I can’t believe I haven’t posted much lately. I was doing so well. Things have been so hectic lately what with the ghost and everything. I know, I know, I was supposed to continue the story of the ghost and tell you what she wanted from me. And I will, just… not tonight I’m afraid.

I’m only home for a few minutes right now and then I’m off to help Dad interview a dead guy. Mom was supposed to go but she got called out of town on some kind of Wiccan emergency. She was tight-lipped about it, but when the coven calls, she has to go. We’re used to it. So Liam is downstairs in the truck waiting for me while I gather up a few things. Some stones, a raven’s feather (Dad was out of them) and duct tape. No the duct tape isn’t involved in a raising ritual but the gearshift knob fell off in my truck and I thought I could MacGuyver it back on until I have time to glue it or something

Crap, there the horn. Liam’s so impatient. I’ll write about the ghost soon, I promise.

I’ll get back to my ghost story soon, but I was asked recently about the bounty on my head. I’ve been wanted dead or alive since the day I was born. I can’t remember if I ever explained that little tidbit here and I’m too bone-tired tonight to look back and check.

Basically, my family is powerful. Extremely powerful on both sides, as it has been for generations going back as far as who the hell knows. Mom is descended from a long, long line of witches. Her family survived everything from the publishing of Malleus maleficarum to the Salem Witch trials. There’s an ancient, beautifully bound set of books that mom keeps tucked away that she tells me is the entire history of our family. Apparently, I’m not allowed to read it until I get married which I think is odd but I do not question.

Anyway, my father’s family history is as long and powerful as mom’s. The son of a son of a son etc.  In all the time, all that history, however, no necromancer ever married a witch. There used to be law against it. I don’t mean a legal law, but a law in the Shadow world (magical world) was just as binding. For ages it was written that to intermingle among different strains of otherwordly powers was forbidden. I guess they felt that n family should have access to so much power - power does traditionally corrupt and all that.

But my parents defied that law when they fell in love. Both families did everything they could to keep Charlotte Masters and Desmond McGee apart. It was very Romeo and Juliet, so I’m told But true love prevailed and all that mushy stuff and they married in secret - and the world didn’t end. So they were left in peace. Until they had me, that is.

When I was born I became a hot ticket on the black market. My blood was wanted for powerful rituals or the hair from my head was required to complete some spell of power and riches. It depended on the witch or wizard’s needs. They could kill me as a sacrifice or keep me in chains somewhere and use parts of me for their black magics.

As I’ve grown up, it’s been quite the battle to keep me safe and alive. And to this day I’ve still got that bounty on me. It’s why I never go anywhere without Liam. I used to resent that, but there have been too many close calls. I got over it and have come to depend on him. I practice with mom and dad to hone my own skills and maybe someday I won’t have to live with this Damoclesian crap.

I’ve had some time to regroup after meeting my first ghost. I was going to start from the start wasn’t I?

Simone informed me that I had been invited to a party at the old Victorian on Chestnut Street. It’s a beautiful house. A bit tatty these days, showing its age but it still retains a sense of what it used to be in its glory days. The traditional seven colors of paint in hues of sienna reds and hunter greens that are faded now, Queen Anne architecture with a tile missing here and there, turrets, and decadent ornateness.

The house was owned by Arthur, a local vampire who was mostly known in the vamp community for his soirées and not much else. He’s been here longer than my family but no one really knows him. He holds these parties once every few months but only makes an appearance at the end of the evening before all good vampire boys and girls must go to bed. It’s all very mysterious but quite an honor to be invited.

I’m not much for parties, but I couldn’t very well refuse the invite. My family is um, sort of famous I guess and to refuse to go would ruffle some feathers we don’t particularly want to ruffle. Basically, you just don’t piss off the vampires and Arthur had decided it was time he met me.

Whatever. It was an excuse to get away and try to forget about the zombies I’d had to uh, disassemble recently. I put on my dancing shoes, convinced Liam to wear something other than his usual jeans and hoodie, hooked up with Simone and off we went.

At first everything was going well. Arthur had hired a local cover band to play and I convinced Liam to dance a couple of times (he’s so broody most of the time. It’s just nice to get him to smile.) I ran into a lot of folks who usually help me out at the rallies and despite my desire to forget about that for a while, they would pepper me with questions about the next one.

And then it happened. I was returning to the main room from the bathroom when the ghost appeared as if stepping from one of the rooms off the staircase. Like I said before, I assumed it was another activist friend, until I looked at her.  God, she was beautiful. She seemed quite young, perhaps late teens early twenties. She wore a tattered, old-fashioned dress like she was from a time when the house was brand new. But it wasn’t the sort of dress the lady of the house would have worn. It was more like that of a servant in the household. It was faded and worn in spots. The hem was ragged from dragging along the floor. But the girl… She wore her thick, blonde hair in a long plait and wound into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Wispy tendrils of it framed her lovely pale face. Despite her opaqueness, her eyes seemed a clear bright blue and when she smiled, that grin reached her eyes. She’d been happy in life, it seemed.

I followed her into the library, mesmerized. She pointed at a chair near the fireplace and I sat down. She… drifted I guess you could say until she was standing by the mantle.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you a moment ago.”  she said. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I’ve just never… well I didn’t even know ghosts existed. I’m not afraid though, if you were worried about that. I was just startled.” I replied. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

“I’m surprised. I would have thought the daughter of a powerful necromancer like Desmond McGee would have met her fair share of ghosts by now.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. Believe me, I’ll be grilling dad about that later. Er, wait a minute. How do you now who I am?” I asked.

She smiled. “There’s very little I do not know living in this house. I am bound to it. The present owner - Arthur, you call him - was very excited that you’d accepted his invitation.”

“I see.”

“I don’t mean to appear rude Miss McGee, but I do not have much time.” She glanced nervously at the door. “Arthur will have learned I’m gone by now and will be looking for me. I… I need your help. You see, I would very much like to move on from this existence. But I am trapped.”

“Trapped?”

She cocked her head, listening for a moment. “Yes. I’m afraid it’s a rather long story and Arthur will find me any moment. Will you help me?”

I didn’t know what to say. What if she was lying? What if she was being kept in this world against her will? What kind of vampire was Arthur anyway? Why would he hold a ghost against its will? Was he a bad guy? Was she a good guy?

“I’m afraid I need more info to go on before I can jump into the mix here.”

The ghost clenched her jaw and frowned. “I see.” She stiffened and I heard footsteps on the stairs outside the door. “I must go. Please… Come back when you can. I’ll find you and tell you my story.” And with that, she shimmered and was gone just as the door opened and Arthur himself stepped into the room.

It was a bit of a close call. I was still a bit thrown by the whole ghost encounter but I just acted flustered as if lost in the big house and he showed me the way back to the main room. The rest of the party was a blur to me, my head spun so much from my encounter. Liam and I dropped Simone off at dawn and went home.
Now I just need to find a way to get back.

Just got home a few minutes ago and I’m still in a state of shock. Shock, denial, whatever.

Okay. Let me start by reiterating that the supernatural and I are old friends. Mom, witch. Dad, necromancer. Bodyguard, zombie. Best friend, vampire. If I hadn’t grown up with all of that then maybe I’d be wigging out much worse than I already am. I mean… Crap.

Tonight I met a ghost. A real live ghost. I’m aware of the contradiction there. But holy frikkin’ cow - a ghost!

In all my years I’ve never seen one, much less exchanged words with one. As someone who does routinely speak to the dead, I’ve seen firsthand what happens to people when they die. Never have I caught a spirit lurking about the cemeteries or murder scenes or morgues. No odd shadows, no unusual movements out of the corner of my eye. Nothing! Frankly, I assumed they didn’t exist. Just fiction created by writers afraid of what’s next when they pass away.

I never asked mom or dad about them. It never occurred to me to ask. So it’s safe to assume that the existence of ghosts was never on my radar.

Until tonight when one stepped in front of me and asked if she could speak to me. At first I thought it was just someone who had a question about the next zombie rally, so I wasn’t paying much attention having answered that question a gazillion times earlier in the evening. It wasn’t until I actually LOOKED at her that I realized she wasn’t all there.

