The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 06

"This is delicious, as usual!" said Leila respectfully, already nearly done her pie. "Emergency cardiac surgery takes it out a woman." Despite the wonderful flakiness of the crust, she had dropped only a few crumbs, which she quickly Cleaned, along with her hands. "I can't tell you who, of course, but I'm sure that you'll hear about it before noon with the way news spreads around here." Shopping was also a good way of learning and passing on news and/or gossip which probably wouldn't happen with a mega-market. As she'd talked, Janet had placed a side of ham on a slicing machine and had cut six slices, Leila's usual order. There was a limit on how long ice boxes could keep meat fresh, even cured meat like ham. Not for the first time, Leila wished that there was a better way to refrigerate food. "It never fails to amaze me how you can deal with all those sharp things," she continued. "I get the cold sweats every time I watch you work."

"You should have seen her when she backed into a meat grinder and got a little behind in her work," laughed a thin female voice from behind Leila and to her left. She whirled reflexively into a defensive stance in response, and it took a few moments for her eyes to focus on the relatively dark corner in which stood the faintly shimmering form of a woman, dressed in an old-fashioned looking blouse, dress, and bonnet. Leila relaxed and put her hands on her hips as the sounds of Janet wrapping the meat in paper filled the store.

"Anna, has Harold corrupted you too?" she demanded, wagging an accusing finger at the ghost.

"The man is a breath of fresh air in this stodgy place," she replied with a grin as Janet named the price and Leila dug out the required coinage from her purse. She was going to have to visit the bank soon. She wasn't going to have much left when she was done.

"It's bad enough that living people have taken up with his puns," Janet scolded. "Now, shoo!" Leila put the two packages into a bag that didn't have her recent vegetable purchases in it.

"Don't worry about me," Anna replied as Leila turned to go. "I'll finally be picked up tonight and I shall bother you no more." The ghost abruptly vanished.

"Now, what did she mean by that?" the butcher asked as they exchanged a puzzled look. Before Leila could reply, the door opened and in walked someone she recognized as having been in Frankie's while she had been there.

"Thank you for saving Lisa, Leila," said the young man as he held the door for her. "If you hadn't been there, she probably wouldn't have made it. And thank Healer Harold for us, when you see him next. If he hadn't seen the blood clot in Dad's leg when he did, he may not have made it either."

"I most certainly will, Joe," she replied with a warm smile. "And how's Bessie doing?"

"It's like she never had mastitis," Joe Russell replied. The Russell's farm had been Harold's first visit yesterday, where he had Healed their cow's mastitis, then fixed up his father's cracked femur and detecting and destroying a blood clot. "Have a good day." He did not mention that he was already seeing results for Harold's other work, the penis enlargement. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it was starting to grow.

"You too, Joe," Leila replied, stepping onto the street. "Why would a ghost say she was getting picked up tonight?" she wondered as she marched toward the General Store that was three doors down. "We can have a General Store for non-food items, but not for food?" she muttered. This wasn't entirely true, since she was going there for a block of cheese, which would mostly be used in sandwiches, a bag of oatmeal and another of raisins. Then she could go home, get some rest, and make lunch for Marcie. She had to be at home for the rest of the day for office hours and two appointments.

She was not expecting to be met by the sound of a man singing, rather badly, a particularly rude bar room song when she opened the door and briefly stopped in her tracks. She recovered, moved aside and held the door open to allow two flustered-looking women, dressed in fancy clothes and holding bags with their purchases, to pass through. The song brought back memories of when she and her gal pals had been in various bars near the Mage School in various states of inebriation trying to attract the attention of people of their preferred gender.

"Leila!" exclaimed Mark Acorn as he came out from behind the end of the nearer of the two aisles that crossed the store from left to right, his expression changing from annoyance to hope. He was one of the people who participated in the morning quarterstaff exercises that she and Marcie led on Sunday mornings. He was six-foot-two, muscular, and had a kind, handsome face with brown eyes, medium-sized mouth and nose, and short black hair that was beginning to recede. "Am I glad to see you! We've got a problem that we can't deal with, and hope that you can."

"Is it related to that singing?" she asked as he led her down the aisle, past a few other shoppers who appeared to be stoically enduring the barely melodious racket. "He sounds barely better than Harold, and that's setting the bar pretty low."

"Oh, it's much worse than that," sighed Mark as they reached the back of the store.

"Oh, my," was all she could say as she saw the source of the noise. It was the ghost of a short man, only about five-foot-six, who was dressed only in an old-style button-up shirt with ruffles along the buttons, socks, and battered-looking shoes. The most prominent feature of this ghost was what appeared to be a nine-inch cock, fully erect and throbbing, along with larger than usual balls dangling below it in a hairy scrotum. It was being tended to by a disreputable-looking female ghost in a rather shabby dress, who was licking the oversized organ from base to tip and fondling the balls, moaning appreciatively as she did so. There was a small audience of five women and one man, whose attention was primarily on the cock.

"You're finally ready," hissed the female ghost, standing up. "It's time to put that cock where it will do me some good." She turned around and lifted her skirt, revealing an unshapely ass unencumbered by underwear. As she bent over, it was clear that her rather large breasts were unrestrained.

"Excuse me, you two," said the exasperated Healer, "in case you haven't noticed, this is a General Store and not a peep show! If you really have to fuck each other, go in the back room! Who are you, anyway? I've met most of the ghosts in this town, and I've never seen either of you before."

"I am Harry the Homewrecker, and this is Sally, and we were both killed by her husband when he came home earlier than he was supposed to," he replied, lining up his prodigious pecker and shoving it into Sally's pussy, getting an ecstatic moan. "No woman could resist my mighty cock, and no woman was the same after it had pounded her senseless. We came all the way from Evesham because we are tired of our existence and heard that ghosts were going to get picked up here tonight."

"And we will - ooh - fuck where and when we want to. You living people have no power over uhh, uhh, us," said Sally between gritted teeth, though some appeared to be missing.

"We learn lots of things in Magic School," said Leila, putting her bags on the floor and running through a few brief stretching exercises. "We have a course that discusses Magical Beings and Plants, including ghosts. Despite many years of study, we have never been able to determine why it is that some people's spirits become ghosts after their bodies die, while most of them pass on to whatever the next stage is. Maybe they have some latent Magic in them, maybe it's something they ate, maybe it's the local environment, or maybe some combination of the three that is unique to their situation." She had the attention of all present, even Harry, who had stopped pumping Sally as both of them looked at her apprehensively. "Their unique physical properties render them mostly unable to interact with the world. They draw sustenance from the Magical field that is around us. Becoming visible and/or audible requires effort and tires them out, so that they usually can't be seen for long."

"So, if they are Magical, does that mean that Magic can affect them?" asked Mark thoughtfully.

"It sure does," Leila replied with a wicked grin, summoning a small Mage Light just above her left palm that glowed with a warm yellow light. "Ghosts aren't really 'exorcised', they're just persuaded to bugger off somewhere else." She held her palm to her mouth and blew to send the ball of light towards the ghosts, a totally unnecessary gesture done solely for the theatrics. When it passed through Sally and then Harry, they both lit up like lanterns.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" they screeched. Harry's cock, suddenly flabby, was ejected from Sally's pussy as they turned and fled through the back wall. Leila graciously accepted the applause of the onlookers.

"It's a good thing my man isn't hung like that or I'd be riding him day and night," said one of the women as they broke up to resume their shopping.

"A Joy Buzzer is far less demanding," replied another, "and less likely to stray."

"You wouldn't happen to have any in stock, would you, Mark?" asked a third.

"We might have a couple in the back," he replied, reddening a little. "Come with me." Resuming her status as shopper, Leila quickly collected the cheese, oatmeal, and raisins, paid for them, and left.

"This is far more excitement than is required for a morning's shopping trip," she muttered as she paused in the sunshine and mild air. "I wonder just when Harry met Sally anyway?" She successfully traversed the street despite the weight of her bags and found herself in front of the Torres Tailor Shop. Her bags were getting heavy and she didn't want to get involved with any more interactions, but unfortunately, she was spotted by an alert Pella, who happened to be standing near the picture window putting a definitely attractive outfit on a mannequin. Since both were just steps from the door, there was no escape. She really liked Pella and her family, but all she wanted was to get home and rest.

