Chapter Text
Lydia helped Mrs. Allen finish packing the last of her bags. The aged seamstress was taking two of her sewing projects with her on her week-long trip to visit her sister, Mrs. Jacobs. Lydia was pleased that Mrs. Allen trusted her to pack away the fine silks and delicate laces that would be needed.
"Now, don't forget to practice the lace stitching that I showed you. We'll add that to your project, when I return," Mrs. Allen instructed.
"Of course, Mrs. Allen," Lydia promised her mentor, smiling fondly.
"Good girl," Mrs. Allen praised, patting Lydia's shoulder. She hesitated then, studying Lydia pensively. "You will be all right, rattling around this huge, old place by yourself?"
"I'll be fine," Lydia assured her, calmly. "I'll spend most of my time in the sewing room, anyways."
"Yes, well, don't make yourself dull by working too hard. Regular breaks are a good thing, especially for your eyes."
"I'll be careful," Lydia promised again.
"You're a good girl," Mrs. Allen repeated. "Very sensible, for nineteen, too."
"Thank you."
"I only want you...what I mean to say is this house is very old. It can be a bit, well, noisy, at times. I know you're not the nervous sort, but it can be a bit intimidating, being alone in a large, empty place, when things start creaking."
"I'll be fine, Mrs. Allen. Weird noises don't bother me, at all," Lydia said, hiding her amusement. "Our house is like that, too, and I've been alone there plenty of times."
"Yes. Yes, of course, you have," Mrs. Allen agreed, gathering her things with renewed energy. She smiled warmly at her protege. "Well, then, I'm off. Enjoy your stay, Lydia darling."
"I will. Have fun on your visit!"
Once Mrs. Allen was gone, Lydia settled easily, nestled comfortably in the sewing room. She positioned her large, over-stuffed chair to look out the huge picture window, so she could watch the sunset. Lydia had never been in the house after dark and hoped the window would allow her to see the moon. She wondered a bit about Mrs. Allen's parting warning. She knew the old lady didn't particularly believe in the paranormal, dismissing most of it as "romanticized rubbish." Lydia knew better.
Lydia's godparents were ghosts.
Lydia had always been fascinated by the paranormal, with things dark and strange. She wasn't afraid of anything that might be in the house with her. Ghosts had rules and keeping their existence hidden from the living was the main one. Most living people over-looked ghosts, ignoring what they couldn't explain or understand. In turn, Lydia knew, ghosts mostly ignored the living, rarely interacting. So, Lydia wasn't surprised, when the child spirit ran across the sewing room, chasing a small, red ball and ignoring Lydia completely.
The ball bounced off a wall and came to rest at Lydia's feet. The child, a girl dressed in a long, lacy blue dress, hesitated, looking from Lydia to the ball. The child had dark brown hair that had been cut to her shoulders, parted down one side. Dark brown eyes stared at Lydia uncertainly. Smiling, Lydia picked the ball up and held it out to the girl. The ghost didn't move, her lips trembling.
"It's okay," Lydia said softly. "I'm used to seeing ghosts. I'm Lydia."
"No, no, no, no," the child whimpered, lowly, clutching at her skirts.
"Hey, don't be scared," Lydia cajoled. "I'm a friend, I promise."
"No! He mustn't know you can see us. You should go," the girl whispered, drawing closer.
"I can't," Lydia said, frowning. "I'm house sitting for a friend. Why don't you want him to know I can see you?"
"He'll be angry," the child whispered. "He's so mean and he hates the living."
"Who is he?"
"I can't tell you!" the child squeaked, near to tears.
"Okay!" Lydia assured her, forcing herself to smile. "Can you tell me your name?"
"He says we don't have names, anymore, but I was Anna Simmons."
Lydia got out of her chair and knelt down in front of Anna, placing her hands on her shoulders.
"He's wrong. You are still Anna and he has no right to try and take that from you. He does sound mean, but I might be able to help."
Anna shook her head wildly.
"No. You don't understand. He isn't weak, like most ghosts are, like us. He can hurt the living!"
"This ghost...is he really pale, with wild, blond hair, a bunch of mold on him, and dressed in a white and black striped suit?"
Anna blinked, shaking her head.
"Um. No. He's tall and plump. He's strong, with long, gray hair and black eyes. He wears a long robe and cloak. You mustn't see him!"
"Anna, he can't hurt you. I've read the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. There are rules."
Anna cried out, her hands going to her head.
"Anna! What's wrong?" Lydia asked, horrified.
Anna shook her head, disappearing.
Lydia stood and gazed out the window, weighing her options. The dead were not invulnerable. There were things that could harm and even destroy them. Decision made, Lydia grabbed her purse and headed for home.
Home for Lydia would always be her parents' house, particularly the attic. Running up the stairs, Lydia entered the upper reaches of the house with relief. Barbara was sitting on the couch up there, flipping through a home decor magazine. Seeing Lydia, Barbara looked both confused and welcoming.
"Lydia, hi! What are you doing home? Did you forget something?"
"No, but I need to talk to you and Adam. There's a ghost at Mrs. Allen's, but she's just a kid and something or someone has her scared," Lydia explained, sitting next to Barbara.
