Free Among You by Jack Wallen Page A

darling?”
    Babbette shook her head. “No, Father.”
    Timely grabbed Babbette’s hand and gave it a tug. “Come now, let’s return to our stations. We have humans to haunt.”
    The two girls started off, but were stopped by Gorman’s booming voice. “ Ladies…”
    Babbette and Timely turned to see Gorman looking to them, his hands crossed in front of his chest and his left eyebrow raised.
    “ Yes, Father,” Babbette asked, fear creeping through her voice.
    Slowly, steadily, a smile drifted across Gorman’s lips. “ Have fun.”
    The girls both offered a quick curtsy, turned, and sped off to the entrance. Gorman stood, perfectly still, taking in the moment. When he finally turned back toward the crowd of humans, he raised his hand and turned it so the palm faced up. He closed his eyes and whispered, deep and soft. “ Come to me, secret moment. Grant me your knowledge, so that I may protect my child from the ill will of mankind.”
    The air around Gorman’s hand sparkled. The show of light concentrated itself above his palm until it funneled into his flesh and disappeared. When he opened his eyes, the pupils dilated until all color had been replaced by blackness. A low growl escaped his throat. He pulled in a deep breath and then puffed a cloud of sparkling air from his lips. The contrail shot out and chased down the cause of his daughters condition.
    “ Oh my dearest Babbette,” Gorman whispered, “this will not do.”
    With a flourish, Gorman turned and walked to the entrance of the mansion. Before he pulled the door open, he released a long, relaxing breath.
     

eight | tactical skirt move
     
    Lunch was ritual, a rite of passage for all teenagers. It was a painfully slow climb up the social ladder and the only possible reward was a seat at the table dubbed ‘Cool’. Sally and I knew that was never a part of our future; so for the last two years, we relegated ourselves to a corner table where no one would notice us. We did our best to remain ‘small’. There were days when it bothered one or both of us and we’d venture out. When the shaming looks fell upon us, we’d scurry back to our corner like rats and hope drama didn’t follow us.
    The whole scenario made me feel like a coward. How was I ever going to step out of fear’s shadow when all I knew was how to tuck my tail between my legs and run off?
    “ How did you do on the English essay?” Sally asked.
    I ignored the question.
    “ Scott, what’s going on with you?”
    When I finally looked up at Sally I could see fear in her eyes. I’d seen that look one other time. Freshman year, my parents considered moving out of state. Dad wanted to relocate to a more open-minded city – one that didn’t ‘turn its nose up at anyone with a little ink on their bodies’. When I had broke that news to Sally, I was certain that she’d come undone, then and there. Thankfully, the move never happened. Somehow along the way, it became acceptable to have tattoos. To dad, that was a blessing in disguise. Although his shop was busier than it had ever been, he was now inking every housewife and businessman in the tri-state area. Day after day, he came home complaining about doing tattoos that should never exist, like tramp stamps and finger mustaches.
    “ I’m sorry, Sally. My mind is still on the Gaultier House.”
    Sally rolled her eyes.
    “ I’m serious. Listen, I grabbed a few marketing pamphlets before I left. They had some history and other tidbits about the house. The place is fascinating. Apparently it was brought over from Europe, brick by brick, more than one hundred years ago.”
    I grabbed Sally’s hand and pulled it close. “Sally, I need to go back tonight.”
    “ Scott,” Sally sighed. “Halloween is over; the place is probably closed now.”
    “ I don’t care. I want to know how they pulled those effects off. Sally, you know I’ve been to haunts across the country; I’ve visited houses with million dollar budgets and none of them