where ghosts wander || ONC 2022

chapter three; moody houses and something really effing weird going on

The sun comes out perfectly in time for my lunch break. It's still relatively warm for late October, so I planned on eating it outside anyway — there's a small park not far from the shop, deeper into the alley, so few people ever visit.

Sometimes a dragon's shadow passes by overhead, but they're on their own errands, so they have no interest in us mortals.

I've been looking forward to the break, even brought my new book to read, and as a convenient excuse to avoid talking to anyone — I've had more than enough of that this morning alone, and I'll have to finish up my rounds in the early evening, for the shops that stock more of the dubious variants of my potions.

I've been looking forward to it, but then when Ollie tells me that I can go on break now, I don't want to, anymore.

"Actually," I say, without knowing where I'm going with this, "would you mind terribly just popping back home for lunch? There's something I need to do."

Ollie frowns at me (which, understandable. I'd frown at me too if I could, because what the fuck do I "need to do"?), but he doesn't question my sudden impulse to go against my usual routine.

He's used to me being a bit of an odd duck, after all, especially around the more magically-potent days, equinoxes and solstices, and whenever the stars are in a particularly unusual position in the sky.

"There aren't any customers right now, so sure, I'll see what I can do."

"You're the best!" I call after him, as he heads into his office. "And you too, of course, dear Vanny. Such a good girl," I coo at the shop when I know that he's out of earshot, and stroke at a blank patch of brickwork the way I'd stroke under a cat's chin.

The house rumbles, as if in an answering purr. I know better though, and brace myself with a hand against the wall, and the other against the floor as I crouch down just in time.

"You're an asshole!" I shout at Ollie, but he just laughs at me and doesn't come out of the office.

Hmpf. A little warning would have been nice.

But then again, it really speaks for itself that he's willing to do this, just because of a silly impulse of mine — jumping between the town and the city is no easy business, after all, even if no one really knows how it works. That knowledge got lost about ten generations ago, not long after the first (and consequently last) Vanishing houses had been built.

I go collect my bag and the smaller purse where I keep my wallet, keys, wand, and smartphone, and pop my head into Ollie's office on the way out.

He's sitting in the comfortable armchair with his legs pulled up, tupperware box with unidentifiable contents balanced on his knees as he swipes through yet another dating app for old people that his meddling fifteen-year old granddaughter had him install on his phone.

"Really," I say with a smile. "Thanks for the lift. I shouldn't be too long — but I have a feeling I might be a bit late. I'll make it up to you, promise."

Ollie waves me off, doesn't look up from a profile that seems to have caught his attention. "Yeah yeah, we'll see about that. I'm not in a hurry. And no counting favors, how many times do I have to tell you?"

I let out a caught-out bark of laughter and take that as my cue to leave — two dozen times, that's how often he told me yet, and still it's too hard to believe, that he'd just be willing to do things for me without expecting anything in return.