Borrowed Time

My beat-up little red Beetle barely made it up the house’s drive.

I will say this: the house had presence. A looming presence. But I needed the job.

It was a temporary position to get the big old house ready for some wedding or party or gathering or whatnot, and they needed help to get it cleaned up and spiffy.

I needed this month’s rent yesterday.

I took a deep breath and watched the fog plume as I let it out. I knew what I was doing. I could clean. Everybody cleaned, right? I used to clean with my mom all the time when I was a little girl. I could do this.

I looked in my rearview mirror. The watery green eyes ringed in dark circles and the puffy face weren’t going to be an issue. I was just there to clean.

Pulling my hair up into a low bun, I was thankful they didn’t have a dress code or any stipulations on hair color. Mine was blonde streaked with pink, blue, purple, and green—all faded from the last dye job Jodie and I had done.

I shook my head. She was why I was in this mess. Taking off to California to go meet some random dude she met online?

I get wanting romance, but this was NOT okay. Finances were tight as it was and she knew it. The lights and water had been shut off for a week, and now I was out of time on the rent.

Her yellow sticky note on the painting in our hallway had been the final kick in the teeth.

Off to a new life! Call you when I get there.

The mirror reflected my lips compressing into a frown. I pushed the thoughts and fears away and steeled myself for today.

The money I would make would pay the rent and give me a little besides to help with everything else.

I was going to clean the heck out of this house.

A fleeting shadow swam through my back seat, making me jump and check behind me. Seeing nothing, I decided it was just nerves and got out of the car.

I made my way up the last bit of the drive and to the front door. I banged the oversized door knocker a couple of times when I saw the doorbell had been dismantled.

I stood on the porch and watched the snow fall.

I decided to ask if they needed yard work too.

A matronly woman of around seventy came to the door and smiled brightly. Ushering me in, she filled me in on what I needed to do and thanked me for coming on such short notice.

I smiled at her and reassured her it was no problem at all.

Mrs. Charmi was the one who had called for a cleaner. She seemed so sweet—she even offered me snacks and tea.

I mentioned I wanted to get to cleaning so as to make the most of the time before the party. She seemed thrilled and showed me where they kept their cleaning supplies.

I grabbed what I needed and got to work.

As I went through the house doing a wipe-down, I noticed that all of the mirrors were covered and all of the windows had decorative patterned film on them.

Hmm.

Odd choice, but who cared? It wasn’t my house, and they seemed like good people—maybe a little eccentric. And they paid well.

I went along dusting and sweeping, vacuuming and mopping, clearing out cobwebs from the corners.

When I came to the massive bookshelf I gave an involuntary wistful little sigh.

I loved books.

I would have killed to have something like this at my fingertips. I would probably never leave home if I had access to something like this.

I took extra care wiping it down and making it shine. All sorts of knickknacks and tchotchkes lined the shelves.

One on the third shelf by the window caught my attention.

A huge snowglobe.

Snowglobes were a weakness of mine since I was a kid. My mom would pick them up for me at her work. She worked at a truck stop, and once the truckers found out she was bringing them home to her daughter, a lot of the regulars would grab them from wherever they drove through and bring them to her for me.

It was awesome.

I loved them.

I was so sad when we lost them all after we lost the house.

I pulled the globe carefully from the shelf and gently wiped it down.

From that small touch it seemed to glow.

It looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages, and the dust ring spoke to that.

I needed both hands to hold it; it was so large. It had a gorgeous ebony base, and inside amid the falling snow and finely crushed silver glitter stood an ornate mirror.

The mirror was black and shiny.

Which was odd.

As I looked deeper into the small mirror within the globe, I could have sworn I saw something move.

I twisted it this way and that, hoping to see if it was a trick of the lamplight.

I heard whispers.

I checked around me and saw no one.

I stared into that black mirror and had the distinct impression that something was looking back.

And talking.

I was so caught up that I didn’t notice Mrs. Charmi near me until she snatched the snowglobe from my hands.

“Oh now dear, don’t waste time on this old thing. No one’s going to notice it.”

She wore a smile, but I sensed panic underneath it.

Well, it figures she just found the help eyeballing her family heirlooms.

I groaned inwardly.

Damnit.

Not the impression I wanted to make.

“It’s beautiful and so unique,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to use it as a display piece for the table?”

She smiled, but it was brittle.

“Oh no dear. And don’t worry about the mirrors or windows. They are fine just as they are. Are you close to being done?”

I bobbed my head.

“Yes ma’am. I think the only thing I have left to do is the kitchen.”

She looked amazed.

“You’re quite fast, aren’t you?”

