In fact, most Western scholars don’t know of its existence. It’s usually found amongst the mountain tribes in Asia.”

Maggie turned the amulet over and over in her hands, looking for identifying marks.

“It doesn’t look like something mass produced but it must be. The last of the amulets was supposedly destroyed at the turn of the last century. Something about destroying the curse with the amulet.”

“What curse?”

“That I’m not clear on. Let me do some research. Can I keep this?”

But James ripped the amulet out of Maggie’s hand before she could stop herself.

“Sorry, but no.”

“That’s fine.”

The two friends sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Maggie spoke first.

“This explains a lot.”

“What does?”

“The amulet. You. Your recovery.”

“You’re nuts.

“Say what you want, I think it explains a lot. You haven’t been yourself since…”

“Since I committed suicide. I know.”

Maggie just looked at her.

“Attempted, James.”

James couldn’t think of a response.

“Serena and Guy think you need therapy.”

“And what do you think.”

Maggie ran a finger over the image of the amulet in front of her.

“I think you need something stronger.”

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