Vivienne's parents found the perfect house. A stunning Nineteenth Century Victorian at Rue Renaud, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
One of those houses with personality and vibe; good enough to charm even a reluctant teen into moving to what she dubbed th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Panic hit like lightning.
"Mrs. Lombardi, something tells me you might have an inkling on how to fix this. You need to come through for your daughter!"
The thought of a teenage ghost shouting instructions like a drill sergeant made Viv's spirit relax a little. The accumulation of stress and trauma turned into nervous laughter that blanketed her parents in an eerie chill.
Daria didn't have a chance to get close to her daughter. Her focus was Gabriel, who had all but lost it.
"I know, babe, I know. Now listen. Something deep inside you knows I've been able to do this all along, even as you convinced yourself it was hogwash. I allowed you to settle into that comfortable feeling. But now I need you to trust me. I need you to help me." Her voice was calmer than she expected.
Gabriel cleared his throat before saying in the most commanding voice he could muster: "Jump back into your body now, young lady. Do as your mother tells you!" It would have been funny if his eyes were as steady as his voice, but there was something about the way he couldn't control his gaze that made clear he was about to go into shock.
"I know you are terrified, and so am I," Daria continued, "but keep yourself together, You are doing good. Now, don't scare her. Just keep holding her hand. She's not doing this because she wants to. And I know what you are thinking, but she's not a ghost, not yet. So, you keep holding. If you let go, then we'll never see her again." Daria looked past Vivienne, straight onto Victor. "Now, young man, you've been a star. Bless you for holding on to that thread. Hand it over now."
Victor handed her the thread. The chain felt firm and acquired a silvery shine in Daria's hand. The woman placed it with most care on her daughters' chest, where it coiled on top of her heart.
Vivian's body seemed to react, there was a slight movement behind her closed eyelids, and a touch of hot, wet breath on her mother's hands. Between life and death, her body was anchored to her soul by a fine silver line.
"Good." Daria had complete control of the situation. "Now, Vivienne, raise your hand."
With one swift motion, she threw it towards Vivienne's specter. It closed around her wrist, as a bracelet. Her spirit reacted, instinctively mimicking the soft motions of the body below.
"You are anchored now, sweetheart. There's nothing to fear. You can even move around, as long as the chain remains unbroken. And now, young man," Daria asked the ghost left standing, "what's your name?"
"Victor Faraday, ma'am." Once the nerves settled down, the ghost felt a little ashamed of coming across as bossy.
"A friend, I presume. Someone who knows this house quite well." Daria's eyes went blank and her head lolled to the side as she spoke. She had done too much with a gift, hardly ever used, and it was taking a toll. The woman was about to slip into a semi trance. Victor noticed, and was quick with his answers, being well aware that with each interaction, she risked leaving something of herself behind.
