The Agent - Part 1

1. It's Always the Old Woman

Selling houses was no different than any other profession; it took hard work, determination, and the occasional attic-based demon extermination. Mary was very good at selling houses, especially those that did not want to be sold. In her professional career, she was known as the agent sellers called when there was no one else to turn to. Buyers scared off by recent murders on the property? Mary had a full list of clients that considered it a feature. Bullet holes? They saved money on air conditioning. Things that go bump in the night? Now that was where Mary really thrived.

            It was a sunny afternoon in early autumn when Mary pulled up to 1142 Shady Oaks Drive. The wheels of her perfectly polished Lexus crunched over dead leaves and reflected the sparkling sun. Appearances were everything, and the appearance of her car said: I’m good at what I do and what I do is expensive.

The house had been on the market four times in four years with extended periods of vacancy. The buyers, it seemed, couldn’t manage to stay in the house for more than a few nights at a time. For other agents, the listing was dead, stricken from all lists and shunned like a domicile-size leper. Not for Mary. To her, the house represented limitless potential. With the other agents off the scent, she could charge whatever she wanted. She peered out through her tinted windows. From a distance, it seemed like an ordinary house.

Mary killed the car’s engine and listened to the slow ticking as the engine cooled. Every house was different, and each told its own story. The chipped blue paint from a rushed exterior makeover said nothing in the world could make this house look like anything other than what it was: creepy, old, and definitely haunted. There was an old saying about books and covers, but it didn’t apply when spirits were concerned. The cover of Shady Oaks said: GET OUT in bright red letters. It was going to be a long day.

Before Mary could open the car door, a woman in an apron came shuffling out of the front door, straight toward her. Mary reached across to the passenger seat, grabbed her day bag, and stepped out.

            “Oh hello! Are you the one that’s come to sell the house?” The woman was older, wrinkles lining her body from fingertip to forehead. Her movements were rigid through years of bones slowly fusing together.

            Mary reached into her bag and looked the woman up and down. She was perfectly normal, other than the slight sheen around her shawled shoulders. This grew stronger as she approached the property line. Mary smiled. Powerful woman. “Yes, I’m the one that’s come to sell the house. When was it you lived here?”

            The old woman cocked her head to the side, a little too much. “Why, we’ve been here for the last year.”

            Mary removed her hand from her bag and showed the woman a golden amulet emblazoned with various religious iconography. “Yes, I’m sure you did, but when did you own the house?”

            At the sight of the amulet, the woman’s face changed, distorting, stretching, and growing sallow. What once might have been confused for age was now clearly displayed as rot and decay. The head tilt became even more pronounced, revealing a long slice running across the edge of the woman’s neck. “Begone from this place, ye foul—”

            “Alright, using ‘ye’ places you in the late 18^th, early 19^th century, probably a Christian.” Mary pushed a dial on the back of the amulet causing the holy symbols to rotate until a simple cross popped out the top. “Oh Lord, I come before you and ask thee to render all spirits impotent, paralyzed, and ineffective.”

            “What are—” The woman froze, her limbs shooting out at her sides and mouth clamping shut.

            “Right, now, I assume you’re the welcoming committee and there are more where you came from, so I’m going to be concise.”

            The woman’s eyes bulged, growing white with effort and the edges of her corporeal form shimmered in hazy light.

            “Don’t struggle too hard or you’ll disassemble into small bits of energy and then poof.” Mary made a small flitting gesture with her free hand. “No afterlife, no passing on, just the big black void.”

            The old woman relaxed slightly.

            “Now, before the sellers arrive, I’d like to offer you and anyone inside that house a deal. You pipe down, you get to continue living here. Any of you try shit like this on me when I come inside, and you’re all getting the big poof, understand?”

            The woman continued to float, paralyzed.

            “Right, blink once if you understand, blink twice if I need to finish the prayer.”

            The woman blinked her eyes slowly, once.

            “There’s a good lady. By the power of The Father, I release this spirit.”

            The woman floated back down hovering less than a centimeter above the ground. Then, slowly, she blinked a second time.

            “Oh come on—”

            It was too late. In her hubris, Mary had stepped too close to the property line. The spirit grabbed her and yanked her back toward the house. She flew off her feet, talisman dangling from her hand. On instinct, she reached out and grabbed the gold chain, dragging it through the air like a golden whip. Her body hit the soft lawn with a vicious thud and the wind went out of her. Mary tried to inhale, feeling nothing but sharp pins where her lungs should have been. Why is it always the old women?

            As if in answer, the elderly ghost approached, soft slippers hovering above the perfectly manicured grass. “You seem to be under the impression you are in charge, dearie. But it is we who have the power on this land.”

            Mary found her breath and wheezed: “Who’s we?”

            The old woman chuckled.

            Glowing eyes peered out at Mary through a basement window, and she heard an unearthly wail from somewhere above. So dramatic. “Ok, so what you’re saying is, I don’t need you to negotiate.”

            “There will be no—”

            Marie flipped onto her back and pulled out the talisman once more. “Oh Lord, I come before you—" The spirit kicked her in the ribs, sending her tumbling across the lawn.  Mary blinked away stars. Usually, it took great effort for a spirit to interact with the physical world. However, Shady Lane stood at the intersection of two ley lines, meaning the usual rules of otherworldly physics weren’t strictly in play.

            Mary scrambled to the thin concrete path leading to the house’s front door. She pulled a line of white chalk from her now-soiled jacket pocket and drew a clean circle around herself. Unfortunately, the old woman stopped before running into it, putting a damper on what would have been an easy exorcism. Running full speed into a protection circle was a surefire way to dispel most low-level angry spirits.

            With the circle safely in place, Mary began again. “Lord, I beseech thee to render all spirits impotent—”

“Stop that, just leave!” screeched the woman.

“—paralyzed and ineffective in attempting to take revenge against me—”

The woman’s arms shot out once more in paralysis. “I will follow you to your grave,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

            “—and render this old bag back to the energy from which she was created.”

            The woman grimaced, waiting for something to happen. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen. “Where is your god no—” white light blossomed from her chest, spreading from her center toward her fingertips. In a flash, she was gone, leaving nothing, not even the smallest speck of dust.

            Mary let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, clicked the cross back into the talisman, and shoved it in her pocket. “So much for easy money.”  On the bright side, the rest of the spirits inside knew exactly what she was capable of. Of course, calling out to the divine twice in one day was often met with mixed results, but she was banking on the other spirits not knowing that. If she was going to make the sale, the rest of the day was going to be pure negotiation.

Link to Part 2