"Hi, Leila!" said the tailor, opening the door. "You look tired," she added, correctly reading her expression and body language. "Come in and sit down. It's too early for you to be looking like that." The Healer offered no resistance as the tall, willowy Pella propelled her into the shop, closed the door, and planted her in a chair by the other window. Leila looked at her reflection and realized that she still had the wonderful braid around the top of her head that Pella's son Franco had applied to her and Marcie yesterday prior to her wedding.

"I'm beginning to feel like a pack mule," she grumbled, "one who happens to be having her amazing hairstyle on display for all the passers-by to see," she added with a mock glower as some people did pause momentarily to look and wave at her, which she returned with a smile. Pella's innocent look could have been lifted right from Harold's face when he was Up to Something. "I'm really hoping that you haven't been plagued by copulating ghosts or having customers with heart attacks."

"No, nothing that exciting," replied as she looked back into the store, where her two daughters Olivia and Sylvia were helping another customer. "We actually had a very nice ghost pay us a visit a few minutes ago. Apparently, this place was a tailor shop fifty years ago too, she was the owner, and was very complimentary about the clothing."

"Did she say anything about getting picked up tonight?" Pella elevated her carefully trimmed black eyebrows and her dark brown eyes widened a bit with surprise.

"As a matter of fact, she did. She wouldn't elaborate on how, though. How about you?"

"So far this morning I've encountered three ghosts, two of whom are from out of town, and they all said the same thing. Why on earth would Magwitch, of all places, become a centre of paranormal activity?" she continued, waving at more passers-by who were scrutinizing her hair.

"Rest here a moment and I'll get Harold's clothes and boots for you. It will save him a visit."

"That's a wonderful hairstyle," said a thin female voice from behind her. Leila rolled her eyes skyward, stood up and turned around. "Hello, dear, I was Ellen Ashcroft, the owner of this store many years ago." This ghost was tall and had a figure and demeanor that could only be described as grandmotherly. Leila bowed politely, and Ellen returned it gracefully. "You must be the Healer Leila that Pella was telling me about," she continued as Pella returned to them carrying Harold's neatly folded shirt and pants in one hand and his traveling boots in the other. "I can feel the Magic in you, warm and loving."

"Thank you, Pella," she replied, stuffing the items into the one remaining cloth bag she had, which was just barely large enough. The boots were of the kind used by soldiers that went halfway up his calves. "Harold was complaining this morning about not having them." She stood up and turned back to Ellen. "Ellen, would you please do us a favour and explain why this town is overrun with ghosts today? Every one that I've talked to today has said something about waiting to be picked up tonight." The ghost looked uncomfortable, but both Leila and Pella put on their most winning smiles.

"I'm not supposed to tell the Living, but the Wild Hunt is coming," she said nervously, then turned around and abruptly vanished, leaving them staring at each other as Sylvia approached them.

"The Wild Hunt?" asked the attractive young woman, who was apparently the spitting image of her mother when she had been her age. "Mom told us stories about it, usually when the sky was dark and the air full of the sounds of wind."

"The Riders of the Storm," Leila murmured, closing her eyes and reaching out into the atmosphere. All seemed clear until she directed her attention to the northwest, where she could feel the crackle of electricity. She carefully tapped into it to give herself a much-needed boost, and after a few seconds was able to determine that it was coming towards them. "There are thunderstorms on the way that will come later on in the day," she reported, opening her eyes. "I can't detect anything unusual about them at this distance." Her stomach growled as if in sympathy, generating giggles.

"Maybe the Cartwrights will have something that will still the sound of thunder," suggested Pella innocently as Leila stood up and gathered her bags.

"If I go into that place, I will eat everything I get my hands on and swell up like a balloon," she exclaimed. "And then I will have to come back here to get all my clothes adjusted." The tailors wouldn't meet her steely gaze. "But thanks for the suggestion," she added with a grin. Sylvia opened the door for her and she strode out. "And thanks for Harold's stuff. He swore that he'd never wear that tuxedo again. But we'll see about that." The bakery was not too far to the north, and she fortified herself to walk past without looking through the window at the temptations that were so prominently displayed. But they had cheated by leaving the door open (all doors opened inwards) to allow the tantalizing aroma of baking bread and other things to waft onto the street. Despite her best efforts, her treacherous feet led her into the shop, where a plate with a large slice of white cake with green frosting and a fork were waiting for her on the counter which was on top of the glass display case.

