Spirit by J. P. Hightman Page A

“I’ve yet to see the person who doesn’t enjoy seeing a shrunken head or a good hanging, and there’s always a big turnout at any funeral wake with an open casket. If you really want people to come to your festival, you’ve got to get those bodies out and let people get their pictures taken with the witchy cadavers. Dig them up. Someone must know where they are, don’t you think?”
    Everyone gaped at him. Tess smiled at them broadly.
    They were off to a wonderful start with these people.
    The train headed into a curve, affording a view of a big ice-coated wooden archway up ahead, with a playfully carved witch’s face upon it. WELCOME had been written on an ice slab nearby. Everyone seemed disturbed at the sight of the witch’s image at that particular moment.
    â€œFact of the matter is,” added Tobias, “that’s why we’re here.”
    â€œWhat’s why?” asked Gil.
    â€œWell, the ghosts, of course. There’s talk that those witches didn’t pass on quietly. They’re still up there.”
    Tess added, “We’ve been all over the world searching for spirit habitations. Who would’ve thought there was an authentic one right here in New England? I’m positively embarrassed we didn’t know about it before.”
    Tobias looked at her sympathetically. “You can’t know about all of them, dearest.”
    Everyone in the car was now staring at them.
    â€œThis habitation could be as good as the one in Switzerland,” she said.
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up, sweetie,” Tobias replied. “It could be a hoax. “You come all the way out, you pay your money, and what is it? Nothing but flashing lights and hokum.” He paused. “Of course, flashing lights have their appeal….”
    A dour-faced, prudish woman looked at Tess with some disgust. “You really seek out ghosts?”
    â€œDear lady,” said Tess, “nothing gives a rush of blood to the body like a good spirit possession. “You feel it right down to your intimates. It’s a thrill you will not soon forget.”
    The prudish woman looked shocked. “You’ve done this sort of thing in the past? Why?”
    â€œWell, I don’t want to disturb you by calling it an addiction,” Tobias interjected, “but let’s just say, you’ve never really lived until you’ve been tickled from the inside .”
    Tess and Tobias smiled sweetly.
    It was so easy to shock people these days, it almost wasn’t fun. Still, there were some passengers who were not bothered at all by talk of death and phantoms. Tess felt the steady gaze of the dark foreigner fall upon her.
    â€œI fear no ghosts,” he said, “nor anything else.” The man—was he Italian? Spanish?—was leaning forward just a bit, into the window light, opening his coat so Tess and everyone else could see he was armed, pistols glinting silver against his dark clothes. “I’ve been hired by some of these rich old men who own the town. I’m here to make certain there is nothing to fear, neither among rowdy men drunk on spirits nor among spirits who wish to drink the blood of men.” He gave a stern smile, and Tess could see the edge of a handsome but unshaven jaw beneath his square Western hat.
    â€œI shall do my best not to fear any dead witches,” she said to him.
    Tobias looked at the foreigner. “Is there a reason you above any other would be hired for this protection?”
    â€œI have been here and there. Seen the West. Seen blood. Seen death. Seen guns.”
    â€œAll in one place, or one at a time?”
    The foreigner was unamused. “You speak like one who has never seen a fight.”
    â€œTrue enough, I suppose,” said Tobias. “But I have other strengths. I have seen the unseeable. How about you, sir? Were you lucky enough to have encountered the supernatural in your