A Ghost of a Chance (4 page)

Again it boomed, “You may approach Sir Jackoryn.” Peering toward the source of the sound from what he could make out, it looked to be a figure seated on an elevated pedestal made of, what else, stone, on what could be nothing else than a throne.

His guess was that he approached the reigning monarch speaking out from the seat of power of whatever bizarre realm he’d stumbled into.

What was the protocol in such instances? At a loss at how to respond, he slowly began to make his way toward the imposing figure that awaited him across the granite-like expanse.

The walk itself was tough going. It was absolutely sluggish. He dragged as he walked. Something tangible seemed to be weighing him down.

As he struggled to approach the kingly one, he could make out that the figure was cloaked in purely white-silver battle armaments, accented by drippings of dark red cloth that peaked dramatically from beneath the armor. Quite striking, even he had to admit.

The barbarian monarch, as he labeled him, was quite a picturesque display – a startling contrast of color against the blackest coal-colored beard and the pale white skin of his flesh.

He made a vivid image – a dark prince, a vision right out of a cheap gothic novel.

Ahhh, he halted. It dawned on him like a delicate sledgehammer, perhaps just like something out of one of Hallie’s novels.

Awkwardly, he continued his trek for a closer view, simultaneously acknowledging for the first time that he clanked as he walked. He looked down. Now why hadn’t he noticed this before? Maybe because it wasn’t there before!

His chest, his legs, his arms – all was armored. Also in his newly arrived wardrobe was a tunic beneath the armor made of light green cloth that protruded enough to noticeably contrast markedly with the dark prince across the room. Now his mind was beginning to get with the program. In this unfortunately, predictable tableau that would cast him as, and his heart dropped perceptively at the realization,
the good guy
.

The realization gave him chills. It all fit together in a peculiar, skewed sort of way. The scene was cast. Evidently, tonight he was playing the pure, good boring character and whoever the joker on the throne might be was the dark, conflicted, smoldering anti-hero. It wasn’t hard to size up how heavily the deck was stacked against him. In the purest of female hearts, in particular what he had gleaned of Hallie Barkly’s during his limited exposure to her, he felt intrinsically that he didn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell at being victorious and achieving the spoils, whatever the spoils might be.

He stopped, out of breath, still yards away from the throne. Even from where he was he could see his eyes – his nemesis’ eyes; they were a deep, sparkling, dark color. It gave his appearance an unreal, hypnotic quality. Much as he hated to admit it there was no denying it. He was compelling. Hell, if he were a woman he’d throw his hat in with this guy.

“
Sir Jackoryn,” boomed the deep but velvety voice.

He looked around for a moment, and then asked pointedly. “Is that really my name?”

The dark prince smiled widely enough that his perfectly shaped, uncannily white teeth presented themselves. “Well, you have to admit Sir Jack wouldn’t quite fit the motif. And, after all, I am not its author.”

“
Yes, well speaking of that, where is the fair damsel?”

And as if on cue she suddenly appeared on the threshold of the great medieval throne room that Jack concluded had been borne out of her imagination. It was Hallie, but not the Hallie as Jack had seen her. Here, she was not that odd, quirky, unpredictable woman that he’d been coming to know. Here, she was transfigured, draped in a shimmering gown made entirely of golden cloth. Her skin was absolutely luminescent against its luster. And her hair which was drawn up loosely by jeweled combs, cascading with escaping golden ringlets framing her perfectly creamy skin and dark pink mouth until all he could manage to utter was, “Wow.”

“
Does Sir Jackoryn approve?” The male counterpart to her loveliness inquired from the throne.

“
Would you please stop calling me that?” He snapped with irritation. He didn’t want intrusion right now. He was still drinking deeply of the vision that was Hallie. His mind was calculating furiously at lightening speed. There had to be a way for him to turn this around and get the girl, just had to be.

Hallie floated toward him, her mouth trembling with the fullness and intensity of her thoughts or so he guessed.

“
Jackoryn. I did not know you would be here.”

He smiled. This was novel. Here, they were actually speaking, instead of her just looking right through him. “That makes two of us.”

“
I know you can’t understand, but I must stay here with Samory.”

“
Ah, so this is Samory?”

“
You mustn’t be so jocular with my heart.”

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing that, uh Lady Hallie.”

“
Hallea.”

“
Of course, right. Lady Hallea, can we take just a moment or so to talk about this? Don’t you owe me that much?”

The guilt card was always helpful. “Honestly, this guy over here, I can tell you right now, you have no future with. It’s written all over him.”

She frowned, seemingly a little befuddled by his responses.

Perhaps he was not following the script. “There is nothing to say, Jackoryn. You have lost,” the anti-hero boomed behind him.

He turned to the overconfident monarch. “Look, big guy. I walked in on the middle of this. But I’m here now and not ready to give up before I’ve started.” And then, he added, “You might want to check that anemia, pal. You look like you’re one foot in the grave already.”

Small cold hands gripped his arms, “Please Jackoryn, you tear my heart out. I must stay with Samory. I must try and save him.”

He stopped for a second and looked into her eyes, deeply into her eyes. It was there – that same soft, vulnerable look that had become as of late become so familiar to him. There was no doubt that she had created this. But he also saw something else that disturbed him – the fringes of panic in her expression. She was in trouble here. She needed him. Something was smoldering, brewing beneath all the finery of this illusion. Hallie seemed extremely ill at ease, and why should she be? After all, wasn’t this her ball game?