"You people are totally evil!" she scolded Carlos as her bags hit the floor with a thump and she dug out five coppers from her purse and plunked them next to the plate. "How did you know?"

"Good morning, Leila," he replied, his friendly blue eyes twinkling as he took the coins while she snatched the plate and moved aside to the left wall. "We heard about how you'd saved Lisa and that you were circulating around doing some shopping. All paths eventually go past our shop." He was shorter than her and more rotund (quality control through sampling is important) with a fringe of salt-and-pepper hair around his shiny domed head, a large, bushy gray mustache under a fleshy nose and over a generous mouth, which was shaped in a knowing smirk.

"Oh, mmff," she groaned as the flavours of lemon, coconut, and cinnamon rolled onto her tongue as the large piece that she'd stuffed into her mouth melted away. "Please, at least show some tiny amount of remorse at taking advantage of a woman at her most vulnerable."

"Nope," Carlos snickered as another chunk went in. Although fully aware that once again she was standing in front of a window advertising how good the wares were, she didn't care as she vainly attempted to make it last. An elderly woman paused outside the window, saw her, thought for a moment, and then walked in.

"I'll have what she's having." Carlos was all too happy to comply for another five coppers.

"Don't! Quit while you can, before, mmph, you lose your soul to the cake!"

"I'm afraid that I lost it a long time ago, Healer Leila," she replied, delicately eating a modest-sized piece and getting a blissful expression.

"Me too," she sighed, staring sadly at her now empty plate, Cleaning it with a gesture, and placing it back on the counter. "Thanks. I really needed that," she added to Carlos, who beamed happily as she once more gathered her bags, left the store, and returned home without further incident. The milk and eggs were waiting for her on the step and she brought them inside.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Mark and Stella made their way south along Main Street, past the park and over the bridge over the river that marked its southern boundary, left the area with sidewalks and continued past the bushes where they had been unable to resist an all-out fucking just yesterday afternoon.

"I like this place," Mark said as they crossed the small bridge over the brook beside which they had gone through the First Form of the Mage School's version of martial arts. The sun was warm on their heads and a gentle southwesterly breeze ruffled their hair and clothing. "The whole area smells like growing things, which is far better than the Capital's various stinks. If there were some way that I could stay here and learn Magic by correspondence, I would."

"But Magic is a practical science, like smithing, and you need someone to show you how to weave the patterns and say the words," Stella replied as they gazed into each other's eyes. "Your father, Healer Leila, and Healer Lakash can probably teach you nearly all you need to know about Healing, but there's so much more."

"Like metallurgy. There's at least one of Mom's friends in Engineering who can do metalworking spells. They're highly specialized and difficult, but if I can hammer out a horseshoe, I might have what it takes to do Magic with it as well." He paused and got an impish grin. "But I'd much rather make some Magic with a metalworker." Their kiss was warm, gentle, and just barely restrained.

"You are a silver-tongued rascal! Don't you dare wake my dragon, or we will never get anything done today!" she scolded insincerely as they arrived at the driveway to her parents' house. A tastefully painted sign indicated that it was the location of Turner's Smithy. The house was on the right side of the end of the long, graveled driveway and was large and comfortable-looking. Mark immediately felt at home here as they walked up it between tall, shady maple and beech trees whose leaves rustled enticingly in the breeze. Stella could see and feel him relax as they went, holding hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I never want to leave this place," he said quietly. A chestnut horse was standing in front of a cart at the end of the driveway, in front of a small barn to the left of it, in the process of being harnessed to it by Stella's father Ted. A second chestnut was standing next to the cart, along with Sam Turner, the soon-to-be-retired owner of the veterinarian office. "Good morning, Mr. Webber, Mr. Turner," he said with a polite bow. "Before we get started, I'll get our muscles stretched with the First Form of our martial arts, if you don't mind."