“Do you know how I became a ghost?” The ghost asked hesitantly as we reached the outskirts of Avenglade. “Well, how ghosts are made generally, I guess?”
“There are several ways,” I answered automatically. “I do not know yours specifically, it is not really possible to tell just by looking at you.” There were species in the past that could actually do that, but those species had since been lost to time. “But essentially, to become a ghost, one’s soul must be bound to something in this world via a contract. The contract can be made without the person’s consent, but only certain kinds of souls are eligible. Souls that have died due to magical curse, for instance. That is the most common method, I believe even now. Witches are the most often culprits of binding souls. They seek power, pursue it sometimes above all reason or morals. They may bind souls to serve them in their quest for power, perhaps to perform a particular task for them. Once the task is complete, once the contract is served, the soul is released. I should also point out that it is not guaranteed that it is a witch responsible – really, anyone with magic could potentially bind a ghost – but witches are responsible for probably 92% of ghost binding, so one is the most likely culprit.”
This might seem harsh, to inform the ghost that it likely had little time upon this planet, but it might also be a relief if its contract was not one it liked. At least it would know it could not be bound forever.
The ghost made an unhappy face. “So…ghosts are essentially slaves? To whoever decided to bind them? Without their permission?”
“In some ways. There are rules, though, for binding a ghost. The contract holder cannot harm the ghost – in fact, there are few ways to harm ghosts overall, which is part of their usefulness to certain people. They cannot force a ghost to stay put or contain it within walls, but…the magic of the contract will essentially keep bringing the ghost and contract holder back together. It is like a summons, I guess, constantly reminding them of something they must do. Some ghosts have been known to put off their contracts for years, but eventually the call to complete the task becomes too great and they give in. Others perform the task quickly, because they have no desire to be stuck in this world in a form that is not naturally their own.”
The ghost considered this as we walked a few blocks in silence, its eyes glancing around at the posters in the shop windows, the magazines and papers in racks by the newsstand, and the billboards screaming for attention. “And if the ghost doesn’t agree with the task?”
I shrugged slightly. “Unfortunately, that is of no consequence. The contract is made without the soul’s consent. Ghost binding,” I added more slowly, “is in some ways considered a relative to necromancy, but kinder, because the ghost is released in time. But at the end of the day, yes, someone is being forced to do something without their consent, merely because someone else exerted magical power over them.”
The ghost shuddered slightly, shoving its hair out of its face. Curious – it now had defined hair, long hair, it looked to be some light color originally, with large waves in it. The ghost’s height had shifted some, too, which together with the hair made me think it was likely a female.
“That seems pretty awful,” it murmured. “I don’t even remember anything about magic at all, but that just sounds like pure abuse of power.”
“It is,” I agreed. “There are many who feel very strongly about the ethics of ghost binding. There are some who have attempted to ban it entirely, but there are enough others who protest, saying the soul is not truly hurt. It is a debate which has raged for centuries and likely will not be resolved any time soon.”
I glanced at the ghost again, then at the TV screens in the shop window we were passing, noting a news story that was flashing across the screens. My eyes shifted back to the ghost, who was becoming more and more defined without realizing it.
Interesting. The ghost appeared to have remembered her form by seeing her own picture on the news and magazines, but hadn’t even noticed yet. Perhaps she’d forgotten that she was supposed to be remembering who she was.
“Where are we going, Cassandra?” I asked her.
“To the trailer,” she started to say, then fully stopped on the sidewalk, her face drawn in confusion. “Cassandra…that – that’s my name.”
I pointed behind her at the TV screens, and she turned to look, her mouth opening slightly as she saw the news announcement talking about how a rising young actress had died in a tragic crash the previous day.
She had been a beautiful person, something echoed even now in her complete ghost form, but her eyes were confused as she looked at the screen, watching the news reporter remark on her life and death.
“I remember now, but…I don’t think I was a supernatural? I don’t even remember knowing about supernaturals?”
I tilted my head a bit, thinking, my braids falling free of my shoulder as I did. “You were an actress – you rose fairly suddenly, didn’t you? Everything you did was well received.”
She glanced at me, fiddling with the ends of her hair, before frowning a bit. “A lot of people thought my rise was too sudden, especially for not having connections in the industry. Some people suggested had other ways to get into the industry, but they were all wrong. I seriously did work hard at everything I did, I wanted earn each spot, and I didn’t – I damn well didn’t do anything inappropriate to get any of those roles!” She was more heated now, defending herself against arguments that likely had been laid against her door before. “I auditioned like everyone else, got the role, worked hard, and each time, the show happened to be a hit! And I was doing well, I just got my first film role – ” She stopped, a shadow coming across her face. “Well, I mean, I was going to do my first film. Finally graduated from television. I guess none of that matters now.”
I’d seen some of the shows she’d been in. For someone in the business for only a few years, she had done remarkably well, lauded as a prodigy or newly discovered talent.
But…there may have been something more.
“I did not intend to challenge your rightness for your roles,” I informed her in a softer tone, “nor suggest there was anything inappropriate about how you obtained them. It was more of a practical thing, in identifying your supernatural variety, because you were a supernatural, even if you didn’t realize it.
“You see,” I started to walk again, which caused her to fall into step with me, “there is a supernatural species which is most often born to humans and may never know they are supernaturals – and it is a supernatural species which tends to do very well in the entertainment industry. I think,” I glanced over at her, “that you were a siren.”
