“You stop that right now,” said Mary B. Carter, crossing her arms and frowning. An unnatural gale shrieked around her, tossing her long brown hair across her eyes and knocking her crown of pink and white roses askew.
She gritted her teeth and fixed it back in place. Hovering a few scant inches from the tip of her nose, the ghost goggled wildly at her, shaking its chains and howling out an ancient song of sins uncovered and shame apportioned.
“This is why nobody likes you,” said Mary B. Carter. “You float about making a huge fuss and throwing people’s mistakes in their faces and then you complain that nobody will sit with you at dinner.”
The ghost recoiled for a moment, and the wind dropped. Mary B. Carter turned back to the full-length mirror that occupied the centre of the room and adjusted the fall of her veil. Behind her, the ghost resumed its screaming.
Mary B. spun in place, barely hampered by fifty pounds of lace and tulle, and snatched up a plant mister that sat within easy reach on a polished end table.
“That’s it,” she said, spritzing the misbehaving spirit with a fine spray of holy water. “You can sit this wedding out too.”( Read the rest of the Andrea/Marisea series here )