I nodded again.

“If you like you can check my work and see if I need to go over any spots.”

She nodded, still looking happily astonished.

“Alright dear, I will take a look. Why don’t you head to the kitchen and get that all set for the caterers.”

She put the globe up a shelf higher and left to check my work.

I shook myself and was about to leave when I heard a young child’s voice behind me.

“No one touches the snowglobe.”

A stage whisper.

I turned around.

A small boy—maybe around nine—stood there.

Rail thin.

Short blond hair.

Striped long-sleeve shirt.

Jeans.

Sneakers.

I turned around.

A small boy—maybe around nine—stood there.

Rail thin, with short blond hair. He was a little taller than average, wearing a striped long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

And he was completely translucent.

I saw my reflection in his dark eyes. They reminded me eerily of the mirror in that snowglobe. My eyes were wide and my mouth hung open. I looked shocked, but not scared, which was odd.

The kid looked familiar too. I couldn’t place where.

He disappeared with a finger to his lips.

I shook myself again and headed to the kitchen. As I was cleaning, he appeared at the sink and I almost dropped my rag.

“This is my home, not theirs. Please help me.”

He looked so sad.

I blinked at him but decided to see how I could possibly help a spirit. I mean, if I was going to chat with a ghost, I might as well see what he wanted.

I had seen spirits as a kid, and so had my mom. Apparently my dad and uncle had too.

“I’m sorry that you passed on… but what do you mean this is your house?”

He looked down.

“They took it. They killed my mom.”

He looked back up at me.

“Help me get my home back.”

His large eyes had gone from dark to glowing green.

My heart broke for how he said it. It was the truth—I could feel how much pain he was in.

“Oh no. Are you sure it’s this family? Could it have been a different family? They seem so nice…”

His face turned vengeful.

“It’s them. And they are all coming back together tonight. Will you help me?”

He was certain.

Okay. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Okay… how can I possibly help? I could call the police, but I wouldn’t know what to tell them.”

He shook his head.

“All you need to do is break this.”

He pulled the snowglobe from behind him and floated it over to the counter in front of me.

“Break it?”

He nodded.

“Smash it.”

I weighed it for a moment. If I was hallucinating, I could say I slipped and it broke. They would be angry and I would probably lose my paycheck.

But what if I wasn’t hallucinating?

I took a deep breath and grabbed it.

Because for some reason I trusted this little ghost.

I felt like I knew him somehow.

Mrs. Charmi walked in.

“You did a wonderful job, dear—”

Her eyes went wide as she looked from me to the ghost.

“YOU!”

She snarled at him.

I stared at her wide-eyed.

That did it.

I smashed the globe with every ounce of strength I had.

Mrs. Charmi shrieked a strangled NO, filled with desperation.

The globe shattered on the kitchen tile.

The pieces seemed to waterfall upward and swirl around the boy’s ghost and me.

He had the nastiest smile on his face.

In a heartbeat he was no longer a ghost.

A dark shadowy form rose where he had floated. It was reddish-black with long, sharp horns protruding from its head and glowing green eyes.

He began to laugh.

“Tell Father I said hello.”

He moved to Mrs. Charmi and she sputtered.

Through all of this I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t upset. Why I didn’t feel worried or nervous.

I was too calm.

Way too calm.

A younger gentleman—maybe mid-thirties—ran into the room. He looked much like the little boy spirit: light hair, lean frame, but with blue eyes.

His face held pure hatred.

“Son.”

The spirit smiled so wide his face should have split in two.

“Father.”

His voice had become so deep it reverberated off the walls.

He caressed Mrs. Charmi’s head.

“Stepmother.”

Then casually snapped her neck.

She dropped to the tiles with a sickening thump.

The blond man frowned irritably.

“I trapped you once. I can do it again, insolent whelp!”

The spirit laughed, so deeply it shattered the mirrors.

I heard them breaking all through the house.

The man looked terrified.

The spirit floated closer.

“You can cover and lock any mirror you want. You broke the pact. You were always on borrowed time.”

The man trembled.

“You and your whore of a mother… the bane of my existence! I will not suffer her deal!”

The spirit glowed bright crimson.

“My mother made a deal with a demon to save her only son’s life. My life! You killed her and stole immortality for yourself. Then you brought that woman here to replace her.”

His voice shook with fury.

“You have lived off her wealth and in her home with your slut—growing your clan on her blood and bones. No more. Your entire bloodline will perish tonight, and you will pay for your indignities.”

He snapped his fingers.

Glass flew through the room, slicing the man in a thousand cuts.

Blood ran across the floor, forming a circle and strange writing around him.

