Young Writers Society

After a while of driving and long, awkward silences, Fan decided to ask Frank one of the many questions burning on his brain. Of course, he wanted to know how Frank so easily agreed to the term and conditions, and then all the little secondary questions that came along with that. But instead, being his awkward conversationalist self, he decided to ask about the SCS.

“So, what is the SCS, Frank?”

“It’s the government’s official Soul Collection Service, more like repo than anything else.” Frank noted that everyone still looked confused, even the weird skeleton of a cat that he didn’t even want to figure out yet.

“I worked there for 50 years and that’s how I knew all about the ghost procedures. I noticed that the clock is turning back a bit so did she give me full form?”

“Yeah, it was full form. 50 years? So, you started in your 20s?”

“Well my 320s but yeah.”

“I thought you were 75…”

Lily had been petting the creepy ghost feline this entire time and then jumped in to say,

“Of course. That’s why the soul felt so weird. You were using an age cloaking charm. I just assumed that you were a solider and that’s why your soul felt so old.”

Frank took another glance at the cat and said, “I’m a soldier too. Did either of you two ever hear of the MIIA?”

Fan had heard more from the MIIA than he cared to say and knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but did anyways.

“I worked for them for a bit. What was your branch?”

“Western Maryland and West Virginia. There’s a very nice family that’s been there since the 1740s, the Robertson’s, and the granddaughter pretty much runs the branch alone.”

They took a tight turn onto Balm and the skeleton cat slid into Frank’s side. He really didn’t care for that thing.

Fan had heard of her and really hoped that Frank didn’t notice the sticky note on the glovebox, holding the contact information for the person they were currently discussing.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a bit about the Robertson’s.”

“Well when I worked in that region, it was the matriarch, Kate Robertson who was running the whole show. At the point of time she had command, it was one of the very few honest branches out there. It’s always been the top competitor for Washington but after Kate died, the branch died with her. I guess it’s lucky that I left 10 years before that.”

The mention of a death silenced the cab again, something that they all had in common but was the last topic to be floating right now. The silence continued until they turned onto the road and saw the sign that said, “The Salem Tavern”.

“Oh, I know this place. All sorts of SCS agents and reapers hang out here. Very haunting.”

Fan turned to sighing and Lily decided to ask, “Frank, just how many of these places do you know about?”

“All of them founded before 2015, so maybe not as many as I thought. Had to stop drinking a few years ago but I guess that worry is gone now, all the full form ghosts I knew drank their livers out four times over.”

Fan didn’t really know what to reply to that and didn’t even know if it was serious or a joke. It was now just time for a standard and generic answer, that didn’t really have anything to do with anything.

“Well that sounds fun.”

The cab was quieted, outside of Frank’s mild expressions of pain while the cat dug into his newly formed flesh. Full form spirits took on humanoid form, reversing back to their prior selves in appearance. Someone might die as a 375 year old wizard but then will be re-born as the young-ish looking spy they were in their 30s, the first time. And that’s exactly what happened to Frank, once they eventually made it down the road to the Tavern.

He was recognized in 3 seconds.

Not as the SCS agent, who probably had a fair few death threats against him for the nature of the business.

No. Instead he was recognized as the MIIA agent, who half the bar called a hero and the other half pretended not to notice.

Fan stood amongst the awkwardness, that clung to the ceiling in the same manner as the stale smoke, and with a small hand fan managed to clear away enough of it, that he could spot a small section with a no smoking sign tacked onto the booth.

Lily cleared another chunk of smoke and looked at the booth as well.

“That sign is really…accurate, that’s for sure.”

The Tavern was as crowded as usual, which is slightly alarming considering that it was barely past noon on a Sunday. People of the supernatural world didn’t have as much concern for what the living human culture considered appropriate.

It’s always said, “You can sleep when you’re dead”, but in the long time that Fan had been a ghost (which was still young in most respects), ghosts were some of the hardest partiers out there. Most people are restrained in their living lives and when let be in an environment where the drinks were cheap (if not free), they all let their hair down. Perhaps more than some people should have.

The close knit environment of the restaurant led to the orders taking awhile and more long silences for the gang to ponder certain experiences. It might have been a mistake to shove three introverted spirits into a friend group that had only existed for the past 2 hours, but it was definitely happening.

Someone would have broken the silence, eventually, but to make it happen quicker, Madame Eme stepped in.

“So Lily, who’s your new friend?”

“This is Frank.” She gestured to Frank and then in a similar manner back to Eme. “Frank, this is Madame Eme.”

“Is that just a title or your profession as well?”

“It’s a bit of both. He’s nice, he can stick around.”

Frank noticed the fashion choices when they stood up, a long black (surprisingly modest) dress, with green ruffles and purple sleeves.

“Are you a witch?”

“I own the Salem Tavern, what else would I be, darling?”

They started to walk off one more time and Frank decided to ask one more thing.

“Who is your patron?”

“Magret.”

She twisted her palm around to show a small pearl tattoo and walked back to the bar to take care of two fighting satyrs. A few more moments of ghostly silence happened and Fan went back to trying not to throw up his drink.

“Well that wasn’t creepy at all.”

“I was only asking her about her patron saint.”

“And that’s what the whole pearl tattoo display and flirting was about?”

“If you paid attention to other saints besides the ones you were best buddies, you would understand what that exchange was.”

Lily kept out of the conversation until Fan pulled her in.

“Lily, do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Eme’s patron saint is Margaret of Scotland who is called the Pearl of Scotland. Her order of witches and spirits and creatures, have pearl tattoos on their palms. Just like Mary’s order have tattoos of veils on their palms.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Because I don’t mope around the church all day staring at the priest’s ass. Now can we please just drink our drinks and watch the fight going down in the parking lot.”

“Well, I guess-“

“Look at satyr with the switchblade and drink your goddamn beer.”