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Jack's Windfall 2

Part 2

By Pedro RiveraPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
2
https://ro.pinterest.com/pin/4063795663557720895/

Jack stared at the check on his table. $20,000 are now his thanks to a scratch off. He lived lightly, only caring about his rent and car payments. This was too much. Normally, he would get relative chump change. He hasn’t even cashed it yet, afraid of what would happen.

He pulled out his black book. This grimoire was full of sigils of spirits that either owe him favors, or that he owed. As a shaman, he needed to keep this in balance, while at the same time, helping the city be better. He paged through, looking for any that could be summoned with money. There are some that require rare items such as diamonds or orchids.

He suddenly noticed a missing page in the book. The page had been neatly ripped out, and he had no memory of removing the page. He began searching his apartment for it. He had a cluttered apartment, but he usually didn’t have issues finding what he needed. He sat in the middle of his living room, wondering if he should summon something to help him. Even worse, he could not remember what was on that sheet. Perhaps it was important…

He jumped at the knock at the door. He ran to the door and opened it to no one. Sitting on his welcome mat was an envelope. “A job already?” Jack contemplated as he opened it.

In the envelope, Jack was able to find a variety of letters. All going back and forth between Harold Jenkins and Jenny Fitzroy. These were old letters, starting in the nineties, and he soon found newspaper clippings detailing a car accident involving Jenny, then Harold commiting suicide. The final piece of paper in the letter was a small sheet with a glyph on it. Jack pulled out his black book, and it appeared that the glyph matched his missing page.

“Well, they had to be obvious.” He studied the glyph, flipping it over to read the information about the being linked to the sigil. It was the glyph of a psychopomp, the Wretch. Like most spirits that Jack dealt with, it was a modern spirit of the city, one that draws its power from our world. It was not evil for representing a death homeless, unseen and forgotten. It was merely an incarnation of a horror that happens in this cruel world.

Jack pulled out his mirror and a small marker. With a detailed hand, he carefully drew the sigil of the wretch, and prepared an offering. He pulled out a small styrofoam cup, in which he placed a penny, a nickel, a dime, a quarter, a half-dollar and a dollar coin. He then swirled the coins in the cup, placing within the vortex of coins a twenty dollar bill. He watched it disappear and when he looked up into the mirror, he saw the Wretch.

It was hagrid and old, it's disheveled hair and ill fitting clothes hiding any gender or nationality. It sat replacing his reflection, it’s mittened hands holding the cup in the mirror, matching his movements precisely. Under soiled grey hair, the glint of an eye glittered before him.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Shaman. I have come to ask for your assistance.” Its voice was a throaty growl, muffled under a multitude of scarves. Jack settled down. A client speaking directly to him? He is feeling more and more like a detective. “Well, I would be happy to oblige, spirit. I am a Shaman, and as such I am the link between worlds. What is it I could help with?”

The Wretch lifted the $20 from his cup. As he did, it went from Jackson to Hamilton. “The couple in the envelope died in love, but their graves are separated. This stress of their spirits has been damaging the Veil between worlds. There is some talk of a push from some of the darker spirits.” Jack frowned. He has dealt with dark spirits before, beings who represent the corruption of essence. These are the beings that turn love into lust or envy, hope into sloth, confidence to pride. Worse, as they get stronger, they can fuse with other spirits, corrupting the other spirits further. Jack’s wrist started to itch as he remembered the run in with the spirit that nearly got him…

Jack considered the next move. He only had a limited number of questions he could ask before the Wretch was unsummoned. “Can you give me the locations of their graves?” The Shaman watched as the Wretch’s ten dollar bill now showed Lincoln. It pointed at the map of Rochester Jack hung up, and two smudges appeared on the map. One was in Riverside, the other in Mount Hope. That was about a seven mile separation. No wonder they were upset.

Jack considered his last question. “Why is this happening now? They have been in two different graveyards for decades. There must be a reason.” The Wretch’s bill now showed Washington, and the Wretch uttered, “There is a third involved. They are forcing the turmoil.” The Wretch then starts to fade out of the mirror, leaving only Jack’s reflection.

Jack looked down. Naturally, the Wretch takes the cup and coins, the money distributed to the homeless masses it will eventually guide to the afterlife. Jack stands, his back popping into place, as he contemplates his next move. If there is a dark spirit involved, he may need to prepare for the worst.

2

About the Creator

Pedro Rivera

Hi, I'm just a guy trying to exercise his narrative chops, and write some decent fiction.

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