The man lifted from the floor as his body liquefied.

The red glow bathed the kitchen.

The shards of mirror coalesced into a jagged oval.

The man stared into it involuntarily.

Whatever he saw made him scream.

His spirit was pulled into the cluster of shards.

Once full, the mirror melted into the floor.

Leaving nothing behind.

The spirit sighed deeply.

Satisfied.

The front door opened.

I heard people entering—shaking snow from their coats and chatting.

The spirit turned to me, smiled, winked, and placed a finger to his lips.

Then vanished toward the party.

The kitchen doors shut behind him.

I slid into a wooden chair at the kitchen table, unable to process what had just happened.

Then the screaming started.

In a surprisingly short time, it was all over.

He swept into the kitchen, covered in blood and detritus, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

“Patience. You always taught me that patience was its own reward. You were right.”

He licked the blood off his fingers.

“And their blood is sweet, Mother.”

I stared at him.

There it was—that word.

I heard chomping and slurping and a lot of unnatural crunching from the living room.

I swallowed.

He smiled and cocked his head.

“They are almost done. Ghouls are quite useful in removing unwanted mess.”

The quiet after was unsettling.

He took my hand and led me out to the living room. It was completely clean and perfectly set—save for a bit of blood here and there.

“Sit,” he bade me.

I sat on the huge couch.

He went to the table and took the box from it, placing it in my hands.

“Go ahead.”

He stood apart, arms crossed.

I opened the box and lost my breath.

Inside was a deed for the house, the land, and all of the businesses the Turkrene family had held for more than five hundred years.

The underlying documents stated that if the Turkrene clan no longer existed, the properties in total would be remitted to their original owners of the Linden family.

I blinked at this.

The Linden family.

“Patricia Linden, great-great-great granddaughter of Penelope Linden. These are your lands now. This house is yours. This fortune is yours.”

He paused.

“Will you accept it?”

There was something behind his tone that I couldn’t quite place.

I stared at him.

“How could you have known?”

His smile softened.

“Because the only way someone could have heard me through that globe was if they were my mother—spirit or corporeally embodied. That was how the prison held me for so long.”

His voice grew quieter.

“You have come back to me. I have taken vengeance for both of us. Now will you claim your right?”

Sadness filled me as I looked at him.

I knew.

I had known since the moment I pulled up to the house.

Unbidden, a flash of memory came: I was on my knees beside an old cradle. I felt the grief, the fear, the desperation. I saw the deal. The demon. I saw my boy thrive.

I felt myself die as my husband slit my throat.

I remembered feeling that it was all worth it—as long as my baby could live.

A past life memory.

I lifted my eyes to the spirit.

“Patrick.”

Tears slid down my face along with the pain of that life.

He smiled and nodded.

“Mama.”

He said the word like he had been waiting to say it for a very long time.

I nodded.

“Will you claim what belongs to you?”

I nodded again.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

My name glowed across the deeds.

It was done.

I felt the house release a breath it had held for a very long time.

He looked at me again.

“Will you claim your son? I know you are in a new life… but we can have all that was taken from us. We can have it all back.”

It was my turn to smile.

“Yes, baby. I want it all back.”

His expression broke my heart.

He had expected me to refuse.

My poor baby.

“Okay, Mama.”

With that he stepped toward me. His demonic form fell away and he slowly transformed into the boy from the library.

When he reached me, he became solid.

I opened my arms and he fell into them.

We held each other tightly for a long time.

I felt the missing pieces of me click into place.

This was what I had longed for all along.

What had always been missing.

When I brushed his hair back, I asked, “How can you be solid? Or did I become a spirit?”

He shook his head.

“I can become corporeal whenever I want. It’s a perk of being half demon. My memory will fade and I will be mostly a normal human child while I grow up. We have a second chance.”

He looked up at me, his heart open and vulnerable.

I smiled and hugged him tightly.

Then I thought of something.

“Why did they need all of the mirrors and windows covered?”

He nodded.

“The flash you saw in the mirror when you arrived—that was me. I can travel through any mirror. It’s an ability unique to my… unconventional lineage.”

He smiled faintly.

“My comrades can travel through them as well.”

He looked around the quiet house.

“It’s safe now. All the mirror gates into this house and these lands are closed and locked. Soon I will forget they were even there.”

He leaned against me.

“We will live a normal life, Mother. We will begin again.”

I ruffled his hair.

“That sounds good, baby.”

We sat together watching the snow fall.

His memories slowly fading.

Mine having returned.

Life was good.

And we were finally together again.

Snow fell all night.

And for the first time in two lifetimes, I was finally whole.