Return of Spirit
“Just remember what happened last time, is all I ask?” Barja said to me, rolling his eyes in his typical manner.
I knew what had happened the last time we tried this experiment. I had read extensive and tedious reports. But I had a feeling that this time, it would be different. After all, the last time was so long ago, and the Secret Service was so short on quality recruits. And, well, ghosts, they had certain “useful” qualities that were hard to ignore.
“I’m sorry, Barja, but I’ve made up my mind. As of next week, we will start allowing ghosts to join the service again. We need their help.” I caught him sighing with disapproval, “Now, if that’s everything, I have work to do. Please close the door on your way out.”
Barja muttered a “yes, ma’am” under his breath and left, closing the door a little too loudly for my tastes on his way out.
The following Monday, my head was spinning. Too many brandies at the club last night, celebrating (that was definitely the right word, as he was a cantankerous old buzzard) Gilliard’s retirement. I steadied myself and entered the training room.
I counted four spirits wafting in front of me. There was one missing.
“Where’s Lee?” I asked.
Two of the spirits shrugged, or at least I think they did. It was sometimes hard to focus on the exact motions of these wispy, wafting outlines.
“She’s running a little late…” Rasped Jenkins. At least, I think it was Jenkins, their voice undulating between whatever lack of organs that they conjured sound out of and my ears. Late? What did a ghost have to do that would delay them? Did they have unlives? A schedule to keep? Things to do? My mental tangent was interrupted by Lee suddenly appearing in the room through the wall, which was disconcerting, to say the least, but one of the many reasons we were employing them.
I cleared my throat. “Now that you’re all here, I’d like to welcome you back to the service. You’ll find that many things have changed since you were all working here before, before–”
“We died?” Offered Froam.
“Quite,” I replied. I would need to think of some better terms for all of this.
“For a start, there would never have been a woman in charge.” Wheezed Blake. Obviously, the afterlife hadn’t taught him anything new, and he was still as misogynistic as in his day.
I fixed him with a frosty stare and felt a chill down my spine.
“OK, all of you. Your first trial mission is to gather intelligence on an enemy spy posing as a priest for cover. We need you to discreetly monitor their church for potential–”
“A church?” Asked Lee, her face frozen in fear.
“Yes. Why is there a problem?”
“That’s hallowed ground. We can’t go there, and if we do, we’ll be dismissed.” Responded Lee, hovering awkwardly on the spot, rattling her chains behind her.
I sighed. I was starting to understand what Barja meant.
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