PUSHING DAISIES: CHAPTER TWO
He stared at the girl sitting amongst the daisies. After the chilling encounter with the violent spirit who called herself Margaret, her presence was almost as unsettling. “Who are you?” he asked warily.
She tilted her head, still smiling. “I’m Fallon. And you’re Thursday McFadden, the ghost hunter.”
Thursday’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know my name?”
Fallon laughed, the sound light and musical, at odds with the gloomy atmosphere in the cemetery. “Word gets around. You’re building quite the reputation.”
Thursday looked around uneasily, half expecting Margaret to reappear. “You follow my channel?”
She smiled up at him. “The ghostly channel, perhaps?”
He thought she was being sarcastic. He didn’t usually worry about followers or views on his channel because he did what he did mostly for himself but the views he got did pay for a large portion of his expenses to travel the country in search of answers to his question if there was life after death. He asked, equally sarcastic, “What are you doing out here?”
“I like it here,” Fallon replied with a shrug. She plucked a daisy from the ground and twirled it between her fingers. “It’s quiet. Peaceful usually.”
“Usually?” Thursday raised an eyebrow.
Fallon met his gaze, her green eyes glinting in the lamplight. “You’re not the first ghost hunter to come here and then meet Margaret. Most run away screaming but… you stayed.”
Thursday felt unnerved by her stare, like she could see right through him. The only reason he had stayed was because in the moment he was too afraid to run away.
“Margaret has been angry for a long time,” Fallon continued. “But I think you might be the one to help her find peace.”
“Why do you think that?” Thursday asked. As a rule, he did not make promises to ghosts. Early in his ghost hunting career, he had been eager to help a spirit, Victor, move on by vowing to fulfil his last wish, but making that promise ended up putting him in danger. After barely making it out of that encounter alive, Thursday realized messing with forces beyond the mortal realm could have unintended consequences. From then on, he was wary of making bold guarantees to ghosts like helping them find peace. Most spirits were driven by powerful emotions or obsessed with unfinished business that kept them lingering on the mortal plane. They could manipulate the living, appealing to their sense of sympathy or compassion to get them to make binding commitments. Fulfilling those promises often led to complications, even peril.
The living and the dead belonged to different realms for good reason. Whenever people tried to meddle too much in the affairs of spirits, things tended to get complex very quickly. The risks ranged from angry ghosts enacting revenge when promises to them were broken, to accidentally enabling lost souls to possess the living. Thursday had seen it happen before and had no intention of letting it happen to him again. These days, Thursday chose his words carefully when dealing with ghosts. He would no longer vow to fulfil their last wishes or rectify their past wrongs. That was an invitation for trouble that he had learned was best to avoid. The line between the living and the dead was not to be crossed lightly. He only wanted answers and he did not think it was too much to ask for.
Fallon plucked another daisy and began tying the stems together. “You’re not afraid of the darkness like most,” she said. “You’re drawn to it. And... you’re restless for a purpose.” She glanced up at him again with a meaningful look.
Goosebumps erupted on his skin. He was glad she thought he was not afraid of the dark, because he was, and he wondered how she knew he was restless. Was she a medium and in tune with the emotions of people? Sitting down on the ground near Fallon, he asked, even though it went against everything he believed, “Do you think we should help Margaret, help her move on?
Fallon replied, “Find peace.”
Thursday nodded, intrigued by the idea of helping Fallon help Margaret and afraid of the possible consequences if it all went sideways.
They sat in silence for a few moments. The wind picked up, rustling the daisies. It carried the scent of rain. Thursday found himself growing calmer than he had felt in a long time. Maybe it was just the novelty of speaking to another living person in a graveyard late at night. Or, maybe, it was something about Fallon herself. Finally, he asked, “Why are you here wandering a cemetery in the middle of the night? Are you a ghost hunter too?”
A shadow crossed Fallon’s face. “Like I said, I like the quiet.” She turned away, avoiding his eyes.
“It does feel peaceful here, you’re right. I feel as if I can linger, stay for a while,” Thursday said.
The first raindrops started to fall, but they did not say anything else and for that moment at least, Thursday felt a little less restless.
The heavens opened and the rain came down in sheets of water.
Fallon lifted herself from the ground, her dark hair was plastered to her head and her black t-shirt clung to her slender frame. The soft amber light from the lamppost near them made her green eyes glow in the gloomy darkness. “I better go and find shelter until the rain has passed.”
He stood and began to ask, “Why until the rain has pass…” Was she homeless? Was it something he could ask her outright? He didn’t want to embarrass her. “Don’t you have a home? A family?”
“I have no family,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“I lost my family too,” he admitted. “Sorry, we’ve only just met.”
She smiled, and raised her eyebrows a little, giving him an amused look. “Have we?”
“Have we what?” He asked, giving her a confused look.
“Met. Have we only just met?”
“Um… Yes.” He tried to see her clearer through the deluge of fat raindrops splattering between and around them. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t know Thursday, you tell me. Have we?”
A crack of thunder above their heads was so loud the earth beneath his feet shook a little. “We better get out of here. My equipment is going to get ruined if I don’t get my bag somewhere dry quickly. Do you need a lift?”
She chuckled. “Thursday, we’ve only just met. I’m not getting in a stranger’s car. I said you were famous but… not that famous.” She started walking away. “See you around,” she said, looking back over her shoulder.
He stood in the pouring rain and watched her until she stepped behind a large oak tree. Quickly, he grabbed his bag from the ground, thankful that he splurged on the more expensive waterproof satchel he kept all his equipment in. He hurried back to the ornate gate, eager to get to his rented hotel room and to have a warm shower to expel the chill in his bones.
As he drove back to the hotel he could not help thinking about Fallon and hoping that she was okay. He felt bad leaving her out in the rain, but it was not as if he could have insisted on giving her a lift if she did not want one. A thought niggled him, though. At night, daisies will close its petals to protect itself from the cold. This helps to keep the flower from freezing and dying in colder climates. As far as he knew, the daisy flower was sensitive to the amount of light it was receiving. When the light levels dropped, the petals would close to preserve its energy, but the daisies that surrounded Fallon were open.