Page 75 of The Neighborhood Ghost

Her mind focused on Hugo. His icy blue eyes. His coifed hair. Black leather jacket. The dark gray hooded sweatshirt she took over and claimed as her own. She remembered the smell of his cologne—the rich cedar and vanilla smell.

She focused on their nights together. Not some torrid love affair, but the nights they held each other close. When they laid in bed, face to face, lost in each other’s eyes. Deep under the covers. Their fingertips lightly exploring each other. Tracing invisible lines only their souls knew existed. Imparting their wisdoms. Divulging their secrets.

A shiver ran down Alice’s spine.

The ghouls scratched and clawed at the door. It was time. The haunted corpses of the lost souls awaited Alice on the other side. She had to be ready to run as far and as fast as possible. She turned the broom and held it out, so she was ready to strike with the broomcorn first. Alice knew it wouldn’t damage them. Itwasn’t the point. She needed to push them out of the way so she could make her escape.

Alice reached out with her free hand. She unlocked the deadbolt and took a step back. The doorknob turned, and the door flung open. A ghoul, its face sunken and painted like a skull, stood in the entryway.

With a barbaric yawp, Alice charged forward. The broomcorn struck the ghoul in the face, forcing it backward. They converged on the door. Alice struck back, forcing them out of the way. She was able to clear a small opening on the other side of the doorway.

Alice stepped onto the porch—a simple porch made of cement, but large enough to stand on. The ghouls closed in, wailing and screeching into the air. Alice struck back, knocking a few of them off-balance.

Alice slid her hands down the broom handle. She swung it like a baseball bat, striking the ghouls and kicking them off their feet. She screamed a fierce war cry, drowning out their wailing. Malice and aggression glimmered in her eyes. She conjured her strength and force of will to fight back against the oncoming swarm. Alice had an opening and took it.

She sprinted into the open. The ghouls tried to keep up, but they only shambled behind. More poured out from the houses like an unending parade of death. Alice ducked in between, weaving in and around. She didn’t know which house held Hugo. They were so different. So many. She couldn’t go door to door to find him. Her only hope was to cause enough of a distraction to lead Hugo to find her.

“Come get me!” she yelled. “Come get the witch of Newbury Grove.”

Alice swung the broomstick, clearing her path as soon as one got within arm’s reach. She bull rushed a small group, jabbingat them with the end of the broomcorn. They tumbled to the ground.

“Hugo!” Alice yelled. “I’m here, Hugo!”

She ran, weaving in and about the houses. Alice attacked the ghouls as she passed. She was winning. Alice ventured deeper into the haunted land, shouting out Hugo’s name.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of black, a shadowy flash in between the houses. She turned her head. It was a rider on a black horse with festering wounds seeping from its hair. Fire snorted from its nose. It followed her, tracking her every moment. It ran ahead and disappeared behind the houses. Alice pressed on, not stopping until the rider emerged in front of her.

Then the rider charged at her.

Alice ducked in between two houses. The rider passed her, slowing to a stop. The houses were too narrow for the rider to cut in between with ease. She had to use it to her advantage.

She sprinted. She didn’t have time to fight off the ghouls; she ran in between them. Their skeletal hands clawed at her coat. The sleeves tore and ripped as she went by. She couldn’t stop, not with a rider on a black, festering horse chasing her. Her only hope was to zig-zag through the houses, knowing the horse couldn’t easily pivot.

She ran, turning and twisting between the houses. She glanced back and couldn’t see the rider. It was working. She was gaining distance. The ghouls seemed to stop, as if called off. No doubt the rider was still chasing her, though. Alice couldn’t take the risk. She had to keep running.

Alice’s legs burned. Her heart pounded. Her lungs exploded as she became short of breath. Alice couldn’t keep running, not at a sprinting speed. She was trying to run a marathon. It wasn’t sustainable. Her body ached and burned, telling her to stop. She couldn’t. She had to keep going.

“Hugo!” she shouted, her voice weakening as she struggled for air.

In and out, between the houses, she weaved. Each turn could be her last. She had to keep going. She had to keep hoping. Alice turned a corner. She gasped and screamed at the ghostly image before her.

Hugo darted across the landscape.His arms and legs pumped as fast as they could. She was here. Alice was coming for him. They were going home. His slight smile vanished at a passing thought. Alice was not only being chased by the entire army of ghouls, but also the rider on the horse. He had no idea how long ago the rider took off. Hugo might be too late. Alice had her magick to protect her, but still . . . it might not be enough to hold off an entire army of ghouls. She could be in trouble. He had to hurry.

He dug deep into the resources of his soul. For all his grief and anger and suffering, he wasn’t about to lose anyone else. The vampirism coursed through his body. It fueled him and gave him life. Even though he was dead, the vitality of life coursed through his body. Being a vampire wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t his choice, but he might as well use it to the full advantage.

With each stride, the wind whipped past his ears and howled. The black hockey stick swayed vigorously in his right arm with each increase in speed. He deftly maneuvered through the maze of houses, closely trailing the eerie footsteps of the ghouls.

Even though they were numerous, Hugo held one advantage. They were slow. He struck a few of them out of his way. The shrunken, skeletal husks of the souls they once were collapsed to the ground with no more than a glancing blow. They were easytargets. He threw his body weight into them, knocking them out of the way as he crisscrossed between the shambling crowds. The ghouls paid no attention to him, only their relentless pursuit of Alice.

Hugo ducked in between the houses. He tried to anticipate Alice’s movements. The ghouls were converging on where she was. He needed to go in the direction she was running toward.

Hugo had to stick to weaving in and out of the houses. If he were out in the open, he would be easy prey for the rider. He had to weave in and around the houses to slow him down.

A few more twists and turns. There was no sign of the rider. The one who could cut him off. Or cut her off.

He couldn’t dwell on it. He had to trust she knew what to do and could fight back. After all, she was a witch. She could hold her own. Blast them all with her arcane balls of energy.

Hugo turned a corner and came face to face with the image of a ghostly dream. He stopped, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he caught his momentum. The woman he had seen so many times in his memory. The one who kept him going. Alice Primrose.

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