Barbara listened with growing dismay, as Lydia told of her encounter with Anna. Adam came in towards the beginning, sitting on the arm of the couch, next to Lydia. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"We'll ask, of course," he told her. "Are you sure you want to go back there?"
"I have to," Lydia said, firmly. "If nothing else, Mrs. Allen is relying on me."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I need to know who that man she mentioned is."
"All right. We'll see what we can find out, but be careful."
"I will. I need to get back. Mrs. Allen might have something in her library on the house. I'm going to see, if they can tell me anything."
Lydia made her farewells and headed back. Once there, she closed and locked the door. She made herself a quick dinner, taking it into the library. She was disappointed at what she found. Most of the books that mentioned the mansion only gave brief outlines of it's history, speaking of it's construction, listing the previous owners, and telling how they came into possession. There was nothing about Anna Simmons or a tall, dark man in a long cloak.
Lydia spent time the next morning, wandering the house, looking in small, rarely used rooms. She hoped Anna would appear to her or maybe someone else. Anna had spoken in the plural, more than once, when cautioning Lydia about the dark man. Unfortunately, if anyone was around, they were hiding. Shrugging, Lydia went back to the library, examining the bookshelves.
"You won't find anything," a smooth voice whispered in her ear.
Lydia jumped, spinning around, her eyes wide. In front of her stood the tall man Anna had described. His long, gray hair hung close to his face in greasy lanks. His dark robe hung tight around his shoulders. It was an ancient garment and Lydia decided it was a simple traveling cloak, as opposed to a mark of some office. Lydia forced herself to stop cowering, taking a small step forward.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"My name, for all the good it does you, is Keegan. But, how delicious. It has been decades, since I found a living woman that could see me."
"Why is Anna afraid of you? What have you done to her?"
"The occupants of this house, if you can call them that, are mine. I possess them. They are not your concern," Keegan snarled, leaning closer.
"She's a child!" Lydia protested.
"She is nothing. The dead, the truly dead, are nothing, Lydia. Once life is done, the dead are no longer people, merely shadows and magic."
"That's not true," Lydia said, disgusted. "Two of my best friends are ghosts."
"Yes, I know. Do you think they can help you, trapped in their home?"
"They can get me information...or talk to Juno," Lydia told him, firmly.
Keegan's hand shot out, grabbing Lydia's jaw. His sharp nails scraped across her cheek. Lydia flinched, as a burning cold seeped into her skin.
"I am not a mere ghost, subject to that bitch's paperwork! I am more than alive, more than dead. I am magic and strong! I am on the threshold, feeding."
"Yeah? Thanks for the information," Lydia taunted, hiding her fear.
Keegan pulled away, his nose wrinkling, but his thin lips pulling into a slight smile.
"Why do you care? They are not your children. You've met what was Anna, but once."
Lydia scoffed, shaking her head.
"What kind of question is that? They're children, ghosts or not! Of course I care."
"You want to protect them, Lydia, take care of them?" Keegan asked, almost purring.
"I want to protect them from you," Lydia clarified, warily.
Keegan laughed, the sound high, thin, and irritating.
"You can't, but I can let you be their friend and helper. Yes. I think they could use a new friend."
Keegan disappeared. Lydia retreated to the brightly lit sewing room, moving her chair closer to the window. She took out her sewing, hoping the soothing act would be enough to settle her nerves. She managed to enjoy an hour's peace, before the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Lydia, honey, it's Delia. Can you come home? Right now?"
"Sure, but what's wrong?"
"Nothing! Nothing. It's just there's...we have a visitor, who insists on talking to you here," Delia explained.
"I'll be right there," Lydia promised.
Lydia was greeted at home by Barbara. The ghost wrung her hands, her eyes wide with remorse.
"Lydia, I am so sorry. We did as you asked, but I don't think you're going to like it."
"Never mind that!" a raspy voice snapped.
Lydia turned to see an unfamiliar ghost, an older woman with a slit throat, spewing smoke.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Juno, the Maitland's caseworker. I'm the person who has to deal with all the paperwork you keep generating! As if almost marrying that poltergeist wasn't enough, now you've got Keegan's attention!"
"Yeah? Let's talk about Keegan. Who is he? What hold does he have on Anna Simmons? You're just letting him run loose!"
"Keegan is not entirely a ghost, so is not under my jurisdiction," Juno said, angrily.
"Then, what is he?"
"We don't know," Juno sighed. "He's, well, undead, you could say. We hear rumors about him, but we can't track him. He's managed to stay hidden from us for centuries. If you go against him, we won't be able to help you, understand? For your own sake, leave it alone."
"I can't," Lydia said helplessly.
"Well, at least promise me that you won't get him involved."
"Him?"
"Yes, him, your former fiancee!" Juno clarified sarcastically.
"But, he got eaten by a sandworm. I thought he was...gone."
"If there's one thing he's good at, other than being trouble, it's surviving. He wound up in the waiting room."
"I'm not that desperate. Isn't there anything else you can tell me?"
"No. If you know Keegan is dangerous, even to you, then you know as much as we do. I doubt it will be enough."
"Well, someone has to know more!"