I must have gasped or something because she smiled and waited patiently for me to get over it and answer her.  It took a while though, I will admit. She was amazing! She had a shimmery sheen, like she was standing in moonlight. Her form would also waver, like a flicker as if someone had flipped a switch or something. And I could see through her. That was the weirdest part. I could look at her face, right in her eyes and see the painting on the wall behind her.

“What are you?” I remember asking because at this point I just wasn’t sure. I don’t think I’d gotten to ‘She’s a ghost’ yet.

“I’m a ghost.” She replied. Oh. Oh holy hell.

I must have looked skeptical because she smiled at me again and gestured to the next room. “Let’s step into the library and talk. Please.” She said to me. It was the “Please.” that shook me out of my reverie. There was an air of urgency to it.

I should back up a bit and explain where I was and what I was doing there, but I’ll save that for the next post. I need to regroup.

More later.

Things have been calm for the past few days. There’s been no movement on the Zombie Bill and so we’re in the planning stages of another protest. But I think I will keep the details of that to myself. I really don’t want a repeat of what happened at the last one.

I was just thinking today about how out of the norm my life might seem to the casual passer-by to this website. I mean, yeah ok, there have been some unusual events happening to me all my life beginning with being named ‘CherryPop’ but that’s a post for another day :)  Although, I am shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, to discover that sometimes strippers go by my name. Who knew? Thanks Mom!

But seriously… I went from a cute toddler to a cute toddler who needed bodyguard to protect me from the baddies out there. A zombie bodyguard. A zombie bodyguard who died saving my life. If you’ve read my previous posts, you may have deduced that Liam is the zombie bodyguard in question. And if you’re new to my site, well, Liam is my zombie bodyguard. He’s always nearby and over the years we’ve grown into being friends. I’ve learned to listen to him when he tells me to duck, and he’s learned that I can be a stubborn <insert expletive here> when I want to be. We deal.

So yeah. Occasionally I have to hide or go on the run depending on who’s after me. Sometimes I make a stand. I’m tired of running to be honest. Sometimes I work the Wicca with Mom. Sometimes I speak to the dead with Dad. But other times we’ll all curl up and watch a ballgame or have barbecues with friends.

I don’t really now where I meant to end up in this post. Sometimes I just write, you know? No telling stories, no talking about how I ran out of toothpaste this morning.  Just a ramble. It’s nice. Sometimes.

I had a girls’ night in the other night with my best friend, Simone. Had to boot Liam and he was none too happy about it. I told him to go visit dad. They haven’t been around each other much lately. Figured they should have some zombie/necromancer bonding evening. That came out a little squickier than I intended. I just meant they should hang out.

Anyway, Simone came over and we ended up watching chick flicks like we always do. We did argue out the film choices at first, again like we always do. She threatened me with Shaun of the Dead, and retaliated by picking up Queen of the Damned. It was most amusing. An hour in Blockbuster picking out movies: $20. Pissing off a vampire by threatening to make her watch an Anne Rice movie: Priceless

Yes, Simone is a vampire. I probably should have mentioned that. I’ve known her since we were kids but she was vamped just a few years ago by a rogue passing through town who took a fancy to her. She’s pretty hot and she used to be pretty reckless. She adapted to the lifestyle pretty quickly though and seems to be all right with it. We stayed friends and we try to get together at least once a week to hang out and catch up.

But wait, I hear you saying. Doesn’t she try to suck your blood?

No. Well, there was that awkward night right after she was vamped and still coming to grips with the whole blood thing. but we got past it. No, Simone has a deal with a friend at the blood bank. She says the draw of drinking blood ‘from the tap’ is strong, but she could never get past the whole having to bite them thing. Apparently it grosses her out too much and she’s happy to nuke expired blood in the micro. She looks pretty cool though, with the fangs and pale beauty. She’s taken to going to a lot of the goth shows where she’s become something of a fixture among the kids there. She’s almost a show unto herself

Besides, not all vampires are evil. It’s much the same with them as it is with humans. Not all humans are “good” either. Mostly, if a vampire is evil, they would have been evil as a human anyway. Vlad the Impaler was a pretty nasty customer in his day. When he became a vampire and took on the name of Dracula, he was still pretty wicked.

But chances are, if you’re a decent person, you’ll remain one as a vampire and you’ll find a way to adapt that doesn’t involve killing or hurting.