He returned her gentle embrace, holding the sides of her arms gently. “Hallie, Hallie,” he whispered. “Listen to me. Let me take you out of here. I bet I have a nice white stallion outside just waiting for the two of us.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit, “You jest Jackoryn.”

“
Well, if not then we can walk, but I can’t leave you here like this, not with him.”

“
But he is my destiny. I am here to save him.”

“
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it isn’t him you’re supposed to save. Maybe it’s me.”

An eyebrow lifted, “You?”

“
Yes me, my life hasn’t been too wonderful, and you have to admit that I don’t come quite with the baggage that guy seems to have.”

“
Enough Jackoryn, leave now or I will have you flayed,” Samory boomed.

She pulled away, “You must go Jackoryn. It isn’t safe for you here.”

He grasped a small delicate hand. It felt so cold. Why did she feel like ice here? “Hallie, I have a strong feeling that it isn’t safe for you either. Let me help you.”

And then for a split second something shifted. He felt it, a feeling just like what had happened for only seconds in the study. An odd recognition swept across her features and her soft brown eyes widened.

And then, he was back, next to her bed. She was awake, sitting up. Just staring forward. “Hallie,” he whispered again.

But there was no response this time, none at all.

She flung open the door declaring, “We’re home!” The long black puppy that she held in her arms seemed to markedly tremble at her enthusiasm. That certainly wasn’t a good sign. Hallie had left his cage in the car, wanting her new charge to experience its home with full sensory advantage. But upon entering, it just turned its cold black nose back to her and tried to nuzzle in closer.

She had picked out the orphan at the SPCA. It wasn’t something she’d planned to do, but then again she was a spontaneous kind of person. In truth, she had to admit, the impulse had been seeded when she’d first awoken that morning. Something odd had come over her – a peculiar feeling. Hallie experienced something that was really unfamiliar for her. For the first time since she had moved into the old Virginia farmhouse, she felt lonely. By nature she was a solitary individual, a loner of sorts, so being by herself had never posed a problem. But today the emotion had hit her hard; it had nagged at her all through the early morning hours. She felt bereft of, well, companionship.

This in itself was truly novel. Even when she had been married to Edward, she didn’t feel lonely when he was gone. They were too distant, too different to truly connect or feel the other’s absence.

This was silly, she told herself. There was no rational reason for feeling this. But she was experiencing a tangible sensation of loss, almost as though she had found something and then lost it. But again, all that was ludicrous because absolutely nothing had changed since yesterday.

Maybe Monica was right. She was just spending way too much time in her own imagination.

So she’d dressed and gone out for a drive, passing a sign for the local SPCA, and well, the rest was history.

Of course, things would change now. When she left here, she’d have to find an apartment or place that would take pets.

But then maybe she would buy her own house with a yard. She certainly had saved enough money from Sebastian Winter’s book sales.

Ouch, even the thought of the book brought her pain. It wasn’t going well, not at all. Instead of an easy flow of words, it was as though each thought was becoming a labor to get onto the page. It would be so easy just to fall back onto the familiar pattern of horror that Sebastian Winters had been known to produce, but she truly wanted to write something different this time – a tale of redemption. It was an undertaking that was becoming more arduous than she had first imagined.

Hopefully the new addition to the household would generate inspiration. At the very least, he would be a distraction. She looked down at the trembling little piece of existence that had not moved an inch from the spot where she had placed it. As she picked him up, he looked at her with wide dark eyes. “What am I going to do with you? How about some breakfast while we think up a name to call you?” He nuzzled her with the now moist, cold, black nose. “I suppose that’s as much an answer as I’m going to get.” And she headed into the kitchen with her new companion. “You’re going to like it here Samson. No, that doesn’t quite do it, does it?”

Monica nudged Hallie’s new puppy away from the black leather bag that he seemed intent on chewing up. “Hallie, what on earth possessed you to get this thing? All it seems to want to do is eat everything.”

“
No, he’s teething. He’s only three months old – just a baby.”

“
Couldn’t you get something that was already trained? Shew, you mongrel.” She nudged it away with the toe of her black leather pump, which it now seemed intent on nibbling as well. “Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost me?”

Aunt Marie frowned at Monica. She and Jack stood across the room near the fireplace watching the exchange. “You know, I never understood why she remained friends with that girl. They’re nothing alike.”

“
Maybe that’s the attraction.”

“
Yes well, that’s something a man would say.”

“
Well I. . .”

“
You know Edward was the same way, so very different from her. “ She cut him off abruptly. He’d noticed Hallie’s short, white-haired Aunt had a habit of doing that when she wasn’t interested in what he had to say. “They had very little in common, but he was the one she had to have.”

“
Maybe she was looking for something she felt lacking in herself.”

She looked at him with her uncompromising blue eyes. “Is that what you used to do Jack?”

Monica continued grumpily, “You know I’ve heard the better pet shops have already started training the dogs before you even buy them. What kind did you say this was?”

“
He’s a mix, a mutt. I got him from the SPCA.”

She flung back her blonde hair in exasperation, “You know that’s like going to the Salvation Army for your clothes.”