Juno shook her head, fading away in silence. Barbara stepped forward, pulling Lydia into a hug. Lydia hugged back, grateful for the support.
"Lydia, are you sure about this?"
"You didn't see that child's eyes," Lydia said, frustrated. "She's terrified. If I don't help her, who will?"
"Be careful and call us. Let us know how you are," Barbara told her, nodding in understanding.
Lydia spent a few more moments consoling and reassuring her family, before returning to Mrs. Allen's. Once there, she spent the remainder of the day practicing her sewing. She brooded on how little she knew, wondering how she could learn more. Lydia half expected Keegan to appear to taunt her, but no. The house seemed empty, except for her. Lydia's dreams, however, were full.
Lydia walked down the halls of Mrs. Allen's house, listening to the sounds of children laughing and playing. There was a note of distress to the laughter that made Lydia shiver.
"Lydia!" a voice called from the sewing room.
Lydia found the ghost of another, older child waiting for her, standing in the middle of sewing debris. Her long, blond hair was plaited in two braids behind each ear. She wore a yellow dress that reached halfway down her calves, the skirt full and clearly ironed to neatness. The child was smiling, but her eyes were weary and frightened.
"Hi. Were you calling me?" Lydia asked.
"Yes. I was Helen. Are you really going to help us?"
"I want to. I'm going to try. Can you tell me anything about Keegan?"
"A little. We only know a very little. I don't know where he comes from. I just know what he does to us."
"What does he do?"
"He feeds on us. He eats our magic, our ghost abilities, and makes them his."
"And you can't escape? Run to the afterlife?"
"No. Somehow, we've become bound to him. He says we're his by right. Some have tried to flee, but they always come back."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" a female voice screamed.
Lydia sat up, giving a short scream, though more shocked than afraid. Standing over her bed was the figure of a young woman, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, only a few years older than Lydia herself. Her brown hair was done up in a tight bun. Lydia thought she looked like a school teacher from the forties.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I? Who are you? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"I'm trying to help."
"I give the children all the help they need!" the woman snapped. "I'm Miss Jennifer, their guardian."
"They seem to think they belong to Keegan."
Jennifer grimaced.
"I do what I can."
"Well it isn't enough! Diana said he feeds on them!"
"It's better than death, better than the lost souls' room!" Jennifer cried, wrapping her arms around her torso.
"You help him," Lydia accused, disgusted.
"Yes! I keep them hidden, keep him from prying eyes," Jennifer admitted, miserably. "I have to. If they capture him, exorcise him, the children will go with him! They're so bound to him, that they would share his fate."
"How are they bound to him? How does he capture them?"
"I don't know!" Jennifer pleaded. "He did the same to me, so many centuries ago, but I don't know how! I've spent my entire afterlife in servitude to him."
"Who are you? When did you die? If I can find out how you died, I might know how he captured you."
"My name was Jennifer Taylor, but I died in 1361! There'll be no records of me. I was ordinary. I died of sickness, a sudden fever."
"Are you sure he didn't kill you?"
"Fairly sure, yes."
"Did you meet Keegan, before you died?"
"No, how could I? He's a ghost or, at least, not really alive."
"You're a ghost and we're talking," Lydia reminded her.
"I never met him," Jennifer repeated, rolling her eyes. "I don't remember anything unusual happening, before I died."
"Fine. So, I'll just tell Juno what I've found."
"You can't!" Jennifer pleaded. "If the authorities find out so much, they might find him and the children will be in danger!"
"If you don't want me to go to Juno, you better start thinking of a way to help me get those kids away from Keegan!" Lydia warned.
Jennifer glared sulkily, then sighed.
"I can only think of one thing. I can do for you what I do for him...I can send you to another point in time. It's part of my ghost magic. I can send you, roughly, to the time before my death. If anything unusual or of note happened, maybe you can discover what it was."
Lydia stared, stunned, as the idea and all its implications dawned on her. She nodded, slowly.
"All right. I'll do it," she agreed, beginning to feel excited. This was certainly a step away from the humdrum world that had always seemed so oppressive.
"I can magic your clothes, but I won't be able to give you any money," Jennifer warned.
"I can sew. I'll find work," Lydia defended. "Stop stalling."
Jennifer stepped forward and blew air into Lydia's face. Lydia felt the blown air invade her mouth and nose, spreading to her ears.
"Now, you'll be able to speak and understand the language of the time," she explained, grabbing hold of Lydia's shoulders.
Lydia felt a chill wind surround her. She felt herself stagger as all of her senses fell into confusion. Lydia thought she heard voices from the past and future, while shadows and colors leapt before her. When things made sense again, Lydia saw she was standing beside a river. The area was heavily wooded, but Lydia saw a dirt path nearby. The weather was cool, but not cold, though the leaves on the tree had changed to reds, golds, and browns.
"Where is this?"
"We're three miles from London, but don't worry. It's still morning. You can be there well before dark. The walk will give you time to make up a history for yourself. I can't stay. I'll return for you after my death."
"When will that be?"
"I don't really remember. It could be weeks yet. I wanted to give you time to settle. Seek me out in the merchant district. Good luck."