“A what? No, no,” she started to look distressed, “I wasn’t anything like that – ”
“It’s not a bad thing,” I soothed her, “it is simply a supernatural that has an abnormal charisma to them. If they become a singer, for instance, people become moved by what they sing. It affects the audience in deep ways, without them often having an explanation for it – they just know, coming away from listening, that they were profoundly moved. The same is true for an actor or an actress. People listening become spellbound, enraptured by the performance. Now, before you become concerned that this gave you an unknown advantage in the industry – the effect only works in person. It would not affect viewers on screen. Your career was still due to your hard work and talent, but it is possible that being a siren would help you with both auditions and with castmates. Had you not put in the work, people would have seen the shows and wondered what the big deal was, why you were still being cast, but because you did – you thrived. The magic of a siren helped, but did not control your career.”
She seemed dumbfounded, but somewhat relieved by learning that her hard work was actually mostly responsible for her career. Still, she seemed a bit troubled. “That makes me feel like I had an unfair advantage in auditions, though.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps. But it was not one you were even aware of, so no need to feel guilty on it. Many sirens – if they are aware of what they are – use it intentionally to allow them a foot in the door, but they must still do the work if they are to thrive.”
“I see.” She was quiet for another half block. “We were coming to film here,” she informed me abruptly. “Just a short ad, nothing huge, but it was supposed to just be a few days. I remember wanting to drive up to the top of the cliff to overlook the entire town. I was tired of being surrounded by everyone all the time. Sometimes I just want to be alone, you know? They have this image they wanted me to portray, a pretty girl-next-door type thing, and sometimes I just got sick of all the pretending and wanted to be myself. Not some role I have to play even off camera. Just me, being me. So I decided to go for a drive, get away for a bit. I don’t really remember anything after that, though, not until I was wandering through town and realized I could see through myself, people couldn’t see me, and figured out I was a ghost. I still wanted to see the overlook because I didn’t remember doing that yet so I decided to walk up there.”
“Ghosts can use their own form of magic to transport themselves faster,” I informed her. “You are not stuck walking forever.”
“I guess that’s a plus,” she murmured. “But…I mean, some witch here likely bound me, right? Do they have to bind a specific soul, or any soul?”
“A specific one,” I confirmed. This would not be good news for her. “The witch had to know you were dead and bind you within a short time after your death. I believe it is a matter of a few hours, less than 12, but I am not certain of the details of how ghost binding works. It is not entirely unheard of,” I added slowly, “for a witch to murder someone if they think that person would be particularly useful to them. Most supernaturals don’t retain their forms or magic as ghosts, but there are some who do – and sirens are one. It is possible you were directly targeted by a witch.”
She was quiet for a minute, but her face was starting to transform with anger. “So…some witch realized I was a siren, decided they wanted to use me for something, murdered me, and then bound my soul without my consent? That’s just so freaking infuriating – and I have no choice? Even when they murdered me?”
“If murder can be proven, the witch would be taken to trial and the contract would be forcibly ended by the courts. It is illegal for a supernatural to kill another supernatural for the purposes of ghost binding, but the problem is proving it.”
She huffed in anger. “Well, that’s just lovely. I’m likely going to have to help the person who killed me and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She paused, a calculating look crossing her face. “Is there – I mean, I wouldn’t be on board with murder normally, but what happens to the contract if the witch dies? Do ghosts have magic that can do that?”
“The contract prevents the ghost from harming the contract holder in the same way it protects the ghost from the contract holder,” I informed her, to her chagrin. “However, if the witch dies…generally, the contract is ended, but it does depend on the nature of the contract and what the terms of it were. For instance, there have been occasions when people have requested ghost binding to keep a loved one with them for a little while longer. The ghost is bound to the family member who made the request, not to the witch who bound them, so in that case, the witch’s death would have no impact.”
She sighed heavily. “So basically I’m probably screwed no matter what. I don’t suppose I could just run away and not let the witch find me? The pull thing works to prevent that?”
“Unfortunately yes,” I agreed. “You could always attempt it, but in the long run you would find yourself drawn back here.”
She made an angry noise. “This is so unfair! Why does no one do anything about it? Why do people just let people bind ghosts if it’s basically just slavery? Isn’t there anyone who could stop it?”
I considered her anger for a few steps, then stopped. She didn’t notice immediately, stomping ahead of me as she was, but once she realized I wasn’t with her anymore she circled back to me.
“I know someone who may be able to stop it, or at least is trying to. We can go see him if you want.”
“Sure, why not?” She shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything better to do that I want to do, at least.” She fell into step with me again. “By the way, call me Cassie. Cassandra is my full name and what my agents wanted me to go by to match their image of me, but it’s not me.” She tossed her hair, then grabbed it and frowned. “Can I get a haircut as a ghost? Is that a thing? And what about my clothes? I don’t want to wear this stupid secretarial look for the rest of my – afterlife?”
I was kind of amused by how she was changing now that she remembered who she was. “Ghosts maintain their physical appearance that they had at death, so no, but your clothes can change at will. It’s a form of ghost magic. Simply picture what you want and it’ll change.”
She seemed intrigued by that idea, then fascinated with the whole instant-wardrobe-change. “Man, this would have been useful on set, you know?” She flipped through several different styles as we walked. I noticed a few supernaturals raise an eyebrow, but they just kept walking and most of them could probably figure out what was going on if they thought about it – new ghosts were sometimes eager to try out the clothes trick.
Comments (8)
See all