Alexie Aaron - Checking Out

“Good girl,” Cid said as he saw the protective stance Maggie had taken up.

Ted ran over and knelt beside Burt. “Burt, wake up. Now’s not the time for a nap. Come on, old boy, the night’s still young.”

Burt murmured something unintelligible.

“Spit out the snow and speak-a-da English,” Ted ordered.

“Asshole,” Burt managed.

“Cid, you can stop fretting. Burt’s spoken the universal word for Ted.”

Cid reached into the pack on Ted’s back and pulled out a blanket, along with some hot packs that he activated and began applying to the fallen man’s body.

“As soon as you can walk, we need to get you into the truck and into some warm dry clothing,” Ted said, urging the man from his prone position to a seated one.

Burt started to feel pinpricks in his extremities as the warm packs and blanket did their job. “Thank God you found me. The others, where are they?”

“I expect they are continuing the investigation,” Cid said. “Plan was to get you out and continue with the job.”

“Are you freakin’ crazy?” Burt asked. “I almost died in there, several times.”

“But here you are, safe and frozen,” Ted said as he lifted the investigator to his feet. “Never investigate alone.”

“We have four PEEPs on the job. And I believe a volunteer from the Tear Drop Tavern. Five of us. How many ghosts are we dealing with?” Cid asked.

“Two and a house. The house is an entity in itself,” Burt said, stomping life back into his feet. He bent down and stroked Maggie’s head. “Thank you, you saved my life.”

Maggie looked up at the cuddly man and noted the change of tone in his voice. She knew that her efforts had earned her some bacon. She didn’t smell bacon. Where was the bacon?

“Let’s see, I have two large rooms ready,” Mrs. Brewster said efficiently. She led the two couples up the stairs. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly had two sets of people to care for, but the inn seemed fine with it, and so she would do her damned best to be a good hostess. Mr. Hicks, with all his wanderings and questions, sure had tried her patience. “I can only put you up for the night,” she warned as she waited for them on the landing.

“That suits Stephen and me just fine,” Mia said, looping her arm through Murphy’s. “We have to be on the road early. Is that going to present a problem?”

Mrs. Brewster shook her head after a moment. Mia watched her hostess, observing that the woman seemed to be listening to a silent partner before she spoke.

“Would eight be soon enough?” she asked.

“Eight sounds fine,” Mia assured her.

Audrey watched how smoothly Mia dealt with the formidable woman before her. She didn’t fall out of character, nor did her voice have the nervous tone Audrey’s had. Mike too seemed confident with role-playing. Was it their experience that stilled their shaking hands, or were both of them natural born liars?

“Here we are,” Mrs. Brewster announced. “I have put you Murphys in the front blue room. Across the hall, Mr. and Mrs. Dupree will have the floral suite.” She swung open the door to the blue room, turned heel and walked across the hall, leading Audrey and Mike into the floral suite.

Audrey looked around at the tasteful floral décor and said, “This is so beautiful!”

Mrs. Brewster flushed with pride. “This is my favorite room. I can send someone up to start a fire in the fireplace for you.”

Mike waved a hand. “No thank you, I’m an old boy scout. I think I can manage, but I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

“How about you two coming down in fifteen minutes to the dining room,” she invited. “I’ll have Millie set out a table of pastries for you to enjoy too.”

“You’re a dear,” Mike said and grasped the woman’s hand a brief moment. Realizing he was touching the hand of someone that was long dead, his stomach did a flip-flop and tears flooded his eyes.

Mrs. Brewster thought the tears that sprang to his eyes were from his honest appreciation of her hospitality and was pleased. She turned and all but danced out into the hall, closing the door after her.

Mike sunk to his knees.

Alarmed, Audrey asked, “What is it? What can I do?”

“Give me a moment,” he said. He got up and grasped her shoulder as she led him to one of a set of wingback chairs framing the fireplace. “If I can trust my stomach as a barometer of paranormal weirdness, that Mrs. Brewster, beneath her hospitable demeanor, is a contradictory blend of hostess and warden. She, basically, freaks me out.”

A light tap on the door preceded Mia and Murphy walking into their room. “Excuse me, but you wouldn’t happen to have an aspirin? My hubby is sporting a hell of a headache,” Mia said. She pointed to her chest where she had morphed a tee shirt with something written on it.

Warning: the house is listening! And below it flashed, But it can’t read.

Mike smiled as he read Mia’s message. He pulled out his notebook and began scribbling. He encouraged the three to look at what he had written.

Mrs. Brewster is very protective of the inn.

Did Burt get out?

Nice tits, Mrs. Murphy-Martin.

“Very funny,” Mia said. “Yes, I hope so, and Ted likes them.”

Murphy looked up from the notebook and shook his head at the last entry. He pulled out his watch and tapped it.

The other three nodded as they were reminded that there wasn’t much time.

Millie moved quickly down the back stairs to the kitchen. Paul followed on her heels. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain his presence but knew that she needed him next to her or she was going to lose her nerve.

“There you are! We have two couples. One, a delightful pair, I’ve put them in the floral suite. Dupree’s the name. In the blue room I put the Murphys. I suspect they aren’t married. The way he looks at her gives me a hot flash. Anyway, I’ve promised them a snack in the dining room before bedtime. Hello, Paul.”

“Good evening, Mother Brewster. I’m just waiting for Millie to finish. I promised her a meal and a movie. It’s our anniversary.”

“Really? My, how time flies,” Mrs. Brewster said. “Congratulations.”

Millie let the tension ease out of her shoulders. Her mother, or what was masquerading as her mother, had accepted Paul’s being there as just a daily occurrence at the Dew Drop Inn.

Mia and Murphy moved out onto the top of the porch. Mia held an energon cube Mike had secreted away in Audrey’s valise. Mia, worried that the cube could generate a problem with the house, had decided to sprout wings. She flew off the top of the porch and held the cube as far away from the building as possible but still close enough for Murphy to connect to it with the axe. The farther away from the inn Mia moved, the stronger she felt. The power of the ley line segment was different than the other lines she had traveled, but it did seem to nourish her all the same.

Murphy felt the power flow into him. He was able to feel, along with his strength increasing, the aches and pains of a normal man. His shoulder ached, and his lower back was stiff from years of planting. This he didn’t miss about being human again. With the cube extinguished, Mia moved back onto the porch and teetered on the edge. Murphy caught her and felt the thrill of being touched. This he did miss.

“Are you alright?” she asked him tenderly.

“Difficult to explain,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“K. You say the word and we’ll bail. You’re more important than getting readings on this place. There are, according to fiction, hundreds of Fata Morganas, but there is only one Stephen Murphy.”