A lot of the myths you know about vampires are true, however. Vampires are mystical creatures and as such, mystical means of killing or handling them hold true. A wooden stake, fire, crosses (though any holy item will do - anything that faith is put into can have averse effects on a vampire. Nobody knows why though), all of these things will hurt or kill a vampire. It is also true that they are creatures of the night. They don’t burst into flame if they are exposed to daylight, but it weakens them greatly, and they can’t really function in it.

Anyway, I’ve digressed. Girls’ night was a success. Much fun was had and it took my mind off of things. I definitely needed it. Thanks Simone. Mwah.

I spent the better part of last night with dad (Desmond McGee, Necromancer. Maybe you’ve heard of him) as part of my training. I’m never going to be a true necromancer. I just don’t have that sort of power. But I want to be able to assist him whenever I can and I think with our combined power when we raise a zombie we could make him or her even better.

Liam’s looking at me funny. I think I’ve offended him. I just told him he was a perfectly good zombie, especially one raised while my father was under so much stress. I just think that any zombie raised by my father while I’m with him giving him a power boost could be… interesting. We’ll have to see. I don’t know when we’ll get the chance to try it out, hence the lessons.

Dad doesn’t raise true zombies very often, as you can imagine. The reason must be very compelling. But he can and does raise the freshly dead (suddenly I have Marty Feldman in my head singing, “I ain’t got no body…”) temporarily for various reasons. A loved one may need closure or perhaps a murder victim who might be able to name their killer (these are tricky though. A murder victim is often so traumatized that it’s difficult to get anything out of them. It’s almost a mercy to lay them back to rest.)

A temp zombie is raised for a few hours and then gently and reverently laid back to rest. The ritual isn’t as elaborate as a true raising and only lasts for a few hours. My father earn his living from these I’ve gone with him on these outings for as long as I can remember.

Last night we sat in a cemetery and went over the entire ritual for raising a true zombie from start to finish. Not sure why we couldn’t have done that in the house though. It was damn cold last night. Dad said the ambiance would be good but I was practically raised around cemeteries. I get it Dad. Sheesh

Yeah yeah, next time I’ll bring a blanket.

I thought I’d add a little to the FAQ about zombies tonight. I don’t have much time. Need to get to bed early tonight

Q. Can zombies feel pain?

A. Yes, though it’s not as acute as it would be if the zombie was human. I don’t pretend to know the physiological makeup of a true zombie. I’m no doctor. But my father believes that part of the power used to tie a zombie to his necromancer includes neurological functioning as well as functioning nerve endings. Liam says he feels like they’re deadened (ha!) though. I could smack him upside the head right now and it wouldn’t cause much pain. If I accidentally broke a finger, however, he would feel it.

Q. Speaking of breaking stuff, can zombies heal?

A. On their own, no. But the necromancer that raised the zombie can use that tie between them to sort of “push” more power into the zombie and heal him or her.

That’s all I’ve got time for tonight. I’ll post more tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

Well that was unpleasant. And messy. And sorta gross. I don’t think I really want to blog about it either which is why I didn’t post yesterday. Our next move is to try to track down the people responsible for raising those zombies. I have no idea how we’re going to do it though. Dad thinks we can see if the TV crew that was at the demonstration has any b-roll footage of the crowd, and especially of the protesters. If they have any, Dad and I will sift through it to see if we can spot anyone doing any chanting or other ritual behavior.

It’s a shot in the dark, but we have to try it. Can’t let those morons raise another batch of undead. I don’t think I could stand it.

Liam and I spent the day with my dad gathering the herbs and artifacts he’ll need to undo what those idiots did last night. Dad told me that he was going to need y help on this one because there were so many. I’m nervous about that.

I have studied necromancy, hell, I grew up with it. But my powers lie elsewhere. The most I can give dad is extra strength. If anything goes wrong during the ritual tonight, we’re screwed. Dad seems confident, but I keep picturing us having to wade through them and sever body parts all night. Not fun. Gross actually. You get one chance to put an improper zombie down and if you don’t get it right, then all you can do is chop them into bits and separate the parts in sealed containers. I’ve done it once, on a single zombie. I can’t imagine doing it with a gaggle of them.

I should go prepare. Dad’s just about ready.