Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Woman
"Hey, Griffin!"
He rolled out from beneath the undercarriage of a 2015 Ford Prius, an unpleasant mixture of dirt, sweat, and motor oil creating splotches on his face, neck, and hands. Tony, one of his coworkers, was standing over him, smirking suggestively.
"There's someone here to see you."
Grabbing an already dirty towel, Griffin pulled himself to his feet and turned to address his mysterious visitor. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Griffin had ever seen, and her beauty extended beyond just the physical. There was an indefinable quality about her, an invisible aura that drew you in, irrevocably capturing your senses. This woman was a couple of inches above average height and slimly built. Her long, curly red hair was coiled on top of her head, leaving only a few strands down to frame her face. Large, thoughtful china blue eyes rimmed in black kohl eyeliner stared at him from beneath long, mascaraed eyelashes. Her sleeveless emerald dress coupled with her cross-armed stance highlighted the delicately defined muscles of her toned arms.
For some reason, the word Viking sprang immediately to his mind. Whether it was the makeup, her visible athleticism or her confident demeanour, he wasn't sure. Or maybe that was just where his mind had naturally been straying of late. Whatever it was, something about her spoke to him of a time long since passed. He tried and failed to prevent himself from picturing her as an ancient Norse queen, seated on a throne in the middle of her great Hall.
When she spoke, it was with an accent he couldn't quite place. Overall, it sounded English, but with a hint of something else. "Good morning, Mr. Amante. My name is Sibyl Ellis."
"Good morning. Please, call me Griffin," he responded, instinctively reaching out to shake the woman's hand. Remembering the filth currently adhering to his cuticles, he quickly retracted the hand with a shaky smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to a spirit."
His face fell. She couldn't have surprised him more had she asked him to join her troupe of travelling circus performers.
"What makes you think I can help with that?"
She moved in a little closer and lowered her voice. "I've seen what you can do. I know about your...ability."
His mouth hung open for several seconds while he debated. He didn't need long to decide. "I'm sorry, Miss Ellis," he said genuinely. "I can't help you."
She nodded sadly, looking resigned if not a little disappointed. "I understand." She paused then as if she were carefully considering her next words. After a moment, she said, "I lost my father recently. It was so sudden; I never did get to say goodbye. To be honest, I don't even really believe any of this spirit stuff. I just thought, if there was even the smallest chance that I could say goodbye to him." She broke off and turned away as if concealing the beginnings of tears. "Anyway, I'm sorry to have bothered you. Take care." She smiled, pausing shyly. "Griffin."
She turned and began to walk away, her heels making almost no sound amid the ruckus of the garage.
He swore under his breath. He was definitely going to regret this. "Wait," he called.
She stopped and pivoted to face him, one eyebrow raised.
"I'm almost done here." He threw the towel he had been holding down on the table for effect. "Give me a few minutes to clean up. Do you want to grab a coffee?"
She beamed at him. "Thank you, Griffin."
He met Sibyl in the lobby of his apartment. She was waiting by the front doors, dressed all in black, her hair pulled back into an intricate braid. Her makeup was the same as it had been the day before: heavy black liner and mascara - perfect for skulking around a cemetery at midnight.
They'd met for coffee the previous afternoon. It hadn't taken much for Griffin to agree to Sibyl's request. He knew it was shameless, but, after hearing her story and witnessing the grief all over her lovely face, he'd been helpless to do anything but agree.
She'd been estranged from her father - hadn't spoken to him in nearly ten years - and her mother had passed away when she was a child. This estrangement had begun just after she'd graduated from university. Sibyl hadn't gone into detail about what exactly had been the precipitating factor, but it seemed like it had been a long time coming.
On that fateful day, there'd been yelling, swearing, and threatening; before she knew it, Sibyl had raced out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She'd never spoken to her father again; when she'd seen his obituary in the newspaper, she'd decided to find an alternative, post-mortem, method of reconciliation.
Now, as Griffin stepped into Sibyl's car, he couldn't help but reflect hopelessly on the fact that this was his third visit to the cemetery in less than a week. He was really starting to hate that place.
What was worse was the nagging feeling that this wouldn't be